On Sunday morning Cole awoke at seven AM as usual and looked out the window through the tall fir trees that screened his house from the neighbors. Since the Autumn monsoon was absent today, he decided to indulge in one of his favorite Sunday morning activities. Dressing in a black sweat suit, he drove to the nearest Starbuck's for a large Cafe Mocha. He passed the mirrored glass building where he rented a small office. Then, appreciating the light Sunday morning traffic, he crossed the floating bridge over Lake Washington and continued up Interstate Five to Green Lake. Finishing his coffee drink as he arrived, he parked and started to jog under a light gray sky around the 2 mile asphalt path that encircled the lake. While he idly watched the female joggers, he considered his situation.

It had been twelve years since his divorce, which was painful, even though it made perfect sense. His wife had been correct, they were not at all right for each other. Constantly fighting for control was no way to live. It had taken him two years to get back on his feet emotionally and financially. Then there was a time of disappointing vanilla dating. He couldn't count the number of times that women had lost interest when they found out that his favorite form of sex play was something they considered perverted. His discovery of the organized SM scene began an important period of experimentation and personal growth.

Seattle had an active pansexual leather community. Kinky organizations would form and dissolve regularly. They all had the same motto: "Safe, Sane and Consensual." To Cole, the concept of SM as a form of healthy play came as a revelation.

The large pan-sexual play parties at the mansion had been an amazing experience and a great place to learn. His new friends told him that he was something called a Top, the label applied to the active partner in SM play. It turned out that he had a real aptitude for topping and he learned a lot from the Leatherdykes who were happy to teach him their highly ethical brand of consensual and almost spiritual SM. Even the professional FemDoms, who were so influential in the scene, seemed to accept him. He eventually decided that although SM play was great fun and highly stimulating in its own way, it wasn't quite what he was looking for.

By the time he was ready to move on, he knew that he was more Dom than Top. It was great fun to spank or whip a willing play partner, but it was even more intense when she submitted to whatever he wished.

He liked the term "playmate". It seemed a little more joyful and a bit less formal than "play partner". He played because he enjoyed it, not because he was driven by some inner demon. Taking the dominant role in sex turned him on at the deepest levels. Apparently, he was just wired that way. On the few occasions that he had tried to be sexually submissive, it had been a complete waste of time. A good massage would have felt better.

He developed friendships with other dominant men and learned what he could from them. Many of the maledoms used names like Master Joe or Sir Harry. Cole never gave himself a title, although he had his subby playmates call him Master if it turned them on and enhanced their feeling of submission.

He knew right away that he found some maledoms repulsive. They were the ones who talked badly about their female partners and seemed to have little concern for their well being. He called them ego-Doms. Some of them were fans of the GOR novels by John Norman, which portrayed a planet where most women were bought and sold as slaves. To be fair, however, he had met couples who seemed to have constructed comfortable D/S relationships based on "Gorean" principles. The amazing variety of kinky relationships was a never ending source of fascination for him.

Around this time, Cole stopped using the initials SM to describe what he did. A new term was coined on the internet: BDSM. It was an artificial acronym that incorporated Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism. It was a flexible term for a flexible lifestyle. Since he engaged in all the included activities, it seemed the perfect label.

He had always been curious about the influences that caused a person to enjoy BDSM, so it was often his favorite topic of conversation. He never was able to figure out why he had turned out this way himself. He had no history of abuse or neglect. His earliest memories of sexual fantasies around age ten were a desire to tie up the little brown haired girl down the street. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd do with her then, but he'd seen women tied up on TV a few times and knew that it was terribly exciting.

For the last three years, since turning away from the local scene and advertising on the internet, he had enjoyed more erotic female companionship than he had ever dreamed possible. He respected every woman he played with and he learned something from each of them. He was still in touch with several of his old playmates and had parted on good terms with those he no longer saw. Oddly enough, he considered himself a feminist and on occasion had used his influence to help women advance in his profession.

The only thing that Cole lacked was a permanent partner of his own. The house seemed so empty at times during the long Northwest winters. He wondered if Monica would be the one.

As he jogged through some fallen leaves he noticed that the women joggers didn't seem as attractive today. None of them had her smoldering sexuality that was a product of her intelligence and her submissiveness. OK, maybe her delectable body had something to do with it too, he thought with a wide grin.

On Monday, Monica sent an email stating that she wanted very much to proceed with their relationship. She signed the email, "Your submissive, Monica." He sent back an email that included the following terse instructions.

"Arrive at my house at exactly seven thirty Friday evening. You will be punished for tardiness. Be prepared to spend the night. What you wear is not important. Eat before you come. You can expect to be used sexually if I find your behavior acceptable. Bring the results of your STD tests. You are not permitted to have an orgasm until we meet."

That week was a long one for Howard Cole. His clients were particularly demanding. He checked the local weather website and found out that there was indeed a full moon. Instead of setting his own hours, he was forced to work evenings. At least he was able to do much of his work at home. Unfortunately he didn't have time to prepare his basement dungeon as he usually did for a new playmate. Perhaps, he thought, this would be a good time to do something different. The dungeon could wait for a future session.

On Friday, Monica was able to leave work an hour early and skipped her usual workout at the gym. Her friend Jennifer Lee had been envious when Monica gave her Cole's address and phone number as a precaution. Monica promised to call the next day with a full report. The two women met on-line almost a year ago in a Compuserve forum dedicated to Dominance and Submission. Upon finding out that they lived in the same city, the two quickly became close friends with a hint of sexual interest between them.

Jennifer, a slightly built woman of mixed Chinese and French-Canadian ancestry was a stunning beauty. Her exotic facial features with almond shaped hazel eyes and a high forehead were the type that made everyone look twice. Her sensuous waist length silky black hair drew more attention from men than she wanted. Unfortunately, her history with men was abysmal, which was why she could usually be found in the company of women. She insisted that Monica share all the juicy details of her rendezvous with Cole, so that she could enjoy them vicariously.

Monica obeyed Cole's instructions forbidding an orgasm and by now it was almost impossible for her not to masturbate. Her clitoris was in a constant state of tingling arousal and she was slightly wet with anticipation. She bounced around her apartment in a mixture of excitement, fear and just plain lust. She bathed and shaved, then tried on several outfits. With each new outfit she stared in the mirror and told herself that she was fat and ugly. Her mother and her first boyfriend had told her that a thousand times and now it was too late to believe differently. Perhaps her new master wouldn't care, if she was sufficiently submissive and obedient, she thought.

Since Master Cole said that her clothing was not important, she did not want to overdress. She settled on a pair of moderately tight jeans and a tight white top with no bra. She didn't really need one. A pair of high heels made her ever so slightly large legs look elegantly slender.

As she drove to the home of her new master, she was already getting slightly wet and was glad she had worn panties, even if they were just a little pair of lacy white things. She was a bit nervous, but she was comforted by the fact that they had agreed to use a safeword. All she had to do was say "safeword" and he had promised to bring their play to an immediate halt. She was more concerned that he would be too afraid of hurting her, like some of her useless boyfriends, she thought contemptuously.

Approaching Cole's house, she noted the impressive neighborhood, then found her new master's home on a narrow private road. It was a large single story residence. She studied it carefully in the fading daylight. Perhaps two thousand square feet, if there wasn't a basement and it was probably built within the last ten years, she estimated. It wasn't the biggest one in the area, but it was nicely screened by large trees and seemed quite secluded. The landscaping had a distinct Japanese influence, with several large boulders placed artistically in beds of raked gravel. She parked in front of the three car garage and went to the door.

Cole answered her knock with his heart pounding. There stood not only the sexiest play partner he had ever had, but someone who just might be the mythical perfect partner. He hoped he wouldn't make any stupid mistakes. Fortunately, being around Monica made him feel very dominant and confident. Was it just a coincidence that she was 10 minutes late?

She saw that he was wearing black jeans and a white long sleeved casual shirt. Giving in to a strong urge to cast her eyes downward, she noticed that he also appeared to be wearing expensive leather loafers.

"You're late," he growled. "Come in and follow me." He resisted his impulse to give her a hug and led her toward his study, where he had just turned off the computer a few minutes earlier.

Monica scanned the interior of the house for any clues about her master. A dining room contained an expensive looking table, but only four chairs. The kitchen had several gleaming pieces of copper and stainless cookware hanging on the wall. As she followed him down the hall to the study, she noticed several professional looking framed photographs of outdoor scenes. In one, she recognized a waterfall that was near Mt. Rainier. Since her master had mentioned his photography hobby, she made a mental note to ask him later if the photos were his.

They entered the large study and stopped just inside the door. "We have a little bit of business to attend to before we can begin." Cole announced, "Did you bring the results of your tests?"

"Yes Sir, here they are. I guess I'm pretty healthy."

Cole handed her his paperwork which stated clearly that he was STD free. She looked at it carefully and handed it back, saying "Thank you Sir."

He noticed that she was wearing just the right amount of perfume. He couldn't quite come up with the name. It was something to ask her about later.

"Stand right over there and be silent unless I ask you to speak," Cole said, pointing to the center of the room. A light piano concerto played softly from expensive speakers concealed in the polished oak bookcases and soft light spilled from two lamps in the corners.

Monica's heart was pounding and she concentrated on the features of the room for a moment to calm herself. She saw that his computer was one of the latest models. Probably a late Pentium class, she guessed, nice big monitor, ergonomic keyboard, CD-ROM drive, expensive printer. The furniture reminded her of the expensive walnut and teak pieces that her company's CEO had in his private office. There was a fax machine or copier on a credenza behind the desk. The stereo was apparently hidden, she noted. As she looked down at her feet and noticed the fine texture of the light gray carpet, her heart was again beating normally.

Cole pulled up a comfortable chair. He placed it in front of her about six feet away and sat down, which brought her attention back to him. He waited a few moments to see if she would remain silent as instructed. Monica was looking approximately at his feet, which he hoped was a sign of submission. She was wearing a short bomber-style jacket over her white top, so the next thing he said was "Thank you for coming, Little One. Take off your jacket and place it over the chair behind you"

Monica complied and returned to her position in the middle of the room. Cole was fascinated by her instinctive submission. Perhaps she had more experience at this game than she had admitted.

"Put your hands behind your head."

Cole's line of sight was drawn inexorably to Monica's breasts and he studied them intently. "Put your arms down," he said, then "Put them back behind your head"

He noticed that her breasts did not sag like they should for a 26 year old woman with this kind of figure.

"What is your bra size Monica?"

She felt a delicious wave of humiliation sweep over her and struggled to get out her answer. "I'm a 36 C, Master."

"Do you have breast implants, Little One?"

"No Master!" she exclaimed.

"Take off your top and we'll see about that. Place it on the chair by your jacket."

Monica pulled off her white top by grasping it from the bottom and pulling it over her head. After placing it on the chair she resumed her position in front of Cole with her hands at her sides.

Cole stepped forward to examine her breasts and brushed some of her beautiful long brown hair out of the way. With her arms down, they did sag slightly. The nipples were medium size and quite hard already. They were a beautiful pair, perhaps the prettiest breasts he had ever seen. The word perky came to mind, but he didn't know if perky could apply to breasts this size. Perhaps he should mail the question to the Playboy Advisor, he thought while suppressing a grin. He very delicately brushed her nipples with his fingertips and they grew even harder.

"Put your hands behind your head again," he ordered, in his dominant voice which Monica found both charming and irresistible.

He began to squeeze and fondle the perfect globes while he inspected them for any surgical scars. After a minute or two Monica felt lightheaded from the stimulation and became slightly unsteady. The delicious feeling of humiliation wasn't helping.

"You pass the test Little One. Those are the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen. Put your arms down now and take a deep breath. Can't have you passing out now, can we?"

"No, Master."

Cole sat down again and tried to take a few deep breaths himself. Could a potential partner be too perfect? He was feeling slightly overwhelmed.

After a short time he ordered, "Take off your jeans now and place them on the chair."

Monica complied and resumed her position, now clad in lacy white panties and black high heels. On her own initiative, she put her hands behind her head to thrust out her breasts in the manner that her new Master seemed to like.

Although Cole was a card-carrying breast man, the view of Monica's perfectly rounded hips and flat stomach almost caused his heart to stop. She had a tattoo over her right hipbone that he moved forward to examine. It appeared to be a small naked woman that might be described as a winged nymph. It was exquisite, perhaps the work of a famous tattoo artist. I'll have to ask her about it later, he thought. Cole moved back to his chair and just looked at her for a few minutes, drinking in the intoxicating sight.

His inspection of her body gave the solution to another mystery. Although she didn't carry an ounce of what he would consider excess weight, she was slightly large boned and firmly muscled beneath her curves. Her reported weight of one hundred forty pounds was probably accurate, but most people would guess it to be about twenty pounds less. He was delighted that she didn't resemble the starving fashion models, but he could understand how she might be worried that she didn't measure up to society's standards.

"Do you lift weights often, Little One?"

"Yes, Master. Three or four times a week."

"I see. Take off your panties and drop them on the floor."

Monica quickly tossed her panties on the floor behind her, revealing her perfectly shaved pubis. Then she replaced her hands behind her head and parted her legs slightly.

How did she know that I love a shaved cunt? Cole thought, as he struggled to breath normally. Fortunately, Monica was looking at the floor and was not aware of his difficulty.

"When did you start shaving your cunt, Little One? I don't recall ordering you to do that."

"I've always done that sir. If you don't like it, I can stop shaving, but it would feel very strange for me."

He knew his voice was shaky as he said, "That won't be necessary. Continue to keep yourself smooth. It pleases me." He noticed that she had a light tan without lines. In Seattle that meant about one session on the tanning bed each week.

Pausing to collect himself, Cole managed to give his next order calmly, in a deep voice that a radio announcer would envy. "I said that you would be punished if you were late. We'll have to take care of that before we can begin your training. Kneel on that stool over there, then bend forward and place your palms flat on the floor." His command voice was working well now, he was relieved to see.

Monica thought that she would faint from the excitement. None of her previous men had treated her this way. It was as if her greatest fantasy was being made into reality and she hoped it wouldn't end too soon. She wondered if her Master would notice the slight trickle of lubrication starting to drip down the inside of her left thigh. Was she allowed to be aroused or would she be punished for it?

Monica moved to a padded footstool about a foot high and two feet across. After kneeling with her knees apart and with her feet dangling off the back of the stool, she bent forward at the waist to place her palms on the floor. Her perfect ass was presented in a most lewd and vulnerable manner. Her breathing was rapid and her skin flushed.

Cole tried hard to ignore his growing erection as he approached her from behind. "You'll be spanked on your bare bottom until I feel you've been punished properly for being late." He didn't know if he had the strength to administer a good spanking since most of his blood supply seemed to be heading straight for his cock.

Sneaking a look at her deliciously dangling breasts, he wanted to reach down and caress their sexy outer curves, but he pressed down gently on the small of her back and began to spank her. In this position, her hips and buttocks formed a classic symbol of feminine beauty. She was offering it to him as a gift.

The stinging slaps were gentle at first, then harder. Red handprints began to show up on her lightly tanned skin. Monica reacted only with a slight intake of breath at each blow. Her firm ass muscles soaked up the spanking easily and Cole realized that he was hurting his hand as much as he was hurting her.

Stepping over to the closet, he removed a thin wooden paddle that would nicely cover one cheek at a time. Measuring his stroke carefully, he struck the lower curve of her left buttock, then the right. Her body jerked slightly with each impact, but she held her position perfectly. He tuned his senses into Monica and felt that familiar joining that occurred to him during intense play sessions.

Monica felt it too. She imagined that she was the one spanking a pretty kneeling woman who thrust her ass out to receive each blow. Although the woman was Monica herself, she was perceived as much more beautiful, almost ethereal. The heat from her punishment gradually spread through her body. She felt like she would explode from the strange sensation that was half deep submission and half physical lust.

They both lost track of how many minutes went by or how many blows were struck. At some point, without conscious effort, their breathing became synchronized. When Monica started having trouble maintaining her position, Cole forced himself to come back from the strange space that he had entered with her. Regaining his senses, he noticed a heavy flow of slippery fluid on Monica's muscular inner thighs where the tendons stood out with the strain of holding her position. He hadn't even touched her cunt yet and already she was dripping, he thought.

Standing up straight, Cole told her to rise and stand before him. He gathered her to him with one hand firmly gripping the hair at the back of her head. Looking into her eyes he spoke carefully. "I'm very impressed with you so far Little One. I've punished you enough for being late. As a test, I'm going to give you a choice about what we do next. You will not be punished for choosing either way."

"We can either begin your training or you can offer your new Master the pleasure of using that pretty cunt. Which option do you choose?"

She took a step back as Cole released his grip on her body and hair. Kneeling before him with her hands behind her head and her eyes locked onto his shoes she said, "Master, I'd be honored if you would use my cunt for your pleasure." Then she thought to herself, Oh please, oh please, oh please, I need it soooo bad!

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. Unless he could get his hormones under control, this relationship was going to involve more sex than domination. Maybe that was not a bad thing, he thought as he escorted Monica to his bedroom down the hall.

She looked around Cole's bedroom with great interest. The fog of lust had dissipated just enough that she could remember her girlfriend's theory that you could learn a lot about a man if you saw his bedroom. She noticed a king size bed with a padded frame around the edge. The handsomely built oak headboard contained some closed cupboards and several metal fittings that looked suspiciously like bondage points. Glancing up at the ceiling, she suppressed a smile when she noticed the large eyescrews embedded in the ceiling at various places. She tried not to appear too curious, in case her Master objected.

"Lie on the bed, face up, in the center," he ordered. Taking two pieces of soft rope, he carefully tied each wrist to the headboard with non-tightening knots. He then wrapped lengths of rope several times around each ankle to distribute the pressure without causing discomfort. He did not fasten the free ends to anything just yet.

"Be quiet now and just enjoy, Little One. I certainly intend to enjoy you," Cole said as he stood up to undress.

She took advantage of the opportunity to study his nude, muscular form in the dim light. She knew exactly what she wanted and it was terribly hard to wait.

With her arms securely fastened about three feet apart to the headboard, Monica could only lie there and allow her Master to explore her body, which would reveal to him her most private sexual responses. She tried not to writhe her hips as Master kissed her flat stomach around her navel and hip bones. With a great effort she was able to hold nearly still while he gave her breasts the most professional stimulation she had ever experienced. When he finally removed his mouth and hands from her glowing teats she would have sworn that they were steaming from the inner heat.

Monica was afraid she might faint from extreme sexual desire and she was sure that she would die if he touched her rock hard nipples again, but still she kept nearly silent. Only when Master began tying her ankles to the headboard did she start to make a strange repetitive moaning sound as she imagined what might come next.

When her legs were pulled all the way back and spread as wide as possible, her Master placed a pillow under her head so that she had a direct view of her own cunt. The strain of the unusual position was not as bad as she would have imagined, but the sight of her own erect nipples and gaping cuntlips was a visual stimulus that only increased her sexual tension. Her hood of her clitoris appeared to be much larger than normal and she wondered if it could possibly return to its regular size.

Cole wondered if she was going to hyperventilate as he eased himself down on the bed and applied his tongue to her swollen clit. He disliked going down on women who weren't shaved, but the sight of a sweet shaved cunt on a restrained woman brought out the cunnilingist in him. Dominant or not, he had been taught long ago that a gentleman always makes sure the lady comes first and old habits are hard to break. He made himself stop periodically to prevent her from coming too soon.

He expected a woman with her pelvic structure to be rather large inside, so he was somewhat surprised to find that she was very tight. He used his tongue and fingers for a long time to make sure she was as well lubricated as possible.

Eventually, Monica had the first of many orgasms. She felt that she was being forced to come. It would have been impossible for her to resist. She closed her eyes so that she couldn't see Master doing that shameful thing to her private place. Most of her boyfriends had not been willing to do that because they thought it was dirty or disgusting. It seemed that Master was doing it simply because he enjoyed it. What better way to control his little slut than by forcing her to come in a most unladylike manner, with her legs spread wide and unable to move. She felt so humiliated, so slutty, that there was no longer any point trying to pretend that she was anything more than a simple whore, a sex object to be used for her Master's pleasure. Each climax was stronger than the last.

Cole kept his right hand on her left buttock, cupping it nicely and feeling the heat from her paddling while he attended to her with his tongue. After several minutes, his lust caught up with him and he could stand it no longer. Rising up on his hands and knees, he thrust his unusually thick, aching cock into her well lubricated sheath. With her legs so far back, he had to thrust nearly straight down. Even with the heavy natural lubrication, she was devastatingly tight. Instead of just a tight ring of muscle inside the entrance of the vagina, Monica was tight all the way to her cervix. He knew that he would explode any second. Would she be disappointed that he hadn't lasted longer? Then he remembered that she had just experienced more orgasms than he could count and decided it was his turn. Besides, he was the Master, wasn't he?

Placing both hands on her chest to support his weight, he pinched her nipples viciously. After a dozen vigorous thrusts, every muscle in his body tried to contract at once and he shot his hot load deep into Monica's lovely body. Some time later, when he was able to see and move again, he used the last of his strength to untie the ropes and gather her in his arms. She had already fallen asleep and he joined her within seconds.