It was my acceptance of your email that made me realise that things had really changed. It might have still just be about reversible, but it was a certainly a watershed. It was the first of three major steps for me. After that acceptance I knew that I had made a fundamental choice, and there was likely to be no going back without considerable pain. Before it I had accepted that I belonged to you, but it was almost as one belongs in a vanilla relationship. I could pretend that was the case anyway. Now it was different. I was actively participating in my submission.

It was quite precise. There was no questioning it's meaning, neither the specific command nor the underlying understanding.

"Emma,

Until otherwise stated I have now changed my rule concerning your ability to masturbate to orgasm when you are not with me. From now on you must masturbate twice day. No more no less. Once per day may be in the confines of your flat, the other must be outside the flat. Where you masturbate must not be the same as any other previous session in the same week. This applies to within your flat as well as outside it. You will give me a verbal description of each act when we next meet. When you are with me you may only orgasm with permission.

Stephen."

Gradually the impact dawned on me. Earlier I had acquiesced to your demand forbidding to me to masturbate. Each weekend I had been with you, you had pushed me beyond my ability to restrain at least one orgasm and I had accepted the punishment that I should not touch myself until I was with you again. Although I was always upset in case I wasn't being good enough for you it had almost been like a game of truth and consequence, just a game. I had accepted it. It had been exciting to be told what to do; it created a tension that was exciting in itself. It was easier than this. Not doing it only meant I had to avoid doing something I wanted to do like not eating chocolate.

This time I had to actively participate in doing something for you. I had to find the time, the motivation, plan out my actions for you. Before, you controlled my orgasms until you gave me permission to orgasm. When permission was granted I had my orgasm. The realisation hit me that now I had to actively participate in my punishment, that it was as though I had to give you my orgasm, that it would be entirely for you, it belonged to you. I didn't know if I could do it. I didn't know if you were asking too much. Thinking about it made me both frightened and excited. I couldn't concentrate on anything else.

You knew what you were doing to me. It had been a very considered decision on your part - it wasn't an afterthought. You had recognised the tendencies I had buried deep within me, so deep that I hadn't been aware of them before I met you. I was frightened of giving any more. I knew if I did I was never going to be able to escape the knowledge that I was yours, not just my body but also all the facets of me. I knew that I would always know that whilst others may think of me as a slightly bossy good girl, I would be a bad girl who sneaked out to rub herself off because you'd told me to. You knew that asking this off me when you weren't here would do this to me, make me come to terms with it or snap. If you'd have asked me when with me I would have been able to convince myself that I was being forced. You knew what you were doing. You touched something deep down inside me with this new rule. I felt your control over me almost as a physical thing, this mental bondage.

I could lie about it of course. I could say that I had done it when I hadn't. As I thought about pretending, a feeling of loss crept over me. I didn't want to pretend! I wanted it. I wanted to submit to what you wanted!

Shaking, I left my desk and went to the toilet. I removed my skirt and hung it behind the cubicle door. My hand slid inside my knickers over the hot flesh that was yours. I found myself soaking. I moaned softly as I cupped myself. People might know what I was doing! I stood holding my puffy lips, hardly daring to begin, then, eventually, pushed down my sodden knickers and sat on the edge of the seat with my knees spread. I wondered at my leakage. I had never been this wet in the past. Sometimes I had been virtually dry with other men. I'd had to fantasise. Even when playing with myself I had never spurted liquids, there hadn't been sufficient. There was a sufficiency now. Doing things for you. I was being indecent; there was no hiding from the fact. I was doing this disgusting thing because you had told me to. It was irrelevant whether I wanted to, I had been ordered to. No one had ever had such control over me.

I began, slowly, exploring my sodden flesh as though for the first time. I even thought of it as cunt now, even on my own. It sounded agreeably dirty; it made me think of myself as your slut. It was a naughty word. It could only be used to describe part of a woman like me. As I held myself apart and rubbed my slippery fingers over my hard clit I wondered if this enforced pleasure would make me even hornier than I already was with you. I wondered if I would end up constantly begging you for release. My mind was a haze of excitement. Very quickly I was desperate to give you my soul. My fingers worked over my lips and clit. My fingers entered inside myself, entered my cunt. I gave myself up to them, giving myself to you.

Just before I could orgasm I heard someone else enter! They went into another cubicle! I wondered if they could smell me, know what I was doing. My ragged breathing seeming so loud as I tried to be quiet and still. I had stopped momentarily though I couldn't keep them from slowly rotating over my sex as I waited. I slipped my coated fingers into my mouth and sucked in my fluids. I heard whoever it was pee into the basin, pull the toilet paper, eventually flush the toilet, open the door, wash their hands and then after an age go out again. I let out a sigh and pushed my fingers deep inside my vagina and wriggled about, pushing onto my hand out of control. I began thrusting up inside myself as my other fingers rubbed my clit. I came almost immediately. I felt my juices spurting into my hand as I forced my mouth closed, the tendons in my neck aching as I forced myself to keep control over the sounds I made. It seemed to keep it all inside my body. The orgasm raged and raged then another quickly followed. I didn't want them to stop. I was insatiable. My hips bucked disgustingly against my hands until finally I slowed. Suddenly I stopped afraid. Had I to orgasm only once each time? No, I remembered, the message said masturbate twice a day. It didn't stipulate how long for. I relaxed.

After long minutes I was able to wipe my hands, thighs and sex. Finally I was able to stand on wobbly legs. I had done it for you. I was yours. The feelings of submission so strong and deep, so bound up with my orgasm still vibrating around within. I looked in the mirror and saw myself. I saw redness over my neck, blotches disappearing below my collar. I saw your whore.

Afterwards I felt so submissive. I found it difficult to step back from the life I was choosing to lead. Actions that normal people would see as dirty and perverse. Very slowly I was able to build an outer layer of normalcy to cover my need for submission, knowing that something had unalterably changed inside.

That night I went to bed ridiculously early. I had bathed and rubbed oils over my skin. It was as though I was preparing myself for you. I lay on the bed as though offering myself to you. I played with my breasts, squeezing their slippery fullness, pinching my nipples as you would as I considered and planned where I could possibly manage to carry out your instructions. Soon it became all too much and with one hand still on my breasts other fingers were soon worming their way inside my cunt.

It didn't feel like it had before you. I hadn't done this for so long. For three weeks I had not been able to masturbate. Now it felt different. As though you were there. As though you were watching me perform, making sure I did as I was told. Watching my wantonness, watching me being your slut. My fingers became frantic at the thought, almost pushing me over, but I managed to control it. I wanted it to last. I arched off the bed as if to show you as my fingers made crude wet noises in my cunt. I stopped a moment, thinking of what I was doing. Again it frightened me, the thought of your power over me. How humiliating it was to do this because you had told me to. The idea was too much and I thrust deeply into myself, grunting like an animal. Again I stopped myself at the edge, like you might have done. That thought was too much and I came. Rolling around on the bed thrusting lewdly against my hand, my thighs high and wide, ready for you, wanting you inside me, wanting you to see your slut. I continued until exhaustion overcame me and I slept.

I woke in the middle of the night. I smelt of sexual liquids, my hand still between my legs. I began to play with myself gently. Suddenly I stopped! I couldn't do it again. You had said only twice. I was frantic. I forced myself out of bed and went to look at the printout again. 'Twice. No more no less.' I walked around the flat near to tears hugging my dressing gown to me. The heat between my thighs and the throbbing inside my cunt was intense. I was desperate. Was it after midnight? But then if I came now I wouldn't be able to in the evening. It was far worse than when I hadn't been allowed at all. At times I found myself pressing against the table or a chair and had to pull back shamefully. Eventually I had to have a cool bath to calm my body down, even if my mind raced.

My next few days were filled with thoughts of masturbation. Where I was to do it for you, when to do it for you, how long would I have to wait. The thoughts of masturbation made me think of doing other things for you, with you. Thoughts of excitement mixed with fears and embarrassment in what I had begun to realise was a deadly mix for me.

The following Friday you had taken me back to the house after work. This time there was no dinner before you had me. No pretence that I was being wooed first, being charmed into giving myself up to unlimited pleasure. You'd taken me immediately to the warm bedroom and placed the blindfold around my eyes. You undressed me, taking your time, undressed me completely. Until I was displayed to you naked and I could imagine you looking at me. I wanted you to like the sight of me, like me naked, your woman naked. You had broken my will to resist my needs or your demands by what you'd had me do during the week, I didn't even think to question you. I accepted my submission meekly, excited that I was demonstrating it. I could tell that you knew there was a fundamental change in me. You didn't have to say it. You could sense the acceptance in me, could see my excitement. I felt the tenderness in you as my clothing was gently removed, the excitement in me mounting.

You took me to the bed, told me to stretch my arms out as though they were tied to the bed-head. The idea of that again sending tremors run up my vaginal walls. The idea that you may tie me, that I may be physically restrained and unable to stop anything happening to me making me hot as usual. I let my knees hang apart for you, offering my body up to you. I imagined how I looked. I knew I was open for you. I felt my lips peel apart, felt dampness seep between my buttocks, felt my nipples hardening even more. I ached with need.

"I have released your arms. Play with your breasts." I pulled down my arms.

"Please Stephen..." Both hands playing with and offering my breasts to you. My nipples so hard. You stopped me and told me to return my arms to where they were. Your fingers took over. They were so gentle. I wanted you to be harder. They made me want so much more. Your touch played all around the areas I wanted you to touch, but not on them.

"Please."

"Please what my love?" Your fingers slid so slowly up my thigh, up the softness on the inner surface. So near.

"Touch me. Please touch me."

Am I not doing?"

"Yes. Please. Down there." Your fingers were driving me wild. My hips bucking towards you.

"On your feet?"

"No. You know!"

"Tell me then."

I couldn't. I was breathing hard now. I wanted you. Eventually, "Please, touch my sex."

"Sex is such a sexless word. You mean your cunt?" I nodded. "Say it then."

"Please. Please, touch my... cunt." You did. I almost came. I screamed, bucking furiously at your touch. I rubbed myself against you but you pulled away from me before I could come. I was crying in frustration.

"Remember you aren't allowed to come without permission."

"I know. I know. Please let me. Please."

"Not yet. Now, you play with your cunt."

"I cant. Please."

"You have to my sweet. You have to do as you're told."

"Yes. Yes, I know. I've never done this in front of anyone! Please don't make me."

"You did this all week. Isn't that what you want? To know that you have to do what I say."

"Yes. Yes. But, this... it's too...." Suddenly I felt fingers slide over my wet open sex. It took me a moment to realise that they were my fingers. I was obeying you. I was doing it. I began to finger myself desperately. I knew you were watching me masturbate brazenly. It must have been so disgusting to see but I was protected behind the leather. I wanted you to see. Oh yes. Both hands now, frantic, one set of stiff fingers over my clit another pushing inside, arching off the bed.

"Come for me now."

"Yes! Yeeeeeees." I screamed as my orgasmed tore through me. I cried, I screamed, I sobbed, and I jerked and twitched on the end of my fingers. "Oh thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"Tell me what you just did."

"I came. You told me to! You let me!"

"I know. Tell me what you were just doing."

"I fingered myself for you. For you to watch."

"Fingered what?"

"My cunt." So embarrassed by the word.

"Because I told you to?"

"Yes. You told me to do it."

"Did it excite you to know I was watching? That what you were doing was really rude and wicked?"

"Yes."

"When I tell you I want to watch you again I will expect you to do it again."

"Oh God. Yes... Oh yes."

Still touching myself, I had to recount all I had done and thought when I had done it in the week. Even my thoughts were yours then. I told you of how the idea of doing what you told me shocked me, made me reassess everything. I admitted how I had not wanted to do it at times but the knowledge that I had been told to, that you expected me to submit to your will both scandalised me and aroused me in equal parts. I couldn't understand it but knew it to be true. It wasn't just these things either, it made me realise that it was your domination of me that locked me to you. I couldn't hide it anymore. You knew! I confessed that the feelings of submission created such feelings of humiliation and lust inside me. How mortified I had felt when I would have preferred not to touch myself because of tiredness or mood yet found my body wet and willing at the first touch of my fingers.

One of my hands moved from my sex to my breast. Firmly caressing me, pinching and rolling the nipple in my wet fingers until I was gasping and arching off the bed. I hadn't to come again yet.

I told you of that after my first time in the toilets at work how I worried that you might not accept me doing it in other toilets such as in a bar. I admitted how terrified I had been on my trip into the park at twilight, where I had found a secluded place behind some trees. How I was so frightened of being seen and yet how that fear helped and added to my arousal, thinking that someone may see me being so disgusting for you. How I had initially slid my fingers inside my jogging bottoms shaking with fear and how I had eventually orgasmed over and over laid on the grass with my trousers and knickers around my ankles. How I had gone to the cinema and sat furtively fingering myself in public in the darkness, how my orgasm came and left me wanting more but I had to continue even though I was terrified someone might see. How I had hid under the stairs in the foyer of the flats with my hand up my skirt and silently gave you my orgasm as someone trod the stairs just above me. How I couldn't wait one morning and fingered myself at breakfast, having to live with the denial of the evening.

I felt the bed move as you stood. I could hear you undress. I wanted to watch you, see your cock hard. I didn't move my hands, didn't close my legs. The bed moved as you came between my thighs. I moved my hands back above my head when you told me. Your flesh easily took what was yours and I gritted my teeth as I fought with my climax. You lay on me, your hands holding my buttocks as you thrust into me. You really took me. You took me hard and fast as though you really wanted me. You stopped, regaining your control. Your hands slid under me, cupping my cheeks. Amazed I felt a finger touching my private opening, private no more. It's tip opened my anus. I cried out, almost coming. My breathing was rapid and light. I was stretched around your finger, I could feel myself rhythmically clenching around your finger and your cock.

"Are you a wicked girl?"

"Oh yes!"

"Are you a slut?"

"Oh yes! Yes!"

"Whose slut are you?"

"Yours! I'm your slut! I'll do anything! Anything!"

"Come for me."

I did.

You did too.