This work Copyright (C) 2001, by Caitlain McCarren. I
reserve all rights of distribution not otherwise expressly
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begin.
The following is a departure from my regular writing
voice. I took this up on assignment. A dare, really. I
didn't think it would turn out as well as it did.
Certainly, it took me much longer to write than any previous
story I attempted. Won't you let me know what you think?
My e-mail address appears at the end.
Convention:
Part 2
I turned back, stepping through the door and letting it
close behind me. Inside the door I removed my panties.
I put them on over my garters earlier. Walking back I
cheerily asked, "Are you thirsty, dear?" Receiving no
reply I continued, "Remember when I said I didn't bring
the key to that gag all those hours ago? Well darling, I
lied! It's fortuitous but it appears I have the key after
all! You now have opportunity to please me with that lovely
painted mouth and that well-practiced tongue. Imagine my
delight to find it in my purse rather than in my bag where
it belongs!"
I retrieved a cloth and towel from the bath and wet the
cloth. Stepping before her, and having to reposition the
barstool to do so, I sat, my groin a fraction of an inch
from her nose. I turned the lock up, stabbed the key in,
turned it open, and worked it free. I loosed the strap,
releasing it. The ball, large as it was, had to be worked
free. Her jaw had been clamped upon it that long. Bound
as she was the saliva collected behind the ball and was
released into the towel upon release of the ball. I put
the cool compress to the back of her neck and watched the
chill run down her spine. She worked her jaw back and forth
to loosen it. She swallowed and gagged on it a little. She
didn't speak. I gave her a few moments then spoke, "Close
your mouth, dear."
I threw the towel aside and reaching down to my shins began
folding my hems back as I drew them up revealing my heels,
hose, and garters. When my weeping love canal came into
view I stopped. I picked up the Contax, newly reloaded with
the last roll of film, and a 40mm Zeiss lens now affixed to
the front, I pointed it down and framed. I exhorted her to
"Look up here, dear," and when her hair draped face was in
profile I took the shot of it all. The pose, explicitly
suggestive of the upcoming activity, served to enflame my
passions further until I could wait no more for cunalingual
bliss. I reached down and pushing down on the cloth still
at the back of her neck, pushed her beyond the point of
balance so she fell into me, burying both her mouth and nose
in my hot wet snatch. The hood over my love button
retracted immediately and in an effort to assure clear
nostrils she brushed over it sending a shiver up my spine.
When the panic wore off, she settled into an unseemly
circuit. Her cantilevered form was literally standing en
point due to my imaginative bonds and the circumstance of
disequalized posture. Two points of support, tortured toes
and smothered face, were the only thing keeping her
upright. Her bound form could find no purchase to push
her backward and as closely bound as it was could produce
no momentum to rock her back to the tentative equilibrium
she had enjoyed moments before. The bonds and my thighs
prevented her rocking herself to the side so she could fall
to the floor and find escape.
The only muscle available to assure her survival was her
tongue. To create clearance to breathe, she had to place
her tongue atop my clitoris and push off. After a moment
either her saliva or my own lubrication caused her tongue
to slip over my love button and down into my weeping love
canal. To restart the circuit she had to purse and
reposition her lips, the sensation of which was delicious,
to work her mouth up over my clit. The incremental
movements up the labia were punctuated by the necessity to
create a vacuum within her mouth to secure her current
position on the climb up my groin to my clit. My
exclamations at this sensation? "Oh, darling, that is
incredibly... Oh! Ah! That's right, hoover up every last
drop. When I stand I had better wear a dry skirt." When
she reached the top and tongued my clit again, she could
push off and catch a few moments breath before her tongue
slipped back down starting the circuit again, and again,
...and again.
Slow, easy, build-up, stunning climax, and repeat. Repeat.
Repeat. This was a humiliation that probably would break my
rule about repeating them. I try not to do any two alike.
Variety is, after all, the spice of life. However I have
two, perhaps now three, humiliations which for my own
pleasure I cause to recur. I let this go on until I
couldn't stand it any longer, even though she seemed
"willing" to continue indefinitely. After an hour and a
half I pushed her back to her earlier tortured stance.
She licked my love juice from her lips and the end of her
nose.
"Well, dear, thank you!" I allowed. It's time to punish
you for your failures earlier. What were the failures I
noted, dear?"
"Mistress, for my failures I am eternally sorry. I failed
to do as required and deserve any manner of punishment you
desire. I submit this body to chasten. First, against
direction, I shredded the tissue under my feet earlier. I
am sorry. Second, I let my hems fall while you were
attempting to photograph that which was below them. Again,
I am sorry. For these and all errors of form, demeanor, or
decorum, I sincerely apologize. Please, punish me as you
see fit," she recited, on cue, and as practiced numerous
times before.
"Very well, dear. Just how should this punishment take
place? Hmmmm?" She kept silent while I pondered the
question. I reached down and pulled up her hems in the
back and held them up under her bound hands trapping the
hems between the hand bondage and her spine. I removed
from my bag another thong
I used to bind her ankles to a higher rung on the chair,
so cinching it caused her to stand en pointe. "Very well,
wench. You must stand in this manner without dropping your
hems until I come back and you are subsequently switched
until your thighs and buttocks are with welts. Drop
your hems and I'll raise those welts with the hardtail
whip. Understand?"
Behind her now I undressed and walked back to the bath and
stepped in for a quick shower. After soaping up and
rinsing I stepped out and checked on her while I dried and
dressed again. I relaxed crossed legged on the bed and
turned on the room's entertainment center to tune a local
radio station. There I waited for the concierge to return.
Two hours and twenty minutes after leaving he called from
the main desk, "I'm back. These pictures are awesome. You
could be a professional photographer, you know."
My reply was sincerely sarcastic, "Gee, do you think?"
"Yeah, I do, ...ohhh, I get it. Yeah, you have some
excellent work here. Shall I bring these prints to you
now?"
He caught on quick, faster than I expected. Maybe he could
help me in another way? "Yes, bring them now please. Maybe
there's another matter you could help me with. We can
discuss it when you get here."
I put the switch together. I buried the shank into the
handle's ferrule and swatted the bed a couple of times with
it. At about three feet long it whined in the wind when
swung and would snap viciously when applied to that ass.
I was looking forward to this. So far she hadn't dropped
the hems of her skirts. Good thing for her, too. All the
same it seemed it should ache awfully jamming those boards
into the small of her back that way.
I few moments latter I heard his knock at the door. I
grabbed up the key and the switch and went out to him.
Closing the door behind me I stood straight while addressing
him. "Since you raved about the photos I'm presuming that
there's no charge for the developing services?"
"No charge! This is way too good," he replied.
"I take it your associate liked her copies, too." I asked.
He said, "Yes she did, thank you."
"In a few moments, I'll go inside and review her work. I
take it you believe I'll like them also?" I asked.
"I'm sure you will," he replied. "She's the best photo-
finisher in this and three surrounding counties!"
"Good!" I replied to the comment. "Now onto this other
matter. How would you and your photofinishing friend like
a little hands on with my tortured subject in there."
"Are you kidding? You're not kidding? Wow, I think I'd
like that a lot. Hard telling what she might say. Shall
I call and ask?" he queried.
"Yes do, and if she's willing, the two of you come back in
forty five minutes. You'll find the door open. Just walk
in, but don't say a word. I'll make it obvious what I want
you to do when you walk through the door. OK? By the way,
you don't have any qualms about punishing her if I ask,
corporally I mean?" I asked.
"OK? Yeah it's OK, and thanks. No I don't mind striking
a blow for discipline's sake." He replied.
"You realize that whatever you do in there you must do at
my direction, no ad-libs?" I asked.
He replied, "I understand, ...now."
"Good. Just remember it when you return. Let your friend
know, too. In about 45 minutes then?"
"Yes, mame," he replied.
I turned the key in the lock and walked back in. I walked
back to her and massaged those aching calf muscles and
offered up some encouragement. "You're bearing up well,
dear. I want you to know that you are very beautiful posed
this way. The concierge said, 'beautiful,' himself when he
peeked in at you through the open door earlier." Her blush
rose. "This all will come to an end soon enough, then we
get to your submission and your just reward. Soon, dear."
I shot several more frames of her, and the bonds, and her
now exposed make-up smeared face. The radio continued to
play love songs from the easy listening station. I washed
the kitchenette table and let it dry. Retrieving the photos
from the bed I laid them out and took an appraising look.
It was going to be hard choosing twelve. Turns out the
pictures were everything I wanted them to be, and more.
When you're a good photographer you obviously expect a high
yield of decent pictures. On average I get seven of every
ten saleable pictures as a mean. The yield on these was 19
of 20. Good photographer or no, it pays to have someone to
photograph. The perspective changes, the lens selections,
all of it came together just as I had envisioned. If she
submitted all the pictures I liked I don't believe for an
instant she'd attain the number of orgasms she earned on our
trip home. Just wouldn't be enough time. It looked as if
my pleasure would be sacrificed, but she had done very
well. Proof of this was the fact that neither party viewing
the photos had commented on any aspect of gender mismatch.
I pawed and perused the selections and after twenty minutes
decided on 12 I could pick to break up the continuity of the
story line and make her selections more difficult. Even so,
there weren't but three or four in the count of 250 photo's
I could in good conscience refuse. There were perhaps eight
or ten that might be considered borderline.
I retrieved the ball gag, cleaned it up, and went back to
her. "Dear, I've invited a couple of visitors. The
concierge is one. The other you've yet to meet. I'm
afraid that if you speak you may give away your secret.
I'm going to re-gag you. If they find you gagged they won't
try to speak with you."
"As you wish, Mistress," was the reply.
Gently, so as not to disturb the delicate balance I had
produced, I re-inserted the ball and wrapped the strap
around her head. Gently I latched and locked it around her
head. "There, that should help us keep your secret."
I settled back on the bed, with the twelve photos I chose,
to await our guests. I hummed along to the tunes on the
radio enjoying the respite and pondered mitigating the
unprecedented awarding of pleasure I must surely concede
to my submissive sex slave. The more thought I gave it,
the more I liked the idea of letting her try multiple
orgasms.
What were my requirements of her? That she exhibit feminine
behavior? She'd done that to my satisfaction. That she
submit? Obey? Comply? She'd done all that! Trust? She
showed no sign of distrust or reluctance. The only
failures were the physical ones, for which shortly she was
to pay in submission and ignominy. She'd done almost all
I asked and seemed entirely willing to subjugate herself to
my will, at least up to the exception of the helmet. I
could hardly blame her reaction to it. It was designed to
look frightening. Frightening enough that I made well sure
of her bonds before revealing it to her. The errors I was
punishing were minor at worst. She was paying handsomely
for them. Why shouldn't I reward her just as extravagantly
as I punish her? I had the means for the extraordinary
reward. In my thoughts I settled it there. She could have
as many as she could muster on the way home. I'd make her
pay for them by requiring she walk out of here in the bonds
that were necessary for completion of her reward.
With that determined, I lay back and rested my eyes. I soon
nodded off to be awoken by the concierge tapping at the
door. I hadn't left it open as I said precipitating the
soft knock. I woke mad at myself that it took a knock to
rouse me. I lay the switches at the end of the bed, grabbed
the keys and walked to the door. I took a deep breath,
waited for the next knock, then opened the door, stepping
out. "Sorry," I began, "I fell asleep waiting. I
appreciate your willingness to assist me disciplining my sex
slave."
"My dear," I continued, addressing the woman with the
concierge, "I looked at your work and am suitably impressed
with your quality. Thank you for a fine job. Do you have a
card, I might like to use you again."
She opened her purse and expertly retrieved a card from
within. Harding it to me she replied quietly, "Thank you,
but, I must say you made it easy for me. The chore required
very little dodging or burning. Exposures were also very
consistent. You are obviously a very good photographer."
"Well, thank you," I replied. "Now, proclaiming the
convocation of this meeting of the mutual admiration
society, down to business. I think it best that if you
don't already know my identity I not to reveal it. This
is not so much for myself, but for my slave within. I'm
sure you understand. "Marguerite, I realize this puts you
at a disadvantage. You may refer to me as Mistress and to
my slave as 'slave' or 'wench,' should the need arise.
Within she is bound with her ass in the air and the back
hems of her skirts hoisted up revealing it. There is a
strap buried between her cheeks from a chastity belt. In
her backside is an anal stimulator doing its job
maintaining an elevated level of sexual arousal. In the
front is an inflatable toy I use to trigger orgasm. She
is of course gagged. She'll not speak intelligibly. If
you do well and she comes to orgasm, at my direction, I'll
un-gag her and require her to gratify you both orally if
you chose. If so and you require suitable protection you
do not have, I have available an assortment within that
should suffice."
I continued "You're here to punish her. The nature of this
punishment is switching. At the foot of the bed you will
find leather switches about three feet long. Top and bottom
of the switch I think obvious. Enter, take up a switch, and
position yourselves to either side of her exposed ass
opposite each other. I will signal by pointing. When I do
you may strike at her ass with the switch. You needn't add
much 'english' to the swing. A three-foot switch will raise
welts with any normal swing. You'll be striking
intermittently at first but as we proceed I'll signal to
strike faster and faster. The end result should be a
thoroughly scourged ass and her orgasm. Trust me you'll
know when it comes. O.K.!"
Seeing each nod I went on, "Should she drop the hems we will
stop, letting the stimulation subside. We will raise the
hems again and restart from the beginning. I do not expect
we'll need restart. Presuming we don't, the whole process
should take an hour and a quarter. She'll have a difficult
time getting any kind of good look at you however, if you
like, I have masks within I can bring back to you now,
before we begin. Understand?"
They both nodded! "Masks?" I queried. They both shook
their heads. "Protection?" I queried again. The concierge
nodded his head yes but, surprisingly, Marguerite shook her
head no. I thought about recommending it again but her
look, straight and level, let me know she knew what she was
about. "O.K.," I said, "let's go to it."
I opened the door and we walked in. They went to the foot
of the bed and picked up a switch. Each swung a switch
creating a high pitched whistle as the ends cut the air.
I spoke to my slave as this went on. "Oh, Dear, our guests
are here. You should prepare for your switching, it doesn't
end until you cum. Remember, don't let your hems fall, lest
we let things settle out only to lift them and start over
again. I know you can't speak to tell us you're ready, so
we'll just let you know when we are."
My assistants took their places behind my slave's upended
derriere and poised themselves to strike blows at my behest.
I held my fingers up and thrust the left at the concierge
and the right at Marguerite, indicating to each which finger
I associated with each of them. Then I pointed at both.
The blows landed near simultaneously. Her cheeks reacted
violently, the muscles fluttered, and angry marks
appeared. A loud, yet muffled, "uhmfff!" passed her gag,
but she didn't move, at which I marveled. She continued to
twitch the muscles in her reddening rump for several minutes
after the initial blows were struck, in anticipation of the
next blow. We just watched until she settled down.
Then, to each, I pointed to the backs of my own thighs
indicating where to strike the next blows. Alternately I
pointed at first one then the other, and each landed blows
on cue. They landed with sharp distinctive "snaps" as her
flesh rippled at each. We kept up a slow rhythm as more
and more of her thighs reddened and warmed. After five
minutes I slowed the rhythm even more because I wanted her
to live in anticipation of the blows. My silent assistants
had no trouble keeping up with my "digital" indications.
After five minutes I allowed a flurry of blows to land on
her ass again before returning to the less frequent blows
to her thighs. I modulated between the two forms for
another thirty minutes before stopping a few moments to
place my hands on her mottled overheated flesh. The
relative chill that was my touch caused a different
reaction. I brushed my "cool" palms over her hot ass and
thighs a few moments to allow a short breather. Her breath
was ragged by this time so I allowed it to settle to a more
regular rhythm before returning to my indications to regular
rhythm of switch snaps on thigh.
50 minutes had passed when I swapped over to a slow regular
beat of blows to her ass cheeks. As we progressed we
gradually increased the speed of these blows until after ten
minutes my assistants were landing them at three-quarter
second intervals. They just couldn't coordinate to land
them any faster. Finally after 67 minutes her legs spasmed
and she strained at the bonds about her waist indicating her
orgasm. I signaled to my assistants to stop. They pulled
back toward me a respectable distance and then moved to the
foot of the bed where they laid down their switches and
waited.
I went to the kitchen and started the cold water flowing,
throwing a towel in the basin to wet. I reached up for a
towel on the bar and dried my hands. Then I opened the
freezer door and pulled out a tray of ice cubes. I inverted
the tray and ran it under the water. I wanted to work
quickly. The ice melted partially and the cubes fell from
the tray onto the wet towel "thunking" on the stainless
steel. When the last had fallen I shut off the water,
collected up the ends of the towel and lifted it out of the
sink, ice and all. I twisted the end wringing what water I
could from the towel. I opened the cabinet door and quickly
spotted the bowls taking one down. I put the towel and ice
in the bowl and went back to my slave. On the way I pointed
at the other two and with my free hand pointed at my eyes
with my index and medius fingers, indicating they should
watch what followed.
"Dear?," I asked. She turned her head to me. "Does it
hurt?" She nodded her head. "We need thank our guests.
Are you willing to pleasure them?" She shook her head.
"Oh, come now, we simply couldn't disappoint them. You need
show your gratitude after what they've done for you. If you
would show yourself to be more willing I might work to cool
this hot ass, and, let you come yet again." She thought it
over a few moments then nodded her head yes, consenting, and
submitting yet again.
In return I kept my promise. I reached up and ran my finger
under the retaining strap of her chastity belt at the top of
her as cheeks. I reached into the towel in the bowl and
extracted a single ice cube. Quickly I inserted the cube
under the strap and forced it down the divide between her
cheeks until it firmly seated next to the anal stimulator.
The ice melted with the heat of a baking, abused ass as well
as an overheated libido, running around the shaft of the
stimulator, still running, triggering the anus to oscillate,
first gripping then releasing then repeating. This in turn
triggered an instantaneous orgasm. The muscles in her legs
spasmed, as did her other love muscle, and she strained at
the waist bonds again until I felt certain the thong would
tear. The sensations lasted until the ice melted at which
point she collapsed over the chair, fainting.
The other two were so impressed with my cruelty they clapped
while they laughed out loud.
I stood and bowed in gratification.
Turning my attentions back to my now clearly abused slave I
went to the desk and retrieved the key to release the gag.
I moved quickly, stabbing the key into the padlock, twisting
it to release the lock with a click and twisting the lock
apart in one motion. I pulled the padlock from the strap
lock pin while holding the key. Dropping the lock to the
floor, I pried the strap loose and unlatched the gag strap.
As the straps fell away I reached up for the towel I used
earlier when I pulled the gag then. I held the towel under
her head as I picked at the gag allowing it and all the
stored up saliva dammed behind to fall into the towel. I
wiped at her mouth as I gently slapped at her cheek in an
attempt to revive her. It took a minute before she showed
signs of coming to. I stopped slapping but kept dabbing
at her lips. In a few more moments she came back to
consciousness with a groan, "Aaaahhhhooooowwwwwww."
Uncomfortable with her posture she straightened a little
crying out, "Ohhh, you bitch," in a squeak. A little more
aware she began looking around, "I think you sprained
my...," her eyes settled on the legs of our guests,
"...clit," she squeaked further, catching herself before
she gave away her secret. I walked back to the foot of
the bed reaching between my guests for one of the switches.
In hand I strode back to my slave and let her have it hard.
"Yeeeeeeeeoooow!," she screamed out loud, "what was that
for."
"You forget yourself slave, speaking out loud. You called
me a bitch! You are in some sore need of remedial anger
management training. Perhaps I should let our guests have
at you again, only this time I won't reign in the blows.
How would you like that?" I asked.
"No, please! Not that! Please!" she squeaked out.
"Then shut up, and see to it you do not embarrass me with
this ill advised behavior again!" It is best to be firm
with your slaves, don't you think? Disrespect will rear
its ugly head, repeatedly, and at the most inopportune time
at that. One simply can't let that pass.
"Yes, of course, Mistress. I now see the error of my way.
Please forgive me," she uttered, and was then silent. I
let it pass. If need be, I could discipline her latter for
her outburst. I did over do the beating a little. The
follow-up was a little cruel to, though I'd not admit it
to her.
"Please our guests dear, and all will be forgiven," I
spoke soothingly.
She replied in a whisper, "Thank you, Mistress. I will try
to please our guests as you command."
I turned back to Marguerite and said, "Well then, who will
be first to pleasure?"
She and the concierge conferred a moment and the concierge
called out, "I will."
I went to the nightstand and removed a box of assorted
condoms, then spilled the contents out on the bed. From
where he stood at the foot of the bed he rummaged through
the selections a moment finding one to his liking. He took
it with him to the chair before my slave. Seating himself
comfortably he allowed her to start. She warmed him up and
as his manhood stiffened he pulled away long enough to
start to sheath it. "Slave," he commanded, "use this
opportunity to entice me. Roll this down my shaft. Make
it feel good."
I moved to the foot of the bed sitting down to watch. I
turned to Marguerite and motioned for her to sit. Taking
me up on my offer she opened the conversation with a quiet
query, "How long have you been doing this to him?"
I turned to her and just as quietly replied, "About four
years. You were perceptive to pick up the gender. I didn't
think we gave anything away."
"It's the physical size," she said, "though bent into that
position you make it much harder to tell. Frankly I'm
surprised. Your photos reveal nothing of this info."
"Do you think your friend knows?" I asked.
"I don't think he's thought much about it. This far along
I can tell you, if he doesn't know he won't know." answered
Marguerite.
"Do you think knowing would make a difference to him?" I
queried further.
"I don't know," she answered. "Please don't tell him
though. I'd like to reveal it to him myself, presuming
he doesn't know."
"What's between you?" I queried, opening the conversation
a little further. "You and he thinking about pursuing the
lifestyle?"
"We do. He and I trade off. We spend our weekends tying
each other up," She answered wistfully.
"Not satisfying?" I asked.
"Not anymore," she answered. "We both like to dominate.
What about you two?"
"This is pretty much the way it is. We have a plain vanilla
sexual relationship most of the time. I let 'her' out for
special occasions. This munch, for instance. He likes tied
up and humiliated, but has a business and reputation to
maintain. So, for the last five years it's been long
weekends and planned events like these."
"You enjoy keeping him then?" she asked.
"Keeping him, hmmmm, never thought about it that way. For
me it's more about testing 'her.' Until recently I don't
believe I even liked 'her.' This weekend has done more than
any other to change my mind. I don't know, but, maybe, I
have a mean streak coursing through me that is just now
finding release. I've done more planning for this weekend
than for any other before it. I've made every test lead to
the next. I've made every humiliation just a little harder
to except than the last. I've done more testing this
weekend than ever before. It all leads up to the last
humiliation. Tonight she must walk out of here suffering
her bonds and the clothes she wears."
"This last test, is it make or break for the two of you?"
she asked.
My reply was, "I don't know."
"I just don't know," I repeated a moment latter.
The conversation ended there. Her partner, the concierge,
was about to explode in my slave's vacuum hose of a throat.
"Yeah, baby, that's great. Faster. Faster. Oh, yes, yes,
ahhhhhhhhhh!" As he released his load the reservoir of the
condom filled precipitously quick. She choked on it. This
only served to increase his stimulation and he deposited
even more in the reservoir. "Ahhh, double-cum," he cried
out. "Never ...had ...that ...done to me! So good, it
hurts!"
She just choked until he pulled out, then coughed repeatedly
to clear her throat. The condom he selected appeared to
have been too small and the reservoir had ballooned at the
end. The view was quite obscene, even for jaded females
like us. We turned to each other and simultaneously
exclaimed "Eeeeuuuuwwww!" He looked down, grabbed at the
base, and quickly strode to the bath out of sight. A few
moments later we heard water running. A few moments after
that, the flushed.
I turned to Marguerite and quietly said, "I think it safe
to say my slave's performance was satisfactory." She just
laughed. "Your turn, mademoiselle," I offered.
"Thank you, Madame. If it's all the same to you I will
pass. There's only one I want licking and probing me
there," said Marguerite.
"Are you sure I can't entice you?" I offered tentatively.
"She can provide superb pleasures, as I can attest."
"Having witnessed for myself, I'm certain you're correct.
However, I would decline," she returned solicitously.
"I'm sorry you chose not to partake, you'll miss a momentous
event," I said, disappointed.
The concierge emerged from the bath with a visage of supreme
satiation plastered to his face. Marguerite changed her
demeanor instantly with a flash of anger, "I hope you
haven't spent yourself. You know it's my turn to rule this
week."
"I know," he spoke dejectedly. Turning to me he said, "I
worry your slave may have ruined me. It will cost me with
Marguerite. Still, I enjoyed that immensely. I simply
can't thank you enough."
"You're welcome," I said. "I'm pleased you enjoyed
yourself. I'm sure Marguerite has plans and I will not
keep you. Thank you both for participating." I showed
them both to the door, thanked them again, and let them go.
(Continued)
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* *
* Implied *
* Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, *
* And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd, -- *
* Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, *
* And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. *
* *
* Milton's Paradise Lost, book iv, Line 307. *
* *
* Something to say from the submissive's point of view? *
* Hard to find the "right" words? Want it in a story? *
* Tell me about it by mail at caitmccarren@yahoo.com. *
* *
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