I am strong-minded, intelligent, self-sufficient, and a submissive. While this may confuse some, it makes perfect sense to me. I am not submissive to every dominant I meet. I am not submissive to every male. I am submissive only to the one who respects me, loves me, treats me as an equal partner (yes, submissives ARE equal partners!), and has earned the title of Sir.

I am perfectly capable of caring for myself. I can change my own tires, fix my own washing machine, and buy myself all the flowers I want. Yet, I gain satisfaction and contentment from meeting my match. I gain self-discipline by knowing Sir will help me learn from my mistakes by administering a consequence which I agree with (see - EQUALITY). I get a sense of peace by knowing I please Sir, that he desires me, that he thinks of me often, that he seeks my input for our rules and consequences.

I am a submissive, not a slave (although there's nothing wrong with that as long as it is consensual between adults). I choose to submit. I am not forced to submit.

I am not a prude, but I am modest in my appearance, usually wearing dresses that button up to the collarbone and the hem hitting just below my knees. Tonight, Sir looked and me and said, "Show me your breasts."

My nipples hardened before my hand reached the tie of my blouse. I untied the bow at the neck and unbuttoned all the buttons to my waist. His eyes drank in my breasts as much as his mouth drank the last of his tea.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "I'm so glad you added No Bras to our home expectations. It tells me that you know how much I enjoy not only touching, but simply seeing your breasts."

"Thank you, Sir. I'm glad as well." And I am. The seat of my dress is now getting wet (I don't wear underwear at home, either).

He doesn't reach for me. He just wants to look at me. I finish my own tea and munch on my biscuit. My heart is pounding. I finished and placed our cups, saucers, and teapot on the tray, which I carried to the kitchen before returning to our back porch.

Before I could return to my seat, he patted his lap. I sat down there. His hands went to my breasts and slowly began massaging them. I tipped my head back and moaned. He pinched my nipples hard, and I felt a gush of wetness between my thighs. He must have felt it as well because he pinched harder, chuckled, and whispered, "You've marked my good trousers with your wetness, Melissa. Now I'll have to take them to cleaners. Maybe I should make you do that and explain the spot."

"No, please," I murmured, secretly thrilled by the idea, along with being mildly terrified of the humiliation.

"Yes, that's exactly what you'll do tomorrow, won't you? Admit to the dry cleaner just what a needy wife you are."

"Yes, Sir. I will," I gasped out as he twisted my nipples.

Without warning, he stood up, taking me with him. He bent me over the table and commanded me to stay there. I obeyed, automatically spreading my legs wide and lifting my ass. I heard him undressing, and then, his hands were on my hips, fingers digging into my flesh. He thrust his cock, balls deep, into my ready tunnel. He stayed there, allowing my body to acclimate to his girth and length. I was in heaven.

I am a strong, intelligent woman who knows what I want. I want to be dominated by Sir. That is MY choice.

I exploded around his cock, calling out his name in a high-pitched squeak. He laughed and began to move, fucking me so hard, I was lifted off my feet. He reached beneath me and pinched my clit while he fucked me. I came again, shattered with ecstasy. Sometime during this, he too found his pleasure, pumping his seed deep inside of me.

He pulled out, cleaned himself, and went inside. I remained in place, trying to catch my breath. He returned a moment later, flipped my skirt over my naked ass, and again pulled me onto his lap. He was now wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled into his neck. Sir, knowing my needs, said nothing for a good ten minutes. He just held me, occasionally kissing my head. Finally, I leaned back a bit so I could look at him.

"Thank you, Sir."

"No, Melissa. Thank you. Now, why don't you go upstairs and take a shower? You can meet me in bed, where I plan on ravishing you completely now that we've taken the edge off. Take your time, but I will expect you to be on the bed with your ass fully lubricated just in case I want to use that instead of your already lubricated pussy."

I giggled before saying, "Happily, Sir."

"Oh, and why don't you add some decorations to your nipples as well. Your choice."

"Yes, Sir!"

I chose a pair of clips for my nipples that sported soft covers and an adjustable clamp. They also hand a small dangling hook to which weights could be added if Sir so desired. I lay on the bed, clamps on my tender nipples, my body clean and fresh smelling, my ass filled with lubrication - just in case, and my pussy oozing his cream as well as my own renewed flow. The room smelled of roses and sex.

He came into the room, naked, smelling of his favorite soap and his body slightly damp from his own shower.

"Ah! My favorites," he noted as he took in the sight of the clamps I'd chosen. "I want you to keep those on until I finish, which may take some time since I've already come once, so I'm not going to add any weights. Are they comfortable enough?"

"They are, Sir. Tight enough to stay in place yet not so tight as to damage the tissue any time soon," I answered.

"Good. Spread your legs wide, knees up."

I obeyed without hesitation. Rather than his cock, he plunged his tongue into my tunnel, lapping up our combined flavors. He pressed down on my mound and gently squeezed my clit. I exploded, gushing all of my joy into his mouth. Slowly, he finished licking my pussy clean, then moved up to my clit, sucking it while using his fingers to fuck me. I screamed his name and wrapped my legs around his body.

Suddenly, he pulled away from me. He flipped me over onto my belly and slapped my ass.

"You did not have permission to move your legs," he scolded. On your knees, head down, ass up."

I obeyed.

He eased his cock slowly into my slick back tunnel. I groaned with pleasure and tried to push back. He slapped my ass again, Hard. I was sure I'd see a red handprint if I looked.

"Remain still until I'm seated. You need to learn to control yourself."

His voice was patient yet firm. He wasn't angry. He was enforcing a consequence. I felt my soul rise.

"Yes, Sir."

Only after I'd come twice with his cock fully buried inside of me did he allow me to move. Because of his earlier orgasm, he fucked me for a very long time. Eventually, he lay on his back and pulled me on top of him, my ass again filled with his cock. He flicked the clamps on my nipples, and I yelped.

"I thought they'd be good and tender by now. Go on, then. Fuck me until I come. Then, you, my love, will remove these clamps."

And as he commanded, so it happened.

The next day, when I stood at the counter of the dry cleaner's, pointing out the spot on Sir's trousers and explaining exactly what the spot was (so they would know how to treat it as well as per Sir's instructions), I blushed furiously, humiliated by speaking of something so private to the dry cleaner. I also reveled in my body's reaction to the memory of the night before. My nipples were still tender, pressed tightly against the silk of my bra. My ass was still tender from the firm, hard slap he'd given it. My consciousness was also tender, knowing just how lucky I was to have found Sir.

I am a strong, independent woman, but nothing is more enchanting than a strong, independent man whom I can submit to.