The next morning, I woke up at my normal 4:45 am.  It was a night of little sleep, but when I did wake up, a smile was on my face. I kissed her on the forehead then got out of bed.  She grabbed my pillow and snuggled into it.

“It is too early to get up,”  she mumbled after she lifted the blankets to her chin.

“Who said you needed to get up,” I asked as I sat on the edge of the bed.  

I reached over and laid my hand on the side of her face, as I gently stroked her cheek. A content expression appeared on her face as she closed her eyes.

“In all honesty,”  she whispered from her dream-like state, “I am glad you are on shift today. I will need the time to rehydrate.” 

She then giggled, grabbed my hand, and kissed the tip of my thumb. There was nothing sexual in the kiss. She did not engulf my thumb in her mouth and try to swallow it. She did not swirl the tip with her tongue then flick it. She gave it a little peck then hugged my hand on her neck.

After placing a glass of water on the nightstand, so she could rehydrate, I leaned over and kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finished with her lips.

After showering, shaving, and dressing I kissed her once again before leaving. I heard, “Be safe today baby,” as I closed the bedroom door.

She sent me a picture when she had finished painting. I really was impressed with how quickly she could paint. Not only was she quick, but she was also good at not allowing little runs in the paint. She was very talented to keep from dripping paint on anything it was not originally intended. Well, except herself. I smiled as I thought of her mishap.

I texted her a quick response as the tones dropped for a medical call. “I like the artwork: how about a picture of the artist?”

My phone buzzed as we traveled to the emergency call. I opened the message to see a selfie of her with her eyes crossed and her tongue sticking out at me. I saved the photo on my phone, smiled, then sent an, “I like,” then added a smiley-faced emoji.

Once we arrived, I set the phone down. I was unable to look at it again for another two and a half hours. We had back two back to back calls:  Medical, a false alarm, and someone grilling too close to the house. So close it ignited the back of the home.

When I was able to check my phone, I noticed she had sent me only one message.

“I can’t believe you sent me a message while you were supposed to be helping someone.”

Once we returned to the firehouse, I called her and explained that I was on my way to the call and I leave my phone in the truck while I am working. I thanked her again for painting and for sending the picture.

Making sure I could not be overheard, I said:  “You know I am a bit of a voyeur for you. Why not send a few more pictures and feed into my voyeuristic need?”

“Hmmm,” she replied with a seductive timbre in her voice, “I may have to send some teasing photos because I know you will be there and cannot come to get me until tomorrow. Giving you blue balls may be a lot of fun.”  

She ended the call with an evil and sardonic laugh.

It was a busy shift. I would check my phone the second I fastened my seatbelt and was able to angle my screen so the other guys could not see.

She was an expert at teasing. One photo showed her smiling with a mirror behind her. I could see she was naked but only showing her back and the tip of her butt. Another picture was of her pulling the front of her shirt and bra down just enough to show the edge of her areolas.

I felt that I had become one of Pavlov’s dogs. I would smile, blush and many times adjust myself as I opened her messages. My hardness would begin before I even opened the picture. I guess you could say the Pavlovian experiment was a total success because I was drooling too.

The next two months were filled with fun, play, and a little bit of experimentation.

One evening, while I was on shift, she sent a picture with a pair of handcuffs being held in her teeth. The look was seductive and the intent was clear. However, she had never experienced any type of bondage or real submission. We had talked about how she called me “My Sir” and what that meant to her.

She used the term in a playful and teasing manner but had never been a submissive with a Master or a Sir.

I was able to find a secluded room in the firehouse and called her. Due to never knowing when someone would call 911, I had to be concise with what I had to say.

“Hello,”  she answered.

“I may only have a few seconds so I need to make this quick.”

“Okay, is everything alright at the firehouse? Are you hurt,” she asked anxiously.

“Everything is going well and I am not hurt. I need to clear something up with you and I need to know your thoughts and opinion.”

“Okay, I am listening.”

“Do you remember when we were painting and when the pizza came you told me to not hog the breadsticks?”

“Yup, I do remember.”

“Do you also remember calling me 'My Sir'?”

“I do.”

“I know you were teasing me but I want you to know what that means to me.”

“Okay.”

“When you called me Sir, especially My Sir, that tells me you are willing to subject yourself to me. To submit to me.”

“And I did. Mmmmm, over the sink then in the bed and again in the shower.” She giggled a little at the memory.

“Yes, you did. But, you just sent a picture of handcuffs. Do you understand what you are implying by sending me that picture?”

“I think I do. I have never played like that and I want to try.”

“If you are willing to try then we need to lay some groundwork and some rules.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun. It sounds like work and it makes everything sound so mechanical,” she pouted.

“Believe me it will be well worth the time. Are you willing to talk to me about it?”

“Yes I am,”  she said with a tone of resolution in her voice.

I questioned her in order to learn the depth of knowledge she had about bondage and submission. I wanted to know if she wanted to feel the bite on her skin when she struggles or if it was the thought of feeling bound without restraints that excited her.

She was a little confused about how agreeing on a safe word: it was an expression of trust for her and me. She understood that she had to trust me to release her or to stop if she used the safe word but farther than that was the importance of me trusting her.

“I have to trust that you would use the safe word,” I began. “To be your Sir, your Master is not in name only. I have to know you and read your expressions, listen to your breathing, watch your reactions, feel your desire, and know the limits you need to reach for release. It will not only be an orgasmic release but a release from whatever is binding you emotionally, mentally, or sexually. If for some unforeseen reason, I miss the cue for stopping or releasing your binding and you do not use the safe word, that could hurt you. That would shatter the trust you have in me. That would then make me lose the trust I have in you.”

“I never thought about how deep it could go. Honestly, I have read about it in stories and books but it was never expressed on an emotional level like that.”

After a solid minute of silence, I heard her take a deep breath, hold it then release.

“I need it. I want it. I cannot think of doing that with anyone but you.”

“I will be home tomorrow around five. After I shower I will come over and then we will go out for dinner and discuss it further.”

“That sounds fine. I will be ready by then.”

“I did not say that as a question or for your approval. All you needed to say was, Yes Sir.”

After another solid minute of silence, I heard her whisper, “Yes Sir.”

“Good girl,”  I said as I ended the call.

The rest of the shift was very busy. She sent a couple of texts and a selfie picture of her holding a brownie she was about to devour. I knew she was wondering about the route our relationship was heading. She was perplexed with the thought of bondage and with my Dominant demeanor being expressed.

Everything would be discussed and made clear over dinner. For now, I smiled at the thought of her wonderful and colorful imagination creating images, scenes, and feelings of what will happen the next night.

When she opened the door, she smiled at the look of pleasure she saw on my face.

“Hi beautiful,” I said as I gave her a kiss.

“Hi Sir,” she said meekly.

After opening her car door for her I heard her say, “Thank you, Sir.”

I walked around the car, sat behind the wheel, closed the door then turned and looked at her.

“Before we begin to drive, I think we need to clear some air,” I said as I reached for her hand.

She gripped mine with both of hers and looked at me with what I perceived as a scared expression.

“I would like for you to forget everything you have read about or have watched about bondage. I would like for you to also forget about everything you have read that concerns Dominant and submissive relationships. There is not a cookie-cutter program that can be inserted into a relationship that would instantly turn it into Dom/sub. The partners have to talk and discuss what they want and how they want to proceed. You are very uncomfortable with how I ended our phone conversation last night. I have a feeling that you think I will command and demand that you call me Sir all of the time. That is not the case. We have not discussed the dynamics of that part of our relationship.”

I felt her hands relax a little as she began to stroke the back of my hand with her thumb.

I lifted her hands up to my lips and kissed them.

“Let’s start the conversation right now. When I told you the correct response would be ‘Yes Sir’, that was to give you a taste of what it will be like to submit. It was not a punishment, it was a way for me to see how you would react and a chance for you to understand the beginning of a Dom/sub relationship.”

She nodded her head and allowed a little bit of a smile form on her lips.

“I will not force you to do things you do not want to do or say. I will not command you to bring me a drink of water in your teeth while crawling on all fours. Unless you would like to try that at some point in our relationship. I have never experienced that type of dynamic but I am willing to try with someone I trust and want me to do that with them.” 

Her eyes enlarged and she shook her head. “I don’t think I want to do that. That would be humiliating,” she said quickly.

“There are those that enjoy doing scenes like that. They absorb the humiliation and get aroused by being used as a piece of meat or be told they are trash only to be used and thrown aside. I have met couples that have that type of relationship and they have some of the strongest emotional and physical connections compared to couples that only worship one another. It is what the couple wants, it is what they agree upon and what turns them on.”

“When you told me to say ‘Yes Sir’, that excited me. It felt like an electrical shock went through me and I have never felt anything like that with anyone. Then my mind started racing after we hung up and I wondered if I had to call you Sir all of the time in public. I also wondered if you were going to change and we could not cuddle or have our fun and silly talks. I really like who you are and I love being with you. You make me feel seen and wanted. I am comfortable with my body around you. I do not feel like I need to lose weight just so you will like me, you want me for who I am. I was afraid that if I did not call you Sir all of the time then you would not want to be with me any longer.”

I leaned over and kissed her. Again and again, I pressed my lips on hers. With each kiss, I felt her tension ease and her comfort with me return.

“Let’s go eat and talk. We have some fun to talk about,” I said as I started the car.

After dinner, we returned to my house.  She led me into my bedroom, sat me on the edge of my bed then leaned down and kissed me.

She stepped away and began to strip in front of me. It was a slow, tantalizing, sultry, and an excruciatingly erotic striptease. She would not get close enough for me to touch her, which just about drove me into a frenzy. I loved it.

Once she was in her bra and panties, she walked over to her purse, opened it, and pulled out the same pair of handcuffs she had in her teeth in the picture.

She held them out in front of her as she approached me.

“I am yours, Sir,” she said as she laid them in my lap.

I picked up the handcuffs, stood up while holding both of her hands in my free hand, turned her, and sat her on the edge of the bed.

Stepping away, I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. I sat the handcuffs on my dresser, turned back, and kneeled in front of her.

“Before we start I have another question. Do you want to experience the feeling of being bound or the feeling of handcuffs?”

“I want to be yours. I want you to own me and be my Sir,” she said breathlessly.

“Would you be upset if we did not use the handcuffs? I am only asking because I am thinking of your safety. I do not like handcuffs personally. They are a safety issue for me. I am to take care of you and be conscious of your safety. If something bad were to happen and I could not reach or find the key then I would not be able to release you quickly or protect you as I should.”

With a furrowed brow, she asked, “Then how will I be bound, Sir?”

I stood up, kissed her on the tip of her nose then left the room.

Before I re-entered, I told her to open the nightstand and put on the blindfold.

Quietly I walked into the room. She was nervously licking her lips as she sat blindfolded. I could see her hardened nipples through her bra waiting to be kissed, licked, pulled, and suckled.

She jumped slightly as I picked up her hands.

“I didn’t hear you come back in,” she said as she emitted a nervous giggle.

I did not say a word as I lay her back on the bed. I removed her bra and panties then began to position her body in an “X” on the bed.

“You remember the safe word?” I asked as I gently kissed her lips.

“Yes Sir,” she replied quietly.

“Good girl, you remembered to say, Sir. It would be a shame for you to get spanked this soon in the evening,” I said as I looped the rope I had retrieved on her wrist.

“Spanking Sir,” she moaned, “will you spank me too?”

“That depends,” I replied.

“Please do Sir,” she moaned as her hips began to gently thrust and gyrate.

After both wrists and ankles were bound I ran my tongue along her inner thigh and tasted the nectar she had been producing.

She moaned as I pulled away and gently blew on the wetness that glistened in the light.

“Sir?”

“Yes beautiful.”

“Why ropes? Are they safer than handcuffs?” she asked as she began to pull and tug.

“They are for me. I use and practice with ropes all of the time with the fire department. I trust ropes with my life and know how to tie and untie them safely and quickly. That is why I trust them on you.”

I stepped away and watched the wet area between her thighs reach the bed and darken the sheets.

“You are my good girl,” I said as I began to remove my shirt.

“Yes Sir, I am your good girl,” she whispered.

“You are my sexy girl,” I said as I finished removing my clothes.

“Yes Sir, I am your sexy girl,” she said as her toes curled.

“You are my naughty girl,” I said as I turned on a small vibe next to her ear.

“Yes Sir, I am your naughty girl,” she growled.

I kissed her lips, her neck and her tummy then said, “Our night has begun.”