The Leash

She sits there sedately, not saying a word, not moving a muscle, not making a sound. Just listening…listening…

Quietly glamorous, outrageously feminine, one leg so casually crossed over the other. (Did Her skirt just naturally ride up to reveal a hint of thigh as She crossed them, or did She deliberately…?)

Sitting so quietly, so prettily.

A Perfect Lady.

Sedate, focused, reserved…except for…that…smile. That subtle, barely perceptible smile.

That wicked wicked wicked wicked...

…smile…

he swallows hard as he stares at it. Very hard. he can’t believe it’s there. he can’t believe this is real. And the most unbelievable thing of all…the most unbearable and unacceptable truth of all…is the effect it’s having on him. The power it exerts over him.

he can’t believe it!

he told himself it wasn’t real. Just talk between T/them. Flirtatious banter. Nothing Serious.

Humor.

Fantasy.

It couldn’t be real. It’s NOT real, he insists!

But it’s there.

On the coffee table right in front of where he sits. Just sitting there itself…quiet…unannounced…powerful…

And he can’t take his eyes off it.

The Leash.

“Perfect,” She thinks to herself as She surveys his delicious disarray. he is just the type She wants. Manly. Strong. Proud. And most mouth wateringly delectable of all…

…scared…

She struggles mightily to keep Herself from breaking out in raucous, gleeful, uncontrollable laughter. It won’t be easy, She realizes. Sometimes a Girl just can’t help Herself…

he knows he won’t do it. he knows he can’t do it! No way will that leash end up attached to his neck! Forget it! Impossible! Not an option! NO WAY!

So why doesn’t he just get up and leave, he asks himself. he can do that. he’s a grown man, for chrissake, there’s nothing in the world preventing him from doing that.

So why…so why…so why…is there this budding…hint…this…suggestion, this impulse, this rising, growing, expanding, clamoring, demanding, rebellious, violent, pillaging, unstoppable treason raging within his head and chest and arms and legs and heart and soul, commanding him to do the unthinkable, to surrender unconditionally, to resign himself to inevitable capture…debasement…violation...

he tears his eyes away from it…anything not to look at that leash!... and focuses on Her eyes and is stopped…cold! he stares, frozen, his mouth agape…It can’t be, he tells himself, it can’t be!

But it is. Obvious and unmistakable. Her smile has grown wider. And there’s no mistaking the nature of it now. No subtlety, no mystery, the meaning of it is crystal clear. It is pure mockery.

“Don’t laugh!” She commands herself silently…but it’s so hard! This is sooooooo perfect!

She loves the way that blush of embarrassment engorges his face as he notices Her amused smile. This is Her favorite kind of conquest...against the will. Seduction. Forced surrender.

Not without his consent, of course. There must be and always will be consent, She knows it and he knows it.

But She can clearly see he doesn’t want to. And yet he can’t resist Her. he’s totally helpless. And She could not be more amused...

How dare She, he fumes inwardly. How dare She!!!

It’s clear now that it’s inevitable. And that it will be very soon. A matter of minutes at most. And She can see that it’s clear to him too. Although still...wonderfully...deliciously...he continues to resist. How She adores seeing a proud man squirm!

“This won’t just be a meal,” She tells Herself. “This will be a...Feast!”

he won’t, he tells himself. he won’t, he swears. he CAN’T!!!

And then he reaches for his shirt button…

She can barely contain Her glee. She wants to laugh so badly...She needs to laugh so desperately!

But somehow, remarkably, miraculously, She manages to compose Herself and simply open Her eyes wide in a mock expression of Ladylike...surprise?

he strips quietly. he won’t give Her the satisfaction of speaking, of protesting verbally, of making it seem like the conquest it is. But he can feel the red hot shame building in his cheeks, scorching his manly ego.

And he can tell from the way Her eyes open wider that She sees it too. And is savoring it. Relishing it. Reveling in it! he burns with indignation.

And continues to take off his clothes…

She takes in the wonderful view before Her. he is naked. On all fours. his head hanging down in disgrace and defeat.

Is there anything more wonderful in the world, She muses, than the sight of a man like this?

She whispers one word to him: “Here.”

Without a word, he crawls to Her feet. his head still bowed, he can’t bring himself to look at Her, to acknowledge his stinging defeat. Is he sobbing, She wonders?

She puts the collar round his neck and snaps the leash on. Did She hear a slight whimper from him as the snap clicked? And did a soft girlish giggle finally escape Her lips when She heard it?

Oh well, She muses, nobody’s perfect...

Time to celebrate. She decides to take him on a victory lap of the room. Silently. Teaching him to heel. he responds well to the leash, to Her guiding tugs, as She keeps him neatly alongside Her clicking heels.

he follows easily. he is obedient. he is acquiescent.

he is broken.

Once around the room and She returns to the sofa, nestling back comfortably with him at Her feet.

“Beg,” She whispers softly. And, to Her delight, he does, immediately, perfectly, his “paws” lifted up as he kneels there, his puppy-dog eyes so adorable as She savors the tears running down his cheeks. Poor thing, he looks so silly and so cute, he has no idea what lies ahead...

She contemplates the delightful possibilities. So much manhood to strip away, so slooooooooooowly, one delicious, agonizing layer at a time.

So much humiliation. And so MUCH time...

And now She can’t control Herself any longer. She tosses back Her head and howls in delight. All the pent up hilarity comes pouring out of Her in the most riotous of eruptions, with the most sinful glee. It is truly a laugh for the ages...

And then, after an eternity, when it finally starts to subside, She looks at him and sees that look of utter panic in his eyes, and She erupts uncontrollably again!

She clutches Her midsection, She rolls over on Her side, there are tears of laughter streaming down Her cheeks, She might never stop laughing as She eyes him, frozen in his begging position, trying to be brave but so utterly scared, Her poor, poor, poor terrified puppy boy…