Master's Submission by Helena Harker

Chapter One
     
    I stood by the bedside table, where Master had left his instructions on a piece of red paper he’d transformed into an origami swan. Beautiful. A shame to unfold it, really. Every Friday night, he left me prep work for the scene he wanted to act out when he returned from the office.
    Sometimes he made simple requests, asking me to answer the door dressed only in my leather collar and crotchless panties, and then kneel at his feet after he entered. Or he gave me more detailed instructions, where I had to cook a three-course meal, light candles, make up the bed in satin sheets and lay out the various crops and floggers in a straight line on the mahogany desk by the window. Master loved scenarios involving costume play, especially when I wore my corseted Victorian gown, and he tied me to the bed, ravishing me while I begged to be set free. Other times I draped myself in filmy veils and posed as a harem girl, shimmying my hips in an improvised belly dance. When I finished removing the veils, dropping them one by one at his feet, he played the sultan and demanded sexual favors.
    I held the paper swan to my nose, inhaling its scent. His scent. I caught the faint hint of musky cologne, Fetiche, which I bought for his birthday. One fold at a time, I straightened the paper, tingling in anticipation. What did he desire this evening? Bondage? Spanking? A session with the flogger that ended in a frenzy of fucking? Warmth spread through my pussy as multiple possibilities spun inside my mind. Closing my eyes, I pressed the paper against my lips.
    When Master wrote his notes, the pen left indentations in the paper. The precisely looped Ds and bold Ys reflected his assertive personality.
     
    Dearest Bethany,
    Tonight, your task is to be my Domme. Do what you like with me.
    Your humble servant,
    Dylan
     
    What? Domme him? I didn’t have a clue how to be a Domme. I’d always been his submissive. We’d been together five years and for that entire time, I’d acted as his willing servant, surrendering to him, pleasing him. The roles suited us to perfection. My previous relationships were the same. I’d always been with a Dom, and never, ever considered any other role for myself. Being a sub fulfilled me.
    I read the note a second time. He signed it Dylan, his real name. All the other messages had been signed Master.
    What do I do? What do I do? I only had two hours left before he knocked on the door. Panic rose in my chest. Damn you, Master . I crumpled the paper in my fist and tossed it on the bed.
    In two hours, he wanted me to completely reverse the power dynamics in our relationship. Why?
    The reason didn’t matter. As his sub, it was my duty to obey, even if the task seemed impossibly difficult.
    “You think too much,” he always told me. “Feel. Don’t think. Feel.”
    Yes, I overanalyzed everything. He knew me well. Changing wasn’t easy, though. Shit. I better start planning . The goal was to please him, to make him happy. That meant undergoing a complete personality overhaul. Still, he should have given me more time.
    I tried to put myself inside his head. Why the short deadline? Aha, for two reasons. First of all, he knew I’d agonize over his request even if he gave me five weeks to prepare. Second, he knew my immediate reaction would be anger, and he thought I’d put that anger to good use. A long sigh huffed out of me.
    No matter how much I love you, Master, there’s no dominatrix hiding inside me . If there was, she would have come out of the closet a long time ago.
    He’d never pushed me beyond my limits, always respected me when I said, “I can’t do this. Please ask me again later, and I’ll try then”. As a Master, he provided guidance on my path to submission, but never, ever asked me to do more than I was capable.
    Except today.
    What if I said no? It’s too much. I can’t do it. You’re pushing me too hard .
    We didn’t have a punishment dynamic. He wouldn’t flog me or take me over