Pets, I was on the train the other day, and overheard the strangest interaction between a man and a woman I’ve heard in a long time.
The two of them stepped on the train, the man with a newspaper in his hand and the girl with her arms around his waist. As he was reading the paper over her shoulder, the man started singing to her–sincerely, off-key, and as though he was completely unaware there was anyone else on the train. He wasn’t loud and obnoxious, defiantly saying to the world, “I’ll sing to my girlfriend if I want to!” Nor was he sheepish or secretive. It really was as though they were the only two people in the world. And I watched them thinking, “How sweet…”
Then, and I swear I’m not lying, he said to her, “I love you, and I love your strap-on.”
Now, the shocking thing here is not that he loved her and her strap-on. That isn’t hard to believe at all. What was shocking was his complete lack of self-conciousness about his love. It was admirable, and it was everything in me not to yell “Good boy!” to him from my seat.
Clearly this woman had trained him and trained him well. I wondered what events could have led to such a nonchalance about a subject which many people keep so private. Perhaps it was part of his humiliation training to sing her songs and declare his love of strap-ons in public places. Perhaps she had introduced him to her thick rod for the first time just prior to their outing on the train. Or perhaps she had such control of his cock, had permeated his brain so completely through discipline and her commanding presence, that he simply couldn’t help but declare how he felt. Perhaps he was so far under her spell, that the rest of the world really did fall away for him, leaving him willing and safe to say, “I love you, and I love your strap-on” in the presence of strangers.
From this brief encounter, I couldn’t determine whether this was a largely vanilla couple experimenting for the first time, or if at home, she exchanged her jeans and sweater for leather boots and corset. But I did make note of the knowing smile that crossed her lips when he declared his love for her and the ass-pounding she had given him. She didn’t say anything back to him, but I could see the wheels churning for this woman.
I recognized that smile. It’s been on my very own lips. It was a smile that denotes power. It was a smile that denotes control. It was a smile that said, “Your ass is MINE!”
Cruel to be kind,
Empress Whitney
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