I’m standing in the vast dining room.
A crystal chandelier hangs over a table that could seat fifty, but only two places are set: that of Mistress Kimiko at the head and my usual spot on the end to her immediate right. We will be having lunch together this afternoon. But first there is this business of inaugurating step two: obedience. Mistress faces me without smiling, her stern demeanor impressing on me the gravity of the situation after the previous month’s easy companionability.
“As its name indicates, this step is all about training you to obey me without question. I do not accept any refusal, argument, pleading, or even hesitation when I issue an order. You have seen how automatically lovely Aiko obeys me. You must do likewise at all times.” She glances over at the maid lurking by the door to the kitchen.
“Aiko darling, my precious little lesbian, did you enjoy milking this male on his first day here, or sucking his penis clean for me?”
“No, Mistress.”
“How did you feel about it?”
“I hate like madness. I want to bite off and spit foul thing in slave ugly face. I want to puke on slave, torture slave to death and shit on mangled body.”
“Yet for me you gave this hated male an orgasm. You pleasured him with your hand. You took his penis into your mouth and sucked on it and then you licked his spilt seed up off the floor, all of this without hesitation. Do you see my slave? This is the kind of obedience I require from you. Take your tie off now and open the top two buttons of your shirt.”
Trembling with trepidation, appalled all over again at the extent of Aiko’s obedience – and of her vitriolic hatred for me – I hasten to comply. When finished I see Mistress approaching me with a length of sturdy black leather in her hands.
“You will no longer dress in the manner of the arrogant American male. Instead of a tie you will wear this for as long as you remain on my property.”
As she holds it forth I see that Mistress Kimiko has a stout collar to fit on me. About two inches in width this is reinforced with a thin metal band. In place of a buckle tongue it features a protruding little hasp from which a padlock dangles. In addition to this, and a steel ring for attaching a leash or tethering chain, a small, black metal box is riveted to the thick leather. On the inside opposite this is a pair of blunt little prongs.
I know what this indicates and I quail with dread inside, not missing Aiko’s expression of malignant gloating as Mistress steps up to me and wraps her collar around my throat. She fits this snugly to me, not so tightly that it will constrict my breathing or won’t move, but ensuring that no matter how it shifts about those blunt prongs will always remain in contact with my neck. Standing so close that her lovely musk and mere proximity cause my linked arousal, penis pain and miserable frustration to swell yet again (inexplicably exacerbated by her sovereign actions) she snaps the lock shut and smiles faintly down at me from her greater height.
“There; you understand how any disobedience or even hesitation will be responded to now, don’t you, slave?”
I swallow uncomfortably, the tightness in my throat only tangentially related to the heavy collar I’ve been locked into.
“Yes, Mistress Kimiko. This is a restraining collar
