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Hello, everyone!
I plan to write a complete that will unfold gradually through snapshots of everyday life in a Female Lead relationship under a strict chastity regime.
Please be understanding, as English is not my native language.
Any feedback, suggestions, ideas, comments, remarks, or constructive criticism is appreciated. Every character in this is an adult.
Thank you, in advance!
On this warm Wednesday afternoon, Anthea walks in, wearing a stylish yet relaxed outfit befitting the heat: a light, flowing, skyblue sundress bunched up at the waist by a thin belt that brings out her slender figure. Every so often, the dress gently moves with the steps she takes, falling just to her thighs and showing the faintest hint of a tan she had already begun to build. Her feet are covered in elegant pale brown leather sandals with a simple, classy strap design that leaves her perfectly pedicured redcolored toenails exposed. She is bedecked in understated gold earrings and a thin gold braceletaddons that give classiness to this casual elegance. Her hair is long brown, collected loosely behind her back, enabling strands of hair to cascade over her shoulders.
I greet her with the enthusiasm that she has come to expect from me as Anthea enters the room. Down to my knees, the ritual greeting continues, low to the ground, kissing her feet and straps of sandals in reverence. “Lady, welcome to your home, it’s such a joy to see you again,” I say reverently as I look at her.
She allows me to stay there for a moment, imposing her presence, before speaking.
“Well, look at you, all brighteyed and eager as always,” she says with a small, teasing smile. She chuckles softly. “It’s almost funny, how much brightening up you do when I’m around; like a puppy that sits around the entire day just to see me.”
I hasten my response, “My Lady, it is my week’s highlight to see you.”
“Oh do you now?” she says, the hint of amusement, her tone betraying that. “Funny how much you have changed. I don’t remember you being so eager when we were together. Quite the opposite.”
I lift my head and look back up at her.
“Lady, I was stupid back then,” I confess. “I didn’t appreciate who you were, how great you were, how much I should have brought myself to value you. I was blind to your character, to your strength, to your worth.” The words fall from the depths of honesty, my voice almost shaking with the burden of my regret.
Anthea pasts me, steps into the couch and she leans against the back of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “And what’s different now, boy?” she asks, her eyes slanting, cutting, yet with curiosity. “What do you see now that you were blind to before?”
I take a deep breath, marshaling my thoughts. “In times past, you were my girlfriend, just Anthea. But now you are more than that. You are my Owner, my Keyholder, and to me a living Deity.” My eyes never leave hers while speakingthe intensity of my devotion shining through.
To which she laughs, a soft melodious sound, her head shaking. “A living Deity? You’re talking rubbish again.” There is humor in her tone, yet that type of disbelief. “I am just an ordinary woman, boy.”
I shake my head, letting her words fall from my mind as if they never existed. “No, Lady. To me you are not ordinary, for that is the reason I serve you; because to me you are extraordinary. You are so much more than just a woman. You own me, guide me, mold me.”
Anthea only raises a brow and doesn’t further argue with me, a smile playing around her lips. “You do have a way with words when you want to,” she says with a playful voice, though there’s a hint of warmth underneath.
“Lady, You set an excellent example to other Women to follow, and I am privileged to be your chattel.”
Anthea leans her head to the side, taken aback with my vehemence. “Ah, so if that is your conviction,” she says with a grin. “Who am I to disagree?” And laughing, “Ok I admit that you convinced me haha.” She flicks her hand dismissively, but in her eyes, there shows a glimmer of satisfaction. “Well, let’s hope that enthusiasm carries over while I’m gone”.
I pause a moment, my mood shifting slightly as I say, “I’m happy for your holidays, Lady. You need the rest, and you deserve to enjoy yourself. But. I’ll be sad not to see you.” There’s a touch of longing in my voice, the realization of her absence starting to settle in.
She looks further into me for a moment longer, her eyes softening just a little. “Don’t get all mushy on me, boy,” she teases, though there’s no bite in the words. “It is only two weeks. You will survive. And besides,” she goes on again, leaning to take the cup of coffee I had prepared for her, “you will be busy carrying out my orders while I’m away.”
I light her cigarette, holding the lighter firm as she leans in, inhaling the first breath. Smoke wraps lazily around her as she exhales, relaxed into her seat.
“I ‘ll make sure everything is perfect, Lady,” I whisper.
Sighing out a slow stream of smoke, she nods before cheerfully and teasingly saying.
Well, where is my hardearned money for my holidays, boy? I cannot go there without it, haha!”
I quickly get up and pull out the envelope that I had prepared; with a bit of shaking hands, I hand it over to her.
“Lady, this is the 3,000 Euros I promised you for your holidays,” I say softly, my head low in respect.
Anthea takes the envelope between her fingers, brushing against mine in the process of opening it. She counts the money briefly and then slides it back into the envelope, looking at me with a smile halfamused, halfpleased. “Well, well. You really did save up, didn’t you?” she says, folding the envelope and setting it beside her. “Because of that, I shall be enjoying a rather luxurious vacation.” Her eyes sparkle with gratitude. “Very generous act on your part, boy. I truly do appreciate it.”
“Thank you, Lady. It’s the least I could do, my Lady. It is my honor to provide for your trip. I am glad you will enjoy the holiday of your dreams, at last. You deserve nothing less.” I say, bowing my head anew, grateful she accepts my offering.
“Of course I do.” She blows another cloud of smoke, full of confidence in her voice. “I am excited about it, yes,” she says, her smile broadening. “All of my life, I struggled and could never afford something like this. Now, thanks to you, it’s happening: Majorca and Ibiza, the Balearic Islands. I can hardly believe all this. Five days in Majorca, four in Ibizaand that sun, that sea, all those things I wanted so badly.” She stops, lost in her dream, then turns back to me once more. “This is something I always wished for, and now, because of you, it’s finally going to happen.”
“That sounds wonderful, Lady,” I answer, truly happy for her, but there is a pang to it, a sweet bitterness, knowing well how much Iwill miss her when away. “I will miss you sorely, but it is easier to bear, knowing you are enjoying your dream holiday.”
Anthea turns to me then, her face softening slightly. “Don’t be too sad, boy. I’ll contact you from time to time. Maybe I’ll even send a few picturesif you behave.” She says in a more serious tone, “Of course, that depends on whether you follow my instructions while I’m away. You’ll have your own responsibilities, your schedule, your training. If you’re a good boy, you’ll hear from me.” She leans in slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t you like that?” “Yes, Lady, I would be so grateful. I’ll do everything to the letter, I swear.” I reply, my voice full of hope and determination.
“We shall see,” she says, chuckling with amusement at my fervency. “You will have to deserve it, boy. I am not just giving out rewards for nothing. You are going to be here, on my scheduleworking, training, thinking of how to improve my life. No slacking off, no distractions. Understood?”
“Yes, Lady. I understand.”
“Good.” She takes another drag of her cigarette, the smoke billowing, and then leans a little forward. “And remember, as I am having my sun, cocktail, and dream come true, you’ll be here, thinking of me, waiting for a word from me. Let that drive you, boy.”
“I will, my Lady,” I reply, already fully dedicated. “I will see everything is ready for when you return.”
“I expect nothing less.” She snubs out her cigarette, her face a mask of finality.
“Lady, may I please ask when are you leaving?”
She leans back on the couch, crossing her legs gracefully, the strap of her sandal falling off her foot.
“I leave in two days, Friday morning for my friend Charlotte’s beach house; can’t wait to play with her little kids and enjoy a few moments of relaxation and swimming. Then after a week, at Saturday dawn flying to Majorca, then on Thursday I’ll go to Ibiza, and will fly back home on Monday morning.”
“Thank you for letting me know Lady. They are 17 long days for me to wait you.”
Anthea smiles sweetly and then hands me a page with a poem.
“Read it boy. Do you know what is it?”
“A poem Lady!” I say immediately causing her heartily laughs.
“WOW! Bravo! How clever you are!” she adds in covert sarcasm. “You recognized a poem haha! I asked you if you know which poem is silly hihi.”
“I am sorry Lady, I don’t know, I don’t have a clue on poetry you know.”
Anthea shakes her head, a smile on her face. “I know… I am fully aware about your nonexistent relationship and how ignorant you are about poetry, but I had hoped you knew it since, as you will see, it fits our relationship to a tee.”.
Anthea rolls a cigarette; I immediately take the lighter and light her cigarette; she casually exhales smoke in my face and sips coffee, lounging on the couch, while I resume the kneeling position at her feet.
“Boy,” she begins smoothly and tranquilly, “this is Shakespeare’s Sonnet 58.
Her face breaks into a weak smile. “It’s a sonnet about patience and discipline, about trust. Shakespeare just wrote it out of the mouth of someone who’s completely devoted and knows they must waitthreatened by no complaintfor their beloved. It’s giving up control, knowing a loved one has a free will to live and love as they please.
Her eyes meet mine, “Do you understand, boy? This sonnet, so many ways, fits our relationship like a glove.”
I bow my head in reverence. “Please, Lady, explain it to me. I am not as clever as you are.”
Anthea chuckles and crosses once again her legs elegantly, her sandal loosely dangling from her foot. “I know that, don’t worry. For this reason, I am here to teach you!”
“Thanks a lot Lady, I am listening to you.” I say with real gratitude and growing curiosity.
Anthea patiently and persuasively begins explaining what this Sonnet means.
“The sonnet’s speaker realizes that he is enslaved to the object of his love. He realizes he has absolutely no right to question or control when his beloved seeks pleasure, or whom they share it with. All this befalls you and me, too. You are my vassal, you are my servant. It is not within your place to question my decisionsmost of all, concerning my pleasure, be that emotional, ual, or whatever else.”
My pulse quickens and her words sink deep into my mind. “Yes, Lady,” I whisper. “I understand.”
She keeps her voice patient but firm. “Shakespeare talks about how the speaker must trust his beloved’s choices and actions, even when he doesn’t understand them. You need to learn this same discipline, boy. Sometimes you won’t know why I do things why I choose certain things for myself or for you. But that is irrelevant. What is relevant is your trust your total, complete trust in me.”
“Lady, I would not doubt you for a second,” I return with a current of confidence in my voice.
Anthea leaned to one side; her glance now keen and piercing.
“Trust isn’t about the words, boy; it is about living them. It means being comfortable with me being free to live my life as I see fit, to seek pleasure wherever and with whomever I may choose. And you need to understand, boy, that I am not bound by anything in this relationship. You are mine, but I am no one’s. I am free, and I will always be free.”
Slowly, I nod. The weight of her words settles in. “I do understand, Lady. Never will I question your actions.”
“Very good,” she murmurs low. “For I am the only judge of what my intentions areto this life of mine, to my decisions, to my ual encounters. You are here to serve me, to follow my instructions, not to question what it is I do or whom I do it with.”
Her voice takes on a firmer tone, yet is still calm. “There is to be no jealousy, boy. Not now, not ever. You are not to feel jealous about my experiences, about the people in my life, or about my ual pleasures. You are to accept that I am free to pursue pleasure in whatever manner I choose. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Lady,” I respond quickly, my head bowed in submission. “I understand. I will not be jealous.”
Anthea bends a bit closer, her voice taking on a more intimate tone.
“Sonnet 58 will be our secret code, boy. It will remind youin silence, of coursethat you should know your place. So whenever that doubt creeps on, whenever you wonder why I do what I do, it’s Sonnet 58 and you and me. It’s going to remind me I am free, and I’m patient with you, no matter what I choose to do.”
A tsunami of emotion floods over me. “Yes, my Lady. Sonnet 58 shall be my beacon home. It shall be always with me.”
She says, her lips curling into a slight smile, “And when you think of this sonnet, know that that is your call for me to return, when I am ready, from whatever it is I have chosen to do. Whether I’m off with another and enjoying my life, or merely taking time for myself, Sonnet 58 shall be your understanding. It will be your acknowledgment that I am free, and that I shall return to you upon my choice.
“I shall carry this sonnet in my heart, Lady,” I replyhope, emotion causing my voice to break. “I shall not question and patiently await your return.”
Anthea gives me a last glance, her features soft, her eyes firm. “Good. That’s exactly what I expect. Now,” she says, “you can recite it for me. Show me that you understand what your place means.”
I nod in a hurry and take a deep breath while beginning to recite the sonnetthe words firm, although the tide of emotions rages within me:
“That god forbid, that made me first your slave, ‘
I should in thought control your times of pleasure;
Anthea raises her hand and I cease. “Now, boy, this part is the most important for you. It speaks directly to your position, you are my slave. It says quite clearly that you mustn’t even think of trying to control when or how I seek gratification. You are here to serve, to wait, and to obey. I dictate when and where I take my pleasure and with whom. You must never forget that. You do know this, don’t you?”
I nod fast in servility. “Yes, Lady. I have no right to control your pleasure or your choices.”
“Or at your hand th’account of hours to crave,
Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure!”
Once more, Anthea breaks in this time with a sly smile. “See here, it speaks of patience. You shall not ask how long I have been away nor when I propose returning. You’re bound to stay until my leisure. This means, no matter how long I like to get lost in my own life in my pleasuresyou shall wait without question or complaint.
“Yes, Lady,” I whisper, catching the seriousness of her words.
“Good. Go on,” she commands, her eyes boring into mine.
I go on, my voice firm and clear:
“O! let me suffer, being at your beck, The imprison’d absence of your liberty;
“Ah,” she cuts off again, this time her voice almost teasing.
“This is fitting for you, boy, how you’ll be suffering inside, while I am free outdoors, taking in the fresh air. My freedom! You are inside if you will say you are bound to service and waiting, while I am outside free to live my life. The suffering you feel in that time, the feeling of me being gone from you, with other people or just living a life, is what Shakespeare describes. And you will suffer, won’t you?”
“Yes, Lady,” I answer, my throat clenching with the knowledge of what’s to come while she’s away on holiday.
“Which is so long as it pleaseth you to stay,
And either not, or else you’ll come no more.”
She leans forward, her tone more serious. “This is about time, boy. I can stay away for however long I decide to. And there’s always the possibility that I might just not come back at all.”
As my Owner speaks so casually about it, fear is nestled in my heart. “You must learn to live with that, to live with the fact that you have no control over when or if I return to you.”
My voice shakes a little as I go on:
“For that is as it haply may, I think;
I think no wrong, though I have much to do.”
Anthea smiles softly and keeps her face inscrutable. “Here, Shakespeare’s saying the speaker mustn’t think ill of their lover, even when away, even when they have much to do. Now, what this means in our case, boy, is you may never assume I’m doing wrong or think ill of me when I’m gone. You got to be certain whatever I am doing it is by my free choice and I am free to do it without your judgment.”
“Yes, Lady. I won’t judge,” I reply quickly, my heart racing.
“Good. Finish it,” she says, watching me intently.
I read the final lines:
“I am to wait, though waiting so be hell,
Not blame your pleasure be it ill or well.”
Anthea leans back, satisfied. “And there you have it, boy. Your role is to wait, even if it feels like hell. You are not to blame or question my pleasure, no matter what form it takes. This sonnet is your life now.”
She pauses, tapping ash from her cigarette into the tray. “And now that you understand it, here’s what I’ve decided. From the first day of my holidays, which is this Friday, you will handwrite it at least 20 times a day. Each time you write this sonnet, it will take you six minutes. I’ve counted. Do you understand?”
My eyes widen slightly at the thought of writing it so many times. “Yes, Lady. I understand.”
“Good,” she says with a satisfied nod. “And I expect you to write it correctly, with discipline and focus. Each page will start with the day, month, and the exact time you begin writing. Under them you will write the phrase: “I honor your freedom and cherish the privilege of waiting for your return Lady.” She smiles sweetly and adds,
“You’ll write that same information again at the end of the page, so I can see how long each page took you. In the end of each sheet you will write the phrase: “Thank you, Lady, for allowing me the opportunity to learn patience and trust.” She looks at me smiling.
“Is that clear boy?”
I swallow hard, nodding as the gravity of her instructions settles in. “Yes, Lady. I’ll do as you say.”
She leans forward, her voice soft but commanding. “I’ll check the times, boy. I’ll know if you’ve been lazy or if you’ve taken breaks. You will write two repetitions per page, four repetitions per sheet of the notebook paper, and if I suspect you haven’t been writing conscientiously, I’ll know. And you’ll suffer for it. Understood?”
“Yes, Lady,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
Anthea leans back once more, a smile curling on her lips. “This will teach you discipline, patience, and trust. You will write, you will wait, and you will learn. When I return from my holidays I will check the notebook. I expect neatly writing, no mistakes, no smudges, and clear letters. “
I bow my head deeply. “Yes Lady. Thank you, Lady.”
She nods satisfied. “Now I am ready for you to give me a nice, relaxing body and foot massage. I feel tired of the preparations for my holidays…”
I answer promptly in excitement. “Yes Lady, thank you.”
I kiss her feet and stand up running to prepare the bedroom for her massage and bring the necessary accessories, paraffin oil, lotion, towel and fragrant candles.
ero
