Obey
of
CJ Clarke
genre
domination
“Sit!” Jerry sternly commanded with a deftness of touch that suggested he expected no resistance, pointing to an empty spot on the hardwood floor by the front door. And into that empty space crawled his fiancée, his beloved, his submissive who sat looking up at him, almost bursting with the nervous sexual energy and overwhelming need but subduing it for the greater need of pleasing her owner. The two of them had woken up early and had been playing all day. Already, he had put her through her paces, but now he was about to embark on a new adventure with her, and the vision of what he next had in store for her had him grinning from ear to ear, a wolfish smile which he fixed on her and in his gaze, she couldn't help but squirm a little on the spot that had been appointed to her.
Samantha was a tall, athletic brunette, her silky hair usually falling down to her shoulders, only her partner had insisted today on braiding it into pigtails, which always had the effect of reminding her of her childhood and therefore putting her into an even more submissive frame of mind. Her intelligent oval face, framed by a pair of diminutive frames, looked up at him with even more rapt attention as he then barked at her, “stay!” before disappearing around the corner and, from the sounds of it, then rummaging around in the drawer in the corridor. He then reappeared dangling the collar and leash with a sadistic gleam in his eyes and Samantha's stomach fell out of the bottom of her shoes and her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. She could hardly believe that he was really going to do this but by the time he'd fastened the collar around her delicate, milk white throat and clipped the leash onto the d-ring, the full weight of her situation finally hit her and she was full of terror and foreboding. But one little tug on the leash from her owner and the words “Up you get! Time for your walkies!” and she knew she was helpless to resist-that she'd follow him anywhere. He opened the door, leash in hand and stepped out, with his pet trotting along at his heel, 2 paces behind and to the left of him.
Walking along their home street, here in the heart of Brooklyn, New York city, they did receive a few glares and judgemental looks, some wry smiles, some lascivious staring but nothing approaching the mass hysteria that Samantha had envisioned. Especially because her owner had demanded that she wear the shortest, skimpiest mini skirt, no panties, no bra and a tank top two sizes too small for her, with her rock hard nipples jutting out (it was a particularly chilly Autumn day), clear for all to see through the thin material. In some ways, it was worse than being naked. She especially felt mortified at the crossing when an old creepy man was smiling broadly at her, taking no pains to conceal his positive appraisal of her body. She felt like a cheap piece of meat. But still, when her owner turned round at a particular junction and gave her an effusive, “good girl!”, she couldn't help but beam with pride at being her owner's prized possession, of which he was so proud, that he couldn't help but parade her down the thronging streets of New York for all to see.
After being dragged through a couple of blocks, her fear was beginning to abate, except for one central fear. She was worried that they might bump into one of their co-workers at the law firm. Despite being an open minded, progressive bunch, even being known for throwing some of the most hedonistic parties going. But still, she had fought so hard to be just as esteemed as the rest of this 'boy's club'. All of that would be upended in a second if they saw her in these tight fitting, form-hugging clothes, walking along obediently behind her fiancée, collared and leashed like an animal.
And this gnawing panic was skyrocketing with every step they took towards the financial district, where the likelihood of running into some gossiping associate would greatly increase. Jerry was clearly enjoying her perturbed state of mind too, and the fact that despite how panic stricken she was, she was clearly enjoying herself at some level too. And in order to fully drink in her fear and humiliation, he decided to stop in at some modest cafe down one of the streets slightly less saturated with people. As they approached the cafe, Samantha could see that it was only half full, and she heaved a great sigh of relief that only so many eyes would now be able to behold her in this shameful and compromising state. But some of her old horror came surging back up when Jerry, after pulling up a chair at one of the tables just out front on the side-walk, clicked his fingers pointing at the cold ground beside him and imperiously, with a clear and loud voice ringing out, ordered her to “sit”. Immediately, every head in the cafe, from young to old, craned their heads to watch the scene. But despite how terrifying and degrading it was, Samantha readily fell to her hands and knees and sat down on the cold pavement at his feet.
“Good girl!” he cooed at her in a sing-songy voice usually only reserved for dogs, patting her on the head. One of the younger customers, in his early 20s, couldn't help but chuckle and wonder “what the fuck” under his breath. Samantha was burning with embarrassment and her cheeks were flushed red. She was trying to talk herself down from this agitated state when a middle aged lady, clearly a professional, judging from her expensive, tailored pants-suit, began loudly and angrily intervening. She first addressed Samantha.
“Excuse me, are you okay? You know you don't have to do this. We can get you help, you know?”
Samantha looked to her owner and protector for guidance but as usual, he took the reins and replied for her, “she's absolutely fine, thank you. This is perfectly consensual and we're hardly bothering anyone...”
“I didn't ask you, you chauvinistic pig. You like this do you? Abusing women?”
“No one's being abused here...” he replied calmly but she then burst into a furious tirade before handing Samantha a card with a number to ring on it and then storming off heatedly. The scene over, the rest of the customers averted their eyes once more and went back to minding their own business. Samantha wished the ground would open up and swallow her up. But her humiliation was not quite over because now Jerry took out from his bag a metal dog dish, which he then filled up with bottled water before placing it on the floor before her.
“Here you go puppy. You must be thirsty from your big day out, huh?”
More poorly stifled chuckles came from somewhere in the cafe. But she obeyed without a moment's hesitation, lapping up the water with her tongue, craving to hear his praise, which when received, along with some pats on the head, made her riotously happy and then the derisive and mocking laughter from the faceless masses was quickly forgotten. She was falling deeper and deeper into the head-space, to the point where she was struggling even to comprehend the meaning of the words spoken by the people around her. Not that it mattered though. All she had to do was listen to her owner and to obey.
Jerry, after commanding her to stay again, went to pay the owner of the cafe and then came back and patted her on the head again, just prior to tugging at her leash so that they could set off. But as she rose to her feet once more, Jerry gently explained to her that this time he wanted her to remain on her hands and feet and to scrabble along at his side. The sinking feeling came back for she knew that this way she would be even more of an embarrassing and ridiculous spectacle to the people around them. And her fears were well founded, as soon as they rejoined the main traffic of the New York streets, the comments, the mocking peels of laughter and the entitlement that certain members of the public felt in ogling her all increased inexorably. And in fact, when they stopped at a crossing, one old man with a dirty look even made a reach for her ass. Samantha was about to break the scene and speak up when she then saw Jerry meet the man's eye and give him a smile and a friendly raising of the eyebrows and nod of the head. The man then had another feel before the lights finally changed and she was able to awkwardly scurry along. But her worst degradation was still to come, for all of a sudden she realized where she had been led to-the heart of the financial district, right outside of the prestigious law firm that the two of them worked at. Samantha felt her chest constricting and her breathing grow ragged. It wasn't too long before someone recognised them...
“Holy shit, haha, well, if it isn't our favorite power couple. Jerry and Samantha! Well, well, well, I had no idea you two were into this sort of shit.” came the conspicuously loud exclamation from one of their co-workers, one of the newer junior members. Then, of course, the rest of the crowd turned to see what he was so excited by and soon the two of them were surrounded by a small crowd, some familiar faces dotted amongst them. All of them were full of questions and seemed to appreciate this sexy and daring spectacle, although they couldn't help but be surprised that of all people, the self possessed and aggressively ambitious Samantha should be into this. Some were even brave and adventurous enough themselves to join in with the fun asking her in condescending tones whether she'd been a 'good doggy', whether or not she was 'enjoying their walks' or just coming over to pet her and tell her how cute she looked. Samantha was equal parts rapturous at this ostensible show of her hidden nature and being able to demonstrate her dedication to her owner in public and equal parts mortified, wishing the earth would just open up and swallow her up. And to think that come Monday morning, she would have to walk through these halls of power, with everyone there knowing her most intimate secret.
The two of them stayed there a little while, the crowd of spectators and well-wishers growing until Jerry was able to extricate himself from them, promising some of the more excited and eager among them that they could come over sometime and perhaps even get to 'play' with his pet. From here it was just a short walk to Central Park, upon which, she was beset by more cat calling and people staring openly at her body with lust in their eyes. But she was beyond caring about that now. She was on such a high from overcoming this fear and from being able to live more authentically in the public eye and for all of this to be a gift of submission and declaration of her lifelong devotion to him too that it was all just dull murmurs against this glorious symphony that she now felt herself to be a part of. And to crown their day of play, the final indignity demanded of her was that she should squat down in the grass, in front of the Central Park masses and pee on the ground like a dog. A command that she was only too happy to carry out if it should make her owner and her lover smile.
End
Samantha was a tall, athletic brunette, her silky hair usually falling down to her shoulders, only her partner had insisted today on braiding it into pigtails, which always had the effect of reminding her of her childhood and therefore putting her into an even more submissive frame of mind. Her intelligent oval face, framed by a pair of diminutive frames, looked up at him with even more rapt attention as he then barked at her, “stay!” before disappearing around the corner and, from the sounds of it, then rummaging around in the drawer in the corridor. He then reappeared dangling the collar and leash with a sadistic gleam in his eyes and Samantha's stomach fell out of the bottom of her shoes and her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. She could hardly believe that he was really going to do this but by the time he'd fastened the collar around her delicate, milk white throat and clipped the leash onto the d-ring, the full weight of her situation finally hit her and she was full of terror and foreboding. But one little tug on the leash from her owner and the words “Up you get! Time for your walkies!” and she knew she was helpless to resist-that she'd follow him anywhere. He opened the door, leash in hand and stepped out, with his pet trotting along at his heel, 2 paces behind and to the left of him.
Walking along their home street, here in the heart of Brooklyn, New York city, they did receive a few glares and judgemental looks, some wry smiles, some lascivious staring but nothing approaching the mass hysteria that Samantha had envisioned. Especially because her owner had demanded that she wear the shortest, skimpiest mini skirt, no panties, no bra and a tank top two sizes too small for her, with her rock hard nipples jutting out (it was a particularly chilly Autumn day), clear for all to see through the thin material. In some ways, it was worse than being naked. She especially felt mortified at the crossing when an old creepy man was smiling broadly at her, taking no pains to conceal his positive appraisal of her body. She felt like a cheap piece of meat. But still, when her owner turned round at a particular junction and gave her an effusive, “good girl!”, she couldn't help but beam with pride at being her owner's prized possession, of which he was so proud, that he couldn't help but parade her down the thronging streets of New York for all to see.
After being dragged through a couple of blocks, her fear was beginning to abate, except for one central fear. She was worried that they might bump into one of their co-workers at the law firm. Despite being an open minded, progressive bunch, even being known for throwing some of the most hedonistic parties going. But still, she had fought so hard to be just as esteemed as the rest of this 'boy's club'. All of that would be upended in a second if they saw her in these tight fitting, form-hugging clothes, walking along obediently behind her fiancée, collared and leashed like an animal.
And this gnawing panic was skyrocketing with every step they took towards the financial district, where the likelihood of running into some gossiping associate would greatly increase. Jerry was clearly enjoying her perturbed state of mind too, and the fact that despite how panic stricken she was, she was clearly enjoying herself at some level too. And in order to fully drink in her fear and humiliation, he decided to stop in at some modest cafe down one of the streets slightly less saturated with people. As they approached the cafe, Samantha could see that it was only half full, and she heaved a great sigh of relief that only so many eyes would now be able to behold her in this shameful and compromising state. But some of her old horror came surging back up when Jerry, after pulling up a chair at one of the tables just out front on the side-walk, clicked his fingers pointing at the cold ground beside him and imperiously, with a clear and loud voice ringing out, ordered her to “sit”. Immediately, every head in the cafe, from young to old, craned their heads to watch the scene. But despite how terrifying and degrading it was, Samantha readily fell to her hands and knees and sat down on the cold pavement at his feet.
“Good girl!” he cooed at her in a sing-songy voice usually only reserved for dogs, patting her on the head. One of the younger customers, in his early 20s, couldn't help but chuckle and wonder “what the fuck” under his breath. Samantha was burning with embarrassment and her cheeks were flushed red. She was trying to talk herself down from this agitated state when a middle aged lady, clearly a professional, judging from her expensive, tailored pants-suit, began loudly and angrily intervening. She first addressed Samantha.
“Excuse me, are you okay? You know you don't have to do this. We can get you help, you know?”
Samantha looked to her owner and protector for guidance but as usual, he took the reins and replied for her, “she's absolutely fine, thank you. This is perfectly consensual and we're hardly bothering anyone...”
“I didn't ask you, you chauvinistic pig. You like this do you? Abusing women?”
“No one's being abused here...” he replied calmly but she then burst into a furious tirade before handing Samantha a card with a number to ring on it and then storming off heatedly. The scene over, the rest of the customers averted their eyes once more and went back to minding their own business. Samantha wished the ground would open up and swallow her up. But her humiliation was not quite over because now Jerry took out from his bag a metal dog dish, which he then filled up with bottled water before placing it on the floor before her.
“Here you go puppy. You must be thirsty from your big day out, huh?”
More poorly stifled chuckles came from somewhere in the cafe. But she obeyed without a moment's hesitation, lapping up the water with her tongue, craving to hear his praise, which when received, along with some pats on the head, made her riotously happy and then the derisive and mocking laughter from the faceless masses was quickly forgotten. She was falling deeper and deeper into the head-space, to the point where she was struggling even to comprehend the meaning of the words spoken by the people around her. Not that it mattered though. All she had to do was listen to her owner and to obey.
Jerry, after commanding her to stay again, went to pay the owner of the cafe and then came back and patted her on the head again, just prior to tugging at her leash so that they could set off. But as she rose to her feet once more, Jerry gently explained to her that this time he wanted her to remain on her hands and feet and to scrabble along at his side. The sinking feeling came back for she knew that this way she would be even more of an embarrassing and ridiculous spectacle to the people around them. And her fears were well founded, as soon as they rejoined the main traffic of the New York streets, the comments, the mocking peels of laughter and the entitlement that certain members of the public felt in ogling her all increased inexorably. And in fact, when they stopped at a crossing, one old man with a dirty look even made a reach for her ass. Samantha was about to break the scene and speak up when she then saw Jerry meet the man's eye and give him a smile and a friendly raising of the eyebrows and nod of the head. The man then had another feel before the lights finally changed and she was able to awkwardly scurry along. But her worst degradation was still to come, for all of a sudden she realized where she had been led to-the heart of the financial district, right outside of the prestigious law firm that the two of them worked at. Samantha felt her chest constricting and her breathing grow ragged. It wasn't too long before someone recognised them...
“Holy shit, haha, well, if it isn't our favorite power couple. Jerry and Samantha! Well, well, well, I had no idea you two were into this sort of shit.” came the conspicuously loud exclamation from one of their co-workers, one of the newer junior members. Then, of course, the rest of the crowd turned to see what he was so excited by and soon the two of them were surrounded by a small crowd, some familiar faces dotted amongst them. All of them were full of questions and seemed to appreciate this sexy and daring spectacle, although they couldn't help but be surprised that of all people, the self possessed and aggressively ambitious Samantha should be into this. Some were even brave and adventurous enough themselves to join in with the fun asking her in condescending tones whether she'd been a 'good doggy', whether or not she was 'enjoying their walks' or just coming over to pet her and tell her how cute she looked. Samantha was equal parts rapturous at this ostensible show of her hidden nature and being able to demonstrate her dedication to her owner in public and equal parts mortified, wishing the earth would just open up and swallow her up. And to think that come Monday morning, she would have to walk through these halls of power, with everyone there knowing her most intimate secret.
The two of them stayed there a little while, the crowd of spectators and well-wishers growing until Jerry was able to extricate himself from them, promising some of the more excited and eager among them that they could come over sometime and perhaps even get to 'play' with his pet. From here it was just a short walk to Central Park, upon which, she was beset by more cat calling and people staring openly at her body with lust in their eyes. But she was beyond caring about that now. She was on such a high from overcoming this fear and from being able to live more authentically in the public eye and for all of this to be a gift of submission and declaration of her lifelong devotion to him too that it was all just dull murmurs against this glorious symphony that she now felt herself to be a part of. And to crown their day of play, the final indignity demanded of her was that she should squat down in the grass, in front of the Central Park masses and pee on the ground like a dog. A command that she was only too happy to carry out if it should make her owner and her lover smile.
End
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