Her Choice by J.S. Sontrou
Description
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About the author:
I have lived many places around the U.S., but have settled in northern Georgia. I have been with my lover/soulmate/Owner for almost 20 years, and have experienced many highs and lows regarding the lifestyle we have chosen to lead. I am the basic girl next door in many ways: I bake; I love yoga; I walk my dog often; but I have decided to share my lascivious thoughts with the rest of the world.
What inspired you to write your book?
This is my lifestyle. I have always enjoyed writing erotic stories, and finally found the courage to share them with others. I also feel it is difficult to find stories with dominant and submissive characters exposed in a positive way. The world of Bdsm is a very enriching place to be, and could do with more positive public relations.
Here is a short sample from the book:
As she crawled through the hexagonal hall to the kitchen, she heard more than one voice. Her heart raced, her mind raced. To be nude, in private, playing a role agreed upon between two people was fairly easy, the idea could remain in play-land. Submitting to his rules around others made it much more real. Very un-private.
“In for a penny, in for a pound, can’t stay here all night” she thought. With a deep breath, she crawled into the kitchen. Her owner was sitting at the table, two beautiful cobalt blue bowls were just a few feet away from him, on the floor. One bowl had water, the other bowl had a chicken stir-fry in it; it smelled wonderful. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she smelled it. Although she knew the bowls were for her, she also knew she shouldn’t help herself. She sat and waited for her owner to finish the conversation with the gentleman sitting at the table with him.
“Come, eat, my dear. I know you’re starving,” he said after a time, then continued his conversation with the gentleman. She faced the bowls, unintentionally putting her back to the men, and began to pick pieces out of the bowl, trying to eat with her fingers, as civilized as possible.
“Now, now, my dear, the dishes are on the floor, you are on the floor, eating like a person just won’t do. No hands, no lifting the bowls.” He turned back to the table and resumed, “I’m not sure about the time frame, two weeks, maybe, hmm…let’s shoot for three instead.”
“Three weeks would be good, I think that’s plenty of time to begin planning it,” the gentleman responded. “I should be able to have everything set up, and the piece you want made…yeh, I think I should have that finished. You’ll have Heart take care of the intricacies, right?” He got up for more wine at the bar, placing himself very near the bowls, and the woman, as well.
“Her hair should be up, it’s in the way, makes her look more feral, which she obviously isn’t. And it blocks my view.” The gentleman poured himself wine, then nudged her food bowl with his foot. Unsure of what to do, she just moved with the bowl. The man nudged the bowl even further out, giving him a better view of her, and the opportunity to interact with her. He watched her move with the bowl again, and could see the lines of her body better.
“You know, I have to agree with you, she is lovely: nice shape, not too thin; nice skin; and red-heads are feisty. The investment is rather pricey though, not to mention the commitment of taking it on. I wonder what kind of a return you’ll actually get. There are so many women, so many options, to be purchased at any time for a lot less, financially and time-wise.” She noticed his tone was just as nonchalant as her owner’s, maybe even worse, condescending. He talked about her as if she wasn’t a person, or even there, without the ability to comprehend his words. She took a deep breath, and kept her head down toward the bowl. She must learn to let this, and the many future scenarios play out without her will, wants, or words interjected. Her new role, especially in these kind of moments, was to be seen and definitely not heard.
“I believe the return will be great,” her owner sounded amused. “I control everything about her, at all times. There are very few limits, you don’t get that with a professional submissive. I can train her to my tastes and desires. I will eventually know all the triggers to make her genuinely lose control, unlike playing with a pro for a short time. When was the last time you played with some one, and it went as far as you wanted it to go? You used them to the extent of your desires?” her owner asked the man. She had finished eating, and now wished there was a way to completely disappear from the kitchen, and this blunt conversation. She kneeled by the bowls, keeping her head down.
“Okay. Maybe. You might have a point,” conceded the man. “Have you begun any training yet?” The man began to stroke her hair as if she were a mere pet. She controlled her will to push his advances away, and kept her hands on the floor. If her owner didn’t want her to be touched, it was his place to say, not hers.
“I have, actually. This afternoon went exceedingly well. I’ve started with the mouth, she responded extremely well,” her owner explained. “She was very accepting and…” his voice stopped, he took a deep breath, smiling wide. The woman stole a glance at him, he looked euphoric. She took a little pride, knowing she gave him that.
“Take her into the den. I’ll get a few things, you can consider yourself invited to this next training session. See for yourself how much better it is to own than to rent.” Her owner then went toward the hall.
“Well, Madame, you heard him. To the den we go.” He pointed to the short arched hallway separating the middle kitchen cabinets.
“Man, I love to watch a woman crawl. Arch your back more, look more feline. You should be proud to be on your hands and knees. Proud to be such a slut.” He followed behind her. To stave off her own will, she decided to focus on giving him the show he wanted, rather than be affronted by his demeanor.
“Yep, that’s much better, makes your thighs look longer. Crawl to the middle of the room, and then stand up with your hands behind your neck. I insist on a good look at my friend’s new piece of property.” He made a soft whistle, and slowly stalked her from behind; she could feel his eyes move up and down her body. He circled her, relishing the power to make her feel powerless. Under normal settings, the woman would have slapped this unknown man hard, and told him what to do with his overt ideas. The friend paused behind her, and began to whisper something in her ear.
“Hey! Clear off the wooden side table, the one near the fireplace. It’s perfect to lay her on. Move it perpendicular to the fire place too. It can act as a horse for her to lay straddled on,” her owner shouted through the intercom system. A moment later, he entered the room carrying a large, black, leather bag that clinked. She recognized the clink: more chain. She closed her eyes a moment, relieved that her owner had great timing, yet wary of what was to come.
“My dear,” her owner reached for her hand and led her to the table interrupting and ignoring whatever his visitor was up to. He locked a leather collar around her neck.
“I want you to bend over the table, facing the fireplace. Yes, that’s it. Put your hands behind your back.” Her wrists were cuffed, and locked together almost immediately. Her owner connected a chain from the collar to an eyebolt on the hearth of the fire place, this stopped her from raising her head. The thin table acted perfectly as a horse, supporting her bent over torso, the chain prevented her from getting up, her hands were prevented from helping her take control at all, even to balance. Her legs weren’t long enough to fully reach the floor, unless she placed them directly under her. She found herself to be in yet another precarious situation, and wondered if this was how every training session would be.
“I need you to relax. Remember I don’t want you to experience real harm, or pain. I want you to learn to trust me. You must be honest about showing your wants, otherwise this doesn’t work,” her owner spoke very softly to her. He caressed her backside awhile. “You are mine now. You are my piece of property, my beautiful piece of property I wish to enjoy. I want your hips higher, try to stretch your legs to raise them up, ok? And keep your mouth open, opened wide like this afternoon.” He stood behind her and helped her hips raise.
“Would you get a pillow from the couch and place it under her? I think that will raise her ass to the right height, don’t you?” he asked his friend. She felt her owner’s smooth pants move from her back side, to be replaced by his friend’s jeans. His friend then came around to sit on the hearth in front of her.
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