When Aimee’s long-hidden secret comes to light, her fiancé discovers a desire to submit he never knew he possessed.

The thick manila envelope showed up at my office, addressed to me in black marker in a shaky hand. Inside was a glossy adult magazine dated several years ago.

Baffled but starting to think this was a prank, I flipped to the pages marked by a sticky note. There, in a multi-panel pictorial, I found my fiancée, Aimee. She was dressed in lingerie that left nothing to the imagination. An older man accompanied her in the professionally lit photos. He was nude but for a leather collar attached to a long chain. Aimee held the other end. Over the course of a few dozen panels, she had the man lick the underside of her stiletto heels, beat his backside pink with a wooden paddle, and ground her pussy against his face.

His cock was erect the whole time. The sequence ended with him apparently spontaneously erupting all over himself while lying on his back, as Aimee flicked his cock with a riding crop. She grinned devilishly all the while.

It was unmistakably her. I hadn’t known Aimee seven years ago, but I’d seen pictures of her at twenty-two. Other pictures.

Shock numbed me. The sights and sounds of the surrounding office area took on a surreal cast. I felt like I was in a very bizarre dream. My desk was isolated enough that no one had seen me open the package.

I was very much in love with Aimee. Our wedding date was two months away. She worked for a financial firm that specialized in small businesses, helping the little guys get started. She was generous, intelligent, emotionally accessible. I knew she had done some professional modeling in college, but I hadn’t known about… this.

The envelope had no return address and contained no note. My first coherent thought was: blackmail. But where was the demand? And how could anybody use this magazine as leverage? Aimee wasn’t running for political office. If once upon a time she’d wanted to strut in her undies and discipline some dude for — presumably — fair monetary compensation, who would care?

This was personal. And aimed at me.

Before I could begin to try to sleuth this thing, I found myself turning the pages again from the start of the shoot.

Aimee’s body was whipcrack-tight. Black stockings emphasized her sleek legs. A garter belt hugged her trim waist. She wore no panties, and she was shaved clean of pubic hair, the lips of her sex gleaming. A black corset covered her only to the undersides of her perky breasts. Her nipples were stiff and as hotly pink as the man’s ass was going to be in a few pages.

Her hair was longer than now and lacquered with spray, but still jet-black. Her eyes danced with demonic delight.

I had flipped through the photos hurriedly the first time. Now I went slow, studying each panel deliberately. Some part of me knew that every moment was carefully posed, a choreography of pornographic tricks. But I started to feel I was looking at living images. I could almost feel Aimee in motion, stockinged legs moving with scissored precision, heels clicking on the black floor. I heard the clinks of the chain as she forced the man to crawl.

When she produced the paddle, I heard his whimper and her bright laugh.

Aimee and I had an excellent sex life. Both of us were attentive and passionate. I had never been with a woman more beautiful and energetic than she was. My fiancée excited me in every way, and I was looking forward to sharing the rest of my life with her. But we had never done anything like this. And she had never once hinted that she was into this sort of dominance thing.

Okay, granted, this was a freakin’ magazine spread. She’d been a model, and she had worked this shoot. No doubt she had followed the photographer’s instructions. The man with her was being paid to maintain that massive hard-on. It was make-believe.

But goddamn, did she get me believing she was all in!

The pictures made me hot. There was no denying my erection.

Briefly, I’d felt an immature knee-jerk jealousy over the guy, but that went away. As I stared at the photos, I started to see myself in his place. The floor was hard beneath my hands and knees, but all my attention was focused on Aimee, looming above, gripping the other end of my chain. She excited me terribly, but I knew instinctively that pleasing her was my most important task.

I had to be properly disciplined before I would deserve even a taste of her. I begged to touch her, as the older man appeared to be begging, his face twisted into a piteous expression. Aimee brayed cruel laughter, exciting me further.

She pulled the chain, and my leather collar bit into my neck. I crawled for her. My achingly erect cock waggled, but I was forbidden to touch myself.

The part of me still at the office was aware of the hard-on extending down the left leg of my slacks. I was hunched over the magazine. I slipped a hand off the desk and surreptitiously rubbed my swollen crown through the fabric, glad I wasn’t the poor enslaved bastard who couldn’t play with his own junk.

Yet by now I was that person… sort of. My imagination was running on overdrive. My eyes burned feverishly. I was licking the bottoms of Aimee’s stilettos. Then she had the wooden paddle in hand. I beseeched her to spare me, but she only laughed.

The paddle whistled through the air. It hit me across both tense asscheeks. The stinging impact awoke needy impulses in me. I promised her anything if only she wouldn’t hit me again. Yet I actually wanted another blow. And another.

By the time I’d turned to the photo of the man’s crimson rear, pre-come was dribbling onto my thigh. I was making covert little grinds with the palm of my hand under the desk, maybe thirty seconds away from shooting my load.

That realization gave me a sudden jolt. What the hell had gotten into me? I shoved the magazine back into its envelope and threw it into a drawer. No one, thankfully, appeared to have seen what I was up to. My forehead was moist when I wiped it. My cock stayed stubbornly hard until lunchtime. By then I had decided what I would do about the unexpected delivery I had received.

I was going to have to confront Aimee.

Her hazel eyes got wide, then wider. I didn’t act like a dumb-ass possessive teenager. We had both been in relationships before meeting each other. That’s how you learn about yourself and get ready for when the forever one comes along.

Still, it was a bit extreme to find that the woman you lived with, who you were going to marry in two months, had once posed naked in a nationally distributed publication.

We sat together in the living room, with evening at the bay windows. Aimee had said almost nothing since I had shown her the magazine. Her hands twisted in her lap. I hated making her uncomfortable, but she needed to know about this.

I said, “It’s just that somebody might be trying to blackmail — ”

Aimee took the envelope from me. When she looked up, her eyes were filled with apprehension. “David, I sent these to you myself. I didn’t know how else to tell you, and I didn’t want to go into our marriage with this secret hanging over me. I’m sorry!”

I couldn’t stand her anguish. I slid over on the couch and held her as she told me the story, how her part-time regular modeling work had led to the offer of the porn shoot. She had only taken that one job, even though it paid very well. While I was kissing her cheek and reassuring her, she burst out with, “You don’t understand the biggest problem. The reason I stopped — the real reason — was that I liked it too much!”

“What?” I asked, surprised.

“I don’t mean being in the magazine. I was already over people looking at me as a model. But that session itself. I really had to smack that guy’s butt. And — and — I felt excited when I did it. David, I’m sorry!”

My mistress gripped my hair in her free hand and jammed her pussy against my face.

“Shh, You don’t have to be sorry. I love you, Aimee.”

“I love you so much, David.”

And maybe that would have been that. But what Aimee had said there at the end woke something in me, a thing that had stirred to life when I’d imagined myself on the receiving end of that paddle.

While she was brushing her teeth before bed, I grabbed our German Shepherd’s leash, put the collar around my throat, and knelt naked on the bedroom floor. Tremors of anticipation and uneasiness worked through me. My cock was twitching. I knew I might shock her. But we needed to know everything about each other if we wanted a successful marriage.

My heart pounded furiously in those last seconds before she stepped into the doorway.

Her eyes opened wide again, but this time they flashed brightly. I tossed the end of the leash at her feet and looked up at her, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

In a hoarse voice I managed to say, “Make me beg to please you.”

Her mouth moved soundlessly. Color filled her gorgeous face. She was wearing a short pink robe. Suddenly, she yanked it off her shoulders, reached down and snatched up the leash. She tugged hard and snarled, “You call me Mistress!”

The pull of the chain sent hot electrical impulses across my flesh. My cock sprang fully hard. “Yes, Mistress!” I yelped. It felt so good to call her that, and I saw her flush deeply at the word.

Aimee went to the closet, threw an item onto the bed, then stepped into a pair of black leather boots that reached to her knees. Her legs were still as shapely as in those pictures. She kept her jet-black bush trimmed to a fuzz, but from my kneeling vantage I saw her furrow glistening with wetness. I looked up at her beautiful breasts, which seemed to soar above me, and I longed to suck her nipples. But I would have to be worthy first. I had to show my mistress I could submit to her properly.

She caught my gaze and grinned. It changed her face into a wicked mask. “You want to touch these, don’t you?” She scooped up her tits and squeezed them slowly. Her nips popped stiffly between her fingers. I was mesmerized. “Answer me!” she snapped.

“Y-yes, Mistress!”

She played with herself teasingly a minute more, then grabbed my leash again. I loved the sound the links made clinking together. “You going to be my good little doggy?” she asked.

There was just the slightest hesitation in her question. She was probing, seeing how far I wanted to go. And that told me there was only love behind what we were doing.

“Please let me be your dog,” I said, trembling.

“Then time to go for a walk.” She yanked, and I followed.

I thought we would stay in the bedroom, but Aimee led me out into the house. I didn’t need to be told to stay on my hands and knees the whole time. We paraded through several rooms, which was tough on my kneecaps, but I didn’t dare complain. When we went around the coffee table, I bumped the corner and knocked a decorative bowl to the carpet.

Aimee spun around. “That’s a bad dog.” She stood with her long boots on either side of my head and ordered me to look up. I gazed rapturously at her pussy hovering half a foot away and ached to stick my tongue into her — or better, have her hump my mouth mercilessly.

Instead, she picked up a newspaper and swatted my shoulder. I yelped with surprise, and that got me another scolding and a second smack.

I crawled behind the swaying chain, following her back to the bedroom. My cock pulsed with every beat of my heart. Aimee moved with such confidence, exuding a strength I’d never quite seen in her before. It was like she was in her natural element, being her true self.

She turned and put her foot forward. “You want a sniff?” She waggled the toe of her boot back and forth.

“Yes, Mistress!” I wanted to inhale the scent of her boot, wanted it more than anything in the world.

Aimee told me to go ahead, and I leaned down eagerly, my bare ass in the air. I put my nose just above the toe and sucked in the heady aroma of leather. Excitement raised gooseflesh all over me. She looked ravishing in the boots, which had high, tapered heels.

“Like that smell? Then lick it!”

This felt like an extravagant reward. I let out my tongue and tasted the leather, loving the somehow sinister texture of the footwear. I lapped at the toe. When she lifted her foot, I heard her laughing, a low dark sound. Maybe she didn’t think I would do what came next. But I licked the underside of her boot with a greediness I couldn’t explain to myself. I sucked on the heel and realized I would have done it even if she’d been walking in mud.

I was hers to command.

A sharp shudder seized me when she pulled the boot away. “You aren’t allowed to touch yourself!”

I hadn’t even been aware of doing it. My hand had bypassed my brain, a primal response. I’d only pumped myself once or twice.

She was glaring down at me, and I felt a terrible guilt. I wanted to see her grin again, even if it was that frightening sadist’s grin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I — I — ”

“Turn around,” she commanded.

I didn’t stand, of course. I squirmed around on my hands and knees until my ass was toward her. I heard her pick something off the bed.

“I’ll teach you to obey,” she said. I wanted to scream: “Yes, yes, make me obey!” But I didn’t have to do that. There came a sharp, malevolent whistle, and something hard struck me across both asscheeks.

Aimee’s got a good tennis backhand, and now I knew what the fuzzy green ball felt like. My teeth clicked together, and a hot line opened across my exposed rear. It wasn’t immediately painful but more a fiery stripe of raw desire. But the sensation touched a need deep inside me, one I had been blithely unconscious of when I’d woken up that morning. Now, these many strange hours later, I knew much more about myself.

The fast whistling sound came again, followed half an eye blink later by another strike. Now I really did feel the blows, and I felt the pain. But the pain somehow had a depth and an intricacy. I understood there was pleasure in this new world.

With thoughtless rapture, I wrapped myself around her leg and rubbed my aching cock against flesh and leather.

My body flushed with a chill, then with heat. Sexual turmoil played out all over me. Every nerve ending was jabbed into life. Sweat stung my eyes, even as I finally saw in the bedroom mirror that my fiancée was whipping my ass with my own belt. I felt myself drizzling pre-come. I wondered, half-deliriously, if Aimee would discipline me further for that.

In the end, she probably gave me no more than ten strokes, but the punishment had felt like an endless interval of leather against skin. My ass throbbed. My knees shook. I was stunned to find tears in my eyes, though I was filled with a profane joy.

After a while, I realized the whipping had stopped. The chain pulled, links biting into my neck. She wasn’t done with me yet. I wanted to cry out in ecstasy.

I got a blurry image of her as I looked up, but she seemed a goddess to me, the looming nude column of her perfect body. I was her worshipper. If this was her true state, then I belonged at her feet. My life was a mystery novel that had snapped together in the last couple of pages. I saw everything that had been absent in all my previous relationships.

Perhaps I had sensed something in Aimee all during our courtship. Maybe I’d known, in some way, that she would be the one to truly fulfill me.

She smiled down at me and cooed, “Poor baby deserves a reward.”

She beckoned me closer, and I obeyed. My mistress gripped my hair in her free hand and jammed her pussy against my face. No teasing, no ceremony. Her juices were streaming. She was as turned on as I was, and she was going to have her orgasm, right now.

She fucked my mouth, rising on her toes and slamming down on me. I stabbed my tongue up into her. Her clit throbbed. She pulled my hair at the roots, humping me harder. Her strong thighs closed repeatedly around my head. She smeared herself messily all over the lower half of my face.

I heard her orgasmic cries, the climbing octaves. When she let loose with a final yell, I drank her warm, gushing juices.

She staggered back, and I knelt there, ass still pulsing with sweet pain. A profound pride spread through me. I had pleased this gorgeous, powerful woman.

Aimee took a moment to recover. She looked dazed, blinking around the room like she wasn’t sure what had happened. But when her gaze fell to me, waiting expectantly, the grin returned. Again I saw the love there.

She stuck out a sculpted leg and said, “Come give it a hump, good dog.”

I bounded forward. With thoughtless rapture, I wrapped myself around her leg and rubbed my aching cock against flesh and leather. The contact was like water after a desert trek, food after a week of starvation. The bliss was immediate and intense. I shot in about five seconds, a huge eruption of come, splattering her halfway up her thigh and dribbling down onto her boot. The orgasmic bliss was like nothing I’d ever felt before. The room whirled, and I almost blacked out from the intensity.

Aimee reached for me and took me up onto the bed, and we lay together. In two months we would be married. This was the woman I would love, honor… and obey. I couldn’t wait.