I started getting ready for our night together without any real enthusiasm. This had been something the counsellor had suggested to try and save our failing marriage. I had agreed to give it a go but didn't really think it would be of any use. The spark was just gone for me, and the thought of sleeping with Jason now just gave me the ick. I didn't think anything would change that.

To be honest, it had never been that good in the first place. It wasn't that he was selfish - he always made sure to spend time "warming me up" as it were and yes, he did call it that. I knew I should be appreciative, but it all seemed so safe. Though he knew where all the erogenous zones were, it seemed that he didn't know what to do with them. He'd go down on me with all the enthusiasm of a lapdog, yet somehow fail to hit the spot every time.

I had long given up hoping for any satisfaction from our sessions, having long ago grown expert at faking it just to make him happy. Jason was a kind man in every respect, you see, and I didn't want to lose him. Why would I when he was so perfect in every other way. As my friends often told me, I could do a lot worse. Instead of relying on him for my pleasure I'd bought myself a rabbit vibrator and vowed to take matters into my own hands. I hadn't actually done that yet, but I planned to.

He said he wanted to surprise me tonight, so I didn't know where we were going. I'd asked him what the dress code was, and he'd told me to dress for a classy dinner. That's what I'd done - short but classy black dress, matching heels and clutch bag. I'd even made a special effort with my hair and make-up for him.

I felt almost shy when I walked into our front room. That was a daft reaction, I suppose. It wasn't as if I was going on a real date, after all. Perhaps I was picking up on his nerves. As I'd come down the stairs, I'd seen him nervously pacing up and down the room. When he saw me, though, he plastered on a smile and asked me if I wouldn't mind sitting down for a minute. Puzzled, I did so.

He began speaking almost as soon as I did. "Maria," he began, "I know that things have never worked for you in the bedroom. I don't know if you realise they never have for me either." This was a revelation to me - I had always thought he was happy with our sex life. "The thing is," he continued, "that I have never told you about my hidden desires. You were so young when we met and seemed so innocent. I didn't want to take the risk of losing you. Now it seems that if things don't improve, that will happen anyway. So, now there's nothing left to lose."

The intensity I could see in his light blue eyes frightened me. I didn't know what he was talking about. My first thought was that he wanted us to be swingers. I wasn't totally opposed to the idea, but I also wasn't sure I could cope with that kind of scene. I was pleased that my voice remained level as I asked him what he had in mind. I couldn't have been more shocked at the words that came next out of his mouth.

"I want you to let me dominate you. My preference would be for a full time dynamic, but I can understand that this is all new to you, so would be happy to settle for in the bedroom only for now."

His words made me irrationally angry, and astonishingly, tears came to my eyes. "What on earth are you talking about? That stuff is just for sick people. I couldn't possibly do anything like that."

With that, I stormed out of the room and then out of the house into the street. I was sobbing fiercely even before I had slammed the door behind me. I walked quickly, trying to erase the memory of what he had said from my mind. Because the problem was that when he had said it, a warmth had spread through my cunt like I'd never felt before. A picture of him, with a riding crop of all things in his hand, standing over me, correcting my every wrong move, every slightly defiant glance in his direction. The wanting was fierce and that's why I rejected him so totally.

I walked around the block a few times to calm down. My thoughts started to clear. What if this could save our marriage? I'd promised to stay with him forever at the altar. What was stopping me from trying - my pride? Suddenly that seemed too small a thing to get in the way. So, I walked back, let myself back into the house and went back into the room. I found him sitting there, head in hands, looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked up when he heard me arrive.

"I'm sorry for storming out like that," I began, "It was a shock, but I shouldn't have called you names."

He told me he was sorry too, that he just hadn't known how to broach the subject and dropping hints hadn't worked and blurting it out seemed the only way. I took a deep breath and asked him how it would all work if we did give it a try. Would he just get to do what he wanted to me, and I'd have no say? Because I didn't think I could handle that.

His answer intrigued me. He said that was the amount of control he craved, but that he understood I'd have to build up trust gradually. To that end, he'd made a list of activities that he was interested in and would be happy to go through them with me to see which ones I was prepared to try. Hopefully as time went on, we would be able to dispense with the idea altogether, but for now he was happy just to take things slowly. I asked him where the list was, and he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

Scanning it quickly, my jaw almost dropped to the floor. I had half expected him to want to tie me up or even to use handcuffs. I'd never realised that he was interested in blindfolding or gagging me though. The major shock was his extensive interest in "impact play" as it was labelled on the list. I had to ask him what bastinado meant, but apart from that understood, in theory, what all the various implements were. How could I possibly say yes, no or maybe to them without knowing how they would feel, though? I asked him how it would work if I started trying something and found I couldn't handle it.

He told me that he would give me a safeword to start. They weren't something he wanted to use, but he saw the sense in them now. If I really couldn't stand something I was to call out the word "red" and everything would stop immediately. If something was difficult, but it had not reached that critical stage, I could call out "yellow" and he would pause to have a conversation with me. He would occasionally ask me what colour I was at, just to check in. If everything felt fine, I could say "green" to indicate that.

"But what if you were to gag me?", I asked. "Then I'd give you a squeaky ball to hold," he replied, "if you found yourself in any distress at all, you can press it and I'll take the gag off and talk to you."

He had obviously thought this all through very carefully and I felt safe with him because of our long association. I asked him for a pen. I marked a few things on the list with an "n" for "no". For instance, I wasn't comfortable calling him "Daddy", but intrigued by the idea of calling him "Master." For now, I vetoed the idea of being whipped, or paddled. I agreed to try being caned or hit with a riding crop. This was merely because I feared introducing too many new things at once would be too much for me. I handed the sheet back to him, and watched him read it. Once he had done so, he folded it carefully and put it back into his pocket.

Then he turned to look at me with a smile on his face. I don't think I had ever seen that expression before on him. It was the look of someone who was finally going to get what they had always wanted. He looked me up and down, taking in my ensemble again. It was slightly less tidy a picture than it had been earlier - the strenuous excursion through the streets had introduced a few rumples and some of my make-up was smeared.

"I expect my slave to be better presented than this," he said softly. An unfamiliar chill went right through my body as his words hit me. "I'm not taking you out like that, slave. Instead, we will need to correct your behaviour, here. Strip."

For a long moment I just stared at him, not quite believing how his words affected me. There were a multitude of emotions there. I felt shame that I had not pleased him. There was a sense of rightness about being disciplined for having failed to do so. I was also curious to see if he would follow through on his threats and how that would feel. The only way to find out was to do as he said.

I did it slowly, partly to give him a show, and partly because I was having trouble concealing my extreme arousal. Everything suddenly felt so sensuous. Touching my own skin usually did nothing for me, but every time I made contact, it was as if an electric spark went through my body. Once I was finally naked, I stood there not knowing what to do.

Face slapping had been on the allowed list, but it was still a massive shock as his hand connected with the side of my left cheek, hard. I cried out at the sharp sting. It felt significant as it was the first time he had ever hit me and I looked at him in awe, never having imagined before how it would feel. I could sense his strength, his power and I knew if he wanted to, he could hurt me much more. I should have been frightened by that, and I was, but there was an element to that fear which was delicious, and I felt I could never get enough of it.

Outwardly, he didn't acknowledge that anything earth-shattering had taken place. I marvelled at his cool, calm demeanour. Nobody would have been able to tell that he hadn't been hitting me for years. He didn't even pause. "What are you waiting for, you stupid girl? Get down on your knees and put your head on the ground."

If I'd been asked before that day whether I'd accept a man calling me stupid, I'd have said that I'd have his balls on toast if he dared to do such a thing. But when he did it that felt so right. I was less intelligent than him, and to top it off didn't even know my place yet. I wanted him to teach me it desperately. So, I knelt quickly in the position he had indicated, wondering what would come next.

"For a first offence, I'll give you five," he declared. "Are you ready?" I couldn't trust my voice, so I nodded my agreement. "I can't hear you, slave. The answer you're looking for is Yes, Master."

It was surprisingly hard to say that to him when I hadn't even considered any of this an hour ago. My voice was quiet and shaky as I stammered out the words. Somehow, speaking them aloud seemed to draw me further into his spell. I regretted making any stipulations about what I would accept in that moment. I wanted him to do whatever he liked. Of course, that was before I knew how any of it felt.

"After each stroke, you will thank me and ask me for another, slave. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master," I replied. The word came easier that time and my voice was clearer. Then he began.

I couldn't have believed how much it would hurt. Perhaps the cane was a bad choice to leave on the yes list. The first stroke burned like someone had poured molten lava on my arse. "Red", my brain screamed at me, but I couldn't let the word come out of my mouth. I wanted too much to serve him. "P-p-please, Master, may I have another," emerged instead.

From the second stroke onwards, my requests for more were accompanied by copious floods of tears. He seemed unaffected by them. A few times he reminded me that I could use the safeword if I wanted to, but if I did not, the beating would continue. I told him that I understood, and he duly completed it.

My face was even more of a mess after those strokes. They had each been so fierce and none of them had been in the same area. I imagined that if I looked in the mirror tomorrow, I'd see five distinct lines drawn there by his hand. I could feel the welts starting to swell even before he finished.

He left me down there to take it all in for a moment. Then he told me to raise my head, but remain kneeling. He started to undress himself. Well, his bottom half anyway, he left his t-shirt on. Perhaps to emphasise the difference between us, with me being completely naked. When he took down his boxer shorts, I watched his erection spring free.

It wasn't something I generally looked at too closely, but when I had caught a glimpse I could never remember him being as large as that. His cock was completely engorged with blood, and I could see traces of precum on the head. I didn't have much time to look at it though as he swiftly told me to open my mouth.

Naively, I did so not understanding what he had in mind. I had blown him before, but this was different. I normally controlled the depth and decided how long I would suck him for. This time he held my hair tightly in a painful grip and he thrust himself all the way into and then out of my mouth. His size meant that I could not breathe easily. I could only do so when he withdrew a little. He fucked my mouth like it was my cunt. I couldn't seem to get enough air in at any one time. I started to sputter, desperate for air, but he didn't let me go or show any signs of stopping. Instead, his rhythm increased until after a few minutes I felt his warm liquid spurt out into my mouth.

Normally, I stopped before that kind of thing ever happened. I didn't like the taste of it, for one thing. This time I was not given a choice.

"Don't you dare swallow that," he ordered. "Keep it all in your mouth and lie on your back. We're going to play a little game."

I did as I was commanded, struggling with the revolting, salty taste. Once I was on my back, he produced a vibrator and some handcuffs. He used the handcuffs to secure my hands together and then told me to hold them above my head and not move them.

"Right, the game is simple. You are not to come or swallow my seed unless I give you my permission. Do you understand me, girl?"

I couldn't answer him, so I just nodded my agreement. He took this as his cue to start the vibrator up. There were many times in that endless period where I desperately wished for a return to our bland, unsatisfying sex life. I needed to come so badly, but I knew that if I did, there would be consequences. Too, I wanted nothing more than to be allowed to swallow his cum. The taste did not get any better with age.

He savoured my desperation throughout the entire time, almost purring as he reminded me what would happen to me if I were to disobey either of his edicts. He wouldn't be so kind as he had the first time, he warned. I could still feel the effects of that lingering on my behind and had no wish for a repeat. As I soared higher and higher though, I wondered how on earth I was meant to keep it all in. Tears ran from my eyes freely, but he just laughed at them. I tried to think about things that weren't erotic, but the problem was that everything seemed so in those minutes.

Just when I'd decided I had to give up and let go, he suddenly gave me permission. First, I had to swallow and then I could orgasm. I've never been quite so eager to do either in my life before. When I finally let go of that tension, I saw stars in front of my eyes. I heard screaming and realised that it was coming from me. Time stood still in that moment, and my orgasm seemed to go on forever.

It took me a few minutes to come back down to earth. When I did, the first thing I saw was his grin. The words bubbled up inside me and I had to speak. He must have seen something in my eyes as he asked me what I wanted to say.

"Master, that was incredible, I never knew anything could feel like that. Please can you tear up my list of limits? I don't want to hold anything back from you, I want to serve you fully all the time."

I didn't know much about this world of his, but I knew that I wanted to experience it all. Anything I could learn, I wanted to, and I wanted to know how everything felt. It was as if my eyes had suddenly been opened after sleeping for my entire life.

He stroked my hair gently and said, "Someday, little one you'll be ready for everything you seek. Until that day, though, we will just take things slowly. Trust me, it'll be better that way."

Everything in me screamed with impatience at his statement. That wasn't what I wanted at all. But then I looked at his eyes, so certain and resolute and realised that he had made this edict for my own good. So, I nodded my agreement and lay there with him, hoping that someday would come soon.