Ch. 01 – Yours and Mine

Yours and Mine

Chapter 1 of My Life as a Sub

As I entered the code into the keypad at the driveway gate, I was dreading the reaction Jonathan would have to my being late. He made sure to tell me dinner would be served at 6:00 and here I was returning at 6:27. With all the security he had around the house, it would not be possible to sneak in without him knowing. In fact, entering the access number surely announced my return.

This was my first outing alone since I had moved in with Jonathan a little over three weeks ago. I enjoyed the day and went shopping and met a friend for lunch. And I really enjoyed driving the new Mercedes SL convertible he had bought just for me to use. It was luxurious, fast, had a great sound system and it had that wonderful new car smell. It was a perfect day…except that being late would probably get me in trouble.

At this stage in our relationship, I was not sure what being in trouble with Jonathan would be like. I was still trying to understand exactly what kind of relationship we had. Was I his girlfriend? Was I his sub? Was I his slave? It was all vague to me.

Just a couple of days ago, while we were laying around the pool, I asked him to describe our relationship. In response, he turned the question around on me and asked what I was to him.

“Your…” pausing while I searched for a term.

“That’s right,” he interrupted. “You’re mine,” he said smiling.

He jumped up and got into the pool, effectively ending the conversation.

I had recently discovered I liked being a submissive. It was Jonathan who had helped me realize this one of the times I modeled for him. Jonathan had booked me as his photography model many times; we worked well together, and he was one of my favorite photographers to work with. Being a nude model, some photographers made me feel uneasy, but not Jonathan. I was always comfortable around him and he was always polite and charming. He was the only photographer that had not tried to fuck me but had asked me out on a date.

After lots of nude modeling sessions, he asked me about doing a bondage shoot. I had never done one and was intrigued by the idea. So we did a shoot where he tied me with rope for some shots, put me in leather cuffs for some shots, and even suspended me in the air for some shots. I found the feeling of being restrained or helpless with someone I trusted exciting and sexy.

Some more sessions ensued and so did more dates. As the sessions and our dinner conversations helped me explore my submissive side, Jonathan and I became closer. Eventually, he asked me to move in with him. It made sense to say yes. He had a large, beautiful house and it meant I would not have to model any more unless I wanted to.

I was surprised at first to find out we had separate bedrooms. Both were large and I noticed they had the same king-sized beds. They had headboards and footboards with rails and stiles made of heavy steel. I later learned why. His bedroom had a large bathroom and large closet and a dresser. It was decorated with several large photographs of nude women or close-ups of parts of women, which I presumed were taken by him.

My bedroom was similar in some ways; it had a large bathroom and the same bed as his. And it had a closet, although it was empty. There were also large pictures on the walls. But all of the pictures in my room were photographs of me, or parts of me. I recognized my vagina in a close-up photograph which sat on the nightstand in an 8×10 frame. I like my vagina, but I was not sure I needed to see it close-up in the mornings and evenings.

But now, as I pulled the shiny, new car up the long driveway toward the garage, I wondered what I would be facing when I got inside. He has punished me a couple of times so far; once he whipped me five times with a belt for losing the remote for the TV, and the other time, he spanked me for spilling wine at the dinner table. The belt hurt but was not too bad. The spanking actually turned me on.

And that was another thing about Jonathan. While I would consider those punishments, he had not yet used that term. After I moved in and he showed me around the house, he showed me what I would call a dungeon, a large room in the lowest level of the house with a bare concrete floor. The room was filled with all sorts of contraptions or ‘furniture’ made of wood and/or steel that were fitted with rings so a person could be tied to them. There were also whips, riding crops, wooden rods, paddles, ropes chains, cuffs and all sorts of other bondage implements.

When I realized I might have submissive tendencies, I started doing internet research. Based on that research, I had thought of Jonathan’s basement room as a dungeon. But he called it a ‘treatment room.’ And the times he had punished me so far, he had not said he was punishing me, he said he was ‘correcting me’ or ‘treating my behavior.’

When I walked in the door to the kitchen from the garage, both Jonathan and his housekeeper, Gabriel, were waiting for me.

“Hello, Sabrina. Welcome home,” Jonathan said, giving me a peck on the cheek.

“I know I’m late. I hope I didn’t ruin dinner.”

“I’m afraid, we couldn’t wait. Gabriel made some wonderful glazed pork. Not knowing when you’d be back, I decided I should go ahead.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry,” I said as I put down my shopping bags. “I feel bad I was late.”

“I’m finishing up. Your plate is on the table. Why don’t you come in. I think you’ll like what she cooked. It’s delicious.”

This whole time, the three of us were standing in just inside the door and had not moved further into the kitchen. Gabriel stood silently, as she always did. She and I had never spoken to one another; either when I had modeled for Jonathan or since I had moved in. There was a language barrier since she spoke Spanish and I spoke English.

Gabriel was a beautiful girl with dark skin, brown hair and brown eyes. I was not sure where she was from, probably Central or South America. She was short, maybe five foot three and was slender, but with nice sized breasts and a perfectly shaped butt. It was easy to see her figure because she always wore a white cotton top that was loose and left her midriff bare. She also wore very tight shorts. It was a uniform of sorts that I had supposed Jonathan had decided his housekeeper should wear. She was always barefoot, because, as Jonathan had explained to me, she was a servant and some of her duties included mopping and other chores which could ruin shoes.

“Why don’t you give Gabriel your clothes, so she can go ahead and get them into the wash?” he asked.

He turned and spoke Spanish to Gabriel. While I did speak the language, I could tell he was instructing her to take my clothes to the laundry room once I had handed them over. She nodded and quietly said, “Si Senior Jonathan.”

Jonathan’s suggestion that I hand my clothes over to Gabriel, was his way of telling me to get undressed, without ordering me to do so. It was typical of him; telling me to do something without it sounding like a command. When he said this, I now knew he wanted me to get naked now that I was back home.

I did not mind being naked in front of Jonathan. We were in a relationship, even if the exact nature of it was unclear. But now I would be naked in front of the housekeeper again, which did feel a little strange, despite being naked around her frequently. Being naked while Jonathan was dressed felt alright, but being naked while the housekeeper was dressed did not feel alright. But, since I was still trying to understand my submissive nature, I willingly undressed.

I handed my purse, the car keys and my cell phone to Jonathan. Undressing did not take long. I was wearing only a silk blouse and a knee-length skirt; no bra or panties. This was the outfit Jonathan had chosen for my outing and had had Gabriel bring me earlier in the day. After handing my blouse and skirt over to Gabriel, I kicked out of my high heels. She picked those up off the floor.

“Much better,” Jonathan said, as he took me by the arm and lead me to the dining room.

Seeing the two plates, one with a full, uneaten meal, and one with the remnants of a meal, I felt bad again for ruining dinner.

“I’m sorry I was late,” I admitted.

“Let’s make the best of it,” he replied as he helped me into my seat.

Both seated, we ate. He was finishing and I was starting. It was delicious even though it was cool from sitting out. Jonathan had only a couple of bites of his pork and some green beans left on his plate. He asked me about my day and I began to tell him where I had gone and which shops I had been in and about lunch with my friend, Donna.

As I was speaking, Jonathan finished his last bites, held up a hand to interrupt me and called for Gabriel. She arrived quickly and Jonathan told her something in Spanish. She nodded yes and picked up his plate and silverware. Then, to my surprise, she came to me and picked up my plate. She looked at the fork in my hand and motioned with the plate, so I set it on the plate, which held my mostly uneaten dinner. Gabriel left with the dishes. It seemed my punishment for being late would be to miss dinner.

“Sorry for the interruption. Please finish telling me all about your day,” Jonathan urged.

After taking a sip of wine, which Gabriel had not taken, I finished telling him what I had done on my outing. I wound up drinking the entire glass, guessing it would be the only thing I would get this evening.

After finishing the wine and the story of my day, Jonathan suggested we go to the family room and watch a movie. Though I was hungry, cuddling up next to Jonathan on the couch while we watched the movie was nice. He put his arm around me, making me feel safe and warm. I did not care much for the movie, but Jonathan had chosen it and so I did not object.

After the movie was over, Jonathan called for Gabriel. He gave her some instructions and she left. He turned to me and suggested we go shower. He led me to my bedroom and asked me to go into my bathroom and start the shower. He undressed as I did so.