A Change of Life

Lisa's introduction to an entirely new way of life happened one day solely by a serendipitous misfortune. She was at a busy mall conducting some personal business when the dominos of happenstance began to fall down around her. It was a chance encounter: an unplanned adventure, not of bad luck or good. Yet as a result, Lisa's life was energized into an entirely new direction and the usual rote of her existence was never, ever the same again.

She was almost 40 years old at the time and completely set in her ways. She kept to herself and avoided any casual contact with others. Her daily regimen was so habitual that it bordered on being an obsession of routines. Her lifestyle, while keeping her safe and somewhat insulated from any kind of hurt, was so steeped in anonymity that it bordered on isolation.

Despite her odd mannerisms she was a very successful career woman and not without the materialism that rewards hard work. The reality of her life however, was that Lisa secretly craved the sensual attention of another human being. Depending on her moods the details of such prurient desires were often repressed by layers of self-denial and guilt.

Her new journey began one day on the way to an important meeting. Lisa had to stop at her bank's cash machine. It was a last minute thing and unavoidable. There was a long line at the 'drive-thru' so after consulting her watch she decided to park the car and run inside. She could just as quickly use one of the ATMs located in the bank itself as wait in a slow moving line of cars outside.

All she needed was a small amount of money. It was to put into a birthday card for her niece later that day. Only cash would do. There was no one ahead of her and as she came to stand in front of the ATM screen, it was flashing her the prompt to 'insert' her bankcard. Lisa opened her purse as she had done hundreds of times before and prepared to re-enact the very routine steps of getting money from a machine.

Then, without warning, the first domino teetered and fell.

It was inexplicable, but for some reason Lisa couldn't find her bankcard. After a few moments of searching, her efforts were fruitless. The brightly colored piece of plastic that she needed was nowhere to be found. It wasn't so much that she was 'all' thumbs, it was just that the card had somehow become misplaced in one of the folds, creases, and secret compartments of her organizer. It didn't take long before her frustration surged into a rant of physical exertion. At the fear of losing control, it became evident to Lisa that should her inability to locate the bankcard continue, she might suffer a public humiliation. She shuddered at the thought.

Renewing her efforts and focus, she fussed and fumed deeper into the nether regions of her purse and organizer. She looked up briefly, just once to clear her head. That's when she first noticed the line of customers that had built up behind her. She sensed their collective mood was not of the forgiving kind. Even as she looked at them she could feel their anger percolating. She was quick to understand that if she didn't hurry up and find her damn card, she might have to endure much more from this audience than the unsettling voice of their collective indignation.

Lisa was under great pressure. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. Her hands trembled and her pulse beat a painful tattoo upon her temples. A headache began to roll in across her brain. It was as how a thunderstorm rolls in across the prairies: pressure plummets, winds increase, and clouds bundle up into foreboding shapes of sinister shades of black and blue. Her storm was just such a 'beast' and it was looking to take up a space in her head just above her eyes. It was where all of her headaches came to give torment. A spasm rippled down her spine. The thought of bringing such a migraine with her to her business meeting and later to her niece's birthday party was unconscionable.

It was at that point when a man slid in beside her without any provocation or warning. He was a big fellow, tall and solid. A thick mane of black hair showed a slight peppering of silver gray around the extremities. His cologne offered a quiet hint of cinnamon and well tailored clothes of fine wool draped from his frame perfectly.

At first he offered her well-known maxims and homilies about the number of plastic cards people carry with them and how everyone is in such a hurry.

"It's a wonder more mistakes aren't made?" he offered gently.

Hovering in even closer to her, despite his uninvited introduction, he began to console Lisa with even more comforting words that were designed to let her off the hook from her faux pas at the bank machine.

"Isn't it funny how something as small as a bankcard can become so easily misplaced and how terribly important finding it can become?"

At this, Lisa abruptly stopped her search and turned to face the stranger. She pursed her lips and projected her anger. Her eyes issued forth warnings on a level that only women can state with unequivocal menace. The gentleman ignored her angst and fury, catching Lisa off guard and rendering her without the necessary back-up plan to immediately take him to task.

His genteel actions confused her. She re-focused and tried to concentrate on conjuring up a litany of curt words to express to him. She wanted him to know that his unsolicited intervention into her personal space was bordering on harassment. She had every intention of being rude and wanted to convey that she was quite capable of fending for herself.

But the gentleman again ignored Lisa's attempt to put him off and continued to talk to her in a helpful and kindly manner. As she waited for the rhythm of his words to conclude, her mind suddenly went blank. Even though she struggled to summon a fitting rebuke to his misplaced chivalry, no cogent thought whatsoever was forthcoming. This only enflamed her already raising ire, which caused her poise to become entangled with her intent. The outcome was her total inability to retrieve even one word that she could verbally hurl at him!

She felt transfixed. She found herself drawn to every word he spoke. She marveled at his intelligent reverence for the English language. She was speechless, quiet, and ever so still.

When he had finished, Lisa's desire to take him to task had somehow been lost in the confusion of her strange circumstance. Inexplicably, any previous desire to tell this man to 'back off', had dissipated. She felt a zephyr of icy cold air invade the warmth of her confidence. She feared her inability to respond to this man. Her resolve was fading. These feelings were alien to her and she became temporarily muddled.

Then, with an overture of soothing intention, the man once again tried to come to her aid. "Is there any way in which I may help you, my dear?"

She had no words with which to summon a suitable answer. She could only stare back at him. In doing so, Lisa observed something quite unique about her male antagonist. It was his eyes. They were neutral. No definitive focus, no emotion. They were pastel blue. The centers were black empty peepholes and strangely bereft of the empathy of the human spirit.

She shivered. For the first time in her life Lisa sensed that she was in the presence of an aura of power with which she was totally unfamiliar.

Lisa became slightly faint and felt herself letting go. In spite of this she was defiant and fought the overwhelming feeling of surrender. And throughout the supercilious pause that can nudge itself between thought and action, Lisa began to question why she had ever wanted to scold his unwanted attention in the first place? The mere thought of doing that was now seemed without any merit whatsoever.

It was a paradigm shift. Lisa never felt a thing. A Grand Canyon wide gap of change-of-heart appeared between her and the stranger. He was gaining more power over her by the second and Lisa was ineffectual to offer up any opposition.

More dominos crashed down around her!

Instantly, the cutting edges of Lisa's sometimes obdurate personality had been rendered null and void against the soft cloth of this man and his even softer form of practiced social refinement. There were no thoughts of resentment left in Lisa's mind. In fact, for a fleeting moment, she contemplated introducing herself, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had manifested.

What was happening to her? Why was she feeling so weak? Why was she so unable to empower herself to speak up?

Lisa tried to gather herself together. She was sure the situation, no matter how upsetting, could be dealt with by the use of cold feminine withdrawal. She'd simply extract herself from the man and the bank machine and drive away never to visit this mall again!

He spoke again and interrupted Lisa's silent resolve. With a polished persuasion as compelling as that of a parent gently urging a child, he suggested that perhaps they should leave the queue and allow others to use the money machine. By the time he had finished his short but effective proposal, Lisa found herself succumbing to the petitions of the stranger she had just met: a man about whom she knew absolutely nothing!

Shortly, within the openness of a busy mall, sitting on a bench upon where a well-known corporation pleaded the merits of its products, the gentleman by her side continued along his quiet and avuncular way.

For Lisa, the experience was like coming in from the cold of winter and being faced with the embrace of heat from a roaring hearth. She eagerly fell in with the enchantment of his counsel. She had never liked being left out in the cold.

//

Four years later, Lisa stood in a large garden one afternoon in June and watched as two young men sweated under a high afternoon sun. She had been here since early morning. She had stood perfectly still all that time, not rigid or at attention or anything like that, but with just the proper and dignified posture required for a woman of her station and place. Her poise under the circumstance was exemplary.

One of the yardmen was busy hand tilling the earth beneath a small blue spruce, while the other was using an electric whippersnapper to cut the grass along the edge of the flat stone walk. Both were stripped to the waist and their bodies glistened with perspiration from their toil. They were employees of Garden Nurseries Inc. and no strangers to this garden.

Lisa felt absolutely glorious. She was in her element and very proud of the way in which she had progressed over the years. She stood straight and tall and visually panned the vista of her surroundings. After all these years, Lisa still relished in the majesty of the trees and the flowerbeds and the deep green hue of the carpet of manicured grass that were all signature elements of her garden.

The two young men looked up at her every once in a while, talking together briefly, then bending themselves back into their job for which they were being paid. Lisa was excited with their random attention and she shivered ever so slightly. But she didn't move and she continued to keep herself focused on her own set of duties.

//

It was much later that day when Lisa first heard him. It was Raoul, she was sure. And even though he wasn't within her eyesight, she sensed that he was with someone else. Lisa was well aware of Raoul's habits and behaviours. If she could bet money on it, she would wager that he was with a woman. Not just any woman, but a beautiful woman. Lisa was right! She knew her Raoul all too well.

Raoul Benoit was a powerful man. He was ruggedly handsome and athletically built. Wherever he moved amongst men and women, he insinuated an implied sense of power, knowledge, and sensuality. He dominated those around him with effortless aplomb and without compunction. His presence alone had literally 'un-done' many women in the past. As he grew older, his power over women only increased. Now at 60, he was an accomplished raconteur whose sonorous words and salacious comments could easily manoeuvre women into positions of a subservient nature

But his relationship with Lisa was different. Ever since their initial introduction at the bank machine years earlier, Lisa had become more than subservient to him; she became his chattel. Lisa belonged to him now, totally. She belonged to him as completely as any house pet belongs to its owner. Yet more important was that Lisa had submitted to this circumstance willingly. She had done so without regret or reservation. Raoul was her Master and if she had nothing more in her life than just that, she was ten times more content now than she had ever been.

As Lisa continued to hold her vertical vestige, she was not yet able to view the approaching pair. She dare not turn her head to look either. The cadre of their foot falls indicated that they were walking slowly and deliberately, perhaps arm in arm as lovers would do. Lisa listened as Raoul discussed an arrangement of flowers on his left, then again as he commented on a pond with a small waterfall on his right. Raoul did most of the talking. His companion only murmured her agreement. Then they come to stand directly in front of Lisa.

"Well?" he enquired softly to the woman by his side, "What do you think of this?"

"Mmmphhh, mmmmmphhhh, agggggh!" Raoul's lady eagerly responded.

"Yes. Yes, I agree. You are correct," he concluded on behalf of his young female charge who stood patiently by his side.

Lisa maintained her composure during her Master's short dialogue. She was naked as she must be. She stood boldly in front of them, stripped of any remnant of clothing. Her one defense against the crushing embarrassment of her situation was her insulated humility and solemn desire to be obedient to her Master's orders and commands.

Lisa loved Raoul. She would do anything for him. She simply adored his attention and thereby kept herself in a perpetual state of total submission. She easily became aroused in his presence, especially during any of his efforts to show her off to his frequent female visitors.

Lisa didn't care about the gardeners either. They had taken the liberty to gaze upon her all afternoon and they were still there, still observing. Yet for Lisa, their attention had been a delicious experience. After all, she thought, Raoul had trained her to be nothing more than a cunt on display and she wanted desperately to live up to that sobriquet.

Raoul looked up at Lisa where she stood atop a 2-foot high column. Slowly, with purposeful effort, he raised his right hand and extended a finger towards her. Ever so gently he stroked it up and down the full length of Lisa's now visibly damp womanhood.

"You are wet Lisa." Raoul purred knowingly.

"Are you excited?" he continued, plying and poking about her lips and labia as if looking for a prize. Her vagina was hairless and otherwise unadorned. It was a stripped slit available for use at a moments notice.

Lisa knew better than to answer him. She had learned that lesson two years ago, the hard way!

"Ah, I think that you are excited. This is good. Yes, very good!"

Then he turned to his companion as if to seek her agreement of his observation of the obvious. But his lady could only attempt to execute an audible sentence. Raoul didn't expect her to actually articulate any words. However, he was very pleased with her attempt. Her efforts delighted him to no end because he had gagged her himself.

Raoul was very thorough and the gag wasn't his companion's only restriction. Raoul's new lady had been adorned in a most physically limiting outfit. She had been fitted out and cinched up exactly like a track pony. She stood there, quiet and attentive, attached to the reigns held by Raoul. She was forced to lean out forward over her feet because her arms were so severely swept back behind her and bound at the elbows. While this leveraged a balanced stance, the arch of her body above her waist was such that it resulted in a curve that could support an English style riding saddle and rider if necessary.

There was also a studded harness and a very brutish bit that had been wedged deep across her open mouth. A set of eye-blinders and boots with soles that mimicked a hoof, rendered Raoul's friend more of a filly than a female. To complete the equine transformation of woman to animal, an extension extruded out from between her sculpted buttocks, where a butt plug had been inserted allowing for an artificial tail to be 'screw-tapped' into it!

If the truth be known, Raoul's young horse had been trained as a thoroughbred racer and was used often by Raoul and his friends, exclusively as a horse!

"There will be 20 men visiting tonight, Lisa." Raoul announced while he fondled with the pert breasts of his young female horse, totally ignoring Lisa as he spoke.

"You'll be the center of their attention. They are Arabs, Lisa. They are looking for a special form of entertainment. They want to punish and discipline a white woman. An indigenous woman who would represent the persona of all western women."

Lisa remained standing where she was. She made no physical movement that would betray her acceptance or denial of what her Master had just said. She was his slave and whatever he said or did, Lisa had learned to accept without even the slightest hint of objection or delight. She had been well trained by Raoul and long ago she had learned her lesson about keeping her 'place' when the Master spoke.

"These are powerful men, Lisa. They are important to my business and to me. When they first spoke of their entertainment needs, they asked that I procure a specific type of woman for their amusement. They wanted a white blonde woman. Such females are highly prized by men of the Middle East. What they had in mind was one of those noisy blonde American housewife bitches. You know, the kind of women seen in the movies and on television, who are prone to be loud and selfish and domineering?

They wanted one such woman that they could tie up and then whip until their exhaustion. The Arabs exhaustion, not the trussed up female! They also wanted someone worthy of extreme humiliation. They explained to me that after a severe whipping, female slaves are lowered into a shallow pit, where they are bound and tethered upside down to a pole. They call it a 'piss pit' My Arab friends are most excited when they can put a woman into this type of position after a lengthy flogging session. As they party and eat, they will piss on the woman in the pit when ever they feel the need. They said the acids and other chemicals in male urine help cleanse the effects of the whipping. Apparently it stings, but it does have a good antiseptic effect.

But I had a much better idea for the choice of a woman for their special entertainment needs. I convinced them that you would make a more suitable example of a western woman. Even though you are not blonde or noisy or anything like that, you are capable of greatly enhancing the pleasure of their exotic needs. "

Then turning his attention from his pony's breasts to his slave's crotch, he reached out and gently touched Lisa's clitoris, securing it firmly between his thumb and forefinger.

Then looking deep into her eyes he said, "I told them that you are special. I told them that you could be whipped without a murmur or a flinch. I told them that I have taken years to train you to accept just such type of painful discipline. In fact I told them that you need discipline in your daily life."

He paused for effect, to let his words ricochet around Lisa's imagination.

"I have told these men that if for any reason you are unable to withstand their punishment, that if you fail my prideful boast of your abilities, say by responding in any way to their ministrations upon you, or if you object in even the slightest to anything that they want to do to you, that I would relinquish my ownership. They would then be free to remove you to Beirut or Morocco or perhaps even Tripoli! You'd live life there as a slave kennel bitch, locked away in a cage until your Master rented you out for the pleasure of another man or in some cases, another woman."