The Platform

The Platform:

Things have to change:

I'm standing naked and blindfolded, arms at my sides in the middle of a wooden platform, I feel the presence of others but can't see or hear anything but my husband standing behind me.

I can feel the heat from a spotlight. My body trembled, and my mind raced with fear. I haven't been naked in front of anyone but my husband before, then only in the dark.

I hear my husband's voice behind me, soft and quiet, oddly reassuring. He says, "Relax little one this is for you, for us, for our marriage." "I love you," he whispered, "remember that."

I was only eighteen, and quite naive when Peter and I got married, a virgin. Raised by a strict guardian, I knew little to nothing about sex. Peter was twelve years older, well-educated, traveled, wealthy, and caring. Peters' financial firm was hired by a sharp-eyed judge who spotted something in my father's financial records he didn't understand. After hearing my father's explanation he was even more suspicious. The judge thought it best to hire an independent company to untangle the mess created by my father, thus Peter and his firm became involved. When the independent audit was completed, it was revealed that I was the "entitled party", my father didn't own anything, never did. He was given everything, his job, the house, the cars, and a very generous allowance by my mother, apparently, that was not enough. it had all been hers. It was all to come to me on my eighteenth birthday. Dear old Dad had been stealing from me since the day my mother passed.

After the dust settled and my father was out of my life Peter and I married. I don't know why. Not really. I was a month shy of my nineteenth birthday and alone, I didn't even know how to write a check. I never paid a bill, ran a household, or even picked out my clothes. I was helpless and probably hopeless. I thought Peter was my only option. But to be honest with you, I did "adore" Peter. I hung on his every word. He was handsome and everyone around him wanted to be him, or be with him.

The problem, our sex life, yeah, not so good, and my fault entirely. After listening to my guardian, for years, referring to me as what's her name, or the homely one, I had some issues.

Peter was handsome, intelligent, kind, attractive, well-built, well-liked, and admired by everyone. He thought I was pretty, no, beautiful, well, that's what he said anyway. I thought I was in love, an eighteen-year-olds version at least. My guardian was furious when Peter proposed, knowing he was about to lose everything, but I was of legal age, at least in this state, there was nothing he could do. about it.

Sex was something I knew married people did. It was a wife's duty to submit to her husband. Peter was kind and gentle in the beginning. When he asked for things like oral or anal sex or even to go down on me, I said no, and he backed off. Peter never demanded anything of me, we never discussed it. I suppose he thought with more experience I would come around, but I didn't.

Sex now is once or twice a week, most times less. He hops on "gets off" roles over and goes to sleep. I usually cry myself to sleep. I wanted to be more intimate with my husband. I wanted to do the things that would make him happy, us happy. How could I please him when I was ugly, timid, and afraid? I couldn't bring myself to talk about sex, I didn't know what an orgasm was.

Peter, I thought, was losing interest. I knew he still loved me but how long could that last under these circumstances? I knew he hadn't cheated but wasn't sure that would last either. Could Peter be happy in a sexless marriage? Things had to change. I was the one who had to change them, I knew that, but how?

Research:

To that end, I got a therapist. An online therapist that I didn't have to face. And still, it was nearly impossible. I was still unable to articulate most of my feelings. The therapist suggested I start a journal, I did, I wrote, and once I started I couldn't stop. Everything came spilling out in the greatest of detail. Fear, self-loathing, feeling ugly, unlovable, hating my own body, afraid of being alone, my fear of losing Peter all the things I couldn't say out loud finally expressed, in writing. I didn't know what good it would do but finally, it was out there.

I decided I could do more by becoming more informed about the things Peter wanted in bed. To that end, I started going to online porn sites. I kept logs of the research I did, on the sites I visited and the literature I read. I gave each site and or story a rating. Things that Peter has already asked to do. Things he hadn't asked but I was sure he would be into. Things I might do, under the right circumstances, if Peter insisted I submit. Peter never insisted, never took control. One of the subjects that grabbed my particular attention was submission. I felt a little tingle each time I read one of those stories.

Submission:

One of the stories I read about a Submissive relationship, intrigued me. This person allowed her partner complete control of her pussy, and absolute control in the bedroom. He shaved and trimmed her pussy hair making sure it was always well tended, this also included her anal area. He was also in charge of her orgasms. To be precise, when and or if she could have one. Peter had on several occasions mentioned trimming my pubic hair, being completely bare, he said, would be even better. I certainly knew this was something he would enjoy.

I loved the kind of intimacy this seemed to suggest. I also liked stories about things wives refused to do at first but the husband was insistent. In a loving and kind, but still persistent way, he would introduce his wife to new sexual acts. I kept meticulous notes on what I thought my do's and don'ts were. Dirty names and slut shaming (NO), Massage (Yes), Shaving (Yes), Spanking (Maybe), Anal (?), with every story I read. The idea of being submissive to my husband, for instance, held some appeal, however, I would not be into BDSM. I don't know if this is an actual term but I would call it a "Soft Submissive".

Soft Submission? Some will scoff, I know, but my research shows that submission is what you make of it. To date, I have fifty journals filled with do's and don'ts. In the end, it all boils down to a few simple rules. Always consensual. No physical harm (scarring, cutting, risky practices), and a deep and abiding trust in each other. The rest is up to you, do what pleases you. For me it was the softer side of submission, I wanted to please him. In bed, I wanted to say "no" and have him control me. When I refused, he would remind me of who was in charge, and "take" me in the way he wanted.

I grabbed a pair of old pants from the back of the closet one day, to do some gardening. They didn't fit. Well, they were five years old and I was twenty-one not sixteen anymore. To my mind, however, that meant I was fat. So back to dieting. My go-to activity when I was depressed. My way of punishing myself for not being good enough. And, I suppose, if I'm being honest, my way of drawing attention to myself. I lost weight rapidly, Peter began to notice. When he called me on it, I just shrugged it off. However, this latest diet created some dangerous health issues that Peter couldn't overlook this time. He decided something needed to be done.

Peter takes charge:

Peter finally took charge, he knew that I was in trouble both physically and mentally, but he still cared enough to help. Unbeknownst to me, Peter had broken the rule of all rules, he had read my journals. I suspect, he made some notes of his own. I was back to my hundred pounds and healthy again when Peter pulled out my journals, I was mortified. I got up and tried to leave but Peter stepped in front of me blocking my way, sit down, he ordered. He had never spoken to me like that before, it scared me, and yet, exhilarated me at the same time. I tried moving around him but he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back down onto the couch.

"We are going to talk about this," Peter said. "I have read every one of these journals and the notations you made." "I have also reviewed all your internet searches and read every one of the stories you have read." "No, don't hang your head, look at me," he said. "Look me in the eyes and see what I am saying is coming from the heart." "I am the one who is in the wrong here, I have treated you like a china doll, afraid you would break at any moment, instead, I should have been helping you grow as a person, a wife, and a sexual being."

"That was wrong, I take full responsibility." "If you consent, I will try to remedy the situation." "Depending on your answer to my next question, it will be the last time I ask for your consent (permission), are we clear?"

"Yes," I replied, meekly.

"This is a two-fold question." Peter's hand lifted my chin again, I was looking directly into his eyes, "Do you still love me, will you (submit) to me.?

"Yes," I quietly replied, a shiver running through my entire body.

"Yes, what," Peter asked. I looked at him, confused. "Tell me you will submit," Peter said, I stammered. "Say it out loud," Peter said again, taking my hands into his.

"I love you," I said. "I will submit to you, Peter, if you still love me." Peter set me on his lap enveloping me in his arms, and we both wept, knowing this was a new beginning, not an ending.

That night we lay in each other's arms, spooning. Peter told me he loved me, respected me, and was happy I was his wife. Peter asked me if I trusted him, this lifestyle won't work if you have doubts. "You know that don't you?" Peter continued by telling me he would be in complete control of our bedroom adventures, my training, and discipline from now on. He said he understand that I was only interested in "Soft Submission", but as in all submissive relationships, even in" soft submission" disobedience would not be tolerated. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Swift and immediate punishment will be forthcoming for any infractions." "Do you understand that?"

"Yes" I whispered, We slept.

Training day:

I woke in the morning to an empty bed. I panicked, and then a fully clothed Peter entered the room with a breakfast tray. When we finished eating Peter removed the tray. Grabbing the shopping bags he had placed in the corner, lots of them, Peter had me get out of bed and stand in front of him. He started unbuttoning my top, I always wore old-fashioned pajamas, tops and bottoms, and underwear. After the top came off, he pulled down the bottoms, hooking his thumbs into my ugly full-sized no-brand underwear, he ripped them off me. I was standing there naked. Peter explained to me that tomorrow he would go through my wardrobe and get rid of every ugly undergarment I had and yes, all of my pajamas and anything else he didn't like.

Peter had me lie on the bed, face down, while he put all the shopping bags in the closet. When he came back he sat on the bed beside me. I have something planned for this evening, he said. I expect you to trust me and obey every instruction. "Do you understand?" I shook my head. "No," Peter said, "You must say it out loud.

"I understand," I replied.

"I planned this to help you with your self-confidence, your self-esteem, and your body issues." "I can guarantee, you are not going to like this, but you are going to go through with it." "It is an order, not a request, do you understand?"

" Yes," I replied.

"I have arranged a very private, exclusive party for this evening." "The pre-screened audience is quite familiar with the subjects that we will be discussing and or practicing." "Our guests will be encouraged to give their opinions on your demeanor, your physical looks, your stature, and your willingness to submit. You will be center stage and you will be naked."

At this, I jumped and started to protest. The result was a hard slap on the ass. I started to rise from the bed only to have Peter place his hand on my back and push me back down. "No, no I won't do it," I said. Another slap, harder this time. I started to cry. Peter started rubbing my back to soothe me

"It's alright to cry, go ahead and get it out." "This won't be the last time you're in tears this evening, I promise you that." Peter leaned down and kissed me, "No harm will come to you, I promise."

I love Peter and I wanted to do this for him but I was so afraid. It was embarrassing enough standing naked in front of Peter, how could I do that in front of strangers? I had to think of a way to get out of this. I could feel Peter's hand running up and down my back. His hand slipped between the ass cheeks he had just slapped. I had always rejected this type of move but this time It felt good and calming, I was so sleepy.

Next thing I remember I see Peter in my closet hanging up clothes. I must have made a sound because Peter turned and smiled. "Well, he said, did you have a nice nap?" A nap? I was wondering what time it was, how much time did I have to get out of this somehow, when Peter approached the bed. "Come on sleepy head we don't want to be late." "Go shower and wash your hair." "Hurry, I have your clothes ready. "We don't want to be late, do we?".

"I don't want to go at all," I whispered," under my breath.

"What did you say," Peter asked.

"Nothing," I said and ran into the bathroom.

After I showered and dried my hair I went back into the bedroom. Peter looked and nodded. You look lovely but let's fix that hair. Back in the bathroom Peter took the brush and swooped my hair up on the sides and clipped it letting the rest fall in soft curly tendrils. "Yes," he said, "That looks beautiful, I love your long hair and the color is stunning." I put on a little eyebrow (mine are very light), a little mascara, and lip gloss. Peter never liked much make-up, preferring a more natural look.

When I returned once again to the bedroom Peter was already dressed. I was naked still. Peter kissed me. "You are beautiful," he said. Cupping my breasts in his hands he bent to kiss them, "Absolutely beautiful," he said. Moving up to my ear he whispered, "I remember your notes, my pet, how you hated my licking, but enjoyed the light bite." "How light it will be, from now on, I can't guarantee," with that, he bent and gave my neck a semi-light bite and pinched each of my nipples. I jumped in surprise and a sensation I had never felt before slid through my body, traveling from my neck and breasts to my neither regions leaving me weak in the knees, and wanting more.

Peter had chosen, from the clothes he had purchased, plain white cotton bikini briefs and a long white sheer silk slip with a lace bust and white heels. A long white coat finished the ensemble. "Ok, ready to go Peter said." He took me by the arm and started to move forward but I was frozen. He turned to me and kissed me, "Trust me," he said. "I will never betray you, I will always protect you." "Remember, no matter what happens this evening you will never be in any danger." "Do you trust me," Peter asked.

"Yes," I nodded and let him guide me out the door. I do trust Peter, but I was terrified.

THE PLATFORM:

Peter was right behind me. His hand rested on my breastbone to steady me while the other hand caressed my back and shoulders. Keeping me from the panic that was ready to rear its head at any moment. Peter whispered, "I have arranged this just for you." "I know you think your body is ugly but it is not, you have a fabulous body." "People have been hired by an independent firm to access your physical attributes and to give their honest opinions." "No one is going to touch you other than me." "You will be completely safe." "I want you to listen to what they have to say, can you do that, can you trust me?"

"Yes," I replied with a shaky voice.

With that, Peter reached under my hair moving his hand up my scalp twisting his hand in my hair, and lifting my head from a bowed position. Let's begin I heard Peter say to the audience. "Remember all your comments should be addressed to me."

" She needs to be disrobed I heard a man say. We can't give opinions on what we can't see."

"We have been asked to appraise her body among other things," another said. I was in full panic mode now. I started to move away from Peter but he tightened the grip he had on my hair, with his other hand he lowered the top of the slip. I heard a gasp from the audience.

"She has lovely breasts," I heard one man say and then another said, "Holy shit' are you kidding me, they are fucking fantastic." All right gentleman," another said, let's keep this civil." "They are extraordinary," another said. "Are they sensitive?" Peter moved his hand down, caressing my breast lightly then moving to my nipple giving it a quick and firm pinch. My nipple started to harden in his hand. "Yes, yes, that's beautiful, everyone loves those tiny rosebud nipples, and the other one?" Peter moved his hand to my other nipple and it hardened instantly. I heard ohs and aws from the (crowd), oh my god, how many people were here, watching I wondered.

People started chiming in quickly after that. Beautiful long red hair, gorgeous clear skin. Shy and seemingly obedient. "Please lower her gown," a gentleman from the crowd demanded, Peter pushed the slip over my hips, and it fell to the stage floor. Oh god, could this get any worse, I thought?

The next voice I heard, a lady was asking Peter if having a full bush was his preference. Peter's hand, still tangled in my hair took a tighter grip and raised me off the floor a bit, as he ran the fingers of his other hand right throw my pussy hair like a comb."Not my choice," Peter replied. "I have mentioned it several times but to no avail." Another woman spoke out, "It's her choice then?"

"Yes," Peter replied.

"Please turn her around," another person said, Peter did as asked and slowly moved his hand down further and further until he got to my ass, caressing my cheeks his hand slipped between my cheeks separating them a bit. I started to struggle, my hands, having been at my sides the entire time, now started to move towards my now exposed cheeks. Peter took a firmer grip on my hair making me yelp.

Someone in the crowd called out, "So who is in charge of your house then," she asked, "she isn't obviously, but you don't seem to be either." I think that took Peter by surprise, he wasn't expecting to be criticized. "Your Pet has moved and spoken without permission twice now, yet you have done nothing to correct or punish her."

Another spoke, "You say she has never had an orgasm but isn't that your duty, your promise to her as a master, to ensure she is happy and satisfied, that all her needs are met?" "Isn't it your job to know her body better than you know your own?" "How can you expect her to follow if you can't lead?" "How will she respect and trust you if you have not committed fully to your role as her master?" "Have you educated yourself on what it means to be a true master?", another asked. "Perhaps you should ask yourself if you are truly worthy of being her "Sir."

I remembered what I had been reading online about this very subject (who's in charge) and was only brought back to reality when I heard someone say, rather harshly, "Enough already, we are here to comment on that lovely body of hers." "I do believe that pussy of hers needs some attention but I also noticed she has great thighs, strong, well-muscled legs." 'Looks like she would stand up well with a good, hard doggie style or maybe a standing anal, but please, let's move on to the main event."

Plain and Homley my guardian had called me, I remember that so clearly. I was terrified of what this crowd would say. Peter turned me around again, I could hear the audience sigh. A couple of "Yes, yes, quite lovely," then someone said, "Yes I agree with the crowd, anyone would be proud to put his dick in that, or up that as the case may be." The crowd roared with laughter.

At that, the panic let loose. I turned and threw my arms around Peter. He was shirtless, I realized and somehow it comforted me. "Oh my," I heard the lady who had criticized Peter say. "Again she has moved without permission, and again you have done nothing to correct her." "If you want to fix the problem, you have to fix the person causing the problem, in my opinion, this relationship is like a ship without a captain." With that, Peter reached for my arms and placed them and me back into position, "Be still and silent," Peter said loudly enough so everyone could hear, smacking me on my ass cheeks with his hand.

After that, there was a lot of chatter. I heard someone remark that if this were an auction he'd give one hundred thousand trained or not. It was strange to hear ones worth discussed but even more shocking to hear it mentioned in terms of monetary value. "It's getting late." someone offered, "shall we get to the finale?" I heard a chair scrape across the platform. The crowd quieted, I heard a man say, "Peter, a chair has been provided for you to sit." "You said she was still an anal virgin, we would like to see this little one's rosebud before so we can make a complete assessment if that's alright with you?"

At this, I started to move, "No," I said. Peter grabbed me hard and stood me back in place, he sat down. This time he laid his hand on my butt several times in quick secession, hard. I was in tears. Yet I still begged.

"Please, Peter, no, please, please, please no," I cried. The crowd was silent, waiting to see if Peter would take control. Would he truly become my "Sir", or were we just playing at submission? "Listen to me, Peter said, you are a beautiful woman, everyone knows that except you." "I want you to believe how beautiful you are, I want you to be confident and happy knowing I will always love you." "I am in charge now, accept that."

"Please don't do this," I begged, again squirming, again trying to pull away.

Still weeping, I stood there shaking. Peter sitting said, "Bend and lower yourself over my knee." "If you don't, I will do it for you, do you understand?" I started to move forward. I couldn't do it. A few seconds later, Peter grabbed me by the waist, pulled me to him placed me over his lap, giving my ass another very hard slap. The chair on stage had been placed sideways, my ass was directly in front of the audience. I heard one of the quests asking Peter to spread my cheeks, I struggled, trying to get away, but Peter held me firmly.

I felt the palm of his hand come down on my ass, again. I wouldn't stop struggling or begging and the blows rang down unceasingly until, finally, exhausted, I just dropped, lying limp over Peter's knees, I felt Peter rubbing my bottom trying to get me to relax. "Sorry, Little One," Peter said. "This is how it has to be from now on." "I don't like hurting you, and as long as you are obedient, I won't. Peter pushed my legs apart and spread my ass cheeks. There was a lot of purring from the audience, they liked what they saw. There were lots of compliments, everyone seemed to like a nice soft pink and unused little hole.

And then it was over. I was once again standing in the center of the platform so everyone could take a final look. As guests left they filled out the cards they had been given before entering the event. The guests wrote their reviews on the cards and placed them in a container for viewing by Peter and myself. When the last guest had gone Peter hugged me to him, told me how proud of me he was, what a good girl I was, I did much better than he had expected, he said. Rubbing his hands over my still-burning cheeks, he whispered with a purr, much more of this to come. After a deeply sensual kiss Peter said, this is only the beginning of (us).

As we left the platform Peter said, "Tell me what your thinking."

"The happiest day of my life," I said.

Grinning from ear to ear Peter said, "Then you'll enjoy this next part."