Bring Your Stalker to Work Day

The Consensual Stalker

"Designed to be more than a day camp, the Bring Your Stalker to Work Day program goes beyond the average “shadow” an adult. This will provide your stalker an opportunity to share how they envision your future and begin steps toward their end goals. We have designed the day in a hands-on and interactive manner that’s key to their achieving success. Each year, development of new interactive activities assists us in taking stalkers to the future they dream of."

I had followed her to work on several occasions, and was now familiar with her morning routine. She would pull into the parking garage, emerge and walk several blocks to the office building, and board the elevator. A very consistent routine, little variation in time or pattern. Most mornings she would talk on the phone and/or send text messages, juggling books and folders, and a purse and tote bag. For the past couple days I had boarded the elevator with her and selected the top floor, noting which floor was hers when she left the elevator.

I rode up two floors further, got off the elevator and took the stairs two flights down. I surveyed the hallways and corridors, and peeked into office areas where doors were open or ajar, and finally found her. I noted that her office space was a small odd shaped room and appeared to contain just two desks, hers off to the right, and a older man was at the desk to the left. One whole wall of the office was outside windows, but the door was solid, with no glass security panel. Once the door was closed, there was no way for intruders or visitors to see if any one was in. I had noticed that the older man seemed to be away from the office this week. Today would be different . . .
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Today I watched her arrive at work and head into her building. I waited about ten minutes and boarded the elevator, went one extra floor up, walked back down one flight and down the corridor. As usual, the door was open and slightly ajar. I glanced through the opening and saw her busying herself with her computer, putting on headphones, swaying to some music and sipping a cup of coffee. I pushed the door open just slightly more . . . the door moved about a foot, with no noise, or apparent commotion. As I looked around the edge, she seemed oblivious to the movement, so I slowly pushed the door the rest of the way open, up against the cabinet behind it, and stepped back just to be sure.

After a few moments, I stepped into the doorway, paused, and them stepped into the room. No reaction, so I quietly swung the door closed and stepped up behind her, still nothing. I moved slightly to the right when she swung her chair to the left to open a drawer, but still there was no recognition of any presence in the room, or directly behind her. As she settled back to her workstation she seemed to catch a reflection in the window or her computer screen, I knelt down on one knee behind her and her chair as she glanced around, and then shrugged.
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I stood back up, leaned forward, and simultaneously pulled her glasses and headphones off with one hand and placed the other hand over her eyes. Then I quickly moved the first hand, covered her mouth, and whispered into her ear, "It is me, just relax." I held her as stationary as possible as she struggled, until the glow of recognition settled over her. Even as she struggled I moved my hand from her mouth, onto her throat, up under her chin, tilted her head back and placed my mouth over hers. I held the kiss, long, longer, I had forgotten how wonderfully soft and warm and pliable her lips were, how her kiss felt and the way she moved, both her jaw and her tongue. I lifted momentarily and repositioned my mouth onto hers again, and savored the sound of her breathing through her nostrils and the swelling of her breasts as she struggled for air. I lifted my mouth slightly so we could both breath through the corners of our mouths without ending this prolonged kiss.

Even as I sucked air out of her lungs, pumped it back in, I was drawn to the pulse of her breathing through the expansion and contraction of her chest, and the swelling of her wonderfully full breasts. I was captivated by the sight of her hardening nipples, pressing through her shirt and sweater, and presumably even her bra beneath them. I reached down and took a grip on one nipple through all of that clothing and pinched tightly, and felt her gasp for air, nearly sucking my breath right out of my mouth this time. I continued to twist and pull, and elicited the most wonderful, guttural groan from deep in her throat, followed by a soft humming sound. I moved my hand and tore open the top two buttons of her shirt so that the opening matched the contour of her v-neck sweater.
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As I placed my palm on her upper chest I could feel her warm skin, and her breathing, and as my hand slid inside her shirt, I could feel her heart beating and her long deep breaths. Once again heard that guttural growl, and I detected a slight chuckle, and her mouth was moving as if she were trying to say something. I shoved my hand down inside her shirt, into the cup of her bra, forcing my fingers across her flesh, and took a solid grip on her right breast, pinching and mashing, squeezing and massaging roughly. She squirmed and wiggled in her chair, not trying to escape so much as adjust to the excitement and arousal my continued groping of her breast was provoking.

I lifted my mouth from hers, trailing my tongue across hers, teasing her lips. I continued to hold my hand over her eyes, pulled my hand out of her bra, and said, "Reach down and release the ergo-control so that the back of the chair tilts back."

"What?" she said.

"Release the chair backrest."

She nodded her understanding, and dropped her arms down between the armrests and the seat cushion, and fumbled with the control levers. Suddenly she found the right paddle and the seat back dropped to a 45 degree angle, startling us both. "Close your eyes, tight." She did. I leaned back down and kissed her forehead, her temples, her closed eyes, the sides of her nose, one cheek and then the other, then one last time, her mouth, a slow, tender, full lip kiss.

Now she was laid out with her head fully back, tilted over the edge of the seat back, almost dangling back. My thumb on her chin pushed her lower jaw down and my palm pressed her forehead down and back, forcing her mouth open further. Her body stiffened as she heard the sound of my zipper, and I stepped forward . . .

and then, at her home . . .

Moving with Force

Read enough blogs, documenting relationships ranging from the most extreme M/s owners, to the sweetest Daddy/little girl connections, and you begin to see the wide range of methods and techniques used to move things along, particularly the degree of influence imparted by the dominant member of the relationship. This is particularly true of training techniques but in many instances actually apply to the entire conduct of the relationship, influencing the entire interaction. It becomes apparent when something goes wrong, when things are off track and corrective action needs to be taken.

The previous post, force, was an attempt to put the idea out there and clarify my thinking, and engage with a few readers from their reaction to that small offering. It came to me during this process that control = force. I had always thought of force as a S&M practice, and overlooked the subtle but effective use of force in all methods of control. The concept of force runs the gambit of techniques employed: force, enforce, reinforce and reinforcement, each an exertion of the dominants will and dominion, over the behavior of the submissive but with radically varying degrees of application. I think a large degree of that is implied by the kind of connection that is present between the parties involved. It is also clear that some aspects of all four categorizations are likely employed at one time or another in nearly all relationships.

Force:
a powerful effect or influence; to cause to do through pressure or necessity, by physical, moral or intellectual means, coerce.
I think the strictest Master/slave relationship involves the potential for the greater degree of pure force - a powerful effect or influence; where the Master is likely to cause things to be done through pressure or necessity, by physical, moral or intellectual means, by applying coercion.

This may well include the routine application of moving a girl along, literally, physically, by grabbing hands full of her hair or tightly gripping her collar and literally dragging her to where she needs to go. It may likely not involve any degree of intellectual instruction at all, but rather just the absolute application of physical force. Even routinely grabbing her and pulling her along, come this way, follow along, and she will, because she is yours, and trusts you or fears you. So, you could MAKE the sub do something through force.

This might include prolonged restraint, caging, physical restrictions, and whippings and beating, real and earnest applications of force.

Enforce:
ensure observance of rules; compel to behave in a certain way - to keep up, impose or bring into effect something, not necessarily by force.
When you talk about how your girl might feel about being restricted, and she thinks the control might be interesting, "really like the idea of somehow being controlled."

You set rules for her, that provide direction and guidance but at other times she has to walk the path, with you right behind her, offering words of encouragement, or correction or perspective, "if you do this or that, here is what will happen". Or, provide a good environment in which she can do something that one time, and then enforce the repetition of the behavior.

Consider the idea of a control that insists, rather than restricts? So many times, we Doms/Tops implement directives that take away something desired, but what about the idea of requiring something that is not a burning desire? An example might be orgasm control, which is often exercised as orgasm denial or limitation, but can also be a rule that insists on orgasms.

This might occasionally blend in some of the rougher, dragging approach, with an ebb and flow, harsh, aggressive at times, friendly, slow and smooth at other times.

Reinforce:
to strengthen, especially by addition or augmentation; to emphasize or review; to encourage a behavior or idea through repeated stimulus.
There are times when the dominant backs off, giving a certain degree of slack to see how well the lesson has been learned. But he may still be nudging with a slight tap or push for the left or the right, correcting the course, needing to watch, pay attention, but not always intervening, teach her the way for herself, with guidance. This involves observing behavior, and reinforcing the positive actions while criticizing but not necessarily punishing the missteps. Ultimately, submission is what the girl gives, not what the dominant takes.

Reinforcement:
a process in which a behavior is strengthened; increasing the probability that a response will occur by either presenting a contingent positive event or removing a negative event.
Where do you want to go? What do you want to change? How can my guidance, dominance, and reinforcement be applied to your life in such a way that you accomplish your goals, and then set about to do it, with subtle and not so subtle reminders, go do it "now".

Some times you might even let go so fully that she doesn't even feel the control any more, or in fact she feels the absence of the control, the looseness, at odds, at wits end. Once having had the comfort and safety and assurance of guidance and control, what does it feel like to have that taken away, quite nearly the complete opposite of force, the complete removal of influence, other than presence, reinforcement of the feeling and idea of control rather than cranking down the control.

Or it might include setting up ongoing situations where doing that thing brings her peace and contentment and rather than feeling forced, she feels embraced and wants to do it of her own volition and to please. This kind of commitment to purpose is at the heart of submission, it is not compliance by force, but simply reinforcement of her dedication to purpose. It might also include companioning, guiding her along as she deals with an issue. Or, slowly and methodically moving her forward, clearing the path of obstacles, hers and the worlds, like curling?


It is always interesting to read blogs and see what kinds of force are employed, or not to correct misbehavior or a failure to follow rules. It is just as common to read about overly lax responses as it is to read about overly forceful actions.

Bedtime Baby

You, sitting at the foot of the bed, knees bent over the edge, legs apart.

Me, standing with my shins against the end of the bed, between your thighs, combing my hands and fingers through your hair, savoring the view of your wonderful body.

You, squeezing your thighs hard against the outside of my legs, holding them, caressing me, rubbing the veined underside, watching it grow and stiffen, licking your lips.

Me, holding your head and tilting it back, straining your neck, kissing your forehead, temples, eyebrows, eyes, left side of your nose, right side, back and forth from one cheek to the other, then fully over your mouth, tender, slow, firm lip kisses.

You, moaning, humming, smiling, leaning your head back, pulling away from my kiss, pulling your head from side to side, sneaking down under my chin to look at the handiwork of your hands. Grasping me, guiding me up to your mouth, teasing between your lips, running your tongue along the underside.

Me, pulling your head closer, moving slowly in and out, rubbing against the insides of your mouth, moving my hands to your jaw, pushing it down to reduce the tightness, opening your mouth more, encouraging you to moisten, lick and coat me with your saliva.

You, looking up into my eyes, looking down over you. Cupping your hands under your breasts, lifting them up, offering them, squeezing them together, wrapping them around me, all wet from your mouth, and so hard.

Me, grasping a nipple in each hand, pulling, twisting, lifting, pinching. Stepping back and kneeling down at the edge of the bed, fronts of my thighs up against the end of the mattress, resting on the surface of the mattress. Wrapping my hands around the small of your back and pulling you forward, moving your bottom forward up the edge of the bed.

You, grasping hold of me and guiding me into you, wet, slick, as you are pulled closer and closer, opening your legs wider to accept my hips more comfortably between your thighs.

Me, taking hold of your wrists and leaning, guiding you back, pushing you to lay down flat on the bed. Pushing your arms down against the mattress and pulling you harder toward me, slipping deeper inside, my upward curve tickling that hot inner spot.

You, rocking back and forth with the pull and push of my hands on your wrists, working your muscles, massaging me inside you, bringing me closer and closer. Sweating, huffing, deep breathing, humming.

Me, releasing your wrists and guiding your hands down in between us, encouraging your fingers to dance and play with your swollen button, pushing them down deeper and deeper. Hands tight on your hips, pulling your closer and closer, shoving deeper and deeper. Legs clenched, solid stiff, releasing into you. collapsing forward down on top of you, kissing your breasts.

You, shaking, stiffening, clenching, hands deep down, hips rising, pushing up, shaping our angles. Fingers buried in my hair, gripping and caressing.

Us, coming together, right now.