The Master’s Gift
Gloria and I had always been adventurous in our intimacy, but we discovered that traditional swapping left us cold. We craved something deeper—a dynamic of absolute power and psychological surrender. We didn’t want equals; we wanted devotion. That was why, when we answered an ad from Fermin and Maria, the chemistry was instantaneous. They didn’t want an exchange; they wanted to be owned.
The arrangement was precise. Fermin and Maria were submissives, and they had proposed a daring fantasy: that I would train them and eventually “gift” Maria to Gloria as a loyal pet. Gloria, whose appetite for dominance matched my own, was enthralled by the idea. She scripted every moment of my first visit to their home, turning the encounter into a calculated exercise in psychological tension.
When I entered their living room, I shed my warmth and adopted the persona of a stern master. I ignored Fermin, treating him as an insignificant object, while focusing my intensity on Maria. I watched her eyes—the way she couldn’t maintain eye contact, the way her breath hitched when I commanded Fermin to kneel. I pushed Fermin to his limits, using verbal humiliation and light physical discipline to break his will, all while Maria watched from the sofa, her desire growing with every word of degradation.
The tension reached a fever pitch when I forced Maria to witness my absolute control over her husband. I stripped Fermin, treating him like a dog, and made him serve me. Maria was trembling, her lips parting in a silent plea for attention that I deliberately denied. I wanted her desperate. I wanted her to feel the void that only a true dominant could fill. Following Gloria’s script, I kept Maria on the edge of madness, touching her only enough to tease, never enough to satisfy.
The climax of the day occurred via a laptop screen. Gloria joined us via video call, her voice commanding and cold, directing the scene from miles away. She ordered me to treat Fermin as a toy in front of her, and I complied, penetrating him while Maria watched, handcuffed and exposed. The sight of my dominance over Fermin drove Maria to a state of total surrender. She began to sob, not from sadness, but from an overwhelming need to be claimed.
As the session ended, Maria collapsed at the feet of the computer screen, begging Gloria for acceptance. “I am your dog, Mistress,” she whimpered, her voice thick with longing. “Please come to my house. I want to be at your feet.”
I looked at Maria—dressed now in a provocative black dress and a collar—and knew the training was complete. She was no longer just a woman; she was a gift. As we drove her back, the silence in the car was heavy with anticipation. Maria sat in the back, a broken and beautiful creature, waiting for the moment Gloria would finally claim her as her own.