EXTRACT FOR
A Loss of Control
(Hillary Marshall)

    In The Moment

    

    Head deep in the bowl as it was tainted yellow with the urine soaking his hair before trickling down his cheeks into his eyes and nose before making its way past shamed lips, he again wondered what those who had known and cared for him in his former existence would think now to see him being used so... abjectly.

    "Good boy," the hated yet revered voice came down to him and his shame was all the more acute for finding itself mixed with... desire.

    And for what?

    Nothing more elevating than having the younger woman who now considered him her property mark him as such.

    "What the fuck have I allowed myself to become?" his thoughts both questioned and castigated as he felt her piss moistening his lips and fought the urge to lick them; his scalp saturated with her waste and its scent dominating his nostrils.

    The answer to his unvoiced question was an obvious one to him and of a kind he preferred not to dwell on.

    The reality of his situation being more than enough for him - and especially when he felt a sudden and overpowering need to remove his head from the toilet bowl and prostrate himself at her feet that he might smother her toes with grateful kisses that left her in no doubt he accepted his abject position in her life going ahead.

    "Do you wish to speak to your Master?" she asked in that English still rich with the accents of her homeland as she sensed his upward movement.

    "Y-Yes," he began, raising his head further.

    Only for her to snap at him:

    "No! Keep your head in the bowl until your master's nectar has dried upon you. You need to become familiar with your owner's scent."

    His head lowered immediately and her face became feral with cruel satisfaction at the level of obedience she had already instilled in the Englishman.

    "Good boy... Now," she continued. "What do you wish to say?"

    "I wish... I wish..." he began, voice echoing against the porcelain either side of him as her urine was reflected up at him from the amber water below.

    "Yes?"

    "I wish to say... Thank you, my... My Malkin..." 

    Hair that hung-free and seemed almost impossibly black swished across the smooth skin of her shoulders and the expression gazing down upon what was no less than an eschewing of his own manhood was a mixture of haughty and highly aroused as she felt pride swell in her for having lowered this older and proud man so quickly to such a position of dependence.

    A position that seemed all the more incredible to the man himself for the face housing that expression being more equestrian than beauteous.

    An anomaly only partly explained for him by the full womanly curves he knew he would see again when his head was free of the bowl currently confining it.

    Her body below the summit was clothed in a blood-red woolen dress and sheer nylon pantyhose on legs with powerful claves that tapered down at the ankles before their feet disappeared into black shoes with pointed toes and sharp heels.

    The desire he now felt for her - a desire that hadn't existed before - going way beyond simple sexual attraction and, for reasons beyond him, seeming to stem equally as much from the power he felt radiating from her in his regard.

    Sexually as well as domestically.

    "What do you want from your Master?" she asked with a curl of the lip as she smoothed her hose back in place; her contempt for him almost as great as the arousal supplied by the control she now exercised and could feel turning her legs weak with delicious anticipation.

    Please, Ms Saanvi," he began instantly, made even more compliant by his shameful need, "can I..."

    "No!" she barked, divining his desire and enjoying the flinch she won from him as if he were no more than a dog scolded by his owner as she denied him his humiliating wish.

    Humiliating to him, that is.

    Treating such a man in such a way was all that she had dreamed it would be and she knew that now she had experienced the empowerment that came with personal power she would never find the strength to forego it.

    Even if, by some miracle, she were inclined to do so.

    "Look at you," she sneered at the top of his head and the still luxuriant if greying locks she had just saturated. "Naked except for the cock cage your master has placed you in that your pitiful little penis does not get you into trouble with her. "Unable to prevent a younger Indian woman marking you as her property by releasing her bladder onto you. And all that your obedience might persuade her to release your pathetic little cock and allow you to masturbate against the sole of her foot."

    Her snort of derision above him was totally genuine -  even if she herself was utterly enamoured of his canine behaviour towards her.

    "No wonder Serena needs to seek out real men to make her feel like a woman."

    Head in the bowl still, he became still and she knew the barb had hit home as it always did.

    His shame at hearing it not preventing him from obeying her next order to go down on his haunches and place respectful lips on the pointed toes of each of her shoes - so desperate was he to experience the release only she and the key resting an inch or two above his eyes as it hung from a slim ankle-bracelet could provide him.

    No matter how soul-destroying and emasculating the behaviour she expected from him before consenting to use that key. 

    "But at least your true nature is no longer a secret," she went on, eyes savouring the sight of the man below her as his urine soaked head bobbed up and down to place respectful kisses on her footwear. "Now that we know just WHO you are," she went on, "we can put you to your best use while Ms Serena is finally free to experience what a real cock can supply a real woman."

    Feeling her own urine beginning to soak her instep as it leaked from his hair, she turned away to survey the scene in the bathrooms full-length wall-mirror that she might better appreciate the power-play of her clothed and imperious posture above the naked man in his cock-cage still prostrate upon the cool ceramic floor tiles she would soon order him to clean of the mess his saturated head was making upon them.

    Recalling what she had been born to - and where - Saanvi Rastogi smiled at the vision of sheer will and imperious authority staring back at her.

    An "imperious authority" she would enjoy displaying for the enjoyment of the friends and family she would be seeing in a few months' time when she returned with her... Manservant ...to the Indian territory of her birth.

    And the plush villa she had rented at some distance from the still poverty-stricken village in which she had grown up would only make the triumph of her return in the eyes of those she had left behind all the more satisfying to experience. 

    As would the jealousy of her she was certain she would see in the villagers still remaining.

    Of course, the villa itself was a colonial leftover from the days when the view she could see in her own mirror at that moment would have been - at least metaphorically - reversed. 

    Back then she would have been the one prostrate before her English master as she knelt to show respect.

    A keen reader of her country's history, they were days no Indian man or woman with a sense of pride in their country could fail to find insulting.

    A country to which she would soon be returning to visit.

    And this time with her own white chattel in attendance.

    And a white chattel she was determined would be trained to servile perfection, she thought as her thoughts again ran back and savoured the events leading to her acquisition of him...

    



    Beginnings

    

    Serena Bellows had been surprised at the speed of change in her marriage and questioned if she could ever have loved him in the way she had once thought.

    What else could explain the path she had set them on?

    Since her husband's conviction for defrauding the investors who had placed their money and portfolios with the investment company for whom he'd worked the past seventeen years, her feelings had changed radically and had not improved any by time he had been released from an open-prison some fourteen months into a three-year sentence. He had been jobless since and showed no sign of wanting to change the status quo. Most days now he lounged in bed until late-morning then spent the rest of the day watching tv and who knows what on the computer. Serena had not asked him for any help around the house and he hadn't offered any. He was behaving, she told herself, like an entitled child and it made her happy that at least she had avoided motherhood in partnership with him.

    Even the loving that had once been good between them was intermittent and - when it did happen - was of variable quality. Quality that ranged from almost average to disappointing as the hit to his confidence in himself as a man resulting in his conviction and subsequent dismissal from a company he, despite his dishonesty, had loved working for over the years. 

    Serena was unhappy with her husband on a variety of levels, but it was her anger at what he was allowing to happen with their sex life that and the suspicion he had used his investor's funds to wine and dine other women.

    After all, she hadn't seen any benefits from his financial criminality.

    In fact, had it not been for them living in a house supplied by her aunt and last living relation rent-free his prison sentence would have been a sight harder for her to bear with only her own salary to live on and a small allowance she received from her late-parent's estate.

    Of course, it was a consolation that the house would be hers when her aunt passed - though that was not a thought she dwelled on - but, just the same, things were tight now Martin had been released and refused to apply for the pittance of  Universal Credit benefits to which he was entitled.

    Not doing so, she knew, because accepting the handout would also mean he had to accept whatever employment he was subsequently offered.

    By the day she was becoming more and more contemptuous of her forty-seven-year-old husband's unwillingness to meet her halfway and accept some responsibility after she had stood by him - disappointed in him as she had been - after the "Guilty" verdict. She was all the support-system he had after his ageing parents had left for Canada to be nearer his sisters and their grand-children and any friends he'd once had seemed to evaporate into thin air after he'd been sentenced. So, too proud - or ashamed - to even speak with parents and sisters who were as disappointed with him as his wife, Serena was all he had.

    And, though he was not to know it, was on the verge of losing her also.

    As her neighbour and now friend, Saanvi, had commented - with a rather calculated look, Serena had thought, her husband, whether he accepted it or not, was in an extremely vulnerable place and the likelihood of him finding employment of a kind his ego and pride found suitable was, given his advanced age, at least in working terms, highly unlikely.

    Ego and pride that seemed affronted rather than pleased when she received yet another promotion with the Pharmaceutical company employing her and was actually earning more than he had before his fall from grace - though not after his criminal earnings were taken into account.

    A promotion, as it turned out, that made his refusal to consider Universal Credit academic anyway as he would no longer qualify given the money she now brought into the home - though she did enjoy the power she felt she had over him now that she was his sole source of income after she'd paid-off the balance and on their joint credit-card and cancelled it.

    It was a sense of power she was unused to given his previously macho and controlling persona and one she made sure she held onto by having her salary paid into a new account in her own name; ensuring any money he received had to come through her; given the money in his own separate account had been taken by the State to part repay the investor's he had fleeced. Albeit in a small-time way that explained his lenient three-year sentence.

    Yet, even without access to money of his own, he still couldn't bring himself to even look for a job, let alone land one.

    From this first small taste she'd had of having the economic clout in their relationship, and knowing it would only increase when her aunt passed away and her estate became hers, Serena Bellows was developing a taste for the exercise of power over her disappointment of a husband and wanted more.

    A growing desire that made her ripe for the seductions of her neighbour: 

    The aforementioned Saanvi.

    Saanvi Rastogi...

    "It's not something I haven't thought about," Serena admitted. "Things would be a lot easier if he just started acting like the man he always assured me he was.?"