Chapter 1 - ch 1 - just 12 pounds?

I awaken earlier than you and gaze at your body, stretched out and bound to the four bedposts. I am facing a difficult decision, and I hate to bring it up, but today seems the right time to talk.

Still, I want to delay this "talk" as long as I can. First, I want to spend some time just adoring your naked beauty as you sleep. Your 5'9" body is so perfect in every way. Your long blonde hair and a Roman nose make you look like a god to me.

Observing you stretched out spread-eagle, it is easy to see you have worked hard to keep yourself fit. Like a mythological character, you have strong arms and legs and a muscular chest. However, just below that rock-hard chest is what has changed so unexpectantly in the six weeks since you moved in.

You have grown a small little belly - and small hints of love handles. And that is my dilemma. What to do about that tiny belly of yours. Or rather how to convince you of what I want you to do.

I need to talk with you about your recent weight gain, and I dread bringing it up. You have just eaten so much lately, and I am afraid if this pattern continues you will get very fat.

I want that to happen, and I don't want that to happen. I love your belly, but I don’t want to harm you. Not really. I need to convince myself first that you should lose this belly.

And yet . . . you know me well. I cannot deceive you. You will see past any shadings of truth.

I watch your eyelids flutter as you shudder yourself awake. At first, you struggle a bit in your bindings, then realize that you went to sleep well-bound after a wild night of romping sex.

"What's up?" you say, so attentive to my evidently troubled expression. Ever the perfect boy for me.

You look at me deeply. You smile that beautiful dimple-faced smile. All those white perfect teeth gleaming between your perfect heart-shaped lips.

"Something wrong?" you ask again, your words taking up the silent space between us.

"It's just, it's just, oh, we need to talk."

You nod as best you can, a strand of blond hair lingers in your face. "So talk."

"I know what gives you pleasure, Charles, and you know what gives me pleasure," I say softly. "I just don't know what to do about it all."

"Yes, Natalie," you say meekly, such an obedient submissive. "I really love being your sub, your servant, your slave. I can imagine myself doing this for a long, long time. I want only to please you."

"And as you know, Charles, I have some fairly rabid domination urges." I grin a bit, then look away from your eyes, a bit distracted by the rise and fall of your bare little belly as you breath.

"So what's wrong?" you ask. "It seems a match made in fem-dom heaven."

"You know what's wrong, Charles," I say, pushing your hair out of your lovely face. "I have these other desires we have talked about. I've got this other kink."

"Ye-e-e-e-s?" you asking dramatically drawing the word out long with your beautiful soft voice. You smile so sweet right now.

"Much as I hate the term, I am a feeder, as you know. I get so turned on by the idea of fattening you up a bit. I think about it all the time. It is so tempting to think about. Not that I would really ever do that in real life, but ..."

"But it's happening anyway," you complete my sentence. You look down at your small domelike gut. I begin to carelessly rub your little belly, just a small bit of flab you have grown in our short time living together, not nearly enough, I think to myself, and then immediately feel ashamed for thinking that.

I reach up then and uncuff your hands from the bedposts.

"And I don't mind it, Nat, really. I kind of like it." Your thin long fingers reach down and you begin to rub your soft midsection.

"But you've put on some weight," I say.

"It's just 12 pounds."

(ch 1 - continued)