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begin.   So, while I feed you, I want you to listen.   Okay?”
          “Yes, Sir.”
          “Okay.   When you know no better, you are not in trouble.   When you do know better, you are.   If I have told you something once before, then ‘you know better’, so I suggest you always tune in when I am speaking to you.   When we talk, you may look wherever you wish unless I direct you to do otherwise.   Okay?”
          “I’ve got it.   Thank you, Sir.”
          “Good girl.   Whenever I choose to teach you something, grab a cushion and kneel before me, listening as you are right now.”   I glanced down her body and she blushed.   “However, I would like you to turn your hands over, palms up, and I will tell you why.”
          “Yes, Sir,” she said, immediately turning them over.
          “ Open hands turned toward the one to whom you submit harks back to a time long past and these days is basically symbolic.   It symbolises the fact that your submission is voluntary and that you hide no weapons of self defence in your hands.”
          Dominique nodded, looking down at herself and checking her appearance.   I adjusted myself in my Levi’s when she did.   Spearing another small piece of fish with my fork, I brought it down in front of her to regain her attention.   She noticed and leaned forward, capturing the morsel in her open mouth, then closing her lips and drawing it off the fork.   She sat back on her heels and chewed slowly while gazing intently up at me.
          “Your posture is excellent.   Always remain attentive when on your knees.   Straight back, and be still.   Beyond these requirements, you may kneel in a way that reflects your mood.”   God, my cock was starting to get quite hard in my pants.   “In other words, you may arch your back or spread your legs more or less, depending on what is going through your mind, what thoughts, what feelings ...”   I smiled down on her as another wave of redness flushed her cheeks.   Her eyes danced as she adjusted her posture, opening her legs a little further and drawing back her shoulders.   “You are beautiful, Dominique.”
          “ Th -Thank you, Sir,” she whispered, opening her mouth to accept another forkful.
          I spent the next ten minutes feeding her and watching her smile with the tastes.   I reminded myself of a conversation we had earlier.   I had been reassuring her that I knew what I was doing, and that I had experience in training an untrained submissive, though it was quite some time ago and I might have been a bit rusty.   Dominique was excited and frightened and inquisitive all at once, and asked if I could tell her in general terms how I might go about training her.   At the time, I told her to be patient, and that ‘training’ was simply a formal way of ‘getting to know one another’.   As the end of the meal approached I spoke to her.   “Dominique?”
          She hurried to finish a mouthful.   “Yes Sir?”
          “I want to talk to you about myself, and then I want you to tell me about yourself, okay?”
          “Yes.   Okay, Sir.”   She looked intrigued as she watched my lips.
          “In this life we speak about limits.   Everyone has limits.   Limits to what they would reasonably allow someone to have them do, or do to them.   I want you to know certain things about me, and about the limits I have.   Then I want you to think for a moment, and then tell me what sort of limits you might have.”   I dabbed the corners of her lips with a napkin as she listened.   “Firstly I want you to understand something.   I will never punish you without a very good reason, nor will I punish you while I am angry.   To me, pain is a tool.   I feel confident in my ability to control exactly how much pain I might give you and will never give you more than is necessary, nor more than you desire, depending on the