Secret Submission (15 page)

Soon a delicious odor wafted into the room and her stomach growled in response. Whatever he was cooking for dinner, it smelled wonderful. Breathing deeply, she waited for him to release her.

And if he expected her to sit at his feet again while he ate? And then eat from his plate when he was done? Then she would do so—the idea no longer disturbed her. In fact, it was beginning to feel like her rightful place. She stretched in her bindings. Just as this was a wonderful place to be. Set aside like a toy on a shelf—just waiting to be used again.

She grinned in the darkness, knowing her thoughts had gotten her wet again. She heard his step and instinctively tried to straighten up, but of course, bound as she was, there was little she could do to make herself more presentable.

“Turn your head away, slave,” he instructed her kindly and she closed her eyes and turned her head. A sudden light filled the room from the small bedside lamp and she waited till her eyes adjusted before opening them and looking at him.

“You have been very good this afternoon, my slave. Are you hungry?”

Sarah’s stomach answered for her and they both laughed. Phillip unlocked her wrists and helped her to sit and then he freed her ankles. “I hope you like Chinese,” he said as they walked back to the kitchen, him in front and her behind, as always.

“Yes, Sir, I do,” she replied, surprised to discover a wok on the stove and a home-made meal of Chinese food on the table.

“Then take your place at my side.” He much preferred her sitting at the table, but knew this discipline was good for the both of them this weekend.

She knelt and bowed her head as he said grace, then leaned back on her heels as he placed his napkin. But he had no paper this time; to her surprise, he started a conversation with her as if she were sitting at the table, not kneeling at his side.

“So, my slave, what did you think about this afternoon when you were on your ‘shelf’?”

Grinning at the imagery, the very same imagery she had thought of, she replied, “I didn’t really think of much, Master. I mostly just enjoyed being put there by you.”

He paused in his eating, sparing a glance at her before finishing the bite. “You enjoy being used in such a manner?”

“Yes, Sir,” she answered, amazed at herself to discover such a truth. For in the light of his question, she realized how preposterous it sounded. How could she like such treatment after years of demanding respect from men? But he did respect her—that was just it. He had not mistreated her—he had opened a new door for her. “Yes, Sir,” she answered more firmly.

He smiled inwardly. Her training was progressing very well. When they had first met, he had seen the restlessness in her and had wondered at its source. Through their conversations on their early dates, on occasion he steered their talk to matters regarding her sexual convictions and had determined that a dominant male might be just what she needed. And the more they dated, the more he hoped he’d been correct—his heart was becoming involved.

But there was only one way to be sure—and so when the opportunity came last weekend, he’d seized it—he tested her and found her willing. This weekend, he tested her further. He knew well his own need to dominate. Independent women made great friends—but he hated when a woman wanted to tell him how to please her in the bedroom. There he wanted the most intimate trust a lover could give to him—and he would settle for nothing less.

And out of the bedroom? He liked spirited women who knew their own minds. To find one who would be willing to bow to his dictates at home and yet be independent in public was his dream. And until today, he was sure it would remain a dream only. While it was true he was a church-going man, it was only while he was shopping for her that he considered bringing her out and testing her in public so soon. But he might as well find out now. Could she function as an equal companion when in company, and function as his slave when in private? His heart had been soaring all day to know that she could—and better than he’d ever dreamed.

She enjoyed having her limits tested, although he realized she did not fully understand that was what they were doing. In continually testing her, he was also training her. First he needed to find the walls then work on breaking them down and submitting her will to his. She was doing beautifully.

His dinner finished, he stood reaching his hand down to her. Puzzled, she put her hand in his and he raised her up, gesturing to his seat. She sat, a little discomfited to find herself in his chair. He bowed and offered her a fresh napkin, which he then fanned open and draped it over her naked lap. He gave her a fresh set of chopsticks and was pleased to discover she knew how to use them. Pulling out the chair she usually occupied, he sat while she ate before him.

At first she was shy and knew she was blushing to be treated in such a manner. But his easy smile and banter as she ate relaxed her and soon she was enjoying his companionship as she always had.

Dinner done, he helped her clear. “You wash tonight, slave.” Dutifully, she filled the sink with soapy water and began the chore. He dried, but had fallen silent. In quiet peacefulness, the two worked to clean the kitchen and do the dishes.

She was on the second to last pot when he put down his towel. So busy was she in scrubbing a tough spot, she did not notice him take off his shirt. Not until he stepped behind her, his body touching hers, did he get her attention. His hands rested on her shoulders a moment, then followed her arms, all the way down into the soapy water. Her breath caught and her knees weakened a bit as she felt his fingers entwining with hers.

Gently he took each of her hands and, with her holding the scrubber, he guided her hands, slowly cleaning the pot together. Around and around the rim he guided her, then deep into the pot itself; his hands sensuous in the slippery water. The pot clean, he helped her to lift it and rinse it, his hands caressing hers, his head dipping to kiss her neck.

Only the wok was left and she lifted it into the water. Again his hands encircled hers as she washed around and around the pot, her eyes following the movement of their hands, her body unconsciously moving as she became more and more aroused. He set her hands deep in the water and lifted the wok, rinsing it and setting it in the drainer to dry. Reaching into the dirty water, he pulled the plug, letting it go. Then soaping his hands with fresh soap, he lathered them. Full of suds, he took her hands in his again, washing the grease and old soap from them.

Her head fell back on his shoulder as he washed her hands. Never before had washing dishes been erotic to her. Now she would remember this moment every time she so much as rinsed a dish at home. He turned on the tap and rinsed her hands, setting them back in the sink when they were clean.

Running his wet hands up her arms, he watched the goose bumps rise on her skin all the way to her shoulders. “Spread your legs for me, slave.”

She shivered at his words and moved her legs apart for him.

“Lean into the sink and present yourself to me.”

Trembling, she leaned forward until her elbows were almost touching the bottom of the sink. Her ass was high and she knew how open she was for him.

“Looks like my slave likes this position,” he remarked. “Your pussy lips are already open, inviting me in.”

Her breath quickened as he stepped up to her again and bent down to whisper in her ear. “I am going to take you here, slave. I am going to use you right here at the sink.”

A small cry escaped her—the thought increased her desire. Once again he was enjoying her as a thing, an object—and she wanted it more than anything.

He savored the moment; running his hands down her back, he spread her cheeks, exposing her ass to him. He would not be gentle this time. She wanted use, she’d get used. He let out the animal he usually kept caged inside.

Grabbing her hips, he paused only briefly at the entrance to her pussy before plunging deep inside, pulling her hips back to take him fully. Pulling out almost all the way, he paused again before slamming into her once more.

She cried out at his sudden roughness. Contrasted to their dishwashing, it was unexpected. After only two thrusts, however, her body responded, accepting his powerful thrusts and wanting more. She lost count of the number of times he pulled out only to slam into her body, using it roughly.

And then he pulled out completely, setting his hard cock against her ass hole. Well lubricated, he knew it would slide in easily if she could relax enough. He pushed and was rewarded by her immediate loosening of her sphincter muscles. She wanted this as much as he did.

Once again, he took her all at once, forcing himself into her, forcing her to give way to him. She cried out, her passion rising as he pumped into her ass, his balls hitting against her pussy.

“Oh, Master! Master! I’m going to come!” she yelled.

“Then come for me, slave. Come like the slut I want you to be.”

The use of the word sent her over the edge. She was a slut—his slut—and she was proud of it. Her orgasm rocked her body as she slammed her hips back, impaling herself on the cock her pussy had craved all afternoon. In moments, her reward came as his hot seed filled her ass and his groans echoed her own. Together they climbed, together they reached the summit and together they relaxed and came down.

Phillip rested his hands on the edge of the sink as he fought for breath. Only once he was soft did he pull out of her. Sarah still leaned heavily into the sink, her chest heaving against the cold stainless steel. His juice leaked out of her ass and dribbled down her crack to pool with her own.

Regaining his composure, he stood and helped her to do so. Neither were steady on their feet and they stood for several moments, wrapped in each other’s arms, enjoying the close embrace as their hearts slowed. Phillip kissed the top of her head and brushed the hair from her eyes. She looked up at him with such trust and innocence she stirred deep feelings of protection in him. For a moment, he worried about her—she so obviously needed what he had to give her, what would happen if another Master walked into her life—one who might not have her best interests in mind, but only be interested in his own pleasure?

Gently he bent and kissed her soft lips, wanting to give her safety—and he wanted to give it to her for a long time. He took her hand.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.” His voice was still husky with desire. Going to the living room, he pointed to the floor by the couch where he wanted her to kneel. Once she had done so did he go into the bedroom, returning after a moment with a long, thin box. He sat down on the couch next to where she knelt and opened it.

Inside was a long strip of leather, about an inch and a half wide. There was a metal buckle at one end and a D-ring in the center. A small lock was nestled at one end of the box. “Do you know what this is?” he asked her.

She shook her head no—but the sight of it gave her goose bumps.

“It’s a collar,” he explained. “People who demonstrate they can be good slaves to their Masters are given a collar to wear that shows their status. Should another Master walk in here right now, he would see you collarless and assume you were available. A collared slave belongs to the Master who collared her. Does this make sense?”

She nodded. “Yes, Master. It does. A collar is like a ring to the outside world—a symbol that shows ownership.”

His cheeks dimpled as he smiled. “Yes.” He paused then caught her eye, his demeanor letting her know how serious this was. “Someday I will ask you to wear my collar, Sarah. I want you to be my slave.” He closed the box. “But not yet. You are not ready for such a commitment. However, you need to understand my intentions. When I deem you ready, I intend to collar you.”

Her breath quickened. She understood the seriousness of his intent. And he was right, she was not yet ready for such a commitment. She barely knew
what
she wanted, this was all so new.

He put the box on the table. “I only want you to know what it is, so you will understand as you read this week.”

Her brow furrowed. “Am I going to be doing some reading this week?”

He laughed as he stood. “Yes, slave, you are. Come with me.”

He led the way over to the corner of the room, where his computer was. “If you give me your email address, I will send you some sites I want you to study this week.”

She gave it to him, sort of surprised that they hadn’t exchanged emails earlier. She watched as he typed it in and sent her a list of websites.

Done, he turned to her. “You are not to stray from these sites. Each one has links to other pages, but I do not want you to go there yet. Are you willing to do this for me this week?”

It was the first time he had directly requested anything from her during time they weren’t together. But looking at websites wasn’t a big issue—she spent more time than she’d admit surfing the web. Having that surfing guided by his choices for her was actually erotic. She nodded. “Yes, Sir. I will learn what you wish me to learn this week.”

He led her back to the couch where they reclined, she spooned against him, wrapped in his arms; he softly caressing her, enjoying the feel of her skin next to his.

For a while they just lay together, basking in each other’s presence. But soon, the pillow talk began, even if they were still only on the couch. They discussed the day’s events and the happenings in the world, talking their way to bedtime. When both were yawning more often than not, he stood up and took her by the hand, leading her to the bedroom.