The Big Book of Submission (28 page)
Read The Big Book of Submission Online
Authors: Rachel Kramer Bussel
Her order was emphasized by a hard smack against my upper left thigh. I dropped my gaze immediately, but that didn't seem sufficient assurance for her that I wouldn't sneak another peek. Her hands pulled away and there was a rustle of fabric, before a strip of dark satin was slipped over my eyes and tied behind my head.
A whine escaped my throat. I
hated
being blindfolded, and she was well aware of that fact. My complaint fell on deaf ears, though; her hands had already abandoned the tight knot and were sliding back down my spine and over the round curve of my ass. As her fingers found my wet pussy and slipped between the lips, I forgot all grievances.
Moaning, I clenched my muscles around her fingers as they scissored inside me, stroking and stretching my
inner passage. Her preparations took only a moment, but I was already breathing hard when Rosa slipped her fingers out of my pussy and slid a thick, pulsing object inside me in their place.
I recognized the feel of the vibrator, but was confused as an additional weight suddenly pressed down on my back. It was flat, rectangular and warm. The question was on my lips, but Rosa spoke before I could voice it.
“Last night you brought your BlackBerry to dinner. Again,” she reminded me, coolly. “Before we play today, I've decided that you need to learn a lesson about ignoring people.”
She began to tap the surface of the unfamiliar object, and the clicking of keyboard keys filled the small room. My mouth fell open, and despite the blindfold, I turned my head to look over my shoulder in disbelief.
“Is that your
laptop
?”
The typing stopped and her palm slammed down sharply against my backside. “Quiet!” she commanded. “You will hold still and keep quiet until I finish my work. Is that clear?”
She punctuated each word with a smart smack, and it took all my self-control not to try to crawl away from her punishing hand. It was rare for Rosa to bring personal issues into our private play and that fact brought a heavy weight to the lesson she was trying to impart.
I wanted to please her, so I nodded; the spanking stopped and the typing resumed.
* * *
I've been kneeling silently since.
How long has it been?
It takes only a moment for my hands and knees to begin to protest this position. Any fidgeting is answered by a sharp slap, and I know the more I move, the longer this lesson will take. The machine grows hotter on my back with each passing minute, and as the heat sinks through my skin, it enflames an arousal that needs no further encouragement. Already, the steady pulsing of the vibrator has teased me to the point of frustration. My entire body aches for relief from the pressure.
The vibrations suddenly increase. It's a multispeed toy, and Rosa has begun to dial up the frequency. The typing stops.
“Keep still. Keep quiet,” she reminds me.
The speed intensifies again, and her open palm seeks out the center of my ass. She spanks hard, targeting the divide between my cheeks, where the base of the vibrator is visible. Each slap drives the shuddering object deeper inside. I tremble violently and a strained keening sound escapes my throat as my control starts to slip. I bite down on my lip and lock my elbows; somehow, I manage to stay quiet and still as my body climaxes.
Rosa lifts the laptop and removes the toy. She leans forward to pull off the blindfold and whispers, “Good girl.”
I let myself collapse onto my side, exhausted. Muscles ache loudly throughout my body, and I want nothing more than to lie still until my arms and legs stop trembling,
but Rosa's voice commands my attention again.
“Are you ready to play?”
I look up, and she nods toward the desk, smiling. Fatigue instantly forgotten, I pull myself eagerly to my feet.
B
ottom bare.”
Adam places the leather armchair in the center of our otherwise empty living room floor, and I think I might faint. My stomach is tight and hard, tied up in knots. He's going to do it. He's really going to do it. I want to flee, but I know I can't. It isn't only the new collar around my neck and my sense of submissive duty that keep me from itâit's also the sure knowledge that my trembling legs would betray me.
“I'm sorry, Adam,” I say meekly. “I'm really sorry.”
“I know, Teddy. Do as I say, please.”
My fingers shake as they fumble with the snap of my jeans. I can't get them down. I want so much to please him, but my tense body refuses to cooperate. I close my eyes and swallow, biting down hard on my lower lip.
“
Now
, Theodore!”
The formality of my given name rings in my ears and prompts me to obey. Adam has always been gentle, but tonight his first responsibility as my new husband will be to punish me.
My fingers are cold and clumsy as I shove my pants to my knees. As instructed, I didn't bother with briefs when I changed out of the tuxedo. Adam liked me in my fancy clothes, but he loves me in my normal, comfortable wardrobe. Plain T-shirt and plain jeans for a plain boy.
Adam kneels before me, and my breath catches in my throat. His hands caress my bare legs as he slowly peels my jeans all the way down. I step out of them, and his gaze rests on the fresh bandage adorning my right calf.
“The hospital,” he mutters. “Other husbands whisk their lovers straight to bed after the wedding. I get to take mine to the hospital.”
“It wasn't that bad, Adam,” I say. “Really, it wasn't!”
Angry eyes flash up at me.
“It's my right to know,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Anything that happens to your body is my right to know. You should have called me immediately.”
“I didn't want to ruin things. I'm always ruining things. I couldn't be late for my own wedding! Besides, the car barely grazed me, and it was my fault anyway. I'm so stupid. I forgot my cummerbund, and I dashed
back through the crosswalk to get it, even though the light had changed, because I thought I had timeâ”
He slaps me, hard, on the back of my left thigh. I flinch and fall silent.
“The time for excuses is over,” he says. “There is no excuse. You hid an injury and deceived me on the very day you took a solemn vow to always honor, obey and respect me.”
He stands and slowly unbuckles his belt. I grip the back of the armchair and wait, struggling to breathe as I watch him double the leather in his hands.
“Nose to the cushion,” he orders. “Now.”
“Yes, Sir,” I say, my timid voice cracking on the words.
“Wait!”
I freeze, and he presses a kiss to my temple.
“I love you, Teddy bear,” he whispers. His lips are soft against my ear. “I didn't mean to be harsh. It's justâ¦I don't know what I would have done if that accident had taken you from me.”
He clears his throat and steps back. His eyes are shining, bright and stern as he studies me.
“I love you, too, Adam,” I say, flushing from the intensity of his gaze.
I turn and force myself to bend over. I grip the front of the armchair, pressing my forehead into its cool, soft seat. My naked bottom rests atop the chair's low back. The cut on my calf throbs in time with my pulse, but I don't dare mention it. Adam's belt buckle jingles as he
takes up position behind me.
“You must never keep anything from me,” he says. “No matter how small.”
“Yes, Adam.”
He places his hand on my back, and I'm grateful for the comfort.
“You've accepted my ring,” he says quietly.
“And with it your discipline,” I finish.
The words have barely left me when I hear the hiss of his belt as it cuts through the air. I gasp at the sound of the solid smack against my bottom, and then I sob as the first wave of sharp pain surges through me. Adam has never whipped me before. He could have if he'd wanted to. It was his right as my dom, and there were certainly other times when I'd deserved it. But Adam is a romantic at heart. No sex before marriage, and no correction before collaring.
The second swat lands just below the first, and just as hard. Three strokes are all it takes for his belt to completely stripe my bottom. He begins again from the top. Three more methodically delivered bands of fire burn into my flesh, and I cry out. Three more, and the tears roll down my cheeks and drip onto the chair.
In my fantasies, I'm vocal. I beg, plead and make elaborate promises as Adam takes his belt to me. The reality is differentâand far better. I submit completely, surrendering myself to him mind, body and soul. All the anxiety and apprehension melt away. I don't need to fear Adam. I am his sub, and he is my dom. I am his
husband and he mine. He will punish me, but he will never hurt me.
“Teddy,” he says, and only then do I realize the whipping has ended. “You are forgiven. Stand up.”
I obey him in a dreamy haze, reveling in the sweet pain that has cleansed me of my guilt. Adam places one finger on my chin and turns my face toward his. His eyes are dark with arousal as he leans down and brushes his lips against mine. His thumb sweeps a lingering tear from my cheek.
“I want to see you,” he says. “I want to see my beautiful husband.”
He slowly strips the shirt from my body, leaving me nude save my collar and wedding ringâand the bandage on my leg. He's once again on his knees before me.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, examining my leg.
“A little,” I admit.
“Allow me to kiss it better.”
Adam places a gentle kiss on my calf, just above the bandage, and then rests his cheek against my soft inner thigh. I shiver at the tenderness of his touch, and my cock stirs from the warmth of his skin against mine. I want him inside me so badly I'm shaking, and if I have to wait another minute I think I might burst.
“I know we don't have a bed yet,” he murmurs, “but if you're willing⦔
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, Adam. Please. Right here. Now. I can't wait any longer.”
Adam allows me to undress him, and we lose
ourselves in a tangle of desire in each other's arms. For the first time in my life, I am not only loved, I am owned. I am Adam's Teddy bear.
His Teddy, bare.
Y
ou will do what you are told. Without hesitation, without question.” My potential Mistress walked a slow circle around me. Shorter than me and very thin, with small breasts, wild blonde hair and an eastern European cast to her features. She wore a leather corset, cinching her waist to almost nothing. Amplifying her breasts. Her thigh-high dominatrix boots clicked as she walked around me.
Mistress Anya had taken me under consideration, and this was our first session together. I'm a little taller than her, with short, shaggy, dark-blonde hair. B-cup titties, a swimmer's physique. My butterfly had paid my college tuition.
If I wanted to I could probably take her in a fight
, I thought.
It was sometime in college when I realized I liked a certain kind of pain. I'd get a rush from a paper cut or a good pinch. And when my coaches would smack my wet ass after a swim, I'd always wish they'd done it harder, with more bite. That was when I first tried out BDSM. But it does tend to raise some eyebrows, coming to swim practice all bruised up. And that shit is year round.
The problem is, I'm a bitch. I have friends who play the brat game; I'm so much more than that. I want to make my dominant really hurt me. I have a smart/stupid mouth that gets me into trouble. Anya knows this even as we go through the ritual of her expectations and my promises to meet them. Both of us know that I won't, and she'll get/have to punish me. I don't want to waste time. I want to get destroyed. Regularly.
“Right, Anya. I know.” My tone was flippant, verbally rolling my eyes at her bullshit domme posturing.
She stopped directly behind me. She grabbed my hair and pulled me so I bent over backward, then she kept pulling, until my knees hit the concrete slab in the play space. She left her fingers twined in my hair, pulling hard enough that I felt a few hairs pop out, stinging.
She huffed a big breath. “So, you need a lot of work. Let's get started.”
Okay, there's a brief note of steel in her spine, but I bet she hits like a girl.
My thoughts were the precursor to the words that were about to get me in trouble.
She pulled my back farther, so I was leaning against her legs, head resting against her abdomen. It felt
curiously cozy and then,
smack
. A red handprint blossomed on the side of my little titty.
“Is that enough for you, little Nikki? Or do you need more to believe that I can and will break you?”
I didn't answer her. I was still reveling in the sting. And, well, I wanted to piss her off more. After a ten-second pause, she reached across my chest, pulled my nipple out away from my body and then smacked my breast again, knocking the nipple from her clamping fingertips. I took a deep breath, peace settling over me.
This might be good.