The Big Book of Submission (29 page)

She took a step away from me and I fell backward some, but she caught my neck, stopping me from smacking my head on the floor.

“Okay, bitch,” she said, stepping around me. “You are into the pain. Your last dom told me you were disobedient, but now I know why. He probably wouldn't whip you unless you really forced his hand, huh?”

I gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Well, we'll just have to look for lots of ways for you to fuck up then, won't we, cunt?” I think I fell in love with her a little bit when those wonderful words fell from her lips, and a satisfied smile crossed my lips.

“First off, kneel right. Spread your thighs.” She shoved the toe of her boot between my knees and kicked them apart. Once I was spread, she scraped that toe into my pussy for just a moment.

“Hands up, resting on your thighs. Jesus, Nikki, don't you know anything?” She grabbed my arms from
my sides and positioned them correctly, then slapped my face. “Eyes down, unless I tell you otherwise. Just terrible.”

“Fuck you.” I only muttered it, but I said it nonetheless.

She huffed and stomped off. With my eyes down, I couldn't really see what she was doing, but I heard cabinets or drawers opening.

She came back with a crop. Now, her cartoon dominatrix outfit was complete. Just when I was starting to like her.

“Open your mouth, cunt. Tongue out.” She grabbed my face with one hand, fingers on either side of my mouth, squeezing. She pulled a clothespin out and clamped it to my tongue.

“Now, did you wish to speak?”

“Yaa, thuck ewe.” She just laughed and walked behind me.

She put her stiletto heel on my shoulder blade and pushed me down until my upper body lay across my thighs and my face was on the floor. The first faint stirrings of want started in my pussy. The crop came down on my ass quick and hard, with no warning. Ten strokes, without any words from her. The concrete was cool on my forehead. The pain in my tongue had devolved into a dull throbbing ache, and I started to drool.

She slipped her fingers into my slit, rubbing my juices around like she was savoring my slickness. She stepped away, adding ten more strokes of the crop. My
breath started to come hard and fast. She repeated this routine until a final set of ten hits that she delivered to my soaking pussy.

She stepped to my side and pulled me up by my hair. With her face less than an inch from mine, she said, “Look at me.”

I looked up into her beautiful blue-gray eyes, my own widening with recognition. She could be the one to master me.

“I see you, Nikki. I see what you are. I will hurt you and I won't hold back, like I've always had to. I will hurt you physically and emotionally. I see right into you.” I shivered deep inside, intense satisfaction burning through me. “Lie down on your back.”

I flattened myself, staring at the ceiling. She arranged my arms straight out from my shoulders. She then gingerly stepped on them, the hard soles of her boots digging into my biceps. She slipped the points of her stilettos down the insides of my arms, catching at the skin until they reached the ground.

“Uhhh.” The stabbing pain of the stilettos and the pressure of her foot on my arms—it was so much to take. I felt a quick flood between my thighs and my nipples tightened. “Mmmm.”

“Oh, now those are some nicer sounds.” She squatted down over me and yanked the clothespin off my tongue. “Now, what do you want to say to me?”

“Please, Mistress!”

“Oh good,” she said nonchalantly as she fiddled
with a zipper in her tight leggings. It zipped all the way back to her ass. As she exposed her shorn pussy to me, shifting her weight, she pushed it down on my face.

I groaned into her and started my job.

THE LOST SUITCASE

Tamsin Flowers

H
e said it wasn't my fault. As we watched the empty carousel turning, the other passengers disappeared through the exit. Eventually we followed them, empty-handed, and when I apologized he said no one was to blame. But we'd gone away for one reason only, and the missing case contained everything we needed. He said it wasn't my fault, but I knew he would punish me for it anyway.

At the hotel he sent me for a massage; he would phone the airport and chase the missing case. But despite the best efforts of a beautiful Norwegian girl, I couldn't relax. I kept thinking about what he had planned for me and how now none of it could happen. Back in the room, still slathered in massage oil and wrapped in the hotel robe, I paced up and down. Maybe they'd found
the case and he'd gone to fetch it. Or maybe he'd gone down to the bar to take the edge off his disappointment with a gimlet. I went to the minibar and fixed myself a gin and tonic with nervous hands.

By the time he came back I had drunk two thirds of a second g&t. He arrived carrying a couple of carrier bags from Target.

“They think the suitcase went to Miami,” he said.

“What's in the bags?” I said as he flung them onto the bed.

“You'll find out later.”

We were down at the pool when he decided it should start. I was working on my back tan while he read Faulkner. I heard him put his Kindle down and felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Go and wait for me upstairs,” he said.

“Yes, Sir.”

In the room I stripped off my bikini and knelt at the end of the bed. A mixture of excitement and fear churned low in my gut. Although he had tried to hide it, I knew he'd been annoyed when the suitcase went missing and I wondered what he would do without its contents.

I didn't have to wait long. He came up to the room less than half an hour after he'd sent me up. He pulled off his robe and threw it on the bed and, with my head bent, I could just see that his trunks and leg hairs were wet; he must have taken a swim after he sent me up. I heard a rustling noise as he pulled something out of one
of the shopping bags. I wondered what it might be.

“Stand up.”

I stood and he came up behind me.

“Close your eyes.”

Soft, silky fabric slid across my eyelids as he tied the mystery item at the back of my head. Our blindfold had been in the case but, of course, he could easily replace it with a new scarf. I wondered about the rest of the paraphernalia. But I couldn't ask him. Now that the game had started I could only speak when spoken to.

He left me standing in position and I heard a clatter as he emptied the carrier bags onto the small table by the window. He seemed to be sorting through multiple items. After a minute or so he came back to me. Again he stood behind me but this time his hands went to my neck. He pulled my hair to one side and slipped a collar around my neck. It felt rough and hard compared to the soft leather collar I normally wore. He caressed my neck as he fastened it, and his touch sent a flutter to my loins. Had Target started selling bondage gear?

“It's from the pet department,” he said, reading my mind.

One of his hands cupped my right breast, and he sucked my nipple into his mouth. I tried not to sigh or fidget but his kiss sent a shimmy of desire through me and my legs trembled.

“No reaction,” he said, and something bit down hard on my nipple.

At first I thought it was his teeth but then he took
hold of my other breast and sucked it until the nipple pebbled up hard. The combination of his soft mouth on one side and the fierce pinch on the other made me gasp.

“Clothespins. Thank you, Target,” he said and then my left nipple felt the bite.

I took several deep breaths, savoring the burn at the apex of each breast.

“Hands in front,” he said.

He had handcuffs as well. The clunk as they did up sounded cheap and tinny but they would do the job.

“Later you can put on the whole policewoman costume for me,” he said with a dry laugh.

He seemed to be enjoying the need to improvise.

“Bend over the bed.”

I knew the position he meant. I knelt beside the bed and leaned forward until my ass was bent over the edge. I loved this moment—and I hated it. He knew it, and made me wait until the anticipation of what might be coming next had me squirming. I wanted it and I didn't want it in equal measures.

A sharp shock of pain, a lingering after burn.

“There were so many things on the shelves at Target to choose from,” he said. “I could have bought a leather belt. Electric cables. A table tennis paddle. A canoe paddle. A wooden spoon. A ruler. Let me count the ways I could mark your skin.”

All the while he continued striking my ass, first one side, then the other, building up the intensity slowly. It
was his special skill. I couldn't begin to guess the object slapping hard and flat against my flesh and after a while I couldn't even process his words. I lost myself in the physical sensation, living and breathing only for the moment when he would transform the pain into pleasure with a slick of lube and the work of a finger or two.

Finally he tossed his implement aside, and I heard a metallic clash on the tiled floor.

“What?” I gasped.

“A skillet,” he said. “They had it on special and we could do with a new one.”

He lifted me up onto the bed and swiftly brought me off, sliding a lubed finger into my ass and working my clit to make me moan and writhe as I came against his hand. Then he flipped me over onto my back and fucked me long and hard until he too hit the jackpot.

We lay side by side, glistening with sweat and lube, the blindfold and handcuffs discarded.

“See, babe, everything's okay. It didn't matter about the case.”

I heard a knock at the door and he slipped on his robe to answer it. I pulled the sheet up to cover my naked body.

The bellhop who'd shown us to our room earlier stood in the doorway.

“Your suitcase, sir,” I heard him say. “Sent from the airport with apologies.”

It was going to be a good weekend.

THE RHINO

C. Margery Kempe

S
he knew they called her “the Rhino” but that didn't matter to Sheila. The boss had to be the boss. There wasn't room for deadwood in the organization. Deadlines were deadlines. If she didn't chew them out, she'd be the one out on her ear tomorrow.

Not that she'd ever been much of a pussycat.

Part of her enjoyed the fact that people moved a little quicker when she loped down the corridor. The bespectacled young mail clerk might refer to her as “the lesbanian on the seventh floor” but he was likely to stay in the basement. She was the one who'd turned Nofziger and Smith from a deadbeat chaser of other companies' discards into the hottest ad agency in town.

And the Rhino led the charge.

Her assistant buzzed her. “Mr. Howarth on line
three,” she said before hanging up. Sheila smiled. Bridget knew she would always take his call. Her pulse quickened.

“Mr. Howarth.”

“Ms. Evans. Six p.m. We're trying something new.” He broke the connection and a thrill of anticipation sang through her veins. Sheila savored the echo of his words. Cryptic as always, yet he was not one to disappoint.

From the night they'd met six months ago at the social-media mixer, he'd continued to surprise and excite her, for he had recognized something within Sheila she'd had no idea lay in her heart: a need to abandon all control.

They'd begun conventionally enough with movie dates and roses. She'd enjoyed them, but she'd discovered a new thrill on a night in when he'd ordered her to obey—playfully first, then with solemn concentration. What began as telling her what to eat and when, turned into waiting to be told when she would be kissed—and
how.
The memory made her quiver.

Sheila found this need shocking, exhilarating and—initially—puzzling. She had always moved with confidence. If she didn't know the answer, she would ask. If someone doubted her, she would offer proof. If she didn't like a situation, she would pick up and leave.

Until he'd said, “Put that fork down,” and she had obeyed.

There was a knock at the door. Bridget opened it and popped her head in. “A-Team is ready for you.”

“Thanks, Bridget. I have Ben Faulkes penciled in for
five today; call him and shift it to tomorrow. Or whatever might be convenient for him.”

“Will do.” They both left, Sheila striding on ahead to the conference room while her assistant stopped at her own desk. Sheila had no idea she was smiling.

Her working team must have taken it as a good sign, for they visibly relaxed at the sight of her. Maura appeared eager to run with the new proposal. “We've taken on board your suggestions. The new drawings have really come together.”

Anthony clicked through the pictures, annotating the changes, while Sheila did her best not to let the words
We're going to try something new
drown out the presentation. Her skin itched to be stroked. It took all her will not to charge out of the room; he would have made her wait until six anyway.