Gift of Submission (3 page)

On some level, I have always known this would happen. I have really known it for a while despite trying to convince myself otherwise. Ash has been grooming me, shaping me to be the woman he wants me to be. All this time I’ve allowed it, knowing where it would eventually end up. I think I’ve been more frightened by my own reaction to the hurricane that is Ashford in my life. He’s easily swept me up into the essence of
him
, making me want to be a part of him. And I know he will take care of me, just far more completely than is considered normal.

Now that moment is here, and truthfully I’m terrified. Yet, I’m excited and oh, so turned on I can barely stand it. The desire pumping through my veins is causing my pussy to flood so much I have to keep my legs pressed tightly together. I don’t want him to see the wetness pooled there. God, the intensity of that bright gray eyes burns!

“The bathroom is in the corner. It has everything you need.” He turns and unlocks the door, leaving me standing there. “Oh”—turning, his eyes drift over me from head to toe—”don’t masturbate. I will know, and you will be punished.”

Then he is gone, leaving me with nothing but aching desire.

I don’t know how long I lie on the small but comfy daybed, staring up at the ceiling, but sleep eventually does come. Deep, dreamless sleep.

I’m awakened by the door unlocking. I don’t move as Ash makes his way into the room carrying a laden tray. I don’t need to see it to know it is food; the smells reach my nose long before my eyes can zero in on the mound of eggs, bacon, and croissants. I’m salivating by the time he places the food, silverware, and a tall glass of orange juice on the little table next to the bed.

“Eat well, Gelisa-sweet. You’re going to need your strength.”

Purely as a reflex, my eyes go to the various equipment around the room. St. Andrews Cross, breeding bench, gyno table, stocks—even a section of wall that has been padded with shackle locks lining the sides of the padding. There are shelves lining the walls with various devices—plugs, clamps, dildos, vibrators, wands. A plethora of floggers, paddles, and crops hang from hooks. I see no canes or whips, thank God. I don’t know if I could handle those. I also don’t see any cages.

Letting out the breath I’ve been holding, I attack the food before me, suddenly very hungry. Ash doesn’t say a word, just stands there watching. Only when I am done do I realize this is really about to happen. Without a word, he calmly reaches for the golden leash around my neck and tugs. How could a subtle pull on my neck feel so comforting? That comfort, however, quickly disappears as he leads me down the hall into a much larger room. A bedroom consumed by a gigantic bed. We walk right past it. Ash doesn’t even glance in its direction. Instead he takes me into an equally large bathroom, where there is a bath ready.

“Get in,” he instructs after unfastening the chain and removing it.

Oddly, I miss it as soon as it’s gone. Since the first time I saw a flogger casually lying in open sight on his sofa I’ve been curious. Curious enough to scour the websites, books, blogs—anything I could find on alternative lifestyles. I’m not walking into this blind. But allowing him to give me a bath is weird. I would feel like a child, only the way he moves the sponge on my skin is the most sensual thing I’ve ever felt. There isn’t an inch he doesn’t cleanse. Yet he takes it no further, ordering me up after he’s finished, toweling me off before rubbing lotion soothingly into my skin.

Instead of putting the chain back on me when he finishes, he clasps what I know to be a collar around my neck. It is thick, stretching my neck to the limit. There is an O-ring on the front, where he attaches a leash.

“I told you I wouldn’t be a pet,” I grind out between my teeth. I was very clear on what I would and would not accept. However, I find I’m not at all as upset about the collar and leash as I should be.

“And you are not, nor are you a slave,” Ash answers calmly. “You will, however, be trained.”

I keep quiet after that, allowing him to guide me back to the room I spent the night in. It should be harder to just go along with whatever he has planned. But then, I decided a long time ago to place my trust in Ash; like the first time he let himself into my apartment. That was a major breach of privacy, but when I saw him, all frantic because I was sick, I was glad he had a key. Glad he’d come to check on me. I even loved it a little that he came to check on me.

So I follow his lead, straight to the St. Andrew’s Cross.

“If at any time you want to stop, just say Rudolph, and it all ends.” Ash turns me to face him, those silver orbs boring into me.

Rudolph? Really? I can’t help it—that is funny, it being the Christmas season and all. Before I knew it, giggles bubble from my mouth. I clamp my hand over them, but it’s too late. Ash’s dead-eye stare dries the laughter quickly, though. After the last echo of sound leaves the air, he begins to wrap the leash around his fist, over and over, pulling me toward him until we are almost touching.

“If whatever I’m doing gets to be too much, you will say what?” God, that tone! His voice is quiet, yet it has more impact than if he’d yelled. The deep pitch coupled with the crisp accent causes me to shudder.

“Rudolph,” I reply in little more than a whisper. There is just something about the way he speaks that makes me want to obey.

“Good girl.”

My pussy spasms at those two little words. Yep, I’m definitely one of those submissive women I studied so much about. I’ve known that, of course—I just didn’t want to admit it. Now I’m stripped of all the trappings we all hide behind; there is no one here but me and him, and I con’t have anything, not even clothes, to hide behind. All this time, Ash has been grooming me, and I soaked up those lessons like a sponge. All I have to do is take that final step.

I don’t complain when he faces me toward the cross. I won’t be able to see what’s going on behind me. I’m guessing it’s in part to gauge my trust. In order to soothe my fractured nerves, I take deep, cleansing breaths as he fastens my wrist to nylon cuffs. He won’t hurt me, not seriously. Still, it is so hard not to be nervous as he does the same to my ankles. His touch is quick, proficient, but impersonal. I know it’s just my imagination, but the binds feel like extensions of him, like it is his hands holding me captive. Crazy, I know.

Once I’m secure, his touch is gone. I take comfort in the cuffs, tugging on them a little to feel the rough fabric against my skin. My mind is running in so many different directions all at once. What is he going to do? Which of the things I saw hanging on hooks will he use? Will he use—
SMACK!!!

“Shit!” Fire. His bare palm smacking against the dead center of my ass cheek brings me to my toes. Heat pools in the epicenter of the pain, quickly melting under the skin, spreading all over my body. God, I think I might be liquefying on the inside.

Instead of another smack, Ash starts to caress the abused cheek, leaving the other weirdly cold. Fuck, I am actually purring at his touch, my body leaning back as much as I can just so I can make contact with his body.

“You will not leave this room until I have your complete, total surrender to me in all things.” His voice against my ear sends vibrations down my spine.

Hold on—
all things
?

“What does that mean, exactly?” I breathe out. I can totally see surrendering in all things sexual, but outside of that? Haven’t I given him control over enough already?

“You know exactly what it means, Gelisa.”

I do, or at least I think I do.

“I won’t surrender
everything
to you.” I mean to sound defiant. I don’t. I’m panting too hard. His hands aren’t caressing anymore; they are cupping my ass roughly, squeezing the sore and the formerly cold. It feels far better than it should.

“Won’t you?” he whispers harshly, biting my ear while he was at it. Damn it, I’m actually whimpering. “Haven’t you already?”

Three days. I have been at this shit for three fucking days, and Gelisa has yet to crack. The first day, I tied her to the St. Andrew’s Cross and used the flogger. After the first smack to her delectable ass with my hand, I informed her of what I wanted. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be so easy, but I had sincerely hoped she would capitulate. Instead, the minx defied me, shaking her head no. It amazes me that even though she’s already given me complete control, she refuses to admit it. Why are the words so hard for her to say?

I took a step back, waiting until I had complete control of myself before picking up the flogger. Oh, how she jumped at the first hit landed perfectly across each plum ass cheek. Each stroke was deliberate, measured. Her body jerked with every hit, but the cries weren’t those of pain. Of course, I hadn’t hit very hard, either. Despite the darkness of her skin, her ass bloomed a beautiful deep shade of red. So I moved to her thighs. Because the area was far more sensitive than her ass cheeks, I alternated to her upper back, near her shoulder blades. It was imperative I avoid any delicate areas, like the kidneys.

Gelisa took to the flogger far better than I could’ve hoped. After thoroughly flogging her, I stood behind her just close enough for her to feel me there. Like a cat, she’d leaned back against me, rubbing the red areas against my front. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I allowed my fingers to part the lips of her cunt. She’d coated my fingers with her arousal.

“So wet,” I panted, unable to mask what she was doing to me. My cock throbbed, wanting nothing more than to take her, make her mine. “So ready for me.” I started to thumb her clit, relishing her whimpers as her hips bucked against my painfully rigid erection. “Just admit you belong to me, totally, and I will give you what you need.”

I prayed she would, even though I am all too aware how stubborn she can be. And of course, she denied me.

“No.”

I released her after that. Left her alone for the rest of the day. I brought her lunch and dinner, but I didn’t speak, not until the next morning, after her breakfast and a bath. Her backside was still tender, so I strapped her into the gyno chair. It was torturous, sucking each nipple into an erect little point. I didn’t have to finger that tight, wet pussy, but I did anyway. And yes, I suckled her until she was crying out, trying to move her hips to force my fingers in deeper. God knows I wanted to do it. I wanted to bury my fingers in her quim until I found her g-spot, then force her to come for me over and over again until she was hoarse from screaming. Instead, I knelt between her legs and feasted on her sweetness. And damn, she was honey-sweet. The tang of her natural juices only made me hungrier. I thrust my tongue inside as far as I could, almost forgetting I wasn’t supposed to make her come.

But I couldn’t do that. I was on a mission. Reluctantly I pulled away, clasping on nipple clamps that were connected by a length of chain. I had to take a step back then. I was too worked up. She responded too perfectly. Shit, but she looked edible all bound and spread out for me. She probably thought I was fucking with her as I sat there, watching her for a while. Truthfully, I didn’t trust myself to touch her. Only after I collected myself did I dare to begin the day’s lesson.

I began with the wand, rubbing it against her clit for a few minutes, then removing it. I did this for twenty minutes, then the last time I removed the wand, I smacked the fleshy lips of her pussy with a crop. I shouldn’t have. She almost came. As did I when I saw her reaction. Knowing how receptive she was, I used the crop on her inner thighs. I hit her a little harder than I had with the flogger. I know it hurt, but I also know she liked it. With her pussy on display I could see the wetness seeping from her right down the crack to her ass.

That gave me the idea for today. I waited until after her breakfast and bath. Unlike the past two days, I left her alone for a few hours, letting her think about what might be planned for today. I knew it would drive her crazy. Gelisa is such a curious little thing. An hour after lunch I came to her, leading her to the stocks. First I placed a spreader bar around her thighs, then locked her in. Her ass was forced up in the air, looking too good
not
to spank. I used my hand this time. First, I landed blows all around, never stroking the same spot twice. God, the way she moaned, moving as much as she could backward toward my blows. Perfection.

Next I concentrated on one area, spanking the same spot over and over again. She cried, pleaded even, but she didn’t use her safe word.

“Rudolph,” I reminded her between blows. “All you have to do is say it and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t,” she panted back. “I need—oh, God, Ash I need.”

Yeah, I know the feeling well.

I had to stop. Once again, I was rock hard, pulsating with the need to take her. The breeding bench was right there. I could have it—all I had to do was take it.

But that would’ve defeated my purpose. Instead, I stopped, going to fetch lubricant. Generously lubricating her tiny hole, I poured the lube on the smallest plug I had and inserted it slowly.

“That hurts!” Gelisa growled at me.

“Breathe deep and push out.” One day, it would be my cock stretching her out like that. Sweat popped out all along my brow as I worked it in, then left it there. I had to leave then, letting her stay in the stocks for a while.

Now here I am, glass of scotch in my hand, worried that this just isn’t going the way I planned it. There are only two days until Christmas. Am I really ready to give her up just because I set ridiculous limits on our relationship?

No. No, I can’t do that. Tomorrow I will let her out of the room and what happens, happens. She is already mine. So what if she refuses to admit it? I will let that come in its own time. I’ve waited this long—I can wait a little more. Besides, I can be very persuasive.

Downing the rest of my drink, I move with heavy feet toward the stairs. I had so hoped this trip would resolve any ambiguity between us. I don’t want to let Gelisa hide anymore; I want her to be honest about what she is to me, about what I am to her.

But if it comes to choosing between pretending and losing her, I will pretend.