Learning to Trust Part 2: Full Submission (3 page)

"Roland, I don't know if I can—"

"Shh," he said. "You're going to learn how to trust me down here.
I've just made you privy to one of my biggest secrets.
"

I started to panic and turned toward the door, pulling on the knob but finding that it wouldn't give at all. "Roland, please!"
What was going to happen to me?

"From now on, Marisa, you call me
Sir
, is that understood?"

"Roland—"

His eyes turned deadly serious. "I'm letting you off just this once. Next time you violate my rules, I'm going to punish you.
You'll
be
just
fine!
"

Tears started to well up in my eyes
.
Once I figured it out, I
quickly took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I fought the urge to flee, trying to convince myself that being down here in this dungeon was somehow going to help my story.
Why was I even in journalism
, again
?

I couldn't remember.

Okay, Marisa. Put yourself back together.

"Okay." I pathetically choked it out. It was like a puff of smoke—barely present and then totally gone.

"Who?" He looked at me with his very intense stare, so fierce that I feared it could literally knock me off balance.

"Uh, Sir," I stammered. I felt humiliated, yet intrigued as the words came out of my mouth.

"That's better," he said. "Follow me,
my
pet
."

I said nothing and followed him around a corner to a pair of leather chairs. At that point, I could have fled, but I didn't. I guess I wanted
to
—no, I
needed
to see where this was going. The ceilings were so high for this being a basement. It was a dungeon of steel and concrete, one decorated with sterile colors and devices like I'd never seen before.

"Sit down," he said. He sat down in the chair to my left
, guiding me to the one across from him with his hand motion.

I again took his order without responding, afraid to call him
Sir
for a reason I didn't entirely understand. I guess I felt like I was still in control if I kept quiet. The leather was chilly where my bare skin
make contact with it
. I shivered, fighting to keep my teeth from chattering.
There was a raised nub between my legs, one that pressed against my crotch.
Interesting
.

"Oh, these aren't ordinary chairs," he said. "
Custom, very expensive.
Pull up the arm. You'll find a full set of controls at your disposal. You can have a heated massage if you choose. Go ahead."

I flipped up the arm, and sure enough, it was exactly what he said it was. I clicked on the heat. Within a minute or so, the chair was warming me from top
to bottom, cooking me like a pot on the
stove. I was pleased with this change.
I clicked on a light massage as well, suddenly feeling the chair vibrating to life beneath me, quaking in a way that only a machine could.
I
felt the tension disappearing from
my shoulders.

"Ah, very nice," Roland said. "Relax yourself. We need to talk."

I continued to sink into the quicksand of comfort, the chai
r easing away all of my anxiety
and warming me considerably.
I could get used to this
.

"Are you listening to me, Marisa?" He flicked a switch on his chair and mine suddenly stopped vibrating.

"Huh? Oh, yes Sir!" I was suddenly back in the dungeon with him.

"I'm not going to harm you, Marisa. But I am in charge of your pleasure.
I've said it before
and I'm going to say it again—
you must learn to trust me.
I will help you feel things like you've never felt before, pleasures beyond anything you've ever experienced. If you can learn to trust me that much, I'll give you what you came here for."

Suddenly I felt that nub between my legs come to life, vibrating with great excitement. My head pressed against the back of the chair, my hands tightly gripping the arms as I felt shocks of pleasure shoot through me, sparks that moved about freely. I moaned quietly, overwhelmed by the sudden blast of vibrating bliss between my legs. And just like that, it disappeared.

"Hey!" I said, shocked that my joy had come to an abrupt end.

"I administer the pleasure here, pet. It comes and goes when I say only. Do you understand? Did you even listen to what I said?" His tone was angry like it had been when we first arrived down here.

"Yes, Sir," I said, cowering at his intensity.

"Do we have an agreement, then? This isn't a joke, Marisa. You're my sub—and I'm your
Dom
."

"I don't really kn
ow what that means," I said. I'd heard those terms before but didn't really know
how it would apply to us
.

"I'm responsible for providing you with pleasure, both pleasure that you already know
n
and pleasure that is currently undiscovered by you. I'm going to take you places you've never been before."

The words made me giddy. I was certainly very curious. I sat there the whole time he talked, wishing that the vibrating nub would come to life again.

"You need to listen very carefully though. Your
safe word
is
blue
, is that understood? Take this very seriously. All action will stop immediately if you use that word. It is your escape—but don't use it unnecessarily or you will be punished. Sometimes pain can sweeten pleasure in a manner that is simply divine." His words were matter-of-fact, precise, meaningful. "Tell me that you understand."

"Yes, Sir," I said. "I do.

"Good, pet. Let's get to work then." He stood up and motioned for me to follow him. I did.

Even though he had fucked me the other day (something that requires a great deal of trust, I must add), I felt like this was not the same Roland. This one was even more assertive, a personality that didn't tolerate any indecision or insolence. He was someone both rich and powerful, maybe even more powerful down here than he was in the real world.

He led me to a combination table/bed, a soft, low platform with restraints for both arms and legs. "Undress, please," he ordered.

"What?" I stammered, his order hitting me off guard. Something about the bright lights in the room made his order seem totally unreasonable. I was barely comfortable looking at myself in this kind of light, let alone with
him
there.
The other day I was basically fully clothed during our encounter—this was totally different.

"Pet, don't make me punish you. I don't want to, but if I must, I must."

"Sir,"
I said, "I'm not
good to look at. I'm not comfortable with it."

He looked at me, wicked smile across his face. "How else do you expect this to proceed? You have a beautiful body, Marisa. Show me that you trust me to see and appreciate it.
" His eyes looked at me hungrily.
"
This is your last chance."

Did I really have a choice
? This whole thing was starting to feel silly. I
wasn't just going to strip here
for him. I didn't want to bare myself like that. This was like a doctor's office. It was the most unflattering light ever.

"No, Sir," I said. "I...
can't."

A look of distress broke across his face. "Ah, pet. I don't think you totally understand this relationship. I am in charge—and you take
my
orders. I gave you a chance, but you blew it. Now you must face
punishment
."

"P-p-p-punishment?" I asked. I wanted to run away, but his eyes kept me frozen to the ground.

"Give me your wrist," he demanded.

"No!" I shouted.

"Fine, then we'll just have it that way." He lurched at me, grabbing me and bringing me to the
nearby
table. His force was incredible. I fought, but I couldn't do a thing to break his grip.

"Roland!" I screamed.

"Stop screaming
,
now! You're only going to make it worse for yourself." He took my hand and strapped it down tightly to the table. My other free hand followed; suddenly I was unable to move my hands, pulling at the straps, feeling that leather burn against my skin.
Why had I let him tie me up
? Surely I could have fought harder,
right
?

He was no longer in my view. By the time I realized where he was, he had clamped restraints around my ankles. That was it—I was stuck facing the table, my hands attached to it, my legs to the floor. I
fought for a few moments,
venting my
frustration
through
my limited
physical movement. I groaned, the pain of my
efforts only
makin
g the whole situation
worse.

"Please calm down," he said, his words calm and cool. "Struggling only makes it worse."

Struggling only makes it worse.

Damnit! I felt like I was in the middle of a serial killer film, the victim of a sadistic man who would eventually kill me—but didn't want to cause me any additional pain right now.
How noble
!

I stopped wiggling about and looked at him seriously. "Please, Roland. Let me go."

He walked up behind me, so close that I could feel his breath against my ear. I shivered as it danced against my skin like silk. "I'm going to punish you one way or another. Every time you complain, you only make it worse. Every time you fight me, you make it worse. So, please, don't make me do more than I have to. You'll understand soon enough." His wh
ispers burned inside of me with a consistency, so
slowly and surely.

Roland slid his hand into the front of my jeans and released the button. He pulled them down abruptly,
like
a magician droppin
g a curtain to reveal the
conclusion to his trick.
His calloused fingers rubbed against my skin, rough yet gentle, wanted yet unwanted. "Such a lovely ass," he remarked to himself. "So plump and soft. Probably so sensitive too." He pulled down my panties, leaving them to sit on my bunched up jeans. I felt totally exposed, closing my eyes as I leaned against the soft platform. He was eyeing me like a piece of prey, deciding just exactly how he wanted to feast.

His fingers pinched my cheeks, feeling them, exploring them, pressing them together like it was the first ass he'd ever touched. I felt so chubby and disgusting, way more self-conscious than I'd ever felt before. I wished that he wasn't seeing me like that.

"My pet, you're so beautiful. You have a beautiful body. You ought not be ashamed of it. You're blushing so hard I feel you might
break
," he said, chuckling.

I had been naked in front of partners before—but
not in a long time, and
never
like this. Yet, his words started to break through my hardened emo
tional exterior and ease away the
dissatisfaction with myself. I could tell that he was being totally genuine, that he really liked me
. He was making me feel a warmth that was slowly trickling down my body toward my core.

"I'm sorry I have to do this, pet. I don't like it one bit, but you must learn the rules. Trust me, it could be much worse than this."

He struck me
with a large wooden paddle, sending needles of pain all throughout my body. I screamed, surprised by the sudden shock. I felt tears welling up in my eyes again. When he struck me again, I realized I w
ouldn't be able to contain them
this time
.

"I'm sorry," he said.
Thwack!
He hit me again, this time on the other cheek.

"Ow!" I cried out, my eyes
pouring
down my face.
My arms fought the restraints, my body
trying to free my hands so I could
caress
that
burning skin. The leather was chewing into my wrists as I
writhed
, my reflexes and mind battling to try and make me behave rationally am
id
the growing discomfort.

I tensed my body
, ready for the next strike, ready to feel that pain—

What
?

I gasped, confused by what was going on. His fingers were expertly rubbing my clit, circling gently, touching me like he
really gave a damn
. That sensitive nub throbbed, the lingering pain seasoning it with a flavor
I was unfamiliar with
.
Oh, it felt incredible
.