Secret Submission (12 page)

But her desire was young yet, and he was not going to let her finish her performance so soon. He let go of her hands and stepped up onto a small stool that sat to the side of the cage. “Raise your arms, slave.”

She did as she was told and he fastened her cuffs to the top of the cage, preventing her from touching herself again. She moaned in frustration, tugging at her bindings, even though she knew it was futile. He stepped down and moved to the front of the cage again, reaching in and taking hold of her hips. Slowly he pulled her forward and she went eagerly, hoping to feel his touch under the G-string. The need for release was building inside her.

When he stopped her, less than an inch from the bars, she tried to move forward on her own. At least he could let her rub against her cage! He laughed at her antics and held her firmly. The sound of his laugh only increased her need. It reminded her all too well that she was his slave, his plaything to use—or not use. The animal nature in her responded and she cried out in desire.

He let her hips go and guided her gently back until she was standing. But before she could move again, he’d retrieved a short length of rope from the table and was at her side. Deftly he passed the rope through the bars, and between her legs. She spread herself for him, hoping he would touch her sex. But it was not to be. He pulled her leg out toward the bars of the cage and tied it firmly to the bar. Passing the rope around her thigh several times so it wouldn’t cut into her, he at last tied it off. Coming around to the other side, he kicked away the stool and did the same thing to her other leg. Her toes just touched the floor unless she straightened her arms and hung by her hands.

He stood back to admire his handiwork—and her performance. Tied as she was, horny as she was, she could do nothing to help herself. “Yes, slave,” he murmured, “you look very sexy tonight—all dressed up for me in the clothes I bought you.”

She hung there, helpless, her nipples still pushing against the fabric now drying stiff from her juices. The stockings and the garter only added to her sexiness whether she knew it or not. He circled the cage, admiring her.

She knew she was blushing at his examination. Never had she felt so on display—and in such a position! Her legs spread for him, wanting to feel his touch on her sex; her desire to please warring with her desire for release.

He approached the cage and reached in, running his hand along the line of the bra. She moaned with pleasure and he smiled—he liked the noises she made when she was aroused. He pinched her nipple and was rewarded with a gasp. Letting his hand drift downward, he paused at the top of the G-string before plunging beneath it, burying a finger inside her sex.

She felt so vulnerable at that moment. Knowing she could not prevent him from doing anything he wanted; knowing that she would not prevent him. She groaned loudly and tried to move to close her legs on his hand, but, of course, could not. Her juices freshened at her helplessness. Slowly Phillip’s fingers moved in and out then up over her clit, toying with her. She squirmed in her bindings, and he appreciated the dance she did for him.

She was almost ready. Phillip pulled his finger out of her panties and listened to her frustrated groan. Bringing his hand up to her face, he told her, “Open your eyes and look at me slave.” She did and he could see them heavy with her lust. “Suck your juices from my fingers.” Obediently, she opened her mouth and he put his fingers inside. She sucked them, wishing it was his cock she had in her mouth. And his come instead of her own salty juices.

He could feel her readiness—but now it was time for her to learn the second of the two words he had told her earlier. She learned “obedience” fairly well—with the exception of breakfast. Now was the time to learn “discipline.” He pulled his fingers from her and stepped back, admiring her in those stockings and bra—caged and helpless.

“Now, my slave, I will leave you.” He paused at the sound of protest that came from her, but saw her swallow hard, willing herself silent. “You did not eat this morning as you were told—that may be a limit for you or it may not, we shall see. But the fact remains that you did not do as you were told. And so this shall be your disciplining. You will stay there, caged, tied, helpless. Wanting to come, and being denied, until I feel you understand what the word ‘discipline’ means and why you are getting it.”

With that, Sarah was forced to watch him walk to the door in the fading light of the room, turn for one, long appreciative glance at her, and then leave the room, shutting the door behind him.

This time she could not hold in her cry—”Master! NO! Please! Don’t leave me like this. I’ll do it—I promise, next time—oh, please, MASTER!” She pulled on her bonds, trying to get loose, trying to get relief that would not come.

Phillip stood on the other side of the door, listening intently to Sarah’s yells. She was pleading, begging with him, but she was not panicking. That was his biggest concern. She’d done well when left ‘alone’ the week before, but the circumstances this time were much different. Today, he had deliberately tied her in such a way that she would become uncomfortable quite quickly.

But he needed her to take the time to think—and to break down the walls she had spent so many years building. Only when her shouting quieted did he leave the door, circling around to watch her from the porch once more. The sight of her framed by the double border of the window and the cage, aroused him again. Yet he denied himself, knowing he needed to be alert to any changes in her predicament. Instead, he pulled up a stool and satisfied himself with just watching.

Obedience and Discipline. The words took on importance in Sarah’s thoughts when it became obvious Phillip wasn’t going to return just because she yelled at him to. She could not help but think of the words as if they were written in big capital letters—he might as well have painted them on the back of the door. Obedience and Discipline. This was all about the fact that she hadn’t eaten that stupid breakfast. In frustration, she pulled at her bindings again, her face twisting with the effort.

“Blast it!” she muttered, reviewing her actions that morning. Was it such a big deal that he’d asked her to take her meal from his leavings? He’d been respectful enough of her to separate what he didn’t intend to eat from what he did. And really, he hadn’t eaten as much as he usually did. Phillip had deliberately left her the lion’s share of the food. And what had she done? Thrown it in the garbage.

She felt the tears welling inside her. She’d disappointed him. That was the problem. He’d asked her, commanded her to do something simple and she’d refused. When she’d admitted earlier that she hadn’t eaten the food, she’d seen the look in his eyes—the sadness.

Her thoughts went back to their first weekend together—was it only a week ago? He had explained a bit about what he was looking for in a slave. She thought she’d understood, but realized now, that her definition of the word did not go far enough. She also thought she’d understood the word ‘Obedience’ and realized that definition did not go far enough either. What he wanted was total compliance on her part—a total submission of her own will to his.

And she wanted to give it to him. She stopped squirming as the realization came home. Never had he said it would be easy—he said they’d test her limits. With a start, she realized she understood what ‘Discipline’ was as well. This time in the cage was again a test—it gave her time to think about her ‘disobedience’ and put it in perspective. He was, in effect, ‘disciplining’ her mind to accept or reject his commands.

Sarah swallowed hard, the need to come vanishing. After years of unexciting sex with her husband, Phillip offered her a whole new lifestyle. He was prepared to give her the bondage her innermost being always wanted, but had been afraid to admit to, even to herself. What he asked in return, was her obedience when she was in his house. Could she discipline herself to accept his demands? In her heart, she already knew the answer: Yes, she wanted to be his slave—to do what she was told to do. Hanging her head, she prepared to wait out the rest of her time in the cage.

Time lost meaning for her and she didn’t know if she’d been there ten minutes or twenty. Or an hour—it was irrelevant. All she wanted now was a chance to show him how sorry she was for her earlier behavior. She had disappointed him and the look in his eyes haunted her.

Tears spilled now as Sarah realized just how much she was falling in love with Phillip. He had touched a deeply hidden part of her, brought it into the light and shown her it was all right. It was okay that she wanted to have someone look after her—it was okay that she didn’t want to have to be the strong one every single moment. He was willing to let her relax and just exist—and for no other purpose than to be his slave and to please him.

The room had grown dark by the time he reentered. He had spent the entire time watching her; her tears almost made him give in and come to comfort her. In the long run, however, it was right that he not interrupt her thinking. When she hung there, spent from her own emotional turmoil, he returned, knowing she had reached a decision. Without turning on a light, he untied her legs, grateful to see her put her own weight on them. He pushed the stool over and undid her arms and she let them fall to her sides. In a few moments they would start to tingle as feeling came back into them. Phillip unlocked the cage and opened the door.

Sarah stepped out on unsteady legs and knelt in front of him, her stockings and garters twisted from her gyrations in the cage, her bra with two small white spots where her juices had dried over her nipples, her face lined with the salty remains of her tears. She attempted to put her hands behind her, but the lack of feeling in them prevented her. Instead, she just let them hang at her sides.

“I’m sorry, Master. I am sorry I disappointed you. Please let me try again.”

“Then come with me, slave.” It took all his will to not bend down and kiss her, to pick her up in his arms and carry her to a place of honor at the table. Of her own volition, she had given him his title! But he knew he had to remain strong and let her carry out her need to prove herself. Clenching his fists so he would not caress her, he turned on his heel and walked through the door.

Unsteadily, she stood and followed him. The table was set for one as she expected it to be. “Kneel in your place, slave,” he instructed as he went to get his own dinner—just a pre-made salad tonight; he had been too concerned with her welfare to take time to cook. He had thought to have her carry it to the table and serve him, but she was too spent.

Meekly and without a word, Sarah knelt beside his chair. Leaning back on her heels, her hands resting on her knees, she tried to keep herself from moving. It didn’t take him long to finish his salad and when he stood, he looked at her and gave her the command she’d been expecting. “You may eat from my plate, slave, then put the dishes in the sink. Do not wash them—come to me when you are finished.”

He left the dining room and she bowed her head. Was she allowed to sit while she ate? Or did he expect her to eat while she knelt on the floor? Too tired to try and figure it out, she stood then sat at her spot—or what had been her spot—at the table. She pulled his plate to her and saw that he’d set utensils for her. Touched by his thoughtfulness and picking up the fork, she hungrily ate the remains of the substantial salad and drank the fresh glass of water left at her own place.

Taking the dishes to the sink, she let them sit and went to find him. Again he was on the couch in the living room, reading by the light of a single lamp. Exhausted, she started to kneel before him, but he patted the couch next to him and she gratefully sat down and rested in his arms.

“Tell me what you have learned today, my slave.” The warmth and tenderness in his touch and in his voice caused the tears to well in her eyes again.

“I have learned that I want to serve you, Master. I want to be your slave and do as you order me. I have learned what “obedience” is—true obedience, that is.”

When she fell silent, he prompted her. “And what is the difference between ‘obedience’ and ‘true obedience’?”

“Obedience is doing something because you have to do it—because someone told you to and you know it has to be done. But ‘true obedience’ is doing it because you want to please the other person. When it’s true, your own feelings don’t matter—you want to obey just to make the other person smile.”

She looked at him and he couldn’t resist—he smiled at her and was rewarded by a smile of her own. He kissed her on the forehead. “And what else has my slave learned today?”

“I have learned what discipline is—and that it isn’t always unpleasant.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and she explained. “You wanted me to think about what I had done—or hadn’t done, rather. By building, then denying my need and leaving me alone like that, I had little else to do
but
think about it. You focused my mind very well.” A wry grin twisted her tired face and she continued.

“I didn’t like it at first, but after a while I realized it wasn’t so bad—and I realized something else, too.” She hesitated then plunged on. “I discovered that the orgasm was only the icing on the cake. It had always, for me, been the be-all and end-all of sex. The only reason to have sex was to get to the release. But the buildup can be just as much fun. I never understood that before.” She twisted around to look at him. “See how much I have learned…Master?”

The title came from the depths of her own heart; he knew she bestowed it willingly upon him. He had earned her trust. For answer, Phillip kissed her deeply. “Yes, slave, you have learned a great deal. But there is something to be said for that release.” He guided her hand down to his cock and she felt his hardness. She giggled.