Secret Submission (13 page)

“Come with me to the bedroom, slave, and let’s get both our needs taken care of, shall we?”

He took her hand and led her to the bedroom, stopping at the foot of the bed to kiss her deeply. She had pleased him with her revelations—and he knew he had made the right choice in her. Willing to explore her submissive side, willing to accept his discipline, she was exactly what he’d been looking for. In the darkness of the bedroom, lit only by a shaft of moonlight streaming through the open window, he held on to the woman of his dreams.

There were no bindings as he took her tonight—Sarah gave herself completely. Phillip accepted her gift, cherishing it, giving himself in return. They made love for hours, exploring every part of the other. And when at last he mounted her and they rode together, their mutual bliss united them once more.

* * * * *

Later, when again they lay in a jumble of legs and arms, Sarah couldn’t help but remark, “I can’t believe I still have another whole day before I go back to work. It seems like today lasted forever!”

He idly played with a strand of her hair. “Is that a good thing?”

She picked up her head to look at him. “Oh, yes, Sir! It is a
very
good thing.” She nestled down again. “Do I dare ask what you have planned for tomorrow?”

He smoothed her hair and decided just how much he’d share ahead of time. “Well, in the morning, I usually attend church services, and I’d like you to go with me. But in this, I will not command you.”

“I usually go to church on Sunday as well, Sir, but I did not go last week,” she confessed.

“So you will accompany me?”

She nodded, glad to discover his spirituality was important to him.

 
“Then afterward, we will return here and you shall continue your training.”

“
Mmmm
, my training.” She sighed. “Why does that send a thrill through me? Don’t answer, that was a rhetorical question.”

Smiling in the darkness, Phillip reached down and pulled the coverlet over them and snuggled her into his arms. It may have been a long day, but it had been a very, very good one. Before long, they both slept, comfortable in each other’s arms.

Chapter Five

His toy

“Come on, sleepyhead! Church!”

She rolled over and sat up, surprised. Her cuffs were already gone and the bedroom was empty. In the kitchen she heard the whistle of the teakettle abruptly stop. Gathering her wits together, she hurried into the shower and got herself ready for the day.

A long pier mirror hung on the wall at the foot of the bed and Phillip stood before it, brushing his hair when she reentered. Clad only in a towel wrapped around her head, she hesitated. What was she to wear to church? “Sir, I’ll need you to get the bag from my car—I never brought it in Friday night and it has the clothes I’ll need.”

He smiled mischievously. “Who says you’ll need your clothes for church?”

She was shocked. “SIR!” She swallowed hard. “I cannot go to church in my birthday suit!”

“No, you cannot,” he agreed, laughing. “Here, while I was shopping for the lingerie, I saw something else and bought it for you to wear if you decided to go with me. You are mine in every way on the weekend,” he continued when she looked confused. “When you cross that threshold, you give up your will and do what I command. That means you also wear what I instruct you to.”

He went to the closet and pulled out a beautiful, conservative, navy blue suit. The top had white piping around a wide collar and buttoned in the front; the skirt was a solid navy with two white piping stripes around the hem. “And of course, you’ll need stockings and shoes.” Laying the dress on the bed, he pulled a small shoebox out of the closet as well and handed it to her.

Inside she found a pair of navy stockings with a garter belt to match. Also laid on top was a navy blue bra—as sheer as the black one she’d worn yesterday. This one, however, had
underwires
that would give more support and shape to her breasts. Carefully she set these things aside and pulled out the shoes.

The first thing she noticed were the heels—much higher than the one-inch pumps she usually wore. The tapered heel was at least three inches high, with a strap that went around her ankle. The toe section was a solid strip of navy.

“Get dressed, slave. We leave in ten minutes.” He left the room.

She didn’t even think about not complying. The suit was beautiful and was one she might have picked out for herself. She combed out her hair, then put on the bra and looked for the panties. There were none. Briefly she considered wearing hers from Friday, but then realized her clothes were not in their customary place on the chair. She sighed and pulled on the stockings and belt, fastening them before trying on the skirt.

There was no doubt he’d figured out her size—the skirt fit beautifully. But the hemline was above her knee—not much, but she hadn’t worn a skirt that short in years. Slipping her arms into the top, she buttoned it and looked in the mirror.

The bra definitely gave her cleavage—and it was apparent in the low-cut neckline of the suit top. No matter how she pulled it, the top of her breasts still showed. She was not indecent, but showing much more skin than she was accustomed to. With another sigh, she slipped her feet into the heels.

The tightness of the skirt, combined with the heels, allowed her only to take small, ladylike steps. No tomboy could ever wear this outfit! With still a few minutes to go, she went into the living room to model her outfit for him.

He whistled when he saw her and she blushed. “Very nice, slave. You look good in the clothes your master has chosen.” He held out his arm and she took it as they made their way to the car—and to church.

* * * * *

The service was more wonderful than she ever remembered church being. Maybe it was because she was on the arm of a very handsome man who had opened a whole new world to her. Many of the parishioners knew Phillip and greeted him afterward. He introduced her simply as a friend, but the possessive way his arm encircled her waist subtly let everyone know she was more than that to him.

Afterward, he took her out to a nice restaurant for brunch. Their conversation was easy and to anyone looking on, they simply saw two people who were falling in love with each other. They might have remarked on the fact that his suit was the same shade of navy as her outfit, but there was nothing in their demeanor to suggest any other relationship.

But she knew. All through the service, all through the introductions and even as they walked into the restaurant, she was conscious of the fact that she wore garters and stockings—and no panties at all. It was their secret and it made her blush at odd moments.

Back in the car, he turned toward home and she sighed with relief.

“What’s that sigh for, slave?”

She grinned—he’d called her Sarah all morning in public. “I’m grateful to be going home, Master.” It was the first time since they’d left the house that she used his title and he grinned back at her.

“You like being called slave?”

“Yes, Sir—as much as you like being called Master.”

“Did you ever think you would like such a thing?”

“NO!” She shook her head emphatically. “Not in my wildest dreams. And if anyone else ever tried to call me that, I think I’d kick him!”

He laughed out loud, but sobered quickly. “But someone may call you that someday, slave.”

“What do you mean?” She was puzzled.

“You are my property—and at some point, I would like to show off my property.”

Her mouth fell open. Show her off? As a slave? Her cheeks flamed as she thought of herself on display as she had been for him last night. Surely he didn’t mean that?

“Don’t worry, that’s a ways in your future. But know that there are other Masters and even Mistresses out there—and know that someday you will meet some of them. And you will act as a good slave ought to act.”

She swallowed hard and stared out the window a moment before answering, “Yes, Master.” To his credit, he was being fair and giving her fair warning. He was always up front and honest about his intentions—which was more than she could say for most of the guys she had dated.

They turned into the long driveway, parked; he came around to open her door, as he had every time. Helping her out, he took her arm to guide her, since her heels were really not made for the rough path. Once inside, he dropped his keys on the little table by the door and turned to her.

“Let’s both get a little more comfortable, shall we?” He went straight to the bedroom and she followed. “Just sit there a moment while I change.”

She sat on the chair in the corner, prim and proper in her suit. Her knees together, her hands resting, clasped together in her lap; sitting like the lady she was taught to be. He saw her automatic posture and smiled, then began a small performance of his own.

The suit coat he took off with little ceremony, hanging it on the hanger and putting it away. But then he caught her eye and dared her to break contact. Staring at her, the animal he held inside beginning to surface, he untied his tie, coming to stand before her. “Take off your top,” he commanded.

His look of smoldering passion made her heart start to tremble. With suddenly nervous fingers, she undid the buttons of her suit top and took it off, placing it beside her over the arm of the chair. He was standing too close for her to be able to stand—he loomed over her like a villain from an old movie.

“Hold out your hands.”

She did so and he looped the thin material of the tie around her wrists, securing them tightly together. The sensuous silk against her skin made her tremble as her pulse quickened.

His waist was at eye level and she watched, mesmerized as he undid the clasp of his belt and slowly slid it out of his pant loops. Once it was free, he draped it around her neck. “Hold this for me, slave.” She didn’t dare move.

Now he began on the shirt buttons; first the sleeves, his long fingers unbuttoning the right, then the left, flipping back the cuffs to tease her with a glimpse of the dark hair on his arms. Then from the neck downward, he unveiled his chest to her—one button at a time. Pulling his shirt aside, Sarah’s heart leapt at the sight of those smooth muscles, knowing the power they wielded. Leaving his shirt on but open, Phillip unzipped his pants and let them fall. Only the briefest of briefs contained him and Sarah could see that little scrap of cloth would not hold him for long. She longed to lean forward and suckle him through the thin fabric.

“Finish undressing me, slave.” With her heart now pumping wildly, she reached down with her tied hands and helped him out of his pants. Then, gently taking his cock out of his briefs, she brought the garment down and helped him remove that as well. Now only his shirt remained. He took a pace backward so she could stand and she pushed his shirt off first one shoulder, then the other until she had his arms and hands free of it.

He turned her away from him then, so that her back was to him. For a moment, he was tempted to run his fingers over her breasts; he loved feeling their soft weight in his hands. Instead, he decided to concentrate on another part of her wonderful anatomy, reaching down to slide his hand up under her skirt to touch her sex. She knew she was already damp and she moaned softly when his fingers touched her pussy lips. He probed deeper, sliding a finger inside her reveling in her tightness. She would gladly spread her legs for him, but the narrowness of the skirt prevented her.

“Bend over, slave.”

The command in his voice gave her a chill and a counter-warmth spread between her legs. Leaning forward, Sarah rested her bound hands on the chair seat then bent further until her elbows rested there as well. He raised her skirt and Sarah felt another rush as she realized how open she was to him.

Slowly he pulled the belt from around her shoulders and she shuddered in spite of herself. What was he planning? She tensed the muscles in her cheeks and put her head down, preparing for what she was sure was coming next.

He smiled at her reaction. While a whipping might still be in her future, he wasn’t sure she was ready for it yet—or that he wanted to give it to her. No, he had something else in mind entirely.

And so, when she felt his hands looping the belt around her waist, her brows furrowed in confusion. He tightened it around her waist and she drew in a breath.

Slap! His hand hit her bottom and she jumped, not expecting it. She gasped and he used the moment to cinch the belt even tighter. Exhaling, she found that, once again, she could not take in a deep breath. Her pussy oozed her feelings about being confined in such a way. Already her juices threatened to spill down her thighs.

He rubbed a finger over her wet clit and again she had to lock her knees to stay upright. Gently he traced a wet line from her clit through her pussy and up to her anus. She shivered as he did it again—and again. Soaking her hole and pushing his finger against it, getting her ready.

Then he slid his finger in, just the tip of it, and pulled her a little. She couldn’t stop moaning. Oh, she liked it when he did this to her! Getting her juices on his finger again, he slipped his finger deeper this time, going in all the way to the knuckle. Slowly, carefully, he stretched her.

But he did not intend to take her this way—certainly not yet, anyway. Instead he held a small object down where she could peek at it between her legs. Cone-shaped and bulbous, she wasn’t sure what it was. A string came from it to something she could not see in his other hand. He lubricated the object with oil then slipped it into her slightly stretched asshole.