Secret Submission (22 page)

The light dawned in his eyes. “Oh, you must mean Mrs. Finch and her daughter Emily!” He laughed. “Mrs. Finch is always trying to find a husband for Emily. She’s a sweet girl; we dated a few times. But she’s very much under her mother’s thumb.”

Sarah smiled. Those two had certainly been chief among the unhappy faces. She tried to picture tall, strong and handsome Phillip with mousy-looking Emily. A sudden picture popped into her imagination of Emily bound and gagged, submitting to her Master. So real did it seem that she choked on her toast.

He helped her to a glass of water and raised her arm over her head until she could signal that she was fine. Waving the waiter away, he waited until she regained her composure before questioning her, “What happened?”

She grinned weakly at him and told him the image that had invaded her thoughts. He grinned right back at her and looked off, considering the picture. “Hmm…” he teased. “I see the two of you lying on the floor, bound and gagged together.”

“You would! Isn’t that every man’s fantasy? To have several women serve him at one time?”

His eyes grew serious. “And if it is?”

She frowned as she considered his implication. Making love to another woman was not something she had ever considered—well, not considered for herself. Two of her friends were lesbians and it had made no impact on her friendship with them at all. Whatever happened behind closed doors was none of her business.

Phillip watched her consider this new thought. Broadening her horizons was a part of what he wanted her to experience. Each step of her training took mental preparation as well as physical. Sarah had given him an opening to introduce this idea to her—was she yet willing to perform it? He ate his breakfast and observed her reactions.

How did she feel about him having two women at one time? Sarah fiddled with her fork as she delved for the root issue. Could she share him? Was that the question? No, the real question was, did she even have the right to demand his solo allegiance to her? If she was his slave, did she have the right to tell him no?

“I don’t think I’m ready to do that, Sir,” she finally answered, her voice low in the crowded restaurant. “I mean, I’m not asking you for a commitment or anything…what you do during the week is your business.” She hurriedly sipped her water. “But on the weekends, when I am your…slave,” she whispered the word, “I’m not ready to share you.”

He smiled, almost in relief. She was about to learn the most important lesson he had to teach her: that Master/slave relationships involved a sharing of power. Reaching across the table, he took her hand.

“Sarah,” he began, knowing that when he used her name, she recognized the seriousness of what he was about to say, “you
do
have a commitment from me—you wear my collar.” Her hand flew to her throat to feel the small leather choker. “That commitment goes both ways,” he continued. “You serve me with your submission, but I also have a responsibility to serve you—not only by protecting you, but also in respecting your wishes.” He paused and let that sink in.

“So you’re not angry that I really don’t want to have another woman around yet?”

He laughed. “Of course not! But I noticed you used the word ‘yet.’ Does that mean someday you might say yes?” His eyes twinkled as he further planted the idea in her head.

Sarah grinned. “I know what word I used—and I meant it.” She grew serious. “I know that as the Master you have the right to command me. But you’re saying that what you really want is more of the exchange of power you had me read about as opposed to a suppression of my wants and desires?”

“Exactly. Sarah, I am falling more in love with you each day. You’re witty and intelligent and a wonderfully independent woman. And on top of all that, you are willing, each weekend, to set all that aside and kneel before me as my slave. That is a wonderful gift you give me—and I treasure it deeply.”

Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat. He was so earnest—the deeply held power she’d glimpsed on several occasions was so evident she was surprised everyone in the restaurant didn’t turn around and bow down to him. Had they been home, back at his cottage, she would have dropped to her knees in submission. He wanted her. He was in love with her. The passion of his words made her head swim.

“I have fallen in love with you, Phillip,” she murmured, her eyes filling with tears. “You make me complete.” He had seen the side of her that she kept hidden and, instead of being shocked by it, had embraced it and let it come forth.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, lingering, his eyes never leaving her face. She turned her palm to him, resting it on his cheek. They might have sat there for another hour if the waiter had not chosen that particular moment to bring the check.

Grinning broadly, Phillip paid the bill and the two went home.

* * * * *

Once back at the cottage, Phillip opened the door and stood back for her to enter first. He always did that, she realized. He held the door for her at the store, in church—he always got the car door for her. Always. He treated her like a lady every moment.

Inside, the two headed to the bedroom to change and get more comfortable. For Phillip that meant taking off his
suitcoat
and tie, for Sarah that meant divesting herself of all her clothes and putting on her cuffs and collar. She stood by the closet and neatly
rehung
the jacket and skirt of her suit. Before taking off her undergarments, she glanced at him—last week he had wanted those left on. But Phillip had left the room, so she sat on the side of the bed to undo her garters and roll down the stockings.

Retrieving her cuffs from the bedside table, Sarah clicked them into place, smiling as she always did at the snick the locks made as they closed, securing the straps of leather around her wrists and ankles. She fumbled at the public ‘collar’ but could not get it untied. Instead she picked up the larger collar he had given her to wear in the house and went out to find him.

She found him in the dungeon, sorting through some things on the table. Hearing her step, he turned to see her framed by the door; her nakedness took his breath—as it did every time. Ample breasts that gave a man something to hold in his hands, a delicious little curve from her waist to her hips, her naked mound shaved just for him; she was a combination of innocent and siren. Phillip knew he was grinning like an idiot as he gestured for her to kneel.

“Let me help you with those collars, my slave.” He liked saying those words. Not only did they reinforce her position, but the term was quickly becoming an endearment. She bowed her head to him and pulled her hair out of the way and he noticed how easily she moved now. Quite a difference from a few weeks ago when she was afraid of her nudity.

He removed the small leather strap and held his hand out for her larger collar. She handed it to him without hesitation and his heart was glad. She wanted this as much as he did. Placing it around her neck, Phillip waited while she again lifted her hair so he could lock it in place.

There was something arousing about this particular ‘snick’ she decided. The collar was filled with symbolism and her body responded to it with a very definite physical reaction. Immediately she felt the familiar soft moistening gather between her legs.

Holding out his hand to her, Phillip helped her to her feet. “I thought we might go for a walk this afternoon, slave. You haven’t seen much of my property except for the house.”

She laughed. “A walk sounds wonderful—it’s a beautiful day for a walk in the woods. ‘
Cept
I didn’t bring any jeans with me.” All she had with her were the clothes she had worn to work on Friday and the work clothes she intended to wear on Monday.

He just smiled and raised an eyebrow. His meaning sunk in and she gasped. “Oh, no…I can’t go walking in the woods in my birthday suit!”

“Not even if I commanded it?” he pushed.

She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to frame an answer. Finally she gave up and just glared at him, perplexed and unsure.

His hand came up and gently he lifted her chin. With a swift move, he attached a leash to her collar. Drawing his hand back, he ran the chain through his fingers, keeping a firm grip on the leather handle.

She looked down in shock. A leash!?! What did he think she was? Her eyes were pulled over to the small cage she’d spent some time in their first weekend together. Covered now in a blue cloth, pushed up against the wall, it posed no threat. He had treated her like a favored pet then; it was the same way he was treating her now.

Gently he pulled on the leash and she moved toward him, uncertainty wrinkling her features. His arms slid around her and he let the chain fall between them as he took her in his arms. Letting his hands wander over her back, he bent down to capture her mouth in a kiss, pushing his tongue against her lips until she relaxed and let him enter.

She loved the feel of his tongue as it danced over hers. Not able to help herself, she leaned into him, opening her mouth, inviting him deeper. Her hands squeezed the muscles of his arms, thrilling in the hard-packed strength under her fingertips. One of his hands drifted lower, caressing her lower cheeks. Her stomach fluttered in response.

His lips moved from her mouth to her hair, nuzzling along to find her ear. “Will my slave wear my leash?” he murmured in her ear.

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “If wearing your leash leads to kisses like this, I will not fret about a length of chain.” She turned her head and he possessed her mouth again.

For several moments they hung suspended in time, each of them aware only of the other. Their souls touched and when they at last withdrew, their eyes twinkled with happiness.

“Come with me, my slave,” he told her, his eyes bright with mischief. Catching the leash in his hand, he stepped around her, leading her by the chain connected to her collar.

The glint of mischief caught her curiosity and she went willingly. Did he really intend to take her outside dressed in nothing but her cuffs?

It seemed he did. Through the rooms they went to the back of the kitchen. He opened the door and a breeze wafted in, smelling of sunshine and warmth. She thought how ironic it was that she had been to his cottage several times now and had never even looked out the back door. Well, it wasn’t as if her mind—and her body—hadn’t been occupied elsewhere. Now she saw that a small deck formed an unroofed porch at the back entrance to the house. He stepped through the door and her chain went taut as she halted.

Yes, his house was out in the woods. Yes, she had gotten used to walking around inside completely naked. But outside? He gave a small tug and she took a step forward, pausing again on the doorsill.

Phillip watched her as she cautiously poked her head out of the door, her arms covering herself—one across her breasts and one covering her mound. She probably wasn’t even aware that she was doing it. He gave her time—he wanted to push her limits, but only if she wanted them pushed. Some Masters didn’t care about their slave’s feelings; he’d seen several examples of that in his time—indeed, when he first started, he had made similar mistakes.

But he was older now and had learned a great deal. He also knew that this slave was different from any other he had played with. This one had captured his heart. The others came and went and he let them go. Sarah had touched something deep inside him; he hoped she would decide to stay for a very long time.

Had Sarah looked at him, she would have seen the tenderness in his eyes as he watched her. But she was so caught up in her own sense of modesty and propriety, that she missed the softening of his gaze as it fell on her.

“There is no one here but us,” he reassured her. “I own 80 acres of land and the cottage sits in the middle of it.” He gave an encouraging tug on her leash.

Tentatively she took a step forward, then another. The door closed behind her and she jumped as it slammed. He grinned an apology. “
Gotta
get that fixed one of these days.” He looked at her, standing stricken like a deer caught in the headlights. “Put your hands down, slave.”

She looked down—when had she covered herself? With an effort, she lowered the hand from her bosom, then the hand that covered her mound. Swallowing hard, she willed them down to her sides, then looked at him, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“Walk now, around the edge of the deck.”

With a width of ten feet and a length about the same, it was a short walk. He stood in the center and rotated as she tiptoed around the edge, letting her hand run along the railing to keep it from the urge to cover any part of her. Biting her lip, she kept glancing nervously toward the woods whose border wasn’t very far away. She came back to her starting point and stopped.

 
“What are you feeling, slave?”

She looked quickly up at him—what did he mean? His concern for her shone in his face and her look softened. “Sir?” she asked.

“What are you feeling? I have put a leash on you, pulled you out into a much more public place than you have been, and you’re naked. What are you feeling?”

He wanted honesty—she’d learned that lesson before. Problem was, she had been concentrating on actually being out here and hadn’t let herself feel anything. Taking a deep breath to relax a bit, she thought out loud.

“First of all, I’m all right, Sir. I’m a little nervous and scared, but you’re here and I trust you and that you won’t let anything come out of the woods and hurt me—or worse, see me.” She grinned as she realized what she had said. “Yes, it’s true, right now I’m just worried that someone will drive up the drive or come out of the woods and see me naked.”