Secret Submission (26 page)

Sarah saw the misery in his eyes. Sitting up, she touched his cheek and pulled his chin up until he looked at her. Then she smiled and he understood that she was not hurt. Why, the little vixen liked it! As comprehension dawned, he sat on the porch, amazed that he’d found a woman who just might be able to handle the wild beast he could not always contain.

There was no need for words between them. Sarah stood and retrieved their clothes from their far-flung places in front of the cottage and returning, entered when he held the door for her. Watching her, Phillip grew hard again, although the animal stayed where it was.

Sarah dumped the clothes in the corner of the bedroom and as he came up behind her, she felt the evidence of his growing need press into her back. She turned to face him, one hand caressing his cock as she watched him, waiting for instructions. How would he use her a second time tonight?

Answering her unspoken question, Phillip put his hands on her shoulders. “Kneel, slave,” he said softly and she knew what he desired.

Obediently she kneeled before him. Patiently she waited for permission before touching him. “Now, slave, suck me. Take me in your mouth.”

His voice was rough and she realized the cage was not locked. The animal that drove him was still very much present. With his come still leaking from between her legs, she took his cock in her mouth, using her hands to knead the stones in his balls. Staying only on the tip, she flicked her tongue over and around it, trying to set the animal loose again.

He came out with a vengeance. Roaring, Phillip thrust himself deep inside her mouth, gagging her. He retreated only long enough for her to recover and thrust in again. Her own juices mingled with his come and dripped down her thigh as he grabbed her head and guided her motions. Relaxing, she let him control her and was rewarded with the familiar salty taste filling her mouth. She swallowed much of it at once, licking the rest from him as his motions slowed, then cleaning her face and swallowing the rest of it as he watched.

If he weren’t so exhausted from two orgasms so close together, the sight of her kneeling on the floor eating his come would have made him hard again. As it was, he barely made it to the side of the bed before his knees gave way. “Come here, slave,” he commanded, his voice husky.

He was only a few steps away and it was easier to crawl on all fours than to stand and then kneel again. Seeing her crawl over to him gave him another rush—my god, what this woman did to him. He hooked a finger through her collar again, pulling her up close to him. “Do you like being my slave, Sarah? Even when I use you so roughly?”

Her head tilted to the side and she smiled up at him. “Yes, Master Phillip. I like being your slave, especially when you use me so roughly.”

“Then come up here, slave. Come to bed now.”

She climbed into the bed beside him, tenderly covering them both with the blankets. The animal inside him slept now, and it wouldn’t be long before he did as well.

“Good night, Master,” she whispered in his ear. “Thank you.”

But if he heard, he gave no indication. He had fallen asleep. Snuggling in next to him, her body tired from the stress of the day and his use of her outside, she soon followed him in slumber.

Chapter Ten

His friends

The two of them spent the next morning cleaning the cottage. Not that it needed cleaning, but as Sarah’s mother would have said, it wasn’t ‘company clean.’ Phillip’s domain was the kitchen and he prepared several trays of veggies, tucking them away in the fridge till later. Sarah discovered he also was a baker–the cheesecake he created looked wonderful.

“The secret, slave, is letting it stay in the oven with the door ajar until the oven is completely cooled.” She had come in from dusting and vacuuming and now stood peering into the open oven door, the heat warming her naked body. “Then you don’t get cracks in the top.”

“Is that how they do it?” she exclaimed. “I’ve only baked a few in my life and figured the cracks came because I didn’t have a fancy oven like one of the pros.” She shook her head at his talents.

He laughed. “Well, I’m no pro, but my aunt used to bake the best cheesecakes in the city and she passed on her tips to me.”

Sometimes he looked like such a little boy, she wanted to go over and hug him. This was one of those moments. It was a cloudy day outside and the kitchen light was on to dispel the gloom. Maybe it was hearing him talk of his aunt, or maybe it was a reflection of the light, but there was a gleam in his eye that belied the existence of the animal she had experienced last night. She hid her smile. And they said women were complicated.

“While it’s cooling, let’s eat lunch—then we have some furniture to move.”

It didn’t take long to make and consume several tuna fish sandwiches. Since that first weekend together, Sarah had discovered the canned seafood was his favorite lunch. Sometimes he liked it spread over crackers, sometimes on bread—but always tuna fish. Knowing it was better for her than the nachos and hot dog she usually ate at home, she was beginning to favor the plain fare herself.

“How many people will be here tonight?” she asked, munching on a pilfered carrot stick.

“Only eight, including us. A small gathering.”

Part of her was relieved, part panicked. She preferred smaller groups, but that meant nowhere to hide. Nowhere but in her role as his hostess.

He saw the look in her eye and guessed which way her thoughts were headed. Reaching over the table, he took her hand. “You’ll do fine. Especially after I train you this afternoon. There are very specific ‘rules,’ if you will, for a slave in the presence of other masters.”

“Other masters?” Butterflies flew in and settled in her stomach—as if she weren’t already nervous enough.

He nodded, finishing off his lunch. “Yes, slave, other masters. I told you my friends were different from yours.” He pushed his chair back and watched her digest the information along with her tuna.

“I know you did…Master.” She stressed the last word, grinning. Swallowing the last of her drink, she stood to clear the plates. “I think I just put it out of my mind, however.” She stopped and turned around. “But you’ll teach me? So that I know what to do?”

“That’s important to you, isn’t it? Knowing what to do, what to say.”

She nodded and came back for the glasses, clearing the rest of the lunch stuff as well. “It is.” She grimaced and there was no mirth in her eyes. “I don’t play the fool well. That’s probably why I’m not a very good storyteller. Being the center of attention and then messing up is one of my worst nightmares.”

He stood and kissed her on the top of her head. “Well, then, slave. Since tonight you will definitely be the center of attention, we’ll just have to make sure you don’t ‘mess up’.”

Her nerves calmed somewhat at that. Of course she was going to be examined tonight—just as he’d been given a thorough going over the night before. But if he was going to show her the ropes, figuratively speaking, then maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

In the living room, he began pushing furniture this way and that, and she helped, creating a rather large space against the short side of the room. Finally, he was satisfied and he led her into the bedroom. She now wore the wider collar she actually preferred. Symbolic as they both were, this one’s presence around her neck was a more physical reminder of her status—a status she increasingly enjoyed.

“Time to put you on the shelf, slave.” A thrill ran through her—he was finished with her for now. Of course, as soon as she knew that, desire peeked its head out. But she said nothing, simply holding out her hands and legs in turn so he could attach her wrist and ankle cuffs, locking them into place on her limbs. Locking wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle, he had her lie down on the bed. Taking up the “Y” chain she had worn the weekend before, he fastened her arms to her neck and bid her roll over.

She complied, awkwardly, but with his help, got onto her stomach. He now fastened a length of chain from the headboard to her D-ring—then fastened her ankles with another short length of chain to the footboard.

“Sleep if you can, slave,” he told her on his way out the door. “Tonight will be a long night for you.”

The directions sounded ominous, but he was gone and she did not call him back. She recalled the words he had spoken a while ago—after a particularly erotic evening. Phillip had warned her then that someday she’d meet other masters—apparently ‘someday’ was today. And now he expected her to sleep?

Sarah’s mind tossed from one topic to the next as she lay still, chained to the bed. Wait! He hadn’t trained her at all yet. Was her role as a submissive hostess different from that of a normal hostess? She was sure there must be protocols she should follow. But she was on the shelf and her master did not expect to hear a sound from her.

There was a certain excitement at being thus treated and she had already accepted the fact that her body fell first to his control and then her mind. Every handling of her took her to new places inside herself—a journey of discovery that stretched her boundaries and taught her insights about her personality she never before considered.

Take what he said last night, for example. That her shyness was just another form of submissiveness. That had rankled for a bit, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized he was right. Long ago, she had accepted her nature as being the ‘quiet type’ and had not delved any deeper than that. But Phillip was not satisfied with only surface reflections. His observation made her see that she had always been the observer—she watched people, and when they needed something, she was there. In fact, Beth had commented on it several times—how Sarah always seemed to know what people needed without being told.

Sarah also thought about how she always gave in to Beth’s desires when the two of them planned an evening. Even with her husband, if Sarah wanted one thing, but her partner wanted something different, she usually caved in. Of course, with Tom, it was more equal—he acquiesced to her as often as she gave in to him. But not with Beth.

A sudden thought occurred to her and her jaw dropped open. Could Beth be a Dominatrix? Was it possible? She thought about her friend’s relationship with Paul—he was so easy going, could he be…No. Her mind would not go there.

What about Phillip’s friends tonight? If there were masters coming, would there also be slaves? What would they look like? Her mind conjured Hollywood images of slave harems. No, she decided. Phillip’s living room didn’t look any more like the stereotypical harem than his dungeon looked like the stereotypical dungeon. Try as she might, she had no idea what his friends would be like.

In spite of herself, she knew that her thoughts, along with her helpless position, were working their magic on her. Her thoughts continued to swirl as desire ached between her legs. Like an itch she could not scratch, it remained just under the surface as finally, she fell asleep.

* * * * *

His gentle kiss woke her. Breathing deeply, she smelled soap on him and her eyes flew open, momentarily confused—was it morning? No, the light was wrong. The party! He was releasing her, removing first her ankle cuffs, then the bindings on her wrist. She rolled over and he undid the chain from her collar.

“I checked on you several times, and you were sound asleep,” he told her. “I even took my shower and dressed—you never moved.”

“Cleaning is tiring work, Sir!”

He sniffed the air. “And sweaty—go take your shower and be sure to run the razor over all important parts. Your clothes will be on the bed for you,” he called after her as she hurried into the bathroom.

In short order she had freshened up and taken her shower, returning to the bedroom to dress. Her black garter belt and stockings waited for her—and a black bra. Quickly she donned them, slipping into the heels he set out for her. Usually these were her church shoes, but she had to admit, they added to the overall sexy look.

She fastened the bra in place, then turned it around to pull the cups up over her breasts. Except there seemed to be something wrong with the undergarment. A huge hole was cut in each cup. Well, maybe the hole wasn’t huge, but certainly as big as a quarter. Upon closer examination, she realized they had been designed that way; the hole was neatly finished off. Blushing, she understood what must go there. With another twist, she seated her nipples in the center of each hole. The exposure to the air when the surrounding breast was covered caused the nipples to stand straight out. His intention, no doubt, she thought.

But there were no more clothes on the bed. Surely he did not mean to make her greet his guests looking so wanton. Hearing his step, she called out to him, “Master, I don’t see the rest of my clothes—what else did you want me to wear?”

His hands on her waist made her jump. She hadn’t realized he had entered the room. “No need to shout,” he murmured into her hair as he put his arms around her and ran his fingertips over her exposed nipples. While such a fondling usually caused her to grow weak in the knees, tonight she was too nervous to settle. When she didn’t relax, he turned her to face him.

“You are my property and I wish to show you off. I told you I would. Last week you said you would be willing to be naked in front of people. Are you saying now you aren’t?”

She opened her mouth with the intention of saying exactly that. The sane and rational side of her raged against appearing in public like this—even if it were only for six people other than themselves. Yes, she said last week that she wanted to do this—someday. Not now! How could she? But even as the rational side railed inside her head, the wanton side of her wanted this—and not only wanted it, but was pleased that he was proud of her and wanted to show her off. The wanton got the words out first: “I can do this, Master—for you.”