Submission in Seattle (7 page)

Cole pulled up a
comfortable chair.  He placed it in front of her about six feet away and sat
down, which brought her attention back to him.  He waited a few moments to see
if she would remain silent as instructed. Monica was looking approximately at
his feet, which he hoped was a sign of submission.  She was wearing a short
bomber-style jacket over her white top, so the next thing he said was “Thank
you for coming, Little One.  Take off your jacket and place it over the chair
behind you”

Monica complied
and returned to her position in the middle of the room.  Cole was fascinated by
her instinctive submission.  Perhaps she had more experience at this game than
she had admitted.

“Put your hands
behind your head.”

Cole’s line of
sight was drawn inexorably to Monica’s breasts and he studied them intently. 
“Put your arms down,” he said, then “Put them back behind your head”

He noticed that
her breasts did not sag like they should for a 26 year old woman with this kind
of figure.

“What is your bra
size Monica?”

She felt a
delicious wave of humiliation sweep over her and struggled to get out her
answer.  “I’m a 36 C, Master."

“Do you have
breast implants, Little One?”

“No Master!” she
exclaimed.

“Take off your top
and we’ll see about that.  Place it on the chair by your jacket.”

Monica pulled off
her white top by grasping it from the bottom and pulling it over her head. 
After placing it on the chair she resumed her position in front of Cole with
her hands at her sides.

Cole stepped
forward to examine her breasts and brushed some of her beautiful long brown
hair out of the way.  With her arms down, they did sag slightly.  The nipples
were medium size and quite hard already.  They were a beautiful pair, perhaps
the prettiest breasts he had ever seen.  The word perky came to mind, but he
didn’t know if perky could apply to breasts this size.  Perhaps he should mail
the question to the Playboy Advisor, he thought while suppressing a grin.  He
very delicately brushed her nipples with his fingertips and they grew even
harder.

“Put your hands
behind your head again,” he ordered, in his dominant voice which Monica found
both charming and irresistible.

He began to
squeeze and fondle the perfect globes while he inspected them for any surgical
scars.  After a minute or two Monica felt lightheaded from the stimulation and
became slightly unsteady.  The delicious feeling of humiliation wasn’t helping.

“You pass the test
Little One.  Those are the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.  Put your
arms down now and take a deep breath.  Can’t have you passing out now, can we?”

“No, Master.”

Cole sat down
again and tried to take a few deep breaths himself.  Could a potential partner
be too perfect?  He was feeling slightly overwhelmed.

After a short time
he ordered, “Take off your jeans now and place them on the chair."

Monica complied
and resumed her position, now clad in lacy white panties and black high heels. 
On her own initiative, she put her hands behind her head to thrust out her
breasts in the manner that her new Master seemed to like.

Although Cole was
a card-carrying breast man, the view of Monica’s perfectly rounded hips and
flat stomach almost caused his heart to stop.  She had a tattoo over her right
hipbone that he moved forward to examine.  It appeared to be a small naked
woman that might be described as a winged nymph.  It was exquisite, perhaps the
work of a famous tattoo artist.  I’ll have to ask her about it later, he
thought.  Cole moved back to his chair and just looked at her for a few
minutes, drinking in the intoxicating sight.

His inspection of
her body gave the solution to another mystery.  Although she didn’t carry an
ounce of what he would consider excess weight, she was slightly large boned and
firmly muscled beneath her curves.  Her reported weight of one hundred forty
pounds was probably accurate, but most people would guess it to be about twenty
pounds less.  He was delighted that she didn’t resemble the starving fashion
models, but he could understand how she might be worried that she didn’t
measure up to society’s standards.

“Do you lift
weights often, Little One?”

“Yes, Master. 
Three or four times a week.”

“I see.  Take off
your panties and drop them on the floor."

Monica quickly
tossed her panties on the floor behind her, revealing her perfectly shaved
pubis.  Then she replaced her hands behind her head and parted her legs
slightly.

How did she know
that I love a shaved cunt? Cole thought, as he struggled to breathe normally. 
Fortunately, Monica was looking at the floor and was not aware of his
difficulty.

“When did you
start shaving your cunt, Little One?  I don’t recall ordering you to do that.”

“I’ve always done
that sir.  If you don’t like it, I can stop shaving, but it would feel very
strange for me.”

He knew his voice
was shaky as he said, “That won’t be necessary.  Continue to keep yourself
smooth.  It pleases me.”  He noticed that she had a light tan without lines. 
In Seattle that meant about one session on the tanning bed each week. 

Pausing to collect
himself, Cole managed to give his next order calmly, in a deep voice that a
radio announcer would envy.  “I said that you would be punished if you were
late.  We’ll have to take care of that before we can begin your training. 
Kneel on that stool over there, then bend forward and place your palms flat on
the floor.”   His command voice was working well now, he was relieved to see.

Monica thought
that she would faint from the excitement.  None of her previous men had treated
her this way.  It was as if her greatest fantasy was being made into reality and
she hoped it wouldn’t end too soon.  She wondered if her Master would notice
the slight trickle of lubrication starting to drip down the inside of her left
thigh.  Was she allowed to be aroused or would she be punished for it?

Monica moved to a
padded footstool about a foot high and two feet across.  After kneeling with
her knees apart and with her feet dangling off the back of the stool, she bent
forward at the waist to place her palms on the floor.  Her perfect ass was
presented in a most lewd and vulnerable manner.  Her breathing was rapid and
her skin flushed.

Cole tried hard to
ignore his growing erection as he approached her from behind.  “You’ll be
spanked on your bare bottom until I feel you’ve been punished properly for
being late.”  He didn’t know if he had the strength to administer a good
spanking since most of his blood supply seemed to be heading straight for his
cock.

Sneaking a look at
her deliciously dangling breasts, he wanted to reach down and caress their sexy
outer curves, but he pressed down gently on the small of her back and began to
spank her.  In this position, her hips and buttocks formed a classic symbol of
feminine beauty.  She was offering it to him as a gift.

The stinging slaps
were gentle at first, then harder.  Red handprints began to show up on her
lightly tanned skin.  Monica reacted only with a slight intake of breath at
each blow.   Her firm ass muscles soaked up the spanking easily and Cole
realized that he was hurting his hand as much as he was hurting her.

Stepping over to
the closet, he removed a thin wooden paddle that would nicely cover one cheek
at a time.  Measuring his stroke carefully, he struck the lower curve of her
left buttock, then the right.  Her body jerked slightly with each impact, but
she held her position perfectly.  He tuned his senses into Monica and felt that
familiar joining that occurred to him during intense play sessions. 

Monica felt it
too.  She imagined that she was the one spanking a pretty kneeling woman who
thrust her ass out to receive each blow.  Although the woman was Monica
herself, she was perceived as much more beautiful, almost ethereal.  The heat
from her punishment gradually spread through her body.  She felt like she would
explode from the strange sensation that was half deep submission and half
physical lust.

They both lost
track of how many minutes went by or how many blows were struck.  At some
point, without conscious effort, their breathing became synchronized.  When
Monica started having trouble maintaining her position, Cole forced himself to
come back from the strange space that he had entered with her.  Regaining his
senses, he noticed a heavy flow of slippery fluid on Monica’s muscular inner
thighs where the tendons stood out with the strain of holding her position.  He
hadn’t even touched her cunt yet and already she was dripping, he thought. 

Standing up
straight, Cole told her to rise and stand before him.  He gathered her to him
with one hand firmly gripping the hair at the back of her head.  Looking into
her eyes he spoke carefully.  “I’m very impressed with you so far Little One.
I’ve punished you enough for being late.  As a test, I’m going to give you a
choice about what we do next.  You will not be punished for choosing either
way.”

“We can either
begin your training or you can offer your new Master the pleasure of using that
pretty cunt.  Which option do you choose?”

She took a step
back as Cole released his grip on her body and hair.  Kneeling before him with
her hands behind her head and her eyes locked onto his shoes she said, 
“Master, I’d be honored if you would use my cunt for your pleasure.”  Then she
thought to herself, Oh please, oh please, oh please, I need it soooo bad!

He breathed a
silent sigh of relief.  Unless he could get his hormones under control, this
relationship was going to involve more sex than domination.  Maybe that was not
a bad thing, he thought as he escorted Monica to his bedroom down the hall.

She looked around
Cole’s bedroom with great interest.  The fog of lust had dissipated just enough
that she could remember her girlfriend’s theory that you could learn a lot
about a man if you saw his bedroom.  She noticed a king size bed with a padded
frame around the edge.  The handsomely built oak headboard contained some
closed cupboards and several metal fittings that looked suspiciously like
bondage points.  Glancing up at the ceiling, she suppressed a smile when she
noticed the large eye screws embedded in the ceiling at various places.  She
tried not to appear too curious, in case her Master objected.

“Lie on the bed,
face up, in the center,” he ordered.  Taking two pieces of soft rope, he
carefully tied each wrist to the headboard with non-tightening knots.  He then
wrapped lengths of rope several times around each ankle to distribute the
pressure without causing discomfort.   He did not fasten the free ends to
anything just yet.

“Be quiet now and
just enjoy, Little One. I certainly intend to enjoy you,” Cole said as he stood
up to undress.

She took advantage
of the opportunity to study his nude, muscular form in the dim light.   She
knew exactly what she wanted and it was terribly hard to wait.

With her arms
securely fastened about three feet apart to the headboard, Monica could only
lie there and allow her Master to explore her body, which would reveal to him
her most private sexual responses.  She tried not to writhe her hips as Master
kissed her flat stomach around her navel and hip bones.  With a great effort
she was able to hold nearly still while he gave her breasts the most
professional stimulation she had ever experienced.  When he finally removed his
mouth and hands from her glowing teats she would have sworn that they were
steaming from the inner heat.

Monica was afraid
she might faint from extreme sexual desire and she was sure that she would die
if he touched her rock hard nipples again, but still she kept nearly silent.
Only when Master began tying her ankles to the headboard did she start to make
a strange repetitive moaning sound as she imagined what might come next.

When her legs were
pulled all the way back and spread as wide as possible, her Master placed a
pillow under her head so that she had a direct view of her own cunt.  The
strain of the unusual position was not as bad as she would have imagined, but
the sight of her own erect nipples and gaping cuntlips was a visual stimulus
that only increased her sexual tension.  Her hood of her clitoris appeared to
be much larger than normal and she wondered if it could possibly return to its
regular size.