Submissive Desires (6 page)

CaptHawk: You’re welcome. If it wouldn’t be too much of a financial hardship, though, there are always those throwaway cell phones whenever you’re comfortable with the idea. No pressure.

redbotmgirl: You are something, all right. I just haven’t quite figured out what yet.

CaptHawk: I’m relatively harmless, whatever I am. Except when the moment dictates.

redbotmgirl: Okaaaaayyyyyyy . . . One thing she’d noticed about the way he chatted and wrote – it was pretty much emotionless, and she wasn’t sure whether that was bad or good. Was a sociopath likely to show emotion, or just show the emotion he thought his victim wanted to see? she wondered. Her messages were full of “LOL”s and grins and emoticons or smileys.

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His bordered on the dry, although he did question her a lot about her likes and dislikes, she almost always had to ask him whether or not that was what he was interested in. He didn’t provide a lot of feedback – praise or criticism. Maura didn’t know why, though, but she felt drawn to him – perhaps it was his very austerity that drew her. She wasn’t sure.

CaptHawk: So you do like to be spanked . . . and light bondage is okay with you. What do you have in the way of limitations?

redbotmgirl: Sexual limitations?

CaptHawk: Or any personal limitations in general.

redbotmgirl: Hmmmmmm. No drugs.

CaptHawk: Good. I don’t use drugs, nor do I tolerate those who do.

redbotmgirl: Ummmmmmm . . . sexually . . . no bodily fluids – pee, scat.

CaptHawk: DEFINITELY.

redbotmgirl: nothing permanently disfiguring – branding, tattooing, piercing. None of that turns me on.

CaptHawk: Okay.

redbotmgirl: “Okay” as in that doesn’t do anything for you or okay as in you’d be willing to forego it?

CaptHawk: Okay as in an acknowledgement of what you said. I’m not making any judgments at all.

redbotmgirl: You didn’t answer my question.

CaptHawk: I could get into all three of those things, given the right instance and the right submissive. Maura shifted in her comfy chair. Maybe he wasn’t going to turn out to be particularly compatible with her at all.CaptHawk: Anything else?

redbotmgirl: I hate to be tickled – I have extremely sensitive skin and I just can’t tolerate it.

CaptHawk: Tickling has been used as an effective torture in the past.

redbotmgirl: I know. I was probably a victim in another life, which is why I’m so sensitive.

redbotmgirl: What about you? What are you likes and dislikes?

CaptHawk: I dislike discourtesy, thoughtlessness. I like order – and I like to be in control. A place for everything and everything in its – or her – place.

Boy, she could see that in him. He appeared to be a very controlled, controlling, severely closed person. It made her a little uneasy, frankly.

redbotmgirl: You don’t laugh or smile much, do you? Simon sat back in his chair. Well, she’d read him quite well, hadn’t she?

CaptHawk: No, I don’t. I’m a serious, thinking, conscientious person. I’m very detail-oriented, and sometimes my life – and the lives of others – have depended on those very abilities. It doesn’t leave much time for frivolity. Maura consciously didn’t respond back for a moment.

CaptHawk: You are almost my direct opposite. You’re very glib and I bet you smile and speak to strangers in the grocery store or on the street, and you’re very open. I bet you giggle a lot when you have lunch with your girlfriends.

She’d mentioned to him – once and only once – that she had a regular monthly lunch date with some friends. It was almost frightening. He had her personality nailed to an almost eerie extent.

redbotmgirl: Is one of your degrees in psychology?

CaptHawk: Guilty.

redbotmgirl: You are a truly dangerous man.

CaptHawk: In more ways than you’ll hopefully ever have reason to know – but never dangerous to you. Rarely to any woman, in fact, unless she was trying to kill me or was a traitor to the U.S.

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redbotmgirl: Uh-huh I don’t think I qualify on either of those counts, but that still doesn’t much reassure me.

He was startlingly uneasy when he typed his response. CaptHawk: Am I scaring you off?

She knew, that if she allowed herself to believe that he was some sort of spy-type operative, which she had considerable doubts about – that she probably should have been scared off. The hair at the back of her neck was standing up, and she was feeling just a bit queasy. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that it hurt each time it contracted. God, what would it be like if they ever met?

If he truly was the man he said he was – the type of man he portrayed himself to be – then she had the right to be just as apprehensive of him as if he was an axe murderer. The power of his personality, of his strength of will, shone through every bit of communication they’d had. This was a man who would never accept any excuses from the woman who submitted to his discipline. She would either be in compliance, or not be in compliance – and Maura knew with a shudder, without his ever having touched her or even spoken to her – that no submissive wanted to do anything to make this man punish her.

As a disciplinarian, he would be slow, methodical, and entirely merciless. He would see any sign of rebellion or failure to obey as a sign of disrespect for him and his command, as if the poor sub had enlisted rather than just submitted.

CaptHawk: ?

Her response, whatever it was going to be, was taking a little too long for Simon’s comfort. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, and he certainly wouldn’t to anyone else, but he intended to tame Miss Maura Elizabeth Boardman to his well-trained hand, one way or the other. He wanted more from her than he’d wanted from any woman in his life, and it scared the shit out of him, which is probably why he was being almost totally unemotional with her. Emotions were dicey at best, and he didn’t trust his or anyone else’s. He put his faith in what he could see, feel, hear, and smell. Cold, hard evidence – evidence of submission, of desire, of unadulterated pain . . .

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He was hard as a rock, as he always seemed to be during these discussions of theirs, even the first night when it had been a pretty innocent conversation. It had been her light, bubbly personality as she chatted and teased back and forth with the people in the chat room that had attracted him at first – that along with her nick. Simon had always had a thing for spanking – punishment spanking.

As they’d corresponded over these months, he’d slowly drawn her out about what she liked –

sexually and otherwise - before calmly asking her about her dislikes this evening. He knew that she had a wide range of tastes in music from Toby Keith to Eminem, whom he personally eschewed, that she enjoyed cooking and considered herself a QVC Queen, and that she occasionally overindulged in both jewelry and perfumes.

Personally, beyond his automatic concerns for her bank accounts, he liked both of those things on a woman, most especially the perfume. He didn’t like to see a woman’s hand with a ring on every finger, but a few rings here and there only added to a woman’s allure. But scent – he was extremely interested in scents, and just a walk by a perfume counter at Lord and Taylor or Bloomies would have him buying something in a big bag just so he could hold it in front of him to cover his erection while he walked. He adored pressing his lips to that spot right beneath her ear after they’d both worked all day and just drinking in the potent combination of woman-scent mixed with whatever floral or spicy scent she’d worn that day.

And Maura had long hair, she’d told him. It was the only physical description question he’d asked her, and he really hadn’t even needed that because he had the information from her license and her DMV

picture.

Long hair was almost a fetish with him – or as close to a fetish as he allowed himself – it was right up there with perfume. And Maura’s brownish-blonde hair waved past her shoulders. She was quite pleasant looking, despite how horribly most drivers’ license photos came out.

He sincerely hoped that she wouldn’t hold his lack of emotion – his restraint – against him.

redbotmgirl: You make me uneasy, in general. And, frankly, I don’t know that I necessarily believe that you do what you say you do. It is a bit mythical, isn’t it?

CaptHawk: Well, I find it’s easier to tell the truth when I can – or as close to the truth as I can, considering my line of work – than to keep track of lies.

His philosophy was almost exactly the same as hers. It gave her another chill.redbotmgirl: I happen to agree with that – but there are few on the Internet that would join us in our disgusting honesty.

CaptHawk: I’m sure.

Eventually, she did go out and buy a throwaway cell phone, not mentioning it until she’d gotten it established and charged and had gotten some minutes into her account. She gave him the number in chat one night, and, although she didn’t always keep the phone on, she’d gotten voice mail and caller id. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t even attempted to call her, and Maura wasn’t sure whether or not she was glad about that.

He asked her permission to call in chat one night, and asked her to give him a time when it would be convenient for her to talk to him. She – again – let him know just how amazed she was by his behavior, and told him to call her the next night at seven or so.

Maura sat next to the phone from six-thirty on, some times wishing he’d call early, other times wishing he wouldn’t call at all. What was she doing, taking another step closer to meeting this somewhat dour, harsh man?

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She knew precisely where this path was leading – to his bed.

Seven on the dot, the cell phone rang.

What if he sounded like Mickey Mouse? What if he was pulling a Cyrano and someone else had been writing his missives? What if he was a psycho stalker-type and he somehow found out who she was and where she lived?

She answered it on the fourth ring, just before it was set to click over to voice mail. “Hello?”

“May I please speak to Elizabeth?”

His voice was just as she’d imagined – deep and dark like good, hot fudge. “This is she.”

“Elizabeth, this is Simon. It’s very nice to talk to you.”

She cleared her throat in a nervous habit he wouldn’t recognize. “It’s nice to talk to you, too.”

“Were you away from the phone?”

The man noticed everything. “No, I was right next to it,” she replied tellingly.

“Couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted to answer it?” There was an almost smile in his voice.

Maura flushed, glad he couldn’t see her. “Uh, yeah, something like that.”

“I shall endeavor to make you feel more comfortable.”

Maura chuckled. She couldn’t help it. She knew he was trying to help ease her nervousness, but it came out just the way she’d come to expect from him – stolid and serious.

“Did I say something amusing?”

That only made her laugh more. “Ahhhhh, Simon. You are exactly as you presented yourself in your letters and chat, aren’t you?”

“Depends,” he answered cautiously. He liked the sound of her laughter, and how readily she did it. That was not his nature, but he admired it in others. “Is that good, or bad?”

Another giggle. “It’s neither. It’s just you.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Still obviously smiling, “You go right ahead.”

“Thank you for answering, by the way,” solemn and somber.

“You’re welcome. I had to - my curiosity got the better of me.”

“Mmmmm. So you’re the curious sort, are you?”

“On occasion.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that there’s much that gets by you, regardless.”

A soft, almost soundless chuckle. “You’re probably right. I can’t help it. Too much time in the military, among other things.”

“That would do it, I would think.”

“How goes your writing?”

“Fine – how goes your consulting?”

“Fine.”

“Well, we’re just scintillating, aren’t we?” she commented wryly.

Simon smiled, but then she couldn’t see it. “Did you take my advice and look into some online universities?” he asked.

He’d never gotten off the kick of trying to get her to go back to school, which she staunchly held that she had no interest in doing.

“No.”

“Well, that was short and sweet. Why not?” he shot back.

“Because I don’t wanna.”

Nothing. Silence . . . an uncomfortably long silence, then in a grumbling timbre that made Maura melt with its quiet command, “Is that a pout I’m hearing?”

30

Sometimes she could fall into “submissive mode” very quickly and easily, sometimes she fought it.

More often than not, she fought it. “Yes . . . Sir.” Somehow, it sounded very right to call him “Sir.”

He didn’t immediately acknowledge her use of that respectful term. “I don’t like pouting.”

“Yes, Sir.” Was that her sounding so unusually meek and mild?

“Elizabeth?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to tell you to do something, and you, of course, have free will as to whether or not you do it. We have not discussed where our relationship – such as it is - is going, but, as far as I’m concerned, if you do what I tell you to do this time, I will consider that as a sign that you are amenable to submitting to me in other ways and in other . . . matters.”

“And what do you want me to do, dare I ask?” Maura figured it was going to be something sexual

– to describe to him what she looked like or what she was wearing, or maybe to bring him off over the phone.

But she could not have been further off. “I want you to spend some time online finding out about going back to school – I believe that the University of Phoenix has some excellent programs if you would be interested in doing it online rather than more traditionally.”

Maura hesitated. “You’re asking that I do something that I have absolutely no interest in.”

He didn’t hesitate one bit in replying, “And, should our relationship progress that far, I would occasionally do so in the future. Would you disobey because you were asked to do something that you didn’t want to do?”