Natural Submission: Book 1 of the Submission Series

by Caldwell, Cordelia

  Never able to resist poking the bear a little, an agitator? Who him? “First eggs, now dinner, when did all this go down?”

  “I’ve always been able to cook a few things Karl, just not as well as you. But you're ill now, so you’ll just have to make due. This morning I fried eggs and bacon, this afternoon it was sandwiches and this evening -”

  “This evening -” he answered.

  “Chicken thighs.” Taking them from the package she placed them on the tray with a little salt and pepper and put them in the oven.

  A very enlightening conversation ensued: But wasn't she going to do such and such? No. But didn't she know she could season them with such and such? No. But with a little more effort she could do so and so - didn't she care? Apparently not. See, she explained, it was these things that separated him from her. His “cooking style” from hers.

  Where were his pills anyway? Oh, OK, this was her way of putting him to bed, he saw how it was now.

  The chicken was soft and moist, the skin crisp and after devouring 4 of the of the thighs, she had not bothered with a vegetable (savage little thing-unless he wanted something from a can?) she helped him climb back up the stairs and lie down. “Don’t you want to use the shower again?”

  “Yes, I’ll get up in a couple hours and do it. Can you just leave me a towel at the foot of the bed?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks Francine.”

  “No problem.” She said with a smile as she helped him peel off his shirt and tucked the blankets in around him, trying to ignore all of that solidly build muscle and smooth skin. There’s the ‘ol libido, she thought, rising up at the worst possible times. Before she knew what he was about he grabbed her arm and pulled her close, his eyes intent.

  “No, thank you Francine,” his eyes had a strange vulnerability. “You were always my brave girl. You’ve got to be the strongest, most courageous person I know.”

  “yeah, right.” She said trying to brush him off, but she could feel a tear prickling.

  “No, I mean it. “ He said. “ I don’t deserve... but your. Anyway... thank you.” His eyes were so heavy he could barely keep them open.

  “You're welcome.” she said and before she closed the door she heard him mumble something that sounded suspiciously like - I love you. Huh?

  Those must be some good drugs.

  Chapter 29

  Her kitchen smelled like the cabin, the smell stopped Francine in her tracks. Karl’s ankle was no longer wrapped and he was standing in front of her stove with two sauce pans going. The smell was heavenly. There was food all around and as she approached, he was caramelizing white onions in one pan while in another was a delicious gravy and mushroom. Soon she knew, he would mix the two together in a wonderful sauce. Not being able to help herself she peeked in a covered pan and saw, “fillet mignon?” Her favorite, not his (she remembered he always like the rib eye) she looked up at him stuttering again, “Master, ah, Karl.” Too late. The pleased expression on his face said it all. After clearing her throat, “Where did all this food come from?”

  “Rita.” He answered moving about to cut up more vegetables. The rest had done him a world of good. You barely noticed he was limping now and the swelling had gone down on his face. He had removed all of his bandages and eventually the scarring would heal. His hands preparing the food were capable and sure. It was almost like being in the kitchen centered him, focused him. Seeing him caress and prepare the ingredients made her think about how talented those hands were in other ways and this made her very nervous indeed. He was already looking more like the powerful, confident man she’d known almost eight months ago, and what was really scary, acting like it. His presence filled the room already, and soon he’d fill the whole house, she just knew it. She should try to establish some boundaries, now, before it was too late. Telling him no had never been her strong suit, but she had to start somewhere.

  “Rita?” She responded. “Karl...” Rita was her maid and worked for her, already he was taking over.

  “I just explained to her that I was here visiting and that you needed a couple things.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I gave her some money and she was very concerned about your diet just like I am. She was more than happy to pick up a couple things at the store for you.” Francine let out a sigh of frustration and stomped over to pour herself a glass of wine. When she opened the cabinet, a full array of whites, blushes and reds greeted her. “The Cabernet on the left is very good with a fillet.”

  Francine snapped around “K, Karl -”

  “Are you about to raise your voice to me Francine?” He asked all of a sudden going all Dom on her. The room became very quiet.

  That’s when Francine remembered the last time she had raised her voice at him, in the kitchen back at the cabin...

  She was on her knees on a dish cloth on the tiled floor her head bowed in slave pose, her hands roped behind her back knees slightly parted. She couldn't remember what had caused her to yell at him except that she had began to get more comfortable with him. She had not meant to raise her voice, not exactly, it’s just that it was important that he listen to her!

  He had warned her he would be using toys on her more often, but this, she was so swollen, so sensitive, how long could he keep this up? He walked back and forth from the table clearing their few dirty dishes, rinsing them off and putting them up to dry as she whimpered next to him.

  “You are to kneel and think about your inappropriate tone when addressing your Master while I clean the kitchen this evening Francine. Remember, you are here to please me and give me comfort. I’m not sure how that’s possible when your yelling at me like a shrew. From her position on the floor she saw a well defined muscle in his elbow flex. Oh no not again. Between her legs right on her clit was situated a delicate vibrator that activated, not nearly enough to set her off, but just enough to stimulate. Her pussy was filled with a firm dildo that was rigid and felt about as close to skin as she could ever remember a dildo feeling, it too began to move slow circles inside her.

  “Master please -.”

  “No, Francine, no begging.” After a time he shut off the stimulation, giving her another “rest period” while he walked to the bedroom, and then back their small kitchen table to collect the last of their dishes. By this time she was soooo sorry, for whatever it was she had done. “I will not deal with any type of obstreperous behavior from you. You my lovely little submissive are here to please.” To accent his point he had turned on the evil little device again and it began it’s movements once again at her core twisting inside her.

  Not able to use her words she began to rub herself against his jean clad leg, shamefully begging with her body. “Mmmm, I like that.” He said, she could hear the satisfaction thick in his voice. “That’ll do nicely. Keep your noises behind your lips as you take your discipline.”

  “Yes sir.” she panted out. The device went off again. She rested her head against his leg as he continued washing and finishing the dishes, her hips undulating helplessly.

  When the last one was wiped down and set to dry he turned off the device and hunched down next to her, “Look at me Francine.” She did, trying not to twitch in slave pose, continuing to make frustrated noises while looking into his dark compelling eyes. His thumb hovered over the device and he pushed it one more time watching her squirm. This time when he shut it off her body halved like someone had punched her in the stomach.

  “Straighten that spine now Francine.” he said. “And chest out.” he said.

  “Yes sir.” She said, arching as best she could, afraid not to, as she tried to keep an eye on his thumb and the evil little button. He took his shirt off revealing his heavily muscled chest and pulled her against him. He smelled so divine, like musk and the familiar faintly rugged aftershave. He masculine aroma threatened to set her off even more. “You're doing very well, so you may make whatever noises you like now.”

  “Yes sir.” she responded in defeat
arching against him, attuned to whatever he would have her do next. He ran his hand over her pushed out breast, both hands cupping them and squeezing them before starting the device again and working them some more. With her hands still trapped at the small of her back there was nothing she could do to help her bear up under the intense arousal coursing through her body. She tried looking at the ceiling, at the kitchen sink anything to distract her, again the device ceased it’s stimulation and she felt his lubed fingers, oh no - Remember what I said about that asshole of yours Francine?” He began to rub the lubed finger gently against her asshole. Slow circles around it and then inserting one gently, she gasped. “I’m not hurting you am I?”

  “No sir.” She answered honestly.

  “Oh Francine, you have such a lovely asshole, so tight, it always brings you a lot of pleasure doesn't it?” And with that, before she could answer, he turned on the device again while gently inserting his finger, massaging it. He had not worked her quite this way before. It wasn't long before her whole body convulsed in a powerful orgasm that included her probed rectum, squeezing his finger. Before him she had no idea such a thing was even possible, but it was. Oh my god, who was this man?

  Her body was loose now and spent. He loosened the ropes and placed her arms around his neck removing the devices from around her intimate areas and carrying her to the bedroom where he placed her face down on the bed elevating her hips by placing a pillow beneath them. “Come up on your knees and spread your butt cheeks for me Francine.” Something in her wanted to say no, but she was still feeling aftershocks and hazy from her orgasm, so docilely she did as he asked.

  She felt something small but firm enter her snug rectum still trembling from her orgasm and smooth from the lube, and become lodged there. She whimpered, but was unresisting. “Good girl.” He murmured before reaching beneath her to palm and squeeze her breast. She felt his naked body now against hers. His warm heavy muscles, his dark masculine scent, the smell of her own arousal, she lost herself to it all and as he pulled at her nipples her breath sped up. By the time his hand found it’s way back between her legs to softly manipulate her achy clit, and swollen flesh she was more than ready to please him again. He used his belly to push against her bottom to give the plug a chance to work the newly awakened nerves in her ass. He heard her whimper helplessly.

  “Good girl, your such a good girl Francine.” She heard him rumble over and over in his melodic seductive voice. He positioned his sheathed cock at her door, then pushed inside of her in one heavy thrust. He filled her, barely giving her time to adjust before he worked her swollen pussy.

  Francine felt her body began to fill with pleasure as he went from a slow massage to gently pinching her clit. Francine’s body arched and before long she was spinning into another orgasm, breaking apart on the inside. She shook so hard she was afraid she’d never be able to stop. He worked her until she was exhausted and collapsed beneath him, run out like a wet dish rag.

  ...are you about to raise your voice to me? His words echoed in her head bringing Francine back to the present. This was not the cabin in the woods, but her farmhouse in Virginia.

  All of a sudden none of that seemed to matter and everything else fell away except the two of them, and the smell of his familiar food cooking and the familiar level steady weight of his dark gaze.

  He reached above her for the wine and she felt the familiar warmth radiating from his body and a familiar heat answered, pooled in her center. He pulled her close and his mouth was hot, wet and his tongue stroked her, melted her core, pulled a response from deep inside her. He pushed one muscled thigh between both of hers and she began a slow mindless grind against him. He pulled back, her lips were wet, swollen, “Hmmm, tempting, but you’ll let me finish dinner first won't you, and then we’ll talk.” Her head was swam as he set her aside.

  “Don’t drop that bottle of wine.” his voice was still dark, but gentle, “It’s a rare Malbec, rich and fragrant; open it and pour us a couple of glasses, let me grant you your pleasure.” Your pleasure, your pleasure -

  “Yes sir.” she breathed out. Oh shit, where the hell had that come from?

  * * *

  It was a fragrant and delectable meal, he plated it like something out of a magazine. The fillet was piled “high and tight” on a bed of fluffy garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus and blanketed with the caramelized onions and mushrooms. The meat was cooked medium rare to perfection and the flavors married with the wine he chose in such a way that she thought she might die of pleasure. She had not eaten this way since - well, since she had been with him last. She chewed slow enjoying the sensual pleasure of the soft meat to it’s last bite. In between sips of wine he allowed her to ask any question she had about the slave operation.

  “And your truck? What happened to it?”

  “The 150?” he responded. “I gave it to someone who needed it more than me.” and he left it at that taking another sip of wine. The woman he had given it cried tears of gratitude as she accepted it driving off to a fresh start.

  After all he had told her Francine was not sure what to make of that answer and decided it was getting really late regardless. His thoughts had turned inward and it was all so much to absorb, having him back, meeting his mother, hearing his story. She climbed down from her seat and walked their plates around the island to the sink coming back for their wine glasses and napkins before feeling him reach out and pull her close, bringing her between his legs, against his warm muscled body. “I don’t like the layout of this kitchen Francine. How can I enjoy a submissive’s naked body in my arms after dinner when you have an island and high top chairs instead of a normal table and chairs?” Before she could answer he slid off his seat and swooped down taking her mouth in a hungry primal kiss.

  He bit gently at her lips, pulling her off the floor against him bowing her back, forcing her to lean against him, pushing her against the island. He pushed his hands under her thin blouse breaking the kiss off, moving to her neck where he sucked and nipped at her delicate flesh, again she felt arousal spiking her core, “You have too many clothes on Angel.” he said huskily running his hands over her jeans.

  “Karl-”

  “Master,” he rasped out hungry with need “watch it, you're still mine.” to accentuate the point he reached between her legs and squeezed possessively, she whimpered pushing against him.

  “Master-” she started again, her hands found his shoulders.

  “Mmmm...” Humming in satisfaction he took her mouth again in another wet kiss pulling her close, moving his big hand to her bottom, the other hand finding her breast in her bra and squeezing possessively, but this time she broke it off.

  “Master, please...” she said desperately and then. “...yellow!” She felt him slow - a bit. “Red.” At once he stopped and allowed her to stand.

  She looked up at his shocked expression as he realized, yes, she was serious. She was seriously using her safe word. Then he looked at her, really looked at her, there was longing in her eyes, heat, but she was different than the woman he’d left months ago.

  She was confident like a freighter in a smooth sea, not like the shaky dingy he’d first brought to the cabin. He felt uncertain all of a sudden and he realized now he’d never really had to be cautious of her before. The tone of his voice seized her heart “Didn’t you miss me?” Francine seized her advantage and moved around the island before stumbled to the other side adjusting her disheveled clothing. “When you run it makes me want to chase you.”

  “Please don’t”. She said meekly.

  “You know I like to hunt.” She stopped and turned to face him on the other side of the island, his eyes held the intensity of his lust and that of a predator denied his prey.

  “Please stop.” Even now she was so wet, aroused, it was all she could do to hold it together. The look on his face, the temptation to go to him, to comfort and please him was like nothing else she had ever experienced, but she couldn't just erase the last months, the way they h
ad met, the whole thing. She didn't know this man, had never known this man. Didn't they deserve some kind of foundation? When he was touching her she couldn't think. Even now it was so hard to put into words what she wanted to say. Why was it so hard?

  His shocked expression turned to confusion, than hurt. “OK.” he said, his expression inscrutable. Then without saying anything else he turned to go upstairs.

  She wanted to call him back, but the words froze in her throat, then tears burned her eyes. She turned and looked out her bay window across the lawn and garden. She listened to his footsteps as they went up the stairs, to his room and the quiet sound of his door as it shut.

  Chapter 30

  Francine went outside like a woman in a daze grabbing a light blanket from the sofa as she padded to the back deck and sat down in the evening cool. Her heart still fluttered against her ribs and her panties were uncomfortably damp, but she had said no, she had actually said no to the strange enigmatic man who had taken and collared her for months in a secluded, and isolated cabin in the woods.

  She leaned her head back on the edge of the outdoor iron swing pulling the soft woven blanket up around her. For months she had belonged completely to him, unable to resist, unsure of what the future would hold; not even able to call him by his real name and then he had left her. Uncollared her out of the blue, and he had made damn sure she didn't have a picture or anything to remember him by.

  Now she was sure, it was to protect that damn fine family name he was so determined to look after; now that he was here. Back from “outer space” as the song goes. Thinking of the rest of the lyrics made Francine want to giggle in spite of herself. Is that where those songs came from?