His Perfect Submissive

by Alyssa Aaron

  The admission knocked the breath out of him. He gazed down at her head nestled trustingly against his chest as the desire to make everything right for her overwhelmed him.

  He tightened his arms around her, understanding her pain but not knowing how else to help.

  "The rape—destroyed my family. My dad—died. My mom anesthetized herself with prescription drugs and booze. I did my best to pretend it hadn't happened then and I don't want to talk about it now."

  "I understand, honey,” he said through the wave of protectiveness that swept him. The knowledge that she'd been abandoned with her pain intensified his desire to see her smile.

  "I cried because the memories hurt. They always hurt."

  "I get it now,” he said softly. “I'm sorry, I didn't understand before.” He stroked her hair. “I didn't know how traumatic the rape was or how painful it would still be to talk about. It happened a long time ago, and I thought maybe it would have mellowed some.” He sighed. “If I could go back and not hurt you I would, but I can't go back."

  He stroked his fingers over her cheekbones, his attention snared by the strength of the bone structure beneath the softness of her skin. Her appearance and demeanor were misleading, he decided as he contemplated her. She looked soft, sweet, but he knew there was an underlying toughness to her that he admired.

  He could only imagine the pain and loneliness she would have felt when, at seven, she'd essentially been left alone to figure out how to cope with the brutality of an attack that would have made even less sense to her then. He let his gaze meet and hold hers, as the love and the protectiveness he felt for her surged within him.

  "I will understand if being married is too painful or if sexual intimacy hurts too much and you want out. I will let you go if it's what you want, but it's not what I want Kara.” He stroked her hair and gazed down into her upturned face, finding himself mesmerized by the eyes that looked up, meeting his with an openness that hadn't been there before.

  "I love you honey.” He let his words sink in as he let his gaze caress her with the love he felt. He wanted her to know that he wanted her to stay because he loved her. “If you stay you have my word, I won't ask for sex or your submission until you tell me you want it."

  Kara sighed and closed her eyes. He could feel the tightness that had never really left her, easing from her body. For a minute he wondered if he'd misread the situation. Maybe she did want to be free of him and she was relaxing because he had said he'd let her go if that's what she wanted. Maybe marriage would be too painful, too filled with unhappy reminders.

  "Our marriage doesn't make me unhappy Slade,” she began slowly. “Making love doesn't either. At first I thought it would feel like being raped again—but it wasn't like that. It didn't feel anything like that—"

  She lifted her face and looked up at him. “Being with you is the first time since—” He watched her swallow, noticing how her gaze dropped to his chest and then traveled upward again. “It's the first time since I was raped that I haven't felt completely alone.” She met his gaze fully and for the first time since he'd known her and didn't flinch away.

  "Even last night, when I was at my absolute worst you didn't leave me. You stayed. You held me. You don't know how much you being there, holding me helped.” She swallowed hard. “I cried, but not because you hurt me, more because the memory of the rape was so overwhelming.

  Kara's heart expanded with joy as he held her. She found it hard to believe he loved her. He was so much stronger than she was that she felt fragile by comparison. Yet when she stood next to him, and he cradled her against his length she felt whole and complete.

  More than anything else, he made her feel safe. Even when he refused to allow her to skirt painful issues his presence made her feel safe.

  "I love you,” she whispered as she burrowed closer to him, loving the sensation of warmth and safety as his arms closed tightly around her, anchoring her to his strength.

  "I don't want to leave and we don't have to give up sex. All I really need is you to love me and I'll be okay."

  "Shhh—that's a sweet sentiment,” he said softly, “but I want you to take some time and really think about what you need. We have all the time in the world to figure out sex."

  A sharp shaft of love stabbed her heart and seeped through her, spreading a tide of warmth and contentment. She gazed past Slade's shoulder toward the snow-covered town.

  For the first time in twenty years she felt as if everything would be okay, as if this year, Christmas would finally live up to its promise.

  "The town is beautiful isn't it?” Kara asked her voice filled with awe as she watched the snow fall past the street lights that illuminated the heavy flakes. Christmas lights twinkled in shop windows and the sounds of Christmas music filled the night adding to the beauty she saw.

  Slade followed her line of vision and gazed at the picturesque town spread out before them. He watched as large flakes of snow cascaded down, their frothy edges catching and reflecting the light cast by the street lamps. “It's like something off a Christmas card."

  He turned his gaze back to Kara, watching as flakes of snow brushed her cheeks and clung momentarily to her eyelashes before being blinked away. He had always thought she was pretty but she was strikingly beautiful with the sadness that had clung to her replaced with something brighter, happiness maybe—or hope. He wasn't sure, except that her eyes seemed brighter, her skin more radiant.

  "It is very pretty, but it's not even close to how beautiful you are right now.” He brushed a thumb over the softness of her cheek. “You look happier than I've ever seen you."

  "I am happy,” she whispered.

  "Good. I want you to be happy honey,” he said as he bent to kiss her.

  He kissed her slowly, without hurry. The leisurely caress of his mouth reiterated his promise that he wouldn't demand more than she was ready to give. His mouth explored the line and texture of her lips, his tongue touching, tasting, and teasing its way around her mouth at a deliberate snail's pace. He moved his mouth slowly, not wanting to give her any cause for alarm.

  He'd meant what he'd said. He'd give her all the time she wanted. He wouldn't hurry her.

  The leisurely tenderness of his kiss mirrored the gentleness and patience he intended to show her in their marriage. His tongue stroked her lips with unhurried deliberation as it coaxed admittance from them. Finally she opened her mouth for him, accepting the caress of his tongue inside her mouth as well as outside. Passion coursed through him, heating him, making him think of tangled sheets and entwined legs, but he held himself in check. He might want to hustle her to the cabin and make love to her, but he wouldn't. He kept his promises.

  He deepened the kiss, the strokes of his tongue becoming slower and more languid as he savored the warm slickness of her mouth and the sweet cocoa flavor that remained from the hot chocolate she'd had with dinner.

  Kara was awed by the gentleness of Slade's kisses. He'd kissed her before, always with respect, and tenderness but never like this, never with so much reverence that her knees felt weak.

  This kiss was like gentle, patient, lovemaking that involved nothing more than the mating of their mouths.

  The kiss made her breasts ache. She trembled within the circle of his arms feeling overwhelmed by his tenderness.

  His tongue stroked her mouth slowly, the touch strangely reassuring even as it ignited desire that pooled warm and tight within her belly. The press of his mouth against hers sought her acquiescence to his tender domination.

  She surrendered to his gentle possession. She rose to her tiptoes, opening her mouth to the probing strokes of his tongue. He responded to her capitulation by engaging her tongue in an erotic slow dance that made her center quiver and her breasts throb.

  He was excruciatingly patient, his tongue flicking hers, in silent invitation. Hers answered, brushing shyly against his. She melted under the reverent gentleness of the kiss, surrendering her anxiety, to the stronger bond of trust that bou
nd her to him.

  When at last their eager mouths shifted apart Slade lifted his head and gazed down at Kara. Her lips were puffy and pink where his mouth had brushed hers. The sense of trepidation that had always shadowed her eyes before was gone and her gaze was filled with a new warmth that heightened his spirits and made him want to kiss her again.

  Nothing in his sexual repertoire had prepared him for the power of the kiss or for the warm contentment that filled him in its aftermath. He'd never kissed in a way that combined poignant emotion and the need to dominate with exquisite tenderness.

  "That was some kiss,” he said, softly.

  Kara snuggled against him. “I didn't know it could be like that—so gentle—"

  Slade drew her closer, pulling her into tighter contact, giving her the tenderness he knew she needed. He knew the brutality of the rape followed by the emotional abandonment of her family had left her emotionally destitute and that it would take a lot of affectionate gentle moments to even begin to compensate for what had been denied in childhood. Yet, he swore that over the weeks, months, and years of their marriage he would find and fill all the spaces that had been left empty when she was a child.

  He knew she would need massive amounts of patience and commitment to build even her ability to trust. Even then, he knew it might be a long time before she trusted him enough to submit completely.

  Even when he'd earned her trust and earned her submission she'd continue to need a lot from him. Her background had left her wounded and emotionally needy. He'd need to give her steady affection, unwavering commitment, and a tender, loving form of dominance.

  Her submission, when she was ready to give it, would be all the more sweet because it would be born of a deep trust, painstakingly built and nurtured. It wouldn't be the submission of someone wanting to play a role for a time, but would be real submission born of her trust and devotion to him.

  Chapter 18

  "Thanks for a great evening,” Kara said softly as Slade opened the cabin door, flicking on the light as he allowed her to precede him into the welcome warmth of the cabin.

  "You're welcome, honey,” he answered smiling down at her. “I had a nice time too.” She thought for a moment he intended to kiss her. His eyes were focused on her mouth and he was close enough, his body almost touching hers, but the moment passed leaving her disappointed.

  The silence in the cabin and the untried changes in their relationship left Kara feeling awkward and strangely melancholy. She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on a hook near the door.

  She was jittery and unsettled as she stood in the center of the cabin's small living room, her arms wrapped around her middle. “Still cold Honey?” Slade asked as he toed his shoes off and kicked them into line beside hers atop the rug near the door. “I'm still a little cold from being outside but I'll warm up."

  "Would you like me to light a fire?” he asked looking down at her with a gaze that had her mind spinning with images of them making love on the large pine bed.

  She smiled. “A fire would be perfect. I'd love it."

  "There's a bottle of blackberry brandy in the refrigerator. Would you mind fixing us a couple glasses while I light the fire?” Slade asked.

  "I wouldn't mind at all,” she answered as he knelt and began laying kindling in the fireplace grate.

  Her thoughts spun as she opened the refrigerator and sought out the brandy. She had enjoyed the Christmas festival and the evening spent more as friends than lovers. Their exchanges had been warm, friendly, and even subtly romantic but true to his word, Slade had not pushed the issue of sex or brought up his desire for her submission. He'd kissed her a few times. He'd held her hand, held her close when she'd shivered, but his touches had been friendly, not demanding or sexual.

  She mentally reviewed the events of the evening, trying to figure out why she felt disappointed and distant when she'd so thoroughly enjoyed their evening together.

  She'd loved everything about the sleigh ride they'd taken around the town square. She'd been delighted by the jingle of the bells on the horse's harness and the slight woosh as the sleigh glided through the newly accumulated snow. The snowflakes that drifted down, sticking to their faces had only added to her enjoyment. She'd been charmed by the glow of Christmas lights that hung from roofs, trees, and windows creating a virtual fairyland of lights.

  She'd felt treasured by Slade. He'd held her close to him, and when she'd shivered he'd taken a quilt from a box in the sleigh and unfolded it, bundling it around her.

  After their sleigh ride he'd suggested they head into the shops to warm up. She'd had a good time helping him shop for Christmas gifts. She'd enjoyed watching his brow furrow in concentration as he tried to decide whether Tinker Toys or Legos would make the better gift for his youngest nephew Theo. Her mind had been snared by the imagined images of Slade and Theo, lying on the carpet, their heads together as they built Tinker Toy Skyscrapers and Lego trains.

  She'd enjoyed the small yarn shop where she'd purchased several skeins of deep burgundy and cream yarn. She'd appreciated Slade's patience as she'd wandered the narrow passages comparing various types and colors of yarn, touching practically every skein in the store, and selecting and putting back no less than six times before she'd finally made her purchase.

  Slade had been attentive, polite, and warm, but hadn't mentioned sex or treated her in any way that would make her think that sex was on his agenda anytime soon. As she poured generous tumblers of the sweet smelling brandy the only explanation she could come up with for the disconnection and melancholy she felt was that she missed the sexual pull that had existed between them before Slade had decided she needed more time.

  She sighed deeply as she recapped the brandy and returned it to the refrigerator. Frustration curled deep in her center. She didn't need time to come to terms with sex, or to learn that she liked feeling submissive to Slade. She'd discovered that morning that she could enjoy making love. She also knew that there had been a deep sense of well being associated with submission. She'd been astounded by the near euphoria she'd felt when she'd finally given in and trusted Slade, focusing on following his instructions, letting the sound of his voice and his directions drown out her own fears.

  She wanted to feel the deep tranquility again, and to hold onto it longer this time. Since he'd decided to be patient and give her time to get her mind wrapped around the idea of having sex he'd been protective and attentive to her needs but there hadn't been even a hint of dominance. She realized she missed the part of him he'd pushed into hiding for her benefit.

  She appreciated him giving her time and being patient but she wanted sex, she wanted to experience the wonder of surrendering herself to Slade and the passion he ignited. She wanted to feel again the sensation of cresting tension and the explosion of ecstasy that had followed it. She wanted to savor the rush when color and sensation erupted and cascaded over her, showering her in bliss.

  More than sex she wanted to experience the deep sense of well being that had come with surrendering to Slade. Yet, when she thought of some of the internet sites she'd seen when she was looking for information on dominance and submission her chest constricted.

  She wanted Slade's dominance but she didn't want the rough treatment she'd seen on some of the sites and in some of the groups that were devoted to dominance and submission and bdsm. She didn't know whether bdsm and dominance and submission were the same thing or whether they were all parts of something different.

  She wanted to submit to Slade but she didn't want the torture and humiliation that had been depicted on some of the sites she'd seen. Slade had said there was no submission without her accepting spankings. Did that mean—?

  She blanched at remembered images of cowed women with angry red welts criss-crossing their bottoms and legs and others with needles jutting out of various parts of their bodies. She didn't want torture and humiliation. She wanted love, protection, safety, and warmth.

  She sighed, her head beginning to ache.
The new parameters of their relationship had helped her relax and had allowed her time to sort out some of her feelings, but she remained confused.

  She missed the intimacy of their old relationship. She wanted to submit to Slade's control again, to test the feelings to see if she felt the same deep sense of well being she'd felt the first time she'd surrendered to him.

  Shrugging off the strange feelings she picked up the tumblers of brandy and carried them back to the living room. Slade had just lit the kindling and was carefully arranging logs on the grate when she sat down on the loveseat in front of the fire.

  She set the glasses of brandy on the coffee table in front of her and pulled her legs up beneath her. She felt tense and slightly nervous as she watched the rhythmic play of muscles across Slade's broad back and shoulders as he positioned the last few pieces of wood. Just the sight of his broad shoulders and the hint of male power she knew hid beneath the thick folds of his sweater made her body tighten and moisten with awareness.

  At last he pulled the screen across in front of the fire and straightened. She watched his movements, feeling her chest constrict in mingled anticipation and anxiety as he ambled toward the loveseat.

  Unfamiliar yearning combined with edginess making her tingle with awareness as Slade sat down next to her. His thigh brushed hers as he sat.

  She jerked at the unexpected contact and the deep and unanticipated stab of sexual desire that ricocheted through her. Slade slipped his arm along the back of the seat, behind her head. She felt the tender stroke of his fingers on the side of her neck and turned her face toward him.

  She raised her gaze to his, her gaze seeking the familiar solidness as a tide of unfamiliar and confusing feelings tumbled through her. She swallowed hard trying to make sense out of the confusing mass. It seemed inconceivable that after so many years spent avoiding men she wanted to be atop Slade, his body joined intimately with hers. Yet that is precisely what she wanted.

  Tangled feelings and images unfolded in picture form in her mind's eye. She imagined herself atop Slade's powerful body, as she'd been that morning. Her head was thrown back, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders and partially covering her breasts as she alternately rose and sank burying Slade's shaft deep within her with each downward thrust of her body.