The Accidental Sub

by Crane, G. Stuart

  The trip was mostly uneventful except for watching her reactions as I picked up some produce. She would not ask in public but she had to be wondering whether was this for consumption or was I going to use the vegetables for other things. She had captured the attention of every male in the store as we pushed our basket from aisle to aisle. One fellow put his box of cereal back on the shelf three times while watching my accidental sub and was pretending not to.

  Dressed and made up as she was, she far outshone the other Moms and housewives in the store who tended to do the weekly shopping in whatever was comfortable and made no attempt to look attractive.

  I made sure that she was the one who retrieved the items from the low shelves just to hear her grunt a little as her corset made itself known. I had her get a gallon of milk and smiled as she struggled to get it into the basket. Most people don't realize how much you depend on the abdominal muscles. Unless the muscles are sore or under strain, they are simply not noticed. She was feeling the bondage I had placed her in. I was sure that every breath was a reminder as well.

  In the checkout line, I watched once again the battle of the bag boys to get to our line. The same teenager who had attended to us last time got us this time and I watched with amusement as he missed putting items into the bags. I really don't think he heard my simple instructions to keep the refrigerated items together in one bag.

  When he ran the basket of groceries out to the car, he lingered a bit longer than was necessary and I made sure he had an opportunity to get a good look at my slave. I watched him move the basket back to the store sporting an erection. He was trying to hide it with the basket. Ah, youth and raging hormones.

  At the car I once again seat belted L.A. in before I left. On the way home I asked her a few questions. She had been paying attention this time and had noticed the looks and glances of the people in the store.

  She told me she had watched the man with the cereal box and had noticed the glances and in some cases the double takes of many of the shoppers in the store. She had held her posture in the store very straight. She also admitted that she given the bag boy a small thrill. She had deliberately bent over to get one of the bags of groceries a little deeper than she normally would have. The sun dress had pulled away from her body and had given the bag boy a good look down her dress. That more than anything explained the erection. He would think about that for months. I would be willing to bet he would masturbate to that picture in his head as well.

  After getting home and getting the refrigerated goods inside, I stripped her to the corset and set her to putting things away. I went and got the rest of the bags in a few trips. Then I sat and watched as she completed this task. I enjoyed her watching her do these small chores, dressed as I had commanded. Watching her do these things filled me with lust and it was all I could do not to ravage her on the kitchen floor. She had a little smile on her face as she explored my kitchen and put away the groceries. She knew my eyes were on her and what I must be thinking. I slipped away for a minute and put a condom on under my clothing.

  When the last can of food was put away, I called her to me. I unlaced the corset and rudely yanked it off her body. Without any words, I put her on the kitchen floor and kicked her legs wide open. I took her hands and had her hold onto the legs of one of the kitchen chairs and told her not to let to go until given permission.

  I stripped and had her, and not gently, right then and there on the kitchen floor. Her cunt had begun to flow from the instant I had called her to me. I entered her easily. I had held my desire in check for so long I knew I was going to lose my control in just moments after entering her. I withdrew and caught my breath for a second then began to kiss and lick and suck those gorgeous nipples. When they were erect I moved to her belly then her shaved cunt.

  I wanted to see her begging to cum first. After just a few seconds at her belly and cunt, I felt the telltale spasms of her belly. She was so close.

  "Do you want to cum slave?" I demanded.

  She was still squirming on floor but managed to get out between clenched teeth, "Yes, Master."

  "You may beg!" I said and went back to feasting on the smoothness between her legs. I could feel her insides quivering but I would not grant her release. Even here on the kitchen floor she would have to explicitly ask for her release.

  Another moment later I heard what I had been waiting for. "Oh, please, Master, your humble and obedient slave begs for you permission to cum."

  When I heard those words, I stopped my attentions to her cunt and mounted her again. "You may cum," I grunted, and began slapping her body with mine. I heard my body hitting hers and the sound of her body against the cool tile floor. Again I felt my orgasm climbing but she had already started to cum. The contractions of her cunt were grabbing my cock and triggered mine. Her body was milking mine of every drop it had.

  I was winded but satisfied when I collapsed on top of her. Her body, still in its orgasmic state, continued to spasm even as I felt my erection break and soften. I got up and pulled off the condom and put it in the trash and watched as the orgasm passed. There was one definite advantage to having her on the kitchen floor: the puddle of fluid on the floor between her legs could be easily cleaned up.

  I had just about made up my mind to have her wash and wax the kitchen floor nude on her hands and knees when a pager went off. I went and checked mine to find that it was not beeping. The sound was coming from L.A.'s bag. I went and got her and she looked puzzled as well when she saw the number.

  "Master, I need to answer this. It's the Houston office." I nodded and she got her cell phone and made a call.

  Hearing one side of the conversation was confusing. She identified herself and then began saying "Yes Sir". After a few of seconds of this I heard "Yes, Sir. Tomorrow morning at eight." Then she ended the call. She looked at the phone in her hand and just stood there motionless.

  I waited and the time seemed to hang there. She was looking at the phone and I was watching my nude slave look at the phone.

  She finally looked up then knelt in front of me without looking up. I saw the indecision on her face as well as tension and uncertainty.

  When she finally looked up, her words were formal and carefully measured. "Master, I think I need to go. I only know of one reason to get a call like that from the head office in Houston on a Sunday. There must be something terribly wrong with the books and accounting at the office."

  I knew the look and the fear associated with it. I just waited a few seconds and said, "Go. Do what you have to." She got dressed, packed her bag the after giving me a quick goodbye kiss and a hug, she was gone.

  The distracted look she had told me all I needed to know. Her mind must have been going in a thousand different directions thinking of all the bookings and so on she had made in the last few months. Was there a mistake in the arithmetic somewhere? I had seen things like this before. We called them "Witch Hunts." They will forgive just about anything except creative accounting.

  With her gone so suddenly, I felt the vacuum left by her absence like a fist to the gut. I cleaned up the mess on the floor, then washed and waxed the floor just to kill time. Later I went out for a burger, then changed my mind on dining in and got it to go. I wanted to be by the phone in case L.A. called.

  The afternoon dragged on and I finished a few projects, including the tooling of her collar. I finished that and the ankle and wrist cuffs as well. It was nightfall when I began to stain the leather. Although it was hard to tell anything while the leather was wet, this was going to be a real thing of beauty.

  About the time I applied the second coat to the leather, the phone rang. She had been through the books at work back six months and could find nothing wrong. She had even checked her records against the master records in the main computer, hoping to find something simple like transposed numbers. There was nothing, not one discrepancy could she find in the bookkeeping. We both went to bed worried with a big cloud of dread hanging over us.

  With a se
nse of apprehension the next morning I went to work and waited for word from L.A.. Again the time seemed to drag by.

  In spite of having some minor fires to put out, I couldn't stop thinking about L.A.. I made a quick call to her at work. I reached her on the first ring at her desk and her voice was very upbeat. I asked if she could spare time for lunch and she quickly agreed, with a parting comment of, "I have a lot to tell you." Then she had to run.

  Her voice more than anything else told me things were all right. For some reason after hearing her voice and its upbeat tone, the shoulder muscles in my back started to relax. Something had happened, but nothing bad in the normal sense. Nothing like the worst-case scenarios we had both dreaded.

  At lunchtime, I once again picked her up and kissed her in the lobby in plain sight of her coworkers. We went again to the soup and salad bar. She asked me to wait until we sat down to hear her news. After we were seated she finally began to talk. Her work with the church groups and the large bookings she had made recently had not gone unnoticed. She had been offered a promotion to manager, an increase in salary, and a very substantial relocation package to make a move to a new branch office that was due to open in Sugarland, a suburb of Houston. The contacts she had made overseas would be invaluable, as Sugarland was a bedroom community of Houston. Most of its occupants were well-paid oil industry types who worked in Houston. The leisure industry there was thriving and these folks had money to burn. She had been given a week to make a decision. The new office was due to open in three weeks and they wanted it staffed quickly, with her as the office manager.

  We talked a bit longer and finished lunch. I could see her thinking and all the realities of this had not sunk in. She had a decision to make and I would not interfere. Just seeing the enthusiasm in her face and voice told me the decision had already been made in her mind, even though she might not have been aware of it. The big plus to this was that it would put her close to her son, who was going to Rice University in Houston.

  I told her to make her decision then contact me. Whatever decision she made, we would work things out. I took her back to work and gave her a kiss and a hug and told her how proud I was of her. After going back to work myself, I found my thoughts turning back to her the majority of the day.

  The rest of the week we continued as we had before with a nightly phone call with phone sex most nights. I did not bring up the subject of her moving at all. Friday when I called she told me she was making the move. She had confirmed everything by phone that day and the paperwork would be in her hands Monday. I took her to the special dance class that Saturday but made no other demands on her time.

  I had been to Gerwald's that day and had finished the installation on the encrypted PBX, then rushed to pick her up. When I picked her up later we went to her place and I let everything stay very vanilla. After making love to her, I left and went home.

  The next couple of weeks flew by. I helped her all I could with the move. I helped with the packing, the movers, and so on. On Friday night it was all done but an empty house with a "For Sale" sign out front was more than she could bear. She called and asked to spend her last night in Dallas at my house. Her car was packed for the five-hour drive that she would make the next day.

  That night I presented her with her new collar that I had worked so hard to hand-tool. I told her to keep it as a memento of all that we had shared. Her last night in my bonds was very active. I think we were both trying to get our fill of each other. Neither of us slept. I held her all night just keeping her body next to mine and she returned every touch two fold. I felt her silently sobbing from time to time and it brought tears to my eyes as well. I had gone beyond fondness to love regardless of our lifestyle and relationship. I just now was realizing how much of my life she filled.

  We talked from time to time and both of us were surprised that the other had looked into airfare on the commuter shuttle from Houston to Dallas. Schedules permitting we both would keep in touch and try and spend a few weekends with each other. I told her of the plans I had made for her, and how I had planned to accommodate her son in our lives. The silly things I had thought of that would never work, and the practical things that would.

  I spoke of the small things I hoped to teach her and my desire to see her dance for me at one of Gerwald parties. The small moments I would miss like her head in my lap and her cries of pleasure as she begged for release.

  I had pumped every one of my contacts for names of life-style people in Houston. If nothing else she would have someone to talk to locally. I got out of bed at one point to get the list of names and numbers and tucked it away in her luggage.

  The next morning I released her and cut the necklace from her neck. We both got a little misty at that point and I finally got her into her car and on her way. I think I stood in driveway for half an hour waiting to see if she would return. I found myself cursing the mobility of the society we lived in and its fast pace that could so abruptly uproot a person and move them.

  I think back on those two months with fondness now, and have finally been able to commit this experience to paper. I will only say that although I never got to see her dance for me, this time with my accidental sub had to be the most erotic of my life.

  Here is a sample from another story you may enjoy:

  I suppose Katy married me for security; it certainly wasn't for my love-making abilities. She was 19 and I was 26 when we met and she saw, I suppose, a sophistication in me that would never be attainable by any of the crowd she ran with. I was the ‘older’ man, richer by far than anyone she knew, and when she gave me a blowjob on our second date, I was enamored with her. Her black hair, flashing eyes and captivating smile drew me in, making me want her more each time I saw her.

  When it came to our first time of love-making, it didn't go well. She didn't say anything but I could tell that my 4-inch hard-on wasn't really doing anything for her and she had to play with herself to get off while I fucked her. When I finally finished, she assured me that I was the best ever but I knew the truth of it. She kissed me afterwards and made me feel good about myself though, and I was willing to be flattered by this lovely girl. My sexual abilities never really improved but she would pretend to have an orgasm from time to time, telling me how wonderful it was.

  We married and I was the happiest, most deluded man in the city. Our honeymoon went surprisingly well, but not because I was fucking her any better. She made me go down on her, made me lick and suck her gorgeous pussy, and I made her cum for the first time! I made her cum with my tongue, made her hips thrash about as she filled my mouth with her cum-juice. I was elated, triumphant. She kissed me hard and told me how wonderful I was, and this time I could tell she meant it.

  Back home, this became our standard love play. I would fuck her, cum inside her and then I'd lick out my spunk from her very wet pussy. I enjoyed the taste of my spunk but I did worry about the fact of it. Wasn't it gay men who enjoyed swallowing spunk? I felt uncomfortable about it but my doubts were always over-ridden by my desire to keep doing it. When she asked me one time about my enjoyment of tasting spunk, I just told her that I didn't know why, that I just felt excited by the idea of it. She would use this against me later.

  When she became pregnant, I was over the moon. It meant I was a man, a real man. My perpetual feelings of inadequacy were immediately replaced by a certain pride in myself and I couldn’t stop myself from bragging about Katy’s new condition to anyone who would listen.

  A few weeks after the baby was born, we had a party to celebrate and all our friends came round to toast our new arrival. Bill brought his wife Barbara and I spent most of the evening with him while Katy and Barbara circulated around the other guests.

  They had a kind of open marriage where they each had sex with others without recriminations. Barbara, I knew, was bisexual and enjoyed the caress of female flesh on a regular basis while Bill was a stud with women. I envied him, truth be told, not so much for his conquests as for his commanding presence. Whene
ver he entered a room, people noticed him.

  As the party progressed, and people became drunk, I spotted Barbara kissing Katy and I'm pretty sure that her hand was up Katy's dress. I got an instant hard-on and I tried to hide it from Bill but he saw where I was looking and smiled. I watched as Katy moved her hips forward and spread her legs, making it easier for Barbara to grope her.

  Then they stopped and went back to circulating, and Bill, who knew his wife so well, said we would find them in our bedroom later, enjoying each other. I was as excited as hell, thinking of them together, doing filthy things with each other. My hand went down to my crotch and Bill saw it but he didn't say anything.

  Our guests were leaving now, finding their drunken way home, and eventually Bill and I were alone. Katy and Barbara had both disappeared and Bill gave me the ‘I told you so’ smile. The thought of my wife with another woman was extremely arousing and I felt compelled to go upstairs to watch them together.

  “Should we go up and watch?” I asked him, my hand feeling the hard-on in my pants again.

  He replied, “Sure. Barbara loves being watched. Katy won’t mind, will she?”