True Submission

by Claire Thompson

  Andrew walked behind her, taking in her rounded ass cheeks offered so prettily to his view. Tenderly he touched each little dimple set just above the rounded globes. Bending over, he caressed her bottom, loving the feel of her satiny-soft skin. As he slid her panties down to her knees, she shifted a little and sighed but still retained her position. She was nervous, he could see, but she stayed still. A good sign. A good beginning.

  Slowly he smoothed the soft, supple skin, sliding his hand closer to the cleft between her cheeks. She shuddered when his fingers grazed her asshole and slipped down to her sweet little sex.

  Ah, she was wet. She wanted this, even if it frightened her a little. Andrew admitted to himself that he liked her fear. It turned him on, arousing his own dominant impulse to take, to control, to master. Yet if he were honest, he was afraid too. Afraid he would make a false move or go too fast for her. As he’d warned her—and himself if it came down to it—it was one thing to fantasize about these games of dominance and submission. It was quite another to really experience them.

  Andrew was a careful man by nature, and his wife’s leaving him had only made him more so. Did he dare open up this very vulnerable part of himself? What if Ashley, who thought she wanted to submit sexually, was in fact horrified when he tried to exert his will in a dominant way? Could he take her rejection?

  By finding those books and expressing her interest, Ashley had unwittingly opened up a secret well of desire in Andrew he had thought was safely sealed. The wound inflicted by his ex-wife when she had ardently promised submission, but delivered instead just a penchant for kinky games, was still tender to his surprise.

  He had actually convinced himself that he didn’t need BDSM in his life or his relationships, though in fact facets of D/s had always permeated his fantasies and his dreams. That was all it was, he had almost convinced himself—fantasy. The stuff of masturbatory themes, nothing more.

  Now Ashley’s sharp little blade of submissive desire had sliced open that secret wound, leaving him almost breathless with longing for what she seemed to promise. Desire and fear mixed in equal parts. She looked so ripe for his plunder. Her body language promised submission and passion to match his own dominance and lust. And yet, he was afraid. Afraid to hurt her, to spoil the new love and trust they were building together, to damage what he still regarded as a tender flower.

  Kneeling down next to the prostrate woman, he whispered, “Are you sure you want this? Are you ready to submit to me? To give yourself over to my will?”

  Ashley turned and lifted her face toward his. She kissed his cheek softly and said in a low sensual voice, “I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted. Please let me have it. Let me try it. Take me, Andrew.”

  She turned away then, placing her forehead again on the floor, her hair a golden cascade around her shoulders. Andrew knew in his heart that he wanted this too. He would work past the fear of failure, operate on instinct and see where it led them.

  It was up to him now. She had made it clear that he was in control, at least for the moment. His fingers slid in and out of her wet pussy, moving up to the labia and hooded clit. Slowly he massaged the slick folds, drawing a moan of pleasure.

  Lightly he slapped her bottom, watching her jerk forward slightly but otherwise stay perfectly still. He felt the thrill of contact as his palm slapped her supple flesh. He resisted a sudden impulse to fuck her then and there. He resisted, knowing that timing can be everything. His hand slipped back down to her pussy and, if possible, she was even wetter than before.

  Withdrawing his hand he said quietly, “Roll over. Lie on your back, pull off your panties and spread your legs for me. I want to look at you.”

  Ashley did as he ordered, kicking the little thong panties down and off. She spread her legs so her sex was exposed. There was a flush on her face and neck and her eyes were closed. Her hand fluttered down, covering her pussy until Andrew barked, “Move your hands. I said I want to see you.”

  She obeyed, the blush darkening on her cheeks. Sweet, shy girl. Was it possible to turn tricks for a living for all those years and yet be so exquisitely and adorably shy? So achingly innocent? Or was she simply a master of artifice, pretending to a girlishness that was cynical and staged? He knew it wasn’t so. He knew the falseness had been in her forced behavior as a prostitute, made to sell her body for that bastard’s gain.

  But that monster couldn’t touch her spirit. Ultimately, though he had wounded her with his constant barrage of insults and negative control, he couldn’t touch the strong, beautiful woman inside of her. Her spirit, Andrew believed, remained intact and was now coming beautifully alive.

  “You are so lovely,” he murmured, lost for a moment in the poetry of her body, forgetting to act the stern master viewing his charge. Slowly her eyes opened and she smiled.

  “Am I doing okay?” she whispered.

  Tenderness welled up as he answered, “Perfect. You’re a natural, Ashley.” He held out his arms and she scrambled up and into them. They held each other and Andrew kissed her hair. “Is this what you want? We can stop now, this second. I love you just as you are. I don’t require a slave girl, I promise. I would be totally happy just to have you, just the way you are.”

  “Well,” Ashley said, speaking slowly as if just forming her thoughts. “I’ll tell you the truth, sir.” He smiled at the address as she continued, “Remember when you first made love to me? That very first time when I was mad at you and I punched you and you grabbed my wrists. Remember that?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Well, when you did that, when you held me so I couldn’t get away, but I knew it was you, you, not some asshole john taking advantage, well, I got a thrill. A serioussomething. I don’t know how to explain it. And again, when you spread my thighs and wouldn’t let me close them when you were, uh…” She hesitated, but plunged on. “When you were kissing me there, well, something clicked inside of me.

  “When I tricked you into wrestling me, even though you said you knew what I was doing…” She grinned sheepishly. Andrew playfully tussled her hair, waiting for her to continue. “Well, that was exciting. It was hot! I liked not being able to get out from under you. I liked being held down.

  “And I know, I know, before you lecture me, I might just like the ‘game’. I might just like the playacting of it, like Janet did. But Andrew, when I read Submissive Secrets, I couldn’t put it down. I dreamt about it. I thought about it. I fantasized about you and me being the characters instead of David and Laura.

  “I read the other novel you had there too, you know. Story of O. That one was really intense. I mean, I didn’t really like it in a way, because that Stephen guy didn’t love her, you know? Like you said, love has to be in the equation, and I really believe that too. But there was some seriously hot imagery in there. Whoa, when O was tied on that dais thing with her legs spread and the other slave girls were whipping her and she was so freaked because they were staring at her bare, naked pussy, I swear I almost passed out.”

  As she was talking, they had slowly walked to the bedroom, arm in arm. Now Andrew unhooked her little bra and Ashley stood naked in front of her lover. He slipped off his shoes and undid his tie, throwing it over a chair. As she continued to talk, he unbuttoned the shirt, pulling it free of his pants. His chest was smooth save for a curlicue of dark chest hair at his breastbone.

  He pulled her body close and said into her hair, “You read O, huh?” As Ashley nodded Andrew added, “Man, I’ll never forget when I first read that. Tenth grade. A kid named Jack Rounds lent it to me. I about popped my eyes out reading it under my covers with a flashlight. Rubbed myself raw reading that thing.” He laughed, and Ashley’s hand dropped to the front of his pants. His erection was hard as iron as she ran her fingers seductively up and down it, feeling it harden further, if that was possible.

  Her hand still on his cock, Ashley said, “I didn’t just read it—I inhaled it, Andrew. That’s my point. I was hot the whole time I read those boo
ks. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I keep wondering in my head if maybe I’m attracted to this whole thing because I’ve been conditioned by the bastards in my past to think I’m worthless. That now I’m doing some kind of weird compensation for being treated as ‘less than’ forever.

  “But I don’t think so. I really don’t. The whole time Greg was telling me I was shit, while I did kind of believe him…” Andrew winced and stroked her cheek but didn’t interrupt. “I didn’t like it. It didn’t turn me on, that’s for sure. He kept me down, and I let him do it because I didn’t know I had a choice, but it had nothing, nothing to do with what we’re discovering here. What you’re about, from what you’ve told me and from what I’ve been reading, is so the opposite of that it’s stupid.”

  Andrew nodded. “Good thing you said that,” he laughed. “If I thought I had anything in common with that rotten bastard, I’d kill myself. And you are so right. What Greg practiced was abuse. What we are exploring together is all about love. Romance. The romance of erotic submission.”

  “Will you teach me, sir?” Ashley spoke softly, her face open with yearning.

  Andrew answered slowly, “If you’re really serious about this, I’m willing to give a try. That doesn’t mean anything’s written in stone. If you don’t like it or if I don’t—if either of us is uncomfortable, or it just doesn’t feel right, we stop. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Ashley said, nodding.

  “I should amend that slightly,” he added, grinning. “That doesn’t mean you can say ‘stop’ in the middle of something you find ‘erotically uncomfortable’ but then say ‘go’ again once you’re out of that situation. It isn’t easy being a submissive, Ash. Sometimes I’m going to ask you to do things that make you uncomfortable or embarrassed. That’s part of the whole thing. What pleases me may not always please you. Submission isn’t just about getting your rocks off, you know. It’s a true letting go. It’s a willingness to obey your master just because it pleases him that you do.”

  “I know,” Ashley interrupted, sensing an impending lecture when what she wanted right then was sex.

  She knelt at Andrew’s feet, knowing just how distract her “master”. Andrew continued as he stroked the top of her head. “I’ll be giving you assignments. Tasks to help you get more in touch with your own sexuality. Tasks designed to help you let go of some of your silly notions about sex as dirty and yourself as anything less than perfectly lovely.”

  Slowly she unbuckled Andrew’s pants and pulled the thin leather strap from its loops. Her long fingers unbuttoned the fly of his pants. Reaching up she pulled the soft cotton of his underwear down, quickly taking the long, thick member into her hands.

  Andrew moaned softly as her mouth opened and slid wetly over his cock. He was silenced at last by her skillful attentions. She took his cock in deep, her eyes locked on his as she cupped his balls. Andrew held her face gently in his hands, savoring the feel of her hot mouth and throat against his throbbing cock.

  Slowly he withdrew, still holding her face in his hands. Again he moved forward, impaling her with his hard cock. His head fell back as she took over, sliding up and down his shaft, licking and sucking, teasing him until he was near to exploding. Just before he was about to come in her mouth, she sat back, letting his glistening cock bob before her.

  His eyes opened as he said in a low voice, “A tease, eh? Just a cock tease.” Lifting her effortlessly, he tossed her onto the bed. But instead of mounting her as she might have expected, he flipped her onto her belly and forced her to her hands and knees.

  “I’m going to fuck you from behind, slave girl. This is how I like it. I’m going to slam into you and you’re going to take it, understand?” His voice was thick with lust, and Ashley’s response was to raise her ass and wiggle it, so eager was she for his promise. When he entered her, not carefully and sweetly as he always had until now, but roughly, with force and a grunt, she screamed her pleasure.

  “Do it!” she cried, well beyond modesty. As he pummeled her, she moved against him, almost climbing up onto him for better penetration. Her movements, so hot, so slutty, made him lose control.

  “Oh, god,” he cried, slamming into her, coming hard. Her body trembled and jerked against him as his own spasms subsided. She was keening, a sweet high-pitched cry of pleasure as she too climaxed, the friction at her clit from his movements sending her over the edge.

  They fell together, rolling to their sides, his cock still inside of her. Andrew heard his darling girl whisper, “Thank you, sir.”

  He smiled.

  Chapter 8

  “Well, Mr. Turner, I think you’ll be pleased with what I have to offer.” Greg looked hungrily at the envelope lying beneath the man’s beefy paw on the table. Three hundred big ones. About time too. The day trading thing hadn’t been going so well lately. Wasn’t his fault—it was that bitch Ashley’s fault for stepping out on him. Cunt. He’d put the word out in the usual bars and places the whores hung out, but she’d just plain disappeared. Maybe she was dead. Tried to turn her own tricks without him there to protect her. Well, that’s what she deserved.

  This Mr. Turner now. Here was a stroke of luck. New guy calling him out of the blue. Said he’d got the number “from a friend”. Well, Greg understood the need for discretion. These high-class guys liked to keep their secrets so they could have it all. The rich wife back at the mansion, and the extra “sugar” on the business trip. They had trouble keeping their dicks in their pants just like everyone else.

  He looked at this Mr. Turner over the lip of his beer mug. Another rich bastard looking for a good time. His money was good though. Greg could use it. And it was great to know someone was still recommending him, even though he’d been unable to deliver on the last few requests.

  Looked like things were finally turning his way with this new girl, this Belinda. Great timing too. Because if this guy had called just a few days before, Greg wouldn’t have had anything to offer. Again, he cursed Ashley. He’d tried to find a new girl in the month since she’d been gone, but he wasn’t willing to settle for just any skank off the street. Whatever Ashley was, she had a certain natural class about her—he would give her that—though he would never have admitted it to her face. No. The cunts needed to be kept down in the gutter where they belonged. Didn’t do for them to get uppity and start demanding things.

  This Belinda, he sensed, was a bit too big for her britches, but he’d soon take care of that. The eighty-twenty arrangement would have to go. He’d break her just like he broke Ashley. He’d teach her who was boss. A few lessons with the hose would teach her in a hurry.

  First though, he’d have to see how she panned out. Call some of his old guys and see if they were interested in the new meat. He almost regretted his policy of not fucking the merchandise, but no, he wouldn’t stick his dick in that skank. God only knew what germs were festering inside her nasty snatch.

  Focusing now on Mr. Turner, he said, “Her name’s Belinda. She’s hot and she’s clean. Real clean and built like a brick shithouse.”

  Mr. Turner smiled and patted the envelope lying on the table between them. “So for three hundred dollars you’ll produce this Belinda for me to have sex with for two whole hours?” He spoke loudly, and Greg looked anxiously around the bar, irritated. Stupid asshole. Did he want to announce it to the whole place?

  “Uh, yeah, but could you keep it down? You know, just between us, eh?”

  “Oh, sorry, yeah, I’m just so excited,” Mr. Turner answered. “I don’t usually do stuff like this. Married and all, you know.”

  “Sure, sure, I know. But you work hard, you deserve a little fun now and then, am I right?”

  “Damn straight. So when do you deliver the delectable Miss Belinda?”

  “I’ll bring her ‘round tonight, nine o’clock, to your hotel. I need the money now though. In advance.”

  Still the man kept his hand firmly over the envelope. “How do I know you’ll show? I mean, you did come recommended, but
a guy has to look out for himself, you know.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Greg said, gritting his teeth. Fucking asshole had no class. “You just bring that envelope with you then. I’ll have the girl, you get her, I get the money. Okay?”

  “Mr. Mundy, you have yourself a deal.”

  ~*~

  The car smelled of his cheap cologne and ground-in dirt. Despite her seven years on the force, Belinda felt almost sick with nerves. Probably it was this ridiculous getup. The dress itself was actually pretty nice, if it had been one size larger. As it was, she was wearing a black number so tight absolutely nothing was left to the imagination.

  The bra he’d bought for her pushed her already ample breasts up and together so that she felt like a Hispanic Dolly Parton. Her makeup was nice though—it was more than she was used to, which was none. She felt naked without her gun. She didn’t even have a wire. Didn’t need it. They already had just about enough on the bastard to nail his ass for conspiring to solicit.

  The final nail would be driven in when he took the envelope from Johnson, a.k.a. Mr. Turner. She looked out the window. They were almost there. Mundy had bought the whole thing, lock, stock and barrel. Hopefully this would be the last time he’d take advantage of a poor woman for his own gain.

  At least for a while. Belinda didn’t fool herself that he wouldn’t get out in a couple of years, if he even went down for this one. But now he’d have a record. He’d be on probation and she’d be on his ass for the rest of his life. One wrong step and BAM, back in the joint, asshole.

  “We’re almost there.” His gravelly voice shook her out of her reverie, and Belinda jumped a little in her seat.

  Greg laughed. “Nervous, eh? Don’t be nervous, baby. I know—you’re not used to quality. You’re used to the streets, to selling your nasty slit for twenty bucks for a quick fuck. Well, you’ve hit the big time, little girl. Just don’t let me down and things will go real good for you, got it?”