by Sue Horsford
“Three, Sir,” I groaned, then, “Oh, God, four, Sir.”
He thrust inside me again. I cried out with my need for him and he pulled his fingers out and held them to my mouth. “Lick them clean.”
Slavishly, I licked his long fingers clean, moaning with my hunger for him.
“How many more strokes do you think I should give you, dirty slut?” Gabriel asked me. His voice was deep, carnal, almost a snarl, and I knew he needed release as much as I did.
“Six, Sir.”
“Six it is, then.”
I whimpered as he put his hand on my back. He brought the belt down six more times and each time, I cried out louder than the last, partly from the pain but mostly from the sheer joy of being brought to heel by my Master.
When he finally released me from my bonds and the plug, I was sobbing, but Gabriel knew me well enough by now to know there was nothing wrong with me, and he simply caught hold of me by my hair, led me over to the bed, pushed me face down over it and fucked me from behind. It was quick, it was savage, but it was what we both needed.
I lay quietly in his arms, trying to take in what had just happened. Gabriel had taken me to another place in my head and I knew I wasn’t the same person as I had been when he’d first walked into my life. I realized I’d never fully opened up sexually to anyone before now, nor had I understood my own sexual desires, but Gabriel had set me free to forget about shame and to be exactly who I wanted to be. I wanted to tell him, but I was still collared and now was not the time for further disobedience. I’d tell him later. I yawned and stretched.
Gabriel sat up. “Come on, we’ve got things to do today.”
I followed him into the bathroom where he turned on the shower and got in, leaving the door ajar.
For a moment he simply stood underneath the shower head, letting the hot water stream down his naked body as I stood waiting quietly for instructions, then he handed me his body wash. “Wash your Master.”
I climbed into the shower with him, squeezed gel into my hand and worked it into a lather, then I soaped my Master, starting at his shoulders and chest and working my way down his arms, savoring the firmness of his biceps beneath my fingers. He turned and I lathered his back, then I kneeled and soaped his buttocks and thighs, wishing I could plant a kiss on his inner thigh as I did, but knowing I’d be punished if I took the initiative. He turned to face me again and, as I washed his feet, I wondered if there could be a more servile act and why being treated like Gabriel’s slave was so erotic.
He watched me as I worked my way slowly back up his legs up to his cock which was fully erect. I longed to take him in my mouth, to feel his smoothness between my lips, but I dared not, so I simply washed him as I’d been ordered.
“Out now,” he said.
We stood on the tiled floor and he handed me a large towel. “Dry your Master.”
After I’d dried him, once again having to exert the utmost self-control not to touch him sexually, he picked up another towel and dried me briskly and impersonally as if I were a child.
He held my hand and led me back into the bedroom. “Lay out my suit, white shirt and tie on the bed.”
I did as he ordered then stood by the bed, head down and waited for him to get dressed.
He finished dressing and sat on the bed. “Come here.” I stood before him and he said, “Look at me.”
I raised my eyes to his face and he nodded in approval. “You’ve done very well so far, sweetheart. Now wait there while I get your clothes out for you.”
He walked over to the wardrobe and took out my black shift dress and my sandals. “Put these on and come straight downstairs.”
With that, he left me, and I wondered why I was going to be wearing outdoor shoes but no underwear. Were we going to have outdoor sex again?
I went downstairs to find Gabriel sitting in an armchair, reading his Kindle. He looked up as I came into the living room and pointed wordlessly at his feet. I knelt as he’d told me, knees apart and head bowed. He leaned forward and removed my collar, replacing it with my torque.
He got up from his chair. “Stand up.”
I did as I was told but remained with my head bowed, until he put one finger beneath my chin and tilted it up so I was gazing into his eyes.
“You’ve been a perfect submissive so far, sweetheart. Now I want to see how you behave when I take you out. I’m going to take you shopping and although I’ve taken your collar off, I want you to behave as if you’re still collared. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Master.” The thought of being out in public as Gabriel’s slave was nerve-wracking, and yet oddly exciting. Just what would it involve?
Gabriel turned to pick up his car keys and when he turned back to me he looked at me sternly. “I don’t expect you to use the words Sir or Master if anyone else is within earshot. You can call me Gabriel, but you’ll speak quietly and respectfully. You won’t speak to anyone else unless they speak first and you’ll be polite at all times. Have you any questions?”
“Yes, Sir. Will I still have to ask for permission to speak?”
Gabriel looked thoughtful for a moment. “I want you to be quiet and reflective. I want you to be thinking about how it feels when you’re submissive to me. But if you do want to say something, you can do so, as long as you preface any comments or questions with my name and remember that when you’re out in submissive mode, my name means Master and should be used with the same respect.”
“Yes, Master.” I was aware of a sweet ache in my groin, my muscles clenching and unclenching of their own volition, and as I locked the front door and followed him down the path to his car, I marveled at how he could arouse me like this, using nothing but words.
We arrived at the shopping center and Gabriel parked the car in the multi-story car park. “Stay there,” he said. He got out of the car and came round to my side. He opened the door and gave me his hand to help me out. I couldn’t help but smile. Over the past couple of days, I’d crawled across the floor to be collared by him, served him breakfast naked and knelt as his slave to wash his feet. Yet here he was, handing me out of his car as if I were a lady.
As I climbed out, he said, “Don’t forget, Faye. It’s as if you were wearing your collar. Be a good sub for your Master.”
Still holding my hand, he led me down the stairs and into the shopping center. I couldn’t believe I was actually walking around without my underwear among crowds of people. Surely they must be able to tell. It was as though I were wearing a sign about my neck with the word ‘submissive’ on it.
Gabriel must have been aware of what I was feeling because he stopped and whispered in my ear, “Are you proud to be my submissive, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Gabriel.”
“Then please behave as if you are. You’re trying to be discreet. I feel you shrinking beside me. Anyone would think you were ashamed of who you are.”
It amazed me how in tune he was with all my feelings. Never before had another human being known me so intimately.
“I’m sorry. This is all so new to me.”
I suddenly thought of all the women who did shrink beside their men, women I’d worked with who were genuinely afraid of their partners, and I reminded myself that this was different. I’d chosen of my own free will to submit to the man I loved and I had nothing to be ashamed of. I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin proudly.
“That’s better.” Gabriel squeezed my hand in approval.
I walked beside my Master, rejoicing in the warmth and strength of his hand holding mine and with every step I felt surer of myself, more confident in my role and more in love with the man who walked beside me. We passed a couple who were arguing and clearly heard the woman say, “Oh, fuck off, you dickhead.”
Gabriel squeezed my hand tightly and I squeezed back, feeling a glow of contentment at the knowledge that I’d never be allowed to damage what we had by speaking to him with such disrespect.
It surprised me that my desire to obey Gabrie
l went so much deeper than just wanting to submit to him sexually, that I really did want him to be the boss in our relationship. I wondered what Steph would say if I told her I’d become such an unreconstructed woman. No doubt she’d remind me of all the sacrifices generations of women had made so I could have equality. She’d tell me I was setting back the cause of women’s liberation fifty years. She’d be more than just furious—she’d probably drag me off to the nearest shrink. And I wouldn’t have any comeback, nothing that would make any sense to her, anyway. Only that this was what I craved and that I was happier now than any other time in my life.
Gabriel led me into a department store, where we headed straight for the ladies wear department. “What size skirt do you wear?”
I looked around to see if anyone could hear us. “I’m a medium, Sir.”
He grinned at me. “You’re very daring, sweetheart. I like it.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
He ran his hand lightly down my spine and said softly, “Are you as turned on as I am, Faye?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He turned his attention to a rail of skirts and picked out a black pencil skirt, then he moved on to a rail of white blouses. “And what size blouse do you wear?”
“Normally a medium, but if it buttons up the front I wear a large, Sir.”
“Hmmm, I think I’ll put you in a medium just to see your beautiful breasts straining at your buttons.” He handed me a medium blouse along with the skirt. “Go to the changing room and put these on. I’ll be waiting outside, and I’d like a show, please.”
In the changing room, I took off my dress, thanking God as I stood there naked that communal changing rooms were a thing of the past. I buttoned up the blouse and as I’d expected, the buttons gaped at the cleavage. I solved the problem by undoing the top three buttons, then I slipped on the skirt and pulled up the side zip. I considered my reflection in amusement. I looked as though I should be starring in something called, ‘Confessions of a Horny Secretary.’ All I needed was a pair of glasses and my hair in a bun.
I left the changing room and came out to parade in front of my Master. He was sitting in a comfy chair just outside the changing room and I had to fight back the urge to kneel at his feet. Instead, I had to content myself with strolling over to him, reveling in the sight of his admiring gaze. I turned slowly in front of him, meeting his eyes boldly as I did.
“Eyes down,” he mouthed at me.
I dropped my gaze immediately to the floor, feeling a sweet throbbing ache between my legs as he reminded me of my submission to him.
As we left the shop, Gabriel said, “You did very well in there, Faye. But remember, a submissive never looks her Master directly in the eye unless he gives her permission.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Outside one of the shops was a wooden handcart with a display of pet accessories. A sign across the top said Personalized Collar and Lead While U Wait. Gabriel picked up a slim, black leather dog lead. “Do you like this leash, pet?”
I noticed the woman stallholder watching us curiously and suddenly had an urge to give her something to be curious about.
“Yes, Gabriel,” I murmured, my head bowed in submission to him.
“I can engrave it with your pet’s name for fifty pence per letter,” the woman said.
“What do you think, pet?” Gabriel asked me. His voice shook slightly as if he was trying not to laugh and I had to bite my lip.
“Yes, that would be nice, Gabriel.”
“What name would you like?” the woman asked. I could see she was trying desperately to be professional in the face of two customers who were clearly not buying for the family dog.
“What name do you think, pet?” asked Gabriel.
“Kitten,” I said promptly. “Kitten, Gabriel.”
Gabriel nodded approvingly. “Yes, that’s a good idea. Seeing as it’s for my kitten.” He handed the lead to the woman who took it from him as if it were a snake.
“That’s ten pounds fifty,” she said. “It’ll be about ten minutes. Do you want to wait or will you come back?”
“We’ll come back,” he said, almost throwing the money at her.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me after him into the nearest shop where, to the bemusement of staff and customers, we both dissolved into fits of laughter.
When we’d composed ourselves sufficiently so we could face the woman without laughing, we went back and picked up my leash.
“I’m looking forward to attaching this to your collar, kitten,” Gabriel said as soon as we were out of earshot.
“Yes, Master,” I breathed.
“This seems like a nice shop,” he said, stopping to look in the window of what appeared to be a very high-end boutique. We went inside and Gabriel started rifling through racks of evening dresses, then he stopped and lifted one down from the rack, a floor-length dress made of black chiffon that was so fine it was almost see-through. The neckline plunged daringly low. Four slender gold chains led from the front of the dress to a slim velvet collar and another four chains joined the collar to the back of the dress. It was bondage meets evening wear.
“I want you to try this on,” Gabriel said, “but first, I want you to spend some time naked in the changing room. I want you to touch your nipples and make them hard for me. I want to see them clearly through the fabric of your dress when you come out to show me.” He lowered his voice as an assistant approached us.
“Do you need any help?”
“May I try this on, please?” I asked.
“Yes, of course. The fitting room’s just over there in the corner.”
“Thank you very much.”
I carried the dress into the fitting room, noticing that the small hand-written tag said three hundred pounds. That was just too much. I couldn’t expect Gabriel to pay that. I hung it up carefully on one of the small hooks on the wall then took off my dress and hung it on the other hook.
Feeling shy, as if I were being watched, I stroked my nipples, thinking of my Master’s fingers, my Master’s warm breath and the wetness of my Master’s tongue. My nipples hardened almost immediately and when I looked at my face in the mirror, my cheeks were flushed and my pupils large, despite the fluorescent light overhead. I slipped on the dress and gasped as I saw how the flimsy material clung to my body and how my nipples stood out proudly. If it had been up to me, there was no way I would have walked out of the privacy of the changing room, exposing myself in this way, but it wasn’t up to me.
I counted to three and strolled out into the shop where again, my Master was sitting waiting for me. The sales assistant had thankfully disappeared, so I walked straight over to Gabriel and stood in front of him for his approval.
He drew in his breath. “I am the luckiest man alive.”
I couldn’t help it. I had to look him in the eye. I was longing to see the pride on his face. As my eyes met his, the smile that had been on his lips faded and he shook his head almost imperceptibly.
“Go and get changed,” he said quietly. “Meet me at the till and I’ll pay for the dress.”
“Please, Gabriel. May I say something?” I needed to tell him how much the dress cost.
“No. Do as you’re told and go and get changed.”
Head bowed, I trudged back to the dressing room. Why had I just done that? Why did I feel the need to test him? Now I’d spoiled everything. I wasn’t a real submissive. A real submissive would never have blatantly disobeyed her Master like that. I wasn’t scared of whatever punishment Gabriel had in store for me. I was almost looking forward to it. I knew now that once he’d punished me, I’d feel a lot better. But the knowledge that I’d disappointed him hurt more than I ever would have imagined possible.
I dressed and left the changing room, my head still bowed in contrition, to join Gabriel where he stood at the till. He held out his hand for the dress and I gave it to him.
“Please, Gabriel,” I said, “it’s three hundred pounds.”
“I know.�
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He paid for the dress then, taking my hand without another word, he led me out of the shop and into a branch of Boots. I wondered if he was going to buy me perfume to go with my beautiful new dress. Instead, he headed straight for the hair accessories where he picked up a heavy, wooden-backed hairbrush. Still holding tightly on to my hand, he pulled me after him to the till where he declined a carrier bag.
“No, thank you. I’m going to be using it now.”
I gasped as his meaning became clear. He gave me the brush to carry, no doubt so I could appreciate its weight and smooth hardness, then marched me back to the multi-story car park, opened the passenger-side door of the Alfa Romeo and got in, sliding the seat back as far as it would go.
“Hand me the brush and kneel between my legs, please.”
That familiar thrill of fear, excitement and shame coursed through me and my stomach pulled itself into a tight knot. I got into position, then Gabriel pulled the door closed and pulled me up until I was lying across his right leg, my breasts pressing into the handbrake and my face on the driver’s seat. He pulled up my dress, baring my ass for all to see, and I prayed no one would come along.
“Do you understand why you’re being punished, Faye?”
“Yes, Sir. I looked you in the eye when you’d told me not to.”
“And why was that? Why did you deliberately disobey me?” Without warning, he brought the hairbrush down hard.
“Owww!”
“Answer me, Faye. Why did you disobey me?” And he brought the hairbrush down again, so hard it was all I could do to stay in position.
“Owww! I’m sorry, Sir. I wanted to look in your eyes. I missed that.” Suddenly, I found I was sniveling. When Gabriel had punished me before, I knew I’d done something wrong, but all I’d done today was look into the eyes of the man I loved.
“Is keeping your eyes downcast something you find difficult, then?” he asked softly.
“Yes, Sir. I understand why you ask me to do it. I know it’s part of the whole Dom/sub thing, but I love you and I want to look at you.”