Secret Submission

by Diana Hunter

  But it was not her breasts he was interested in. Taking one of the remaining ends of the chain in one hand and her wrist in the other, he fastened the chain to her wrist cuff. In a moment, both her hands were connected, via the chain, to her collar. He smiled at her so bound and she experimented with the limited movement she now had.

  She could touch her breasts, play with them if he wanted her to, and she could raise her arms a little ways above her head. But if she tried to go up too far, the chain bit into her chin, even with her head back as far as it could go. She also had limited side-to-side movement. Definitely an interesting position to be in. If she relaxed completely, her hands hung in their cuffs and Sarah felt very much like a puppy dog begging for attention.

  He put on some soft, romantic music, lit several candles around the room and turned off the electric lights. She was getting aroused just watching him pad around the room in his stocking feet, and when he started his striptease for her, she squirmed a bit in the chair. Watching him undress always made that warmth bloom between her legs.

  Unbuttoning his shirt, Phillip left it tucked into his pants, the front of it hanging open. She could see his chest, covered with fine dark hair—and she longed to run her fingers over it. Unbuttoning his sleeves, he rolled them back, taking his time, never looking anywhere but at her. Her breath quickened.

  Phillip loved undressing for her; her face was so wonderfully expressive. With each garment he removed, her lips would part, her breath would quicken, her eyes would grow heavy with desire. Yes, she was an appreciative audience and her rapt attention appealed to his vanity. With a deft movement, he unbuckled his belt, and unbuttoned his pants, then slowly unzipped them. His shirt was in the way, however, and she could not see what she wanted to. Her eyes were glued to his movements and he obliged by unbuttoning the last of his shirt buttons and pulling aside the edges. Only a small part of his underwear could be seen; very tight underwear, revealing nothing. Unaware that she was even doing it, she began to play with her nipples.

  The sight of her arousal increased his own. He stripped off the shirt and throwing it into the corner, advanced to stand directly in front of her. Sarah’s eyes were glued to his crotch, so he slowly opened his pants, sliding them down to his knees. His hardening cock was barely restrained by the tight fabric and he saw the longing in her eyes. She pulled harder on her nipples now—her own urge building.

  Deftly he kicked off his pants then slowly brought out his cock. The tip glistened with pre-come—he wanted her now—and wanted her badly. Her need was as great and she opened her mouth willingly, wanting to be filled.

  He put his hands on her head and guided himself into her mouth. She relaxed her throat muscles and he went deep inside her all in one thrust. Her hands, chained as they were, were in a perfect position to caress his balls, and she made good use of them. He pulled out and entered her deeply again as one of her hands reached up between the crack of his ass, feeling for the hole that was there.

  He felt her chains brush against his balls and the touch fueled his desire. She was his slave—his toy. Willingly she wore his collar—willingly she gave herself to him. Her trust and her desire to please him sent him over the edge and he came quickly, filling her mouth with his seed. Satisfied, he watched as she struggled a moment to swallow all that he had so quickly given her. Concentrating, her throat constricted once, twice, and she smiled up at him, licking from her lips the few drops that had fallen there.

  Kneeling before her, Phillip raised her arms and licked a few drops of his come off her breasts, then continued licking and kissing their wonderful softness, pulling a nipple deep into his mouth. She gasped and he gently pushed her back till she was reclining in the chair and he lay half on top of her. One hand dipped down, over the top of her panties and she moaned—menses or not, she was still in need.

  Rubbing through her panties and sucking on her nipples, kneading her breasts, her own hands unable to contribute; his hands played her and she came. Not wildly, not with fireworks tonight; instead it was a long, slow rumble that took its own sweet time passing through her body. With a final shudder, she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

  “Did my slave have a pleasant experience?” he asked her, grinning.

  “Your slave did, my master. And did my master have a pleasant experience as well?” she asked, feeling better than she had all day.

  “Mmmm…a very nice experience. Thank you, slave.” He stood and held out a hand to her.

  “You’re very welcome, Master. And thank you!” she added as she got awkwardly to her feet. Without the use of her arms to steady herself, she was grateful for his balancing touch.

  “Time for bed now, I think, slave. Do you need to use the bathroom?” He bent down, cleaning up his discarded clothes.

  “No, Sir—I’m fine.” She hesitated. He’d given no indication of removing the chain—which he had locked into place with small locks similar to the ones on her cuffs and collar.

  “Then into bed with you!” He blew out all the candles but the one next to his side of the bed and pulled down the covers. She got in, but did not lie down. “Is something the matter, slave?” he asked her.

  “Ummm…these chains. Is it your intention that I should wear them all night long?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about this.

  “Yes, my slave, it is. You sleep with your arms tucked under you anyway—and this is my desire.”

  It was another test—another limit he was pushing. She could see that now. Ducking her head a moment to hide the smile, she considered. It was true, she did sleep this way. But that was her choice. Could she sleep the same way she had for dozens of years when it was not her choice?

  “Yes, Sir.” She slid under the covers and snuggled beside him. It was funny. She never even thought of using her hands on herself when she was with him. But the moment she couldn’t, she wanted to.

  He gave her breast an affectionate squeeze. “I like it when you submit to me,” he admitted. “You give me your trust—you give me your body. That creates a bond stronger than any other.”

  She nodded, sleep starting to steal over her already. He was right—it had been a long day and she was more tired than she realized. “I do trust you, Master Phillip,” she said sleepily. “I trust you with my heart.”

  He held her for several minutes, listening to her breathing as sleep took her. There was something wonderful about having a woman fall asleep in your arms and he gently kissed the top of her head where it rested on his shoulder. His finger ran along the chain he had placed on her—the chain she had accepted from him. He could not see her collar, but knowing it was there spread warmth through him. “I trust you with my heart, too, Sarah,” he whispered before he too, fell asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Enslavement

  Waking, Sarah went to stretch her arms over her head as she had every morning she could ever remember. Except this morning her arms were brought up short and a chain grated along her chin.

  Her eyes flew open and she remembered the bindings he’d put on her the night before. A quick look to her side showed an empty bed—the clock read 8:30. How had she slept so late? Tilting her head up, she rubbed her eyes, listening. No sounds came from the kitchen or the bath. She needed to use the facilities, but with her arms bound so, she could not remove her panties before soaking them and the pad she wore.

  “Master?” she called tentatively. When there was no answer, not even a paper rustle, she called again, louder. “Master!”

  She heard his footsteps coming up from the basement then she heard the sound of logs dropped on the hearth. But there was no need for her to call again—Phillip appeared in the doorway, brushing the dirt off his hands. “Morning, sleepyhead-slave!” He came over and sat beside her on the bed and fingered her chains. “You seem to have slept just fine with these on. Apparently you two are a match.” He grinned.

  She smiled back, but there was little time for niceties. “Please, Master—I need to be released so that I can us
e the bathroom.”

  He laughed, pulling out a set of keys. He found the right one, unlocked her and released the chain from one of her wrists. “Don’t get up just yet, though,” he cautioned. “I don’t want those muscles to cramp on you.” He kneaded her arm, both above and below the elbow, and she smiled as the muscles relaxed. Once he was satisfied the arm wouldn’t bother her, he released the other one and did the same. Only when she’d been divested of all cuffs and chains did he let her up. The collar remained.

  “Take your shower while you’re in there,” he called after her. She yelled an affirmative response and he went out to the kitchen to prepare their breakfast.

  She let the hot water run on her arms a little longer than usual as she flexed and stretched them out. There was a mild soreness in her right shoulder, but it would fade as the day went on. And her period was done. Overnight there had been but a little spotting. She decided it would be safe to go panty-less. And that way she could show him she’d shaved for him. There was no hair on her mound or her pussy. And what had grown back, she took care of quickly with the razor she’d brought just for this purpose.

  Carefully she dried the collar as best she could. Its presence around her neck was meant to be permanent, apparently. Well, permanent while she was here. Wouldn’t she just be a sight walking into work on Monday morning wearing a collar locked around her neck? She grinned and went into the bedroom to change.

  Her cuffs were not on the bed, nor was the bed made. Quickly she righted the sheets and comforter, glancing to see if he’d put her cuffs out elsewhere. No, he must have something different in mind, she thought to herself. Draping the towels over the rack, she brushed out her hair as the striped sunlight beamed through the blinds to paint her body. For a moment, she dallied in the light, standing on tiptoe to let one of the rays of sunshine warm her nipples. It was going to be a glorious day.

  He was waiting for her in the kitchen—she smelled the bacon when she came out of the bathroom, so she knew right where he was. “Anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  “Pour the orange juice,” he nodded toward the fridge, not looking at her. But when he turned around and saw her shaved pussy, he smiled. With only a small suggestion from him, she had gone ahead and fulfilled his wish. Phillip was grateful for the small confirmation that Sarah enjoyed his gentle guidance. She turned from the refrigerator, the orange juice pitcher in her hands, her pussy stark below. He could feast his eyes on such a sight all day. Instead, he turned back to the task at hand. Time later to tell her how much she pleased him. Still, he said nothing.

  Sarah poured the juice and in short order, two places were set at the table and breakfast was ready. She was relieved she didn’t have to kneel through his breakfast and wait for him. She would do it; that was no longer an issue. If he asked it of her, she would quickly comply. Eventually, Phillip knew, Sarah would beg to be allowed to kneel as he ate. But it had to come from her deep-seated need to serve—it could not be imposed from above. Such an attitude could be trained, however, if she was open-minded enough to accept it, and Phillip was secure in the knowledge that her training was successfully begun in that regard.

  Over breakfast, they discussed the day’s activities. He needed to go out for a bit and run a few errands and if she wanted to join him, he would be happy to have her along. She nodded, just happy to spend the day with him, even if sex wasn’t a part of it.

  “Remember, however,” Phillip warned her, “you are my slave for the entire weekend—even if we are out in public. I may not call you ‘slave,’ but that does not change our relationship.” It was important that she understood fully that this was a lifestyle choice—not a game that they played.

  Sarah nodded. Church the weekend before had been the same. Seeing her agreement, Phillip continued. “And you will wear what I give you to wear.”

  That sounded ominous. But he had already shown her his excellent taste in clothes, so she just smiled her acquiescence and the conversation moved on.

  Dishes were done and the kitchen cleaned when he led her back into the bedroom to dress for their outing. With her period done, she would be able to wear the special undergarment he had bought this week for her. Bringing the box to her, he set it on the bed. “Stand before me, slave.”

  She did so, putting her hands behind her back and spreading her legs as he had taught her. Her reward was a satisfied smile from him. Now her shaved pussy was right there in front of him and he ran a finger along her mound, then his hand cupped her sex. “Very good, slave. You have done as I requested.”

  A shiver went through her at that. She had done as he had requested. On her own time, with him not near, acting only on a suggestion from him, she had shaved herself because she wanted only to please him. Her juices flowed into his hand and he slipped a finger inside her, pulling her forward so he could kiss the smooth skin that lay bare to his touch.

  She whimpered a bit and stepped forward, feeling his lips brush along her smooth mound, his fingers now moving up along the thin valley to her ass. One finger slipped inside her anus with ease, as Phillip used her own lubricant. He pushed her back a bit then slid to his knees, letting his tongue flick along her pussy, one hand holding her lips open; the other beginning to pump his finger in and out of her ass.

  Phillip had claimed her pussy three weeks ago—first with his mouth, then with his cock. Now he reasserted that claim over her naked skin, he was a master in more ways than one.

  Sarah closed her eyes and the sensations he created washed over her; she cried out as his teeth gently pulled on her clit. The intensity grew and she swayed where she stood, her mouth slightly open, her breath shallow and fast. Small whimpers came from her throat and she fought to remain upright. Still his tongue darted over and around her clit until, with a deep thrust of his finger and a sharp pull with his teeth, she came all over his face. Her juices squirted out into his mouth, carried by the contractions of her orgasm.

  When she was finished and her body had slowed its writhing, he pulled away, leaving her standing there, swaying; her legs still spread but her knees locked, her arms gripping each elbow behind her back.

  When Phillip returned, he had cleaned up and carried a warm washcloth to wash her. “Is my slave content?” he asked, already knowing the answer. She murmured her thanks to him, still basking in the afterglow even as her heart settled into its normal rhythm.

  “Now, where were we?” Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Phillip turned his attention to the box behind him; reaching in he took out a two-strap contraption of hard steel. “Do you know what this is, slave?” He held it for her to better see. One strap of steel formed a horizontal circle, the other was U-shaped and depended from the first. A steel clasp with a place for a lock connected the two straps on one side, a weld connected them on the other. The strap that hung down also had a hole, more of a slit really. She shook her head no. She had no idea what it was.

  “Watch.” He undid the clasp and the lower steel belt came loose as did the two sides of the horizontal circle. She could see now that there was a small hinge at the back of the circle near the weld. He put the steel around her waist and snapped the waistband shut. It was a snug fit, but not tight. A glimmer of understanding came to her and when he reached between her legs and brought up the other loop of steel, she was sure. He snapped it into place and quickly put a lock on it, effectively locking her into a chastity belt.

  He laughed at her look of utter surprise and shock. She did not know such things even still existed! Her hands explored it, trying the lock, pulling at the steel bands. It didn’t budge. No matter how horny she got, she wouldn’t be able to touch herself. Grabbing the waistband, she tried moving the bar between her legs, hoping to make it rub. No such luck.

  The fact that he had just given her a wonderful orgasm mattered little. And of course, the more she realized her predicament, the hornier she got and the wider his grin got. “No, slave,” he told her. “You are mine and you are going out in public. No one will touch y
ou with this on!”

  “Oh, like anyone would’ve touched me anyway.” She laughed and took a few experimental steps. At first it felt like a two-by-four was between her legs, not an inch of steel. But after a few turns around the room she felt more comfortable. Yes, she could wear this in public and no one would know. That thought caused a sudden wetness between her legs and she looked down in panic. But it was not her menses, it was her arousal. Now there was lubricant between her legs the belt became, while not comfortable, at least not unpleasant.

  “Stand before me slave.” His command brought her to heel and she returned to her position. “Turn around.” She did so and she felt his fingers checking her, making sure the belt was not causing her any problems. It wasn’t. “Raise your arms.” She did so and the belt rose up, pressing against her sex, but not giving her the rubbing she needed. “Keep them up,” he commanded as her arms began to sink down.

  He encircled her body with a fine damask and bone corset and began the laborious task of lacing it up. Once fitted to her, he would only need to loosen the laces to remove it from her body. But this first time, it needed to be done the long way in order to get a proper fit. He eyed her build appreciatively as he laced. She was not petite—he preferred a woman with a little meat on her bones, as his father used to say—nor was she plump. Healthy and wholesome in a Renaissance sort of way. Just enough of a figure to make a corset sexy.

  Sarah had never worn a corset before. Phillip gave her permission to lower her arms and she helped him by holding up the top as he laced up the back. Made of white damask and bone, it was a proper Victorian garment. The smell of her sex pervaded the room and she blushed. A medieval chastity belt and a Victorian corset. Was there any clothing ever made that was more restrictive?