Secret Submission

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by Diana Hunter


  Retrieving her cuffs from the bedside table, Sarah clicked them into place, smiling as she always did at the snick the locks made as they closed, securing the straps of leather around her wrists and ankles. She fumbled at the public ‘collar’ but could not get it untied. Instead she picked up the larger collar he had given her to wear in the house and went out to find him.

  She found him in the dungeon, sorting through some things on the table. Hearing her step, he turned to see her framed by the door; her nakedness took his breath—as it did every time. Ample breasts that gave a man something to hold in his hands, a delicious little curve from her waist to her hips, her naked mound shaved just for him; she was a combination of innocent and siren. Phillip knew he was grinning like an idiot as he gestured for her to kneel.

  “Let me help you with those collars, my slave.” He liked saying those words. Not only did they reinforce her position, but the term was quickly becoming an endearment. She bowed her head to him and pulled her hair out of the way and he noticed how easily she moved now. Quite a difference from a few weeks ago when she was afraid of her nudity.

  He removed the small leather strap and held his hand out for her larger collar. She handed it to him without hesitation and his heart was glad. She wanted this as much as he did. Placing it around her neck, Phillip waited while she again lifted her hair so he could lock it in place.

  There was something arousing about this particular ‘snick’ she decided. The collar was filled with symbolism and her body responded to it with a very definite physical reaction. Immediately she felt the familiar soft moistening gather between her legs.

  Holding out his hand to her, Phillip helped her to her feet. “I thought we might go for a walk this afternoon, slave. You haven’t seen much of my property except for the house.”

  She laughed. “A walk sounds wonderful—it’s a beautiful day for a walk in the woods. ‘Cept I didn’t bring any jeans with me.” All she had with her were the clothes she had worn to work on Friday and the work clothes she intended to wear on Monday.

  He just smiled and raised an eyebrow. His meaning sunk in and she gasped. “Oh, no…I can’t go walking in the woods in my birthday suit!”

  “Not even if I commanded it?” he pushed.

  She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to frame an answer. Finally she gave up and just glared at him, perplexed and unsure.

  His hand came up and gently he lifted her chin. With a swift move, he attached a leash to her collar. Drawing his hand back, he ran the chain through his fingers, keeping a firm grip on the leather handle.

  She looked down in shock. A leash!?! What did he think she was? Her eyes were pulled over to the small cage she’d spent some time in their first weekend together. Covered now in a blue cloth, pushed up against the wall, it posed no threat. He had treated her like a favored pet then; it was the same way he was treating her now.

  Gently he pulled on the leash and she moved toward him, uncertainty wrinkling her features. His arms slid around her and he let the chain fall between them as he took her in his arms. Letting his hands wander over her back, he bent down to capture her mouth in a kiss, pushing his tongue against her lips until she relaxed and let him enter.

  She loved the feel of his tongue as it danced over hers. Not able to help herself, she leaned into him, opening her mouth, inviting him deeper. Her hands squeezed the muscles of his arms, thrilling in the hard-packed strength under her fingertips. One of his hands drifted lower, caressing her lower cheeks. Her stomach fluttered in response.

  His lips moved from her mouth to her hair, nuzzling along to find her ear. “Will my slave wear my leash?” he murmured in her ear.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied. “If wearing your leash leads to kisses like this, I will not fret about a length of chain.” She turned her head and he possessed her mouth again.

  For several moments they hung suspended in time, each of them aware only of the other. Their souls touched and when they at last withdrew, their eyes twinkled with happiness.

  “Come with me, my slave,” he told her, his eyes bright with mischief. Catching the leash in his hand, he stepped around her, leading her by the chain connected to her collar.

  The glint of mischief caught her curiosity and she went willingly. Did he really intend to take her outside dressed in nothing but her cuffs?

  It seemed he did. Through the rooms they went to the back of the kitchen. He opened the door and a breeze wafted in, smelling of sunshine and warmth. She thought how ironic it was that she had been to his cottage several times now and had never even looked out the back door. Well, it wasn’t as if her mind—and her body—hadn’t been occupied elsewhere. Now she saw that a small deck formed an unroofed porch at the back entrance to the house. He stepped through the door and her chain went taut as she halted.

  Yes, his house was out in the woods. Yes, she had gotten used to walking around inside completely naked. But outside? He gave a small tug and she took a step forward, pausing again on the doorsill.

  Phillip watched her as she cautiously poked her head out of the door, her arms covering herself—one across her breasts and one covering her mound. She probably wasn’t even aware that she was doing it. He gave her time—he wanted to push her limits, but only if she wanted them pushed. Some Masters didn’t care about their slave’s feelings; he’d seen several examples of that in his time—indeed, when he first started, he had made similar mistakes.

  But he was older now and had learned a great deal. He also knew that this slave was different from any other he had played with. This one had captured his heart. The others came and went and he let them go. Sarah had touched something deep inside him; he hoped she would decide to stay for a very long time.

  Had Sarah looked at him, she would have seen the tenderness in his eyes as he watched her. But she was so caught up in her own sense of modesty and propriety, that she missed the softening of his gaze as it fell on her.

  “There is no one here but us,” he reassured her. “I own 80 acres of land and the cottage sits in the middle of it.” He gave an encouraging tug on her leash.

  Tentatively she took a step forward, then another. The door closed behind her and she jumped as it slammed. He grinned an apology. “Gotta get that fixed one of these days.” He looked at her, standing stricken like a deer caught in the headlights. “Put your hands down, slave.”

  She looked down—when had she covered herself? With an effort, she lowered the hand from her bosom, then the hand that covered her mound. Swallowing hard, she willed them down to her sides, then looked at him, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

  “Walk now, around the edge of the deck.”

  With a width of ten feet and a length about the same, it was a short walk. He stood in the center and rotated as she tiptoed around the edge, letting her hand run along the railing to keep it from the urge to cover any part of her. Biting her lip, she kept glancing nervously toward the woods whose border wasn’t very far away. She came back to her starting point and stopped.

  “What are you feeling, slave?”

  She looked quickly up at him—what did he mean? His concern for her shone in his face and her look softened. “Sir?” she asked.

  “What are you feeling? I have put a leash on you, pulled you out into a much more public place than you have been, and you’re naked. What are you feeling?”

  He wanted honesty—she’d learned that lesson before. Problem was, she had been concentrating on actually being out here and hadn’t let herself feel anything. Taking a deep breath to relax a bit, she thought out loud.

  “First of all, I’m all right, Sir. I’m a little nervous and scared, but you’re here and I trust you and that you won’t let anything come out of the woods and hurt me—or worse, see me.” She grinned as she realized what she had said. “Yes, it’s true, right now I’m just worried that someone will drive up the drive or come out of the woods and see me naked.”

  “And you don’t want others to see you naked?”


  She wrinkled her nose at him. He was always putting new naughty thoughts into her head. Turning the tables, she asked, “Do you want others to see me naked?”

  But he was ready for her. “This isn’t about me, slave, it’s about you and what you want.” He paused, then repeated the question, a little more insistently, “Do you want others to see you naked?”

  Blast him! Now she had to try and think it through. And, of course, that was precisely what he wanted her to do. He could tell her his preference, but then she would agree to shed her clothes in front of others just to please him. He wanted her to shed those clothes because she wanted to. While he suspected the exhibitionist inside her, he wanted to give her time to discover it on her own. The bond between them would be stronger because of her own journey of discovery.

  “Walk for me again, slave. And this time imagine the woods filled with eyes. Do you want them to see you naked?”

  She glanced again at the woods; before, she had been afraid someone might really be there. Now, knowing there was no one, she filled it with imaginary people and took a step along the wall of the house. Still biting her lip, her eyes strayed out to the woods again as she made her circuit, but her hand did not graze the railing and her posture was straighter. Once again she came to her beginning and stopped.

  “Now, slave, what are you feeling?”

  She grinned and put her head down, a blush creeping up into her cheeks. “Not so nervous, this time.”

  “And would you like people to see you naked?”

  Her blush deepened. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He stepped toward her, pulling her chin up again, gazing with pride into those eyes. “Then I shall be sure that some day you are displayed for others to appreciate.”

  Her breath caught—did he mean that? A part of her thrilled at the thought, a part of her recoiled. She felt his kiss on her forehead.

  “But just not today, I think. You have done well, my slave. Inside with you now.”

  For just a moment she hesitated. He said he would show her his land—and all she had seen was the deck and the backyard. Trying unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment, she turned and went back into the kitchen.

  “Wait here,” he instructed. Dropping her leash, he went over to a closet in the corner of the kitchen. Reaching in, he pulled out an old pair of overalls. “These’ll do, I think,” he told her, holding them open for her to step into.

  “You’re not going to make me walk naked through the woods?” she asked him, not sure if she was more disappointed or relieved.

  He laughed. “No. There are way too many brambles and places that might tear that lovely skin of yours. Button up and I’ll get you some shoes.”

  Relaxing completely now, she closed the front of the overalls and pulled the attached belt tightly around her waist. The legs were far too long, so she rolled up the ends to just above her ankles. Long-sleeved, it would be warm to walk in, but wearing it was much better than going without.

  A few moments later, he returned with an unopened package of socks and another shoebox. “Sir!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t!”

  “Of course I did,” he laughed. “And you would have had a new pair of jeans for here as well, but I couldn’t find the style I wanted in your size.” He opened the package of socks. “Apparently ladies’ work socks come only in packages.”

  She took a pair out, leaving the other three, and sat on the floor to put them on. Except that her cuffs were in the way. Jingling the keys, he dropped them down to her and she removed both sets of cuffs. He showed her the sneakers and she reached up to take the laced one while he set up the other shoe. Shod, she ran in place and tried them out. “Perfect!” she announced.

  “Let’s see if you still say that after I’ve hiked you all over the property.” Taking hold of her chain, he unclasped it from her collar and hung it on a hook beside the door. “Don’t think my slave is going to run off—and it isn’t safe to have you wear it out in the woods.”

  His words touched her. That very first night when he had asked her to come home with him, she had looked for signs of a power-hungry male. She had not found them then and hadn’t in the several times she’d looked since. He really cared about her—the power exchange they discussed earlier was obviously a belief he held deeply. Contentedly, she followed him out the door, careful not to let it slam this time.

  * * * * *

  True to his word, he hiked her all over the property. Most of it was covered with woods, but several sections had obviously been only recently planted. He explained that he had bought the land from an older farmer who wasn’t able to farm as much as he used to. Phillip was buying up the pieces as the man sold them and returning the land to a more natural state, reforesting it as he purchased it.

  The afternoon was waning by the time they returned to the cottage. Hot and sweaty, she couldn’t wait to get back inside and shed the heavy overalls. “I need a shower!” she proclaimed.

  “Yes, slave, that you do,” chuckled Phillip. He caught a whiff of his own sweat and grinned. “Apparently, so do I. Come, slave.”

  He stripped off his shirt and dropped it over the railing. The sun beat down upon the back deck and the sweat glistened on his chest, his rippling muscles shining in the light. For several moments, Sarah simply stood and looked her fill—his handsomeness took her breath away. His dark hair was damp and clung to his neck, coiling up in little curls that plastered against his skin. When he turned and smiled at her appreciative stare, his dimples made her heart skip a beat. How was it possible that this gorgeous creature could be hers?

  Crossing the deck in two cat-like strides, he reached for her, his eyes never leaving hers. Almost in a trance, she felt his fingers unbuttoning the overalls as she gazed at him, her heart in her throat as she realized their possession was mutual. She submitted to him and he wanted her submission. There could not be one without the other. Two sides of one coin. He belonged to her as much as she belonged to him.

  His hands pushed the coveralls from her shoulders and she helped him take them off the rest of the way, her newfound understanding making her giddy. Tottering, she giggled as she tipped sideways, her foot snagged in the heavy fabric and he caught her with an arm around the waist. Scooping her up, he kissed her soundly in the sunlight.

  She kissed him back, her arms going around his neck and embracing him. This close to him, she could smell his sweat mixed with her own odor of perspiration and arousal. Their pungency threatened to be overwhelming in the hot sun. She broke from the kiss, wrinkling her nose.

  “I think Master needs a shower even more than I do!”

  He laughed and stepped to the door. “Open the door, slave. My hands seem to be filled with a saucy slave who needs a washing.”

  Laughing together, she managed to get the door unlatched and with a little trial and error, he carried her into the house. So much for Hollywood ‘over the threshold’ scenes. Apparently they didn’t have screen doors that opened outward!

  Once in the bathroom, he deposited her next to the shower, reached in to turn on the water, then gestured for her to enter first. It was a large space with no tub; its three tile walls and clear glass entrance was certainly big enough for two people. She stepped into the water and he followed her, closing the shower door behind him.

  Steam began to rise as he took the soap in his hand, rubbing it to make a handful of lather. “Turn around,” he told her and she faced the cascading water. Slowly, his hands scrubbed her back, one hand holding the soap, the other slippery with lather. Sarah put her hands on the tile wall before her to steady her suddenly rubbery knees.

  He let his hands drift lazily over her back and bottom—was there anything finer than a well-shaped ass? He lingered there a moment before stepping closer and bringing his hands around her sides and up to her neck. She still wore his collar and the leather had turned dark with the moisture. It would have to come off to dry later, but for now, the sight of the dark mark of ownership against her white s
kin made him hard and he knew he would take her here.

  With more purpose, Phillip’s hands now lathered her breasts and she leaned back against him. Not since she was a baby had anyone washed her; his hands sliding along her body aroused her in a way she never thought possible. When he dipped to wash between her legs, she spread them wide, giving him all the access he wanted.

  And then he was kneeling behind her, soaping her legs, lifting each one in turn to wash her feet. There was something humbling about his actions that touched her. She was the slave, yet he washed her as if he were the servant. Standing again, he turned her to face him and raised each of her arms, letting the soap cover each one.

  Gently moving her back to stand completely under the running water, he watched as the water flowed over her curves. She tilted her head back, getting her hair wet and feeling the warmth spread over her face. He held her in his arms, and she relaxed into them, letting the water carry her away.

  His cock pushed against her and she stood, taking the soap from him. Silently, she moved from under the waterfall and circled around behind him. He turned to face her as she now imitated his movements of before; working up a lather on her hands, she started on his chest, running her fingers through the fine hair, over his shoulders, down each arm, around to his back. He was tall and they both chuckled as he had to stoop down so she could reach the back of his neck.

  Skipping over his midsection, she soaped each leg, kneeling in the water to do so. She wanted to return the honor to him; carefully she washed each foot. Only then did she turn her attention to the part of his anatomy that stared her in the face.

  Getting plenty of lather on her hands, she set the soap down and cupped his balls. Rubbing the lather all over them, she trailed her fingers between his legs and up the crack to his ass. He helped her by spreading his legs and giving her permission. She accepted the invitation and pushed her soapy fingers deep into the crevice, cleaning him. The other hand now soaped his cock, already standing stiff and erect. Over and over she rubbed the soap, admiring the veins pulsing life to the glistening head. Finished, she stood and nodded for him to rinse.

 

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