Natural Submission: Book 1 of the Submission Series (8 page)

 She flashed back to when the slavers had put something in her arm when they were
preparing
her so she wouldn't get pregnant. She hated the collar, worried about being here with him, but things could be worse, so much worse. She rubbed the spot over her upper arm with one hand while she reached for her wine glass taking the last sip.

He didn’t have to be so nice to her, he could have raped her many times over by now and had not. He was an enigma, a puzzle she just couldn’t figure out. “Is your arm okay?” He asked.

She dropped her hand and looked up. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She didn’t want to discuss it, or be in any way grateful for being here, even though she was starting to realize she might have dodged a bullet. She got up and cleared the table shocked to realize there was an actual dishwasher. Without preamble quietly rinsed the dishes and began loading it up. The machine was old, but functional. It started with a whirring noise, the rank smell of bleach and soap beginning to fill the room.

When she turned around K was in front of the TV loading a DVD into the machine. There was a sofa in front of the TV and a huge easy chair. He was on the sofa, she took the chair, only problem was she couldn’t see the TV, and the movie was one that she’d missed. She’d missed a lot of movies while in school. She got up and tried to move the easy chair, but it weighed a ton and was entrenched on the old carpet. She looked over at him, a plea in her eyes, but apparently he was all out of favors for the day.

“Nope.” He confirmed. She could go to the bedroom, but even though she was doing better, she couldn’t help but feel like her demons would inch back from behind their walls to keep her company with no radio, or books to read. Reminding herself again that he’d had more than one chance at her already she flounced over reluctantly plopping herself down next to him crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back uncomfortable against the couch.

The movie started, “The Departed”. It was an action flick - go figure, but was really engrossing. There was a beautiful looking homemade quilt draped over the back of the sofa. She pulled it down dislodging K in the process. He didn’t protest, simply allowed her to drape it over herself. By the end of the movie she’d forgotten everything around her and was completely focused on the screen. “Wow.” She said, not wanting to talk to him, but there was no one else.

“Yeah.” Said K.

“What a shame.” She said. “I mean, he knew there were risks in going undercover, but... How unbelievably sad.”

“Well, he was doing the right thing.” Said K.

“Well yeah, but he was so young, and now his life is over. I mean, those were some really dangerous people and he was a trained officer.” She shook her head. “You know, part of the problem was he was in too long. They should have pulled him earlier, sometimes you gotta know when to quit.” She said.

K had the oddest look on his face as the closing credits rolled by. There was nothing else to do but go to bed, and he had not been sleeping out here. The first few nights she’d basically been out of it, but now... She didn’t know what was worse, his leaving her to sleep alone, or him coming to sleep with her. Wanting to avoid the whole thing she asked, “What else do you have?” He pulled out the next movie. This one she had actually seen before, it was a drama, also very good. It struck her that he had good taste. It also would have played in what folks often refer to as the “Art Theatre.”

She settled in to watch. The next time her eyes opened she was in the darkened bedroom, before she could panic she felt a warm presence next to her in the king bed. It was him, sleeping next to her. Her jerk roused him, “You okay?” He asked.

“Yes,” she said quietly, laying her head back on the firm pillow.

He grunted softly before his even breathing told her he’d eased off back to sleep. She began to think about his care earlier after she had come in from outside and got distracted. He’d spotted the scratches on her lower legs, ankles and feet. She didn't even remember getting the scratches, hadn't even cared. It was the risk you took when you decided to take on the bush. But he’d had been right there when she’d come in and had pulled off her socks and the warm boots. “Come here Angel.” He’d called her, holding up a jar.

She had looked at him warily, “No tricks today, remember?”

“I can do it myself.” She’s said not wanting to get anywhere near him. He’d sat down looked at her and then shook his head. The scratches were starting to sting as she stood their,
damn him!
She’d reluctantly sat down in the seat next to him in the kitchen. He’d held out his hand for a leg. The ointment he’d used on her felt really nice, taking the bite out of the sting of the scratches.

She told herself as his hands moved lightly, almost delicately over the tiny wounds that really, those tiny scratches were no big deal, she’d had worse scratches and they’d had gone away on their own, but he had seen and noticed and wanted to help. She had not expected or experienced such care or attention before.

She realized then how much she had liked the feel of his hands on her again, they had felt firm, confident and sure. In bed he was warm like an oven, his heat reaching out to hers. A sleeping panther he was dangerous, but at the same time kept the demons from her experience at bay. She couldn’t imagine anything getting past K, including her (god knows
she’d
tried). For the first time this made her feel oddly safe.

She found herself pulled toward him in spite of herself, not too close, just enough to share his heat. She started thinking about their kiss, his tongue stroking, pleasuring hers. She remembered the way his hands had been, roaming over her body, pulling her close.

She felt her center melt and her blood pick up a bit in her veins. She should
not
want this man, and her reaction to him troubled her. She was too smart for this, and yet there she was, wanting him to kiss her again.

This time it wasn’t her recent demons that kept her up, but her own desires that kept rest at bay.

Chapter 9

“So, where are my boots exactly?” Francine asked again.

“Oh, tucked somewhere safe.” He said. “Last time I just handed them over. Now I think that maybe you should
convince
me to let you have them.”

“
Convince
you how K?” she said worried. She
needed
to get out there. His little plan had worked and without a jacket she’d been driven in by the cold before she could get everything that she needed. There was enough foliage out there for her to do a whole study and she intended to take advantage of the opportunity.

“Well, I could think of a couple things.” he said looking her over.

He could see the war playing over her features. The desire for her boots spared with the desire to ignore him. He was convinced she had a submissive nature and now was the time to find out, one way or another.

“For one, I need to know that you won’t run again. When you did last time I didn’t punish you, but make no mistake, I should have. It’s something I intend to remedy now.”

“Remedy how?” She said looking worried.

“Well,” he said sipping his coffee to hide his expression, “I think a spanking is in order. You ran from me, after I told you the risks if anyone discovered us up here and still you left.”

“You
told
me I could!”

“Don’t raise your voice Francine.” He said, his voice had lowered an octave, his face becoming that mask she was starting to recognize. She lowered her eyes nervously. He almost broke the role play seeing the submissive gesture. “I also invited you back to bed and you were able to ignore that. I simply handed you my keys and you made a choice. Just like I’m going to allow you to make a choice now.

You can refuse punishment and the boots stay hidden or you can accept the discipline and go do - whatever it is you’re doing out there. Your choice.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, he could almost see the fury and frustration rising off of her in waves, but eventually she said. “Fine.”
You son of a bitch.
“What do you want me to do?”

“Come here.” He said compelling her forward. Reluctantly she felt herself pulled forward like a magnet to a refrigerator.

When she got close enough he loosened her shorts and laid her across his knees, seeing her in the submissive position made his dick surge and seek. The blood was starting to pick up in his veins. Her vanilla scent from the wash and lotion he’d brought her mixed delightfully with her chemistry, rising to his nose. He also didn’t miss the anxiety in her furtive movements. It turned him on big time. “I really want your arms toward the floor, but since this is your first time, I’ll hold your wrists behind you like this. He said gathering her wrists in one huge palm. She could feel his calluses against her smooth skin. She felt small and helpless and whimpered at her inability to do anything. She realized she was anxious about what would happen next, but already a bit turned on too.

She’d thought about this so many times, but had never met anyone bold enough to do it. “K,” She said, “What if it becomes too much?”

“When you’re in this position, it’s “Sir” Francine.” He said, “Or Master, if you really want to get my attention, or you’ve been really bad.” She rolled her eyes in her upside down position.
Yeah, hold your breath while you wait.
She thought, but also thought better than to say the thought out loud. “And you have been such a bad girl.” He went on, while pulling her shorts down her hips. “When I heard the back door open yesterday my heart almost stopped, thinking you’d run off again. It’s rule one Francine, no running.”

His hand was over her soft bottom now, it was firm, smooth and soft. All the things a good bottom should be. He smiled at the double entendre’. “It’s just a spanking Francine. Very light punishment, but if you like.” He swatted her and she yelped. “You can use your safe word.” He swatted her again and she moaned. “Red is very common.” Again his palm came down, she couldn't help the moan coming from inside her. “So, what’s your safe word Francine?” She was tense, getting lost in the punishment. “The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can finish and this will be over.” He said letting his hand rest on her now warm bottom.

“Red.” She said. “My safe word is red.” He smacked her round bottom again and she whimpered.

“I want to use it now.” She said.

“Why Francine?” He said stopping, she was pink now, the blood rising under his palm, warming it. “Does it hurt that bad? Or are you just scared?”

There was a pause. “Scared.” She finally said in a small voice.

“Three more.” He said, pulling the shorts the rest of the way down and tossing them to the floor before his hand come down again. She wiggled, but didn’t try to get up. It stung, but not too bad. She became lost in the sensation. He had a rhythm down, allowing her to absorb the discomfort from one smack before landing the next one.

It was scaring her like she said, and at the same time was heating her blood. The next smack came down and she moaned, “Please...” He heard her say. She only had one more. You have one more, but don’t get up until I say. He landed it and knew what he’d find before his fingers dipped into her heat. She was so wet it was heating his lap. Her cream drenched his finger and he rubbed it over her clit.

She started, strained against the hand holding her wrist, and he knew a war was still going on within her. A war against her true nature and what she felt like she should want. His finger rubbed lightly over her nodule and she moaned, grinding against him.

“You’re body is hungry submissive.” He said placing a finger inside of her. “And you’re tight, like you haven’t been with anyone in a while.” He moved his finger in and out. He wanted to place another finger in her heat, to stretch her, ready her. He stopped, picking her up in a fluid motion coming between her spread legs and pulling her against his clothed body. He kissed her, his mouth full on this time, hard demanding. His teeth gently biting, his hips working her exposed flesh from behind his pants while his tongue mimicked the motion of his straining constrained cock.

He stopped the kiss, her hazel eyes looked up at him glazed with passion. Her body hot, ready. Slowly he released her exiting to the other room. He brought the boots back and placed them on the floor next to her. She was looking at him like she’d never seen him before. Gently this time he tangled his fingers in her hair coaxing her lips to his. “If you get scratched again,” He whispered. “I’ll have another reason to punish you.” With that he released her, casually going over to the sink to tend to the morning dishes.

Shaking a bit she dismounted from the table, picking up her panties and the shorts, they were a bit uncomfortable against her warm bottom, but she managed, glad to have them on, and taking the hard earned boots she exited through the back door.

* * *

What was up with her reaction to him? She just couldn’t figure it out. The weather was brisk, but there was very little wind. The sun was invisible in the cold, but she was learning where to look. There were small bits of green and even a few blossoms peeking out. She plucked one from it’s stem to take inside. It couldn’t just be that she hadn’t had sex in a while. She was drawn to him, attracted like the waves in the ocean to their mother the moon.