Secret Submission (10 page)

Phillip recognized her move into that un-thinking mode—the mode where all one wanted was release from the tension building inside. She would promise him anything now—do anything. But he also knew she would resent any promises made while she was in this state. She was at her most vulnerable when her passion overtook her mind—and he knew some masters took advantage of their slaves at this moment.

He landed a few more strokes on her unprotected breasts, careful not to overdo it. She couldn’t say no to him now, so he’d have to say it for her. Setting down the flogger, he came over to rub her red breasts.

His touch was soothing to her—the skin on her breasts was just beginning to burn when he stopped the blows. He massaged them, kissing them, licking them of their light wounding. Her nipples were hard little nubs and as his tongue caressed them, Sarah moaned. “Spread your legs,” he commanded.

She did so with no thought to how demeaning the command had sounded to her the first time she’d heard it. She enjoyed it now—and the
slutty
way it made her feel. He knelt down and fastened her ankles to the wall, her legs stretched as far as they could be. She hung from her wrists now, her legs spread too wide to support her. Not even realizing she did so, her hands grasped the rings above her.

His intent was to take her deep into that subspace mode. Picking up a coil of rope from the table, he came back to her, passing a length of it around her waist, pulling it tight. She gasped and drew in her breath and he pulled it a bit tighter. “Hold your breath,” he told her and then knotted the rope to make a tight circle around her waist. “You may breathe again.”

Her breath came out all at once, but she found with the rope tied so tightly, she couldn’t take such a deep breath in again. Once more her head rested against the wall behind her as her eyes closed, savoring the sensation, aware that her juices gushed again by the way the air moved over her spread crotch.

Phillip stepped back to watch her enjoying the tight bondage of a simple rope. Waiting until she grew used to it, he tugged on the rope a few times, pulling her waist out toward him. Secured to the wall as she was, she could not fight him, nor did she try. But the creamy white liquid from her pussy glistened below.

Stepping toward her again, he passed the rope around her back, tying it securely and then bringing it down through her deliciously sweet crack, passing by her tiny asshole, and up through her soaked pussy lips. He made sure it was snug against her clit then tied it securely to her waist rope, pulling it tight as he did so.

Her moaning grew louder, to be invaded by such a simple thing! Desperately she tried to rub her clit onto the rope, but it didn’t move—and neither did she. The most she could do was squirm in her bindings, the rope digging into her need and driving all thought but one from her mind.

He leaned in again to whisper in her ear, one hand on the wall beside her head, the other fondling her slick pussy lips. “Perhaps my slave will consider shaving her pussy for me by next weekend.” It was only a suggestion, and this would be the only time he would make it. But it was a way to test her resolve—her desire to truly please him.

Sarah heard his words echoing in her head without meaning. “Shaving…pussy…slave.” Over and over the words ran through her head. Yes, she would shave for him—it was not something she’d ever considered, but if he’d hand her a razor, she’d do it now. She’d do anything for him.

He pulled on the crotch rope and she moaned again—yes, this was what she wanted—to be his slave. Her eyes were closed and her spirit open. Let him do with her what he wanted.

She felt him undo her ankles, letting her feet touch the floor again and more out of instinct than thought, she let her legs take her weight. He undid her right wrist, guiding her arm down or it would’ve fallen. Then her left as she leaned against the wall.

“Open your eyes, slave. Obey me!” He had to order her twice before she recovered and looked at him. “Stand up on your own two feet.” He needed to see how far she had descended into that subspace mode. When she stood and her eyes cleared and focused on him, he knew he could proceed. If she could come back to him only on a voice command, she wasn’t ready to come yet, no matter what she might beg for.

Desire ruled her body and mind. Desire to please him. She longed to do what he wanted. The crotch rope still held her sex prisoner and she had to will her hands not to touch herself now that they were free.

He pointed to a spot near the wall. “Kneel there, slave, facing me.” She did so, the rope rubbing against her, increasing her craving. Dutifully, she placed her hands behind her back, grasping them and pushing out her breasts, no longer red now, but still sensitive. Her knees were apart, giving him access if he wanted it.

But he ignored her sex and the rope for the moment, instead kneeling beside her and pulling her hands back to her ankles. “Grab your ankles,” he instructed and she did so. The familiar snick of the lock informed her she was stuck in a kneeling hogtie. A modicum of awareness had returned and she tested her bindings wanting to be sure she could not move. A few tugs convinced her that her wrists were firmly attached to her own ankles.

Phillip stood before her, again examining his willing captive, her pussy lips swollen with desire at the point where the rope disappeared between them. Did she understand how great an aphrodisiac her blind obedience was to him? How his body thrilled to see her tied and helpless, completely dependent on him for release? No. Not yet. She was a submissive and might never understand the other side. Bending once more to check the rope and reposition it right over her clit, he indulged himself for a moment, slicking his fingers with her wetness.

“Open your eyes, slave.”

Sarah saw him, down on one knee before her, his fingers held before her face, dripping with the cream he had scooped from her. She watched as he slowly licked his fingers clean, obviously enjoying her own salty taste. Her lips parted as she bit her lower lip, wanting to suck those fingers of his—anything to show him her servitude.

With a satisfied smile, Phillip saw that look of longing and knew she was almost ready. Reaching up, he pulled down a rope that ran through a pulley in the ceiling, and fastened it to the rope around her waist. It was the work of a few moments to attach the other end of the rope to a small cinch attached to the table. A manual affair; as he turned the handle, the rope wound up on the cinch and pulled at her waist rope which in turn tightened in her pussy and on her clit.

Bit by bit she felt herself pulled up, helpless to stop the rope now biting into her ass and pussy. The tension on her clit was almost unbearable. Almost. He seemed to know when to stop—the right moment just before she screamed. He let her hang there a moment, feeling the pressure from without build the pressure within.

Again he knelt beside her. “Look at me,” he commanded. Her look was colored with pain and desire, but otherwise clear. “I am going to give you the bit again. You will again be able to spit it out if you want. Or do you want to use your safe-word now?”

For a moment she thought. How much more could she take? Her desire to serve warred with her desire to be freed. She shook her head. “No,” she said, the word strangled with her passion. “No safe-word. I want to please you. I’ll take the bit.”

Now he was on dangerous ground and knew it. She couldn’t use the safe-word, even if her body cried out to her that she should. But she also had a need to please and wouldn’t be happy if he now pulled back from what he’d promised her. He placed the bit in her mouth and without another word, fastened a clamp on first one, and then the other nipple.

Tears now fell unbidden. Her head fell back and she pushed her breasts out further then tried to wiggle the clamps off. But the wiggling caused the rope to burn in her pussy and after a moment, she was still.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded gently. He wanted her to see what he was going to do to her next—if she weren’t prepared for it, the sensation could take her too much by surprise.

She opened her eyes and saw he held a glass of ice. Reaching in, he took out one ice cube and ran it around her sore nipple. She gasped at the relief it gave her, knowing the rope between her legs was thoroughly soaked with her juices now. He set the glass down when it was obvious this was pleasurable to her and took a second cube, running it around her other nipple as well.

After a moment, he slid the melting ice cube down along her belly, running it around her navel. The cool water dripped down along her stomach, reaching her thighs and her crotch cried out for the same relief.

And he gave it to her. Taking a fresh cube, he traced around her mound, soaking the hair there. He ran it along the rope, stopping where it disappeared into her flesh, coming back up to her mound. She moaned into the bit and tried to push her hips up to him—she wanted that coolness on her pussy.

The ice cube was smaller now and he ran it along the rope from her navel straight down, this time gently pushing through her pussy lips and running it all the way around to her ass. The cold water gave relief to her hot skin while heightening her desire. Her chest heaved as her breathing grew more and more heavy and the nipple clamps made her aware of every breath.

He saw the change in her breathing and that her head had fallen back once again. She was ready. Taking a fresh cube, he ran it along the rope and stopped for a moment at her asshole, listening to her muffled whimpers. The cube melted quickly and he brought it back up to her pussy. Separating the lips of her sex with one hand, he pulled the rope aside just enough to slip the small piece of ice inside her vagina, to melt there. Keeping her lips spread, he bent down and gently blew on her clit.

And she exploded. Her body jerked to a rhythm of its own making—and each movement sent new signals to her brain. The clamps pulled at her nipples, the rope burned her clit and her ass and the ice melting in her pussy, the awareness that she was totally his and that he could do anything to her that he wanted, all combined in her mindless pleasure.

Sarah couldn’t think. Her mind drifted among the clouds, reaching ever higher as each wave pushed her along. Blue and lavender and rose-colored clouds sailed beneath her as the waves of her orgasm deepened to royal blues and dark purples. She knew she screamed into the bit, but she could not hear her own voice as her climax crested, then ebbed, the colors returning slowly to pale pastels.

Phillip watched as she came, his own sex hardening at the sight. He had driven her to this—he controlled her body—and increasingly, her spirit. The power he held concentrated itself, coiled and tense and immensely satisfying.

After several moments, her body slowed, then stopped and hung loosely. But for the crotch rope pulled up tight by the pulley and winch, she would’ve collapsed onto the floor. He undid her arms from her ankles first, then lowered her body to the floor, one hand on the winch, the other arm guiding her down.

Perception of the world outside her own being gradually came back to her and she followed his movements absently—as if he were dealing with someone else or she were far away. Lying on the floor while he untied the long rope from her own simple rope harness, she brought one hand up and removed the bit. Licking her lips, she swallowed hard a few times, but said nothing.

He stowed the longer rope and came back to her with a bottle of water and a straw. “Here, drink some.” Lifting her head, he guided the straw to her lips and saw her take a long swallow.

“Ready to sit up?” She nodded and he helped her to a sitting position. The rope still bit into her, she was wet from the ice and the clamps still bit into her nipples, but her head was clearer now.

“You are doing well, my slave.” His words of encouragement made her smile. He smiled in return and the world lit up for her. “Stand now.” The command was gentle, and she obeyed simply because he’d asked.

He led her to the table and helped her onto it so she could lie down. He spread her legs a bit, but did not fasten her down in any way. Instead, he untied the rope that encircled her waist and her sex, gently removing it so it would not burn. Quickly he inspected to be sure there had been no damage—there was none. Her pussy lips, clit and ass were irritated and red, but would recover quickly. The sensitivity there would fade as well, and he wanted her to come when he did.

His voice gruff again, he commanded, “Stand now, slave, and face the table.” Trembling a bit, she did so. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take and the clamps were really starting to hurt. “Lean over.” She leaned over the table, her elbows bent and taking most of her weight. “Spread for me.” Her face burning at his tone, she did so.

She didn’t need anything more to get her ready to take him, he could see that right away. Stripping himself of his garments, he stood behind her and entered her pussy with one thrust. She cried out and almost immediately started pushing back against him.

This was what she wanted! The feel of his cock inside her made her tremble all over. She hungered for it and pushed her pussy back on him, wanting to take all of him—eat all of him with her pussy. Her movements guided by nothing but pure animal lust, she rutted with him until they both exploded in a geyser of passion. Tremors shook their bodies, shuddering through them as they rode each wave; the two moving in unison for one long, eternal moment.

And then it passed. Slowly it faded until time and memory returned. Together they lay, spent, on the tabletop, until Phillip gathered the strength to reach around and take off her clamps; she groaned with their removal. Massaging her breasts to lessen the pain, he felt himself soften inside her and stepped back, slipped out. His juices, mingled with hers, dripped down along her leg.