Secret Submission (19 page)

She smiled back, but there was little time for niceties. “Please, Master—I need to be released so that I can use 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 you 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?

He finished the lacing, then set to tightening them down. For this part, he instructed her to hold onto the pole of the canopy bed and to hold her breath. Bit-by-bit the laces tightened and her body was confined in a steel cage beneath and a bone cage above.

When he was finished, Phillip moved her in front of the mirror so that she could see herself. Gently he pulled her hair back so she had a clear view of her collar, its D-ring centered on her neck. The corset pushed her breasts up and gave her cleavage she never thought she would have. She was pushed up so far, one could practically rest a cup on her chest! Her nipples, hidden from view by the top of the corset, were squashed flat by the pressure, which had achieved this shelf-effect with her breasts by pushing in, not only from the sides, but from the front as well.

From her newly shaped breasts, the line of her body continued downward in a graceful inward sweep to her now compressed waistline. It wasn’t any tighter than the crotch rope had been the week before, but it was infinitely more attractive. A flare at the bottom of the corset allowed for her hipbone, although even there, the contraction of her body continued. The corset stopped just above where her mound began—her denuded mound.

Her shaven pubic area now gleamed with the silver band that glimmered below the corset. If she looked hard enough, she could see the small bump at the waistline caused by the horizontal steel belt, but the lower belt shone in the sunlight streaming in from the window. She twisted this way and that, examining her new undergarments.

“Of course, my slave cannot yet go out in public in such clothing…” He was rooting around in the closet and Sarah missed the “yet” in his sentence. He came out holding a long, flowing, flowered skirt and a bright red peasant blouse. “Medieval, Victorian, the 60’s,” she laughed.

She slipped on the blouse, leaving it untied for the moment, while she tried on the skirt. It had an elastic waist, which wasn’t stretched much since her waist was cinched so tightly. He gave her a pair of sandals to wear and tied her top loosely, letting one side fall off her shoulder. She resisted the urge to pull it up. Turning her again so she could see, she had to admit she liked the look.

Because of the corset and the loose tie of her blouse, her cleavage was very apparent. Bending over was not an option for her, and she was glad. But those taller than she—and Master stood right behind her now—would have an eyeful. She glanced up at him and his grin let her know that was his intent. And with the chastity belt on, she was safe as well—not that she expected anything to happen along those lines. She was dressed as an almost slut, not completely
slutty
.

“Let’s go, slave.” He headed out of the room and her hand flew to her collar. Did he really mean for her to wear this out in public too? She tried to run along behind him, but the corset winded her quickly and she realized the clothing had another purpose—to keep her in her place. Fingering the collar, she met him at the door where he waited for her.

“Is there a problem, slave?” he asked.

Her hesitation lasted only a moment. “No, Sir—there is no problem.” With her head held high, she walked through the door and he grinned. Oh, yes, her spirit was coming along very nicely.

* * * * *

Their first stop was at the grocery store. She stayed put as he turned off the engine, then came around and opened her door. With the stiffness of the corset, she needed the hand he extended in order to stand up. Smiling, he tucked her hand under his arm and they walked into the market.