Secret Submission (24 page)

Yes, she was coming along nicely, he thought to himself.

* * * * *

The two of them made dinner, ate, cleaned up and chatted about small things—all their normal activities; with one exception: Phillip stayed nude the entire evening. She was used to him wearing clothes while she wasn’t, and to see him walking around in his birthday suit gave her an odd feeling. Not until they snuggled on the couch, candles lit against the dark of night, did she finally have words to ask him about it.

“I have to admit, Sir, it feels odd to have you undressed.”

He brushed a kiss onto her forehead. “Why, slave? Don’t you like seeing me nude?”

“Oh, I like it very much, don’t mistake me,” she smiled up at him. “It’s just…well, my nudity is a part of my slavery. When you’re dressed and I’m not, then that serves as a very powerful signal as to who’s in charge. When we’re both not wearing anything, that levels the playing field, so to speak. Does that make sense?”

“It does. Can I take from your comments that you don’t like the playing field leveled?”

She had to consider that. “My husband and I had a level field—a normal one by what society says, I suppose. It was wonderful. We were very much in love and that was what we both needed.” She sighed. “But he’s gone now, and since I’ve met you, I’ve realized that all fields do not need to look the same. I keep coming back because I like the field we’ve been playing on.”

He continued her analogy, ignoring for the moment her comment about her husband. “So even though my nakedness arouses you, you want the symbolism of me being clothed and you being naked on the field.”

She nodded. “Yes. At first it bothered me a little, didn’t seem quite fair somehow. But now the symbolism is important to me. Maybe later it won’t be, but for now, I like it very much.”

“And what we talked of before—your being naked in front of others?”

She made a face. “In several ways, that excites me, but terrifies me at the same time.”

“But would you?”

Her blush reached all the way to her toes. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, if you were there, I think I would.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Then it shall happen soon.”

The hour had grown late and she yawned. “Bedtime for you, slave,” he told her and they uncurled from the couch. Taking her hand, he led her to the bathroom. For most of the day, she had been
uncollared
and
uncuffed
. It had been pleasant, but she found there was a part of her that missed those marks of ownership. She shivered as she thought about how enslaved her heart had become.

He mistook her shiver and covered her with the bedclothes, pulling her close to his own warmth. Snuggling in against him, she breathed in his scent—clean and wonderful—and hers. Sarah wrapped her arms around the man she was learning to call “Master” and hugged him tightly.

“Sarah,” he said, and her heart jumped to hear him use her name. “You mentioned your husband earlier. Do you realize in all our time together, that was the first time you spoke of him?”

She smiled up at him. “I don’t often speak of him, I guess. To anybody.” She fell silent, remembering his look, his smile, his love of life.

“You miss him still, don’t you.”

It was not a question, just a simple statement of fact. She did miss him. Terribly sometimes. Even here, in Phillip’s arms, the loss was overwhelming and tears burned in her eyes. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“It’s all right, you know. He was a part of your life for a very long time; when he died a piece of you died with him. You were very lucky to have had such a wonderful partner.”

His words washed over her and her tears fell, turning to sobs. She missed her husband terribly, but if he were here, she never would have met Phillip. This exploration would never have occurred. And her heart would never have found a second love.

She quieted herself, sniffling a few times. Reaching over to his nightstand, he grabbed several tissues for her and she blew her nose and dried her eyes.

“Phillip, thank you. I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it—and it means a lot to me that you understand. But know this, with him gone, I have to move on and make what I can of the rest of my life. I’m no Miss
Haversham
to sit and mope around because my true love is gone.”

She threw the tissues into the basket. “I am twice blessed in my life. First him, now you. I don’t know what I did to deserve two such wonderful men, but I thank the powers that sent you both to me.”

Caressing his cheek, she lifted her tear-stained face to his and he kissed her deeply. If she would love him with half as much love as she showed for her deceased husband, then he would be a happy man. Entwined in each other’s arms, they fell into a comfortable silence, and from there, into sleep.

* * * * *

The morning was a bit of a rush for her to get her shower, eat breakfast and get out the door. Again, he was up and had toast ready for her when she emerged from the bedroom, dressed in her work clothes and her mind already beginning to leave the weekend behind.

“I’ve sent you some more websites to visit, slave,” he told her and she grinned at the appellation. “Email me details of Friday night—although if it’s possible, you should come here so we only need to take one car.” That was the practical side of his nature talking, she realized.

“I can’t wait to see where you’re sending me this week, Master,” she teased. “Last week’s web adventures were pretty good. I could probably spend hours just exploring more on those sites.”

“Go ahead—I only sent you a few this time around.” He kissed her and opened the car door for her. “Have a good week.”

She got in and rolled down the window—putting her face out so he could kiss her again. Laughing, he obliged. Then standing aside, he waved to her as she drove down the drive and back into her normal world.

Phillip’s Journal

the week between weekends three and four

Monday

I still am having a hard time realizing I may have found the woman of my dreams. I’ve thought this before, with Tamara and with Anne. But both times, they tired of ‘the game.’
 
Neither one ever seemed to see it the way I do—as a lifestyle choice.

Other
Doms
have found willing
submissives
. Until now, I’ve found women only willing to explore until it got hard. Then they bailed. So far, Sarah’s been wonderful in letting herself explore a world that, I know, is very foreign to her. I have to keep reminding myself to be patient and not push too fast. That’s what I did with Tamara—I pushed her into doing things she wasn’t ready for and she was right to leave me. I know, I brooded about it then, but I’ve since realized the fault was with me that time.

So I’ve brought Sarah along slowly. I have to admit, that first night was just for the sex. In our dates, she seemed pretty normal, but there was a restless quality about her, as if she needed something and didn’t know what it was. I knew she was a widow—and I’m not exactly one to complain about someone having sexual experience. But bondage is a whole different ‘playing field’ as she called it. And so is submission. So I gave her the option of an ‘audition’ to find out what she’d do.

When she showed up that second weekend, I knew this was a relationship I wanted to pursue. That first day, I pushed her pretty hard, punishing her for small infractions, putting her in a cage. But she came back anyway. I admired her for that. And yes, I was ready for her. Although truth be told, I wasn’t at all sure she’d show up.

Gotta
call the group today—tell them Saturday’s at my place and let them know she’s ready to meet them. Will have to remember to tell Will to keep it calm, though. He and Jill can really get rocking sometimes—and Sarah is definitely not ready for that. No, a simple gathering at the house for munchies with some easy play afterward, I think.

Tuesday

Saturday’s set. Have warned Will and Jill (told Jill she could have at least found someone named ‘Jack’ for her master instead of someone who makes their names sound like something out of a bad fairy tale). He’s agreed to keep her in line—and himself as well.

Got Sarah’s email late—the computer’s acting up again. She’ll meet me at the cottage, but we have to be at her friend’s housewarming not too long after. I’ll have her clothes all laid out for her so she can do a quick change and freshen up before we have to dash off again.

Wednesday

Found the perfect outfits for her for the weekend. It’s funny, I never cared for shopping for myself—suppose that’s why most of my shirts are white and my pants are black or brown. And none of the other girls I dated liked for me to buy them clothes. Said my style wasn’t their style—and again, we’re back to the lifestyle thing.

I suppose I haven’t been totally upfront with Sarah on that. Initially I set this relationship up as only a weekend kind of thing for my benefit as well as hers. No rushing into things anymore. If this turns into a 24/7 kind of deal…well…I’m getting to like the idea more and more. But it’s only been a month, two if you count from our first meeting in the grocery store. Way too early to know if I want to negotiate her moving in with me—even if it is as my slave.

Thursday

Weather’s turned nasty—looks like rain all the rest of the week and into the weekend. Don’t have much time to write today.

Friday

Went shopping for me today—didn’t buy anything. Sarah seems to like my white shirts, and a good thing, too. Nothing out there for a man my age—all stuff my father would wear, or stuff for the kids.

She’ll be here soon—and I find myself growing excited at the thought. Yes, sexually excited as well as just plain old can’t-wait-to-see-the-girl-I-love excited. Have already cleaned the place up and gotten the clothes out for her. Now it’s just puttering around until 6:00.

Have also been thinking about the lifestyle topic. Will see how she takes meeting the group before I think any further along those lines. Not that I need their approval, but I do want to be able to show her off. She did all right last weekend when I put her out on the deck, but I could tell the thought of being naked before them scares her—a lot. Will have to ease her into it, I suspect. Maybe I’ll let Will and Jill loose just a bit and let her just watch?

Go putter, Phillip. You’ll drive yourself batty if you keep mulling things over like this. Although writing about her is almost as much fun as seeing her…

Chapter Nine

Her friends

Sarah had to admit she was a little nervous about letting him choose the clothes she was to wear to Beth’s housewarming. Beth had been her best friend since high school, her maid of honor at her wedding, her confidant in all things. Well, she had been—until now.

Several times over the past few weeks she’d tried to tell Beth what she’d discovered with Phillip, but the words got stuck in her throat every time. Beth was so wrapped up in closing on her first house, Sarah was fairly sure she hadn’t realized that Sarah hadn’t been very forthcoming about the time she spent with her new love.

 
Beth had, however, been pestering to meet him and tonight it would happen. Sarah was glad there would be lots of people around; she wasn’t sure she wanted her friend buttonholing her lover and forcing him to spill secrets. A mental image popped into her head as she drove to Phillip’s: him backed into a corner by a woman half his size, jabbing her finger in his chest and demanding to know just what his intentions were.

She laughed out loud, imagining his answer, “Well, my dear woman, I intend to make your friend into my sex slave.” No, Beth would definitely not understand.

Phillip heard her car in the drive—she was going to have to have that engine tuned up soon. Knowing they didn’t have much time, he had the door open as she came up to the porch. Bending down, he gave her a quick kiss and a swat on the rear end. “Move it, slave—neither of us likes to be late.”

She grinned and stuck her tongue out at him, stripping as she hurried to the bedroom. By the time she reached the bed, she had a wad of work clothes in her hand and was down to her pantyhose. Dropping the pile onto the floor beside the bed, she pulled off her stockings and dropped those on top.

“
Mmm
…what a nice view, slave.” He leaned against the doorjamb watching the tornado fly about the room, brushing her hair, pulling off her earrings, and generally looking a little frazzled. The clothes he had picked out for the evening lay on the bed and to help, he scooped up her work clothes from the floor. Unwilling to look away for long, he stood in front of the closet as he hung up her suit and watched the show.

A long-sleeved denim shirt and jeans lay side-by-side for her to wear. Picking up the blue shirt, she looked for a bra, but a chuckle from the corner clued her in: there was none. She looked up to see him wearing a silly grin. With a resigned shake of her head, she held the shirt against the light and felt relief—it was not see-through. Sliding her arms through the sleeves, she pulled it close to button it; the feel of the material on her breasts made her catch her breath. It had been years since she had gone braless; doing so tonight would make her feel very mischievous indeed.