Secret Submission (6 page)

At last she felt something larger against her now-stretched hole. “Ready?” he asked her; she nodded “Yes.” His hands were on her hips and with one motion, he entered and took ownership of her ass.

She bit into the gag as she screamed. For several heartbeats, her ass burned as her interior muscles protested the intrusion. But then she relaxed and Phillip pulled out, pushing in again with slow deliberation. Each time he withdrew, her muscles relaxed more and Sarah gave herself up to the helplessness of her situation.

Phillip thrust in again and she realized he was moving deeper inside her each time. One more thrust and she felt his balls brush the lips of her pussy. It was too much. As he moved in and out, she could no longer control her body and she convulsed with the first surge of her orgasm.

Sarah’s muscles contracted around Phillip’s cock as he held it inside her, nestled in her tight little hole. As she moaned into her bit and came, he relinquished the control he had held for so long. With a groan of his own, he came inside her and together they rocked against the table as wave after wave took them both.

How long it lasted, she had no idea. All thought fled, leaving only sensation. She continued to moan as the orgasm lessened, then stopped. Once again, Phillip had given her one heck of a climax. He wrapped his arms around her as he went soft inside her, then backed away and cleaned himself. His juices flowed from her ass and trickled down her leg to mingle with her own. He grinned—he was not done with her yet—not this time.

Coming to her from behind again, Phillip held her with his arm around her waist as he had earlier—with one small difference. The vibrator still hummed along and with all the other sensations, she’d almost forgotten it. Now he turned the button and raised the vibrations; she gasped—she was going to come again.

“Keep the bit in place—you will want it,” he instructed. Her eyes were beginning to glaze but he could tell she understood. With one hand he reached down to push on the vibrator, the other brushed her now very sore nipples. She came. Loudly. Her body thrashed against him as the more intense climax took her.

Just as it started to lessen, he removed a clamp and her body thrashed again—the pain giving her another climax. Tears streamed down her face and her teeth left marks in the bit. Now she knew what was in store for her when he removed the other one. Her climax lessened and he gave her a moment’s respite. Her breathing slowed and he deemed her ready—he removed the second clamp. Again a climax wracked her body.

But she had no strength left for this one. If he had not held her upright, she would have collapsed along the table. The last climax faded and she was limp in his arms, exhausted.

Gently he lay her down, knowing the pressure of the mattress against her bound breasts and sore nipples might cause her body to climax a fifth time. He was not disappointed. Small twitches wracked her body as she came again, the waves this time leaving her barely conscious.

Gently he removed the bit; she didn’t even open her eyes. Kneeling, he undid her legs, then the knots on the ropes binding her arms. Once her bindings were removed, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, settling her exhausted body gently onto the bed. Quietly he tiptoed into the bathroom to get a warm cloth to bathe her, but she was already asleep when he returned. He bathed her anyway, letting the soothing warmth add to her comfort.

His hands lingered over the task. The soft, round curves of Sarah’s sleeping form invited his caress. Bathing her skin kindled a warmth inside him that he had not felt for a very long time. This time he did not push the thoughts away. He had violated her ass and she had enjoyed it. He dared to hope.

Phillip draped the wet cloth over the small wastepaper basket that stood beside the bed and looked his fill. He was to blame for her exhaustion and the thought amused him. This afternoon, Sarah had reached heights she’d only glimpsed through the clouds of her morality before and it was his doing. If he was right about her—they were heights she’d want to scale again.

The afternoon’s activities had tired him as well. Pulling the covers up over them, and snuggling into the bed, he spooned his body against hers and together, they slept away the rest of the afternoon.

* * * * *

The room had gone dark by the time Sarah awoke. She felt his arm over her and lay there, feeling his protection. What a glorious afternoon it had been. She had never known pain could bring such pleasure. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she reached up and squeezed her breasts gently, feeling around the nipple. There was only the mildest memory in them of the pain they had earlier felt. Moving slowly, she rose from the bed, not disturbing his slumber.

She went to wash up, only to discover she’d already been washed; his thoughtfulness touched her. Her husband certainly wouldn’t have done such a thing. Not because he was a bad person, but because it just never would have occurred to him to do such a small service for her. In the kitchen, she turned on a small light and looked at the time. Almost 7:00. No wonder her stomach was growling! Peeking into the fridge, she saw a bowl of beef, already marinating. Upon further investigation, she found other indications of what he’d intended for dinner.

Donning an apron, she decided to let him sleep and surprise him with dinner. Was it a slave-type thing to do? She shrugged. Maybe, maybe not. No way to learn but to do it and see. She crossed the kitchen clad in her cuffs and apron, stopping about halfway across at the feel of the cloth against her skin. This was the most amount of clothing she’d had on since she’d arrived almost twenty-four hours earlier. The thought made her smile—and horny again.

But the full apron, slipped over her neck and tied around her waist, was a necessary item when working with the stovetop. She didn’t want to splatter and burn her stomach—or anywhere else for that matter. Puttering around the kitchen, she started the dinner then set the table for two. On a sideboard, she found a set of candlesticks, the candles in them already burned about a third of the way down. She set them on the table—a romantic dinner by candlelight. Just what she would’ve ordered, had she been the Mistress.

Quietly she went to the bedroom door and checked on him—he still slept soundly. Dinner was still a half an hour away; she’d let him sleep. Back in the kitchen, she pulled a stool up to the counter to wait.

She was still very puzzled by this slave thing. He said earlier that her body had always known something was missing. How had he known that? She examined the leather cuffs. There wasn’t much special about them that she could tell: just a wide belt but made for a wrist. A lock held it in place, making it difficult for her to remove. It was a small lock and she probably could pick it or just break it open by slamming it with something, but there was more to it than that. It was a symbol of her slavery.

How often in her daydreams had she imagined cuffs or ropes binding her wrists? How they felt so real sometimes that she’d look for the rope burns. She’d always laugh it off, saying to herself that perhaps she’d been chained in a former lifetime. But now she wondered, what if it wasn’t a former lifetime? What if it was a desire for something in
this
life? She shook her wrist, hearing the little tinkle of the lock against the clasp of the cuff—it just sounded
right
in her ear.

The potatoes boiled over and she jumped from her reverie. Turning them down, she stuck a fork in them—done. Time for Master to get up.

But he beat her to it. She turned from the stove and he was standing in the doorway. Only the stove light was on and his face was in shadow. He was naked, but was he angry that she’d cooked for him?

Phillip had awakened to the smell of dinner cooking and had lain there for several minutes, just enjoying the fact that she’d taken the initiative to go ahead and get it started. Listening to her bustle around the kitchen, humming a snatch of a tune caused that warm feeling to grow again in the pit of his stomach. What was this woman doing to him? Did he really dare to dream?

And when the tension in his belly got too strong, he had gone out to the kitchen. Only one small light burned over the stove—and fluorescent wasn’t flattering for any face. Except hers. There was no mistaking it. Sarah Simpson-Parker was a beautiful woman.

“I see my slave has been busy while I slept.” She still could not tell his mood from his voice. “Y…yes, Sir,” she stammered. “I thought to surprise you—and serve you for a change.”

He stepped into the light and with relief she saw his smile. “I like that my slave wants to serve me.” He pulled lightly on the apron. “I also like that my slave has enough common sense to protect herself in the kitchen.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I’ll go shower; will it be ready soon?”

“Yes, Master. By the time you return.”

He left and she almost danced across the kitchen. He liked her surprise! Quickly now she finished the dinner, mashing the potatoes and setting the meat and vegetables out on a platter and bowl respectively. The water stopped in the shower and she lit the candles.

When he returned, he had dressed in a dark pair of slacks and a crisp white shirt, open at the collar.
Sockless
, he looked very handsome, and very sexy. Her breath caught in her throat as he seated himself while she placed the food on the table. Taking off her apron, she sat next to him, her nudity now more comfortable than the apron.

To her surprise, he said grace. She served him first, making sure he had plenty of everything before filling her own plate. Waiting for him to take the first bite, she tried to do what she thought a servant would do.

They talked all through dinner and into the night. Where they’d grown up, about their families, what life had given them and what they’d made of it. One of the candles guttered and went out before they realized it was almost midnight and the table was still littered with the dinner’s remains.

Laughing, they cleaned up the mess, and did the dishes. The simplicity of the act aroused him as he watched her padding barefoot and naked around the kitchen, tidying up. Phillip caught her in his arms and covered her mouth with his kiss. After their nap, neither was tired; Sarah could see the desire in his eyes and knew it matched the desire in her own.

“Come, my slave. I want to play with you one more time before I sleep.”

Thrilled, she followed him to the bedroom. With a sweep of his arm, he cleared the bed of sheets and blankets and gestured to her to once more stretch herself out along the bed. When she made a move to put her hands over her head, he stopped her. “No. Tonight you will lie with your arms at your sides. They will not be bound—but you will not move. This is my command.”

She realized he was testing her resolve. Smiling, she lay in the center of the bed, her arms at her sides, her legs together. He smiled at her determination, and set to work weakening that resolve of hers. Moonlight streamed in through the window and backlit him as he undressed for her.

Slowly and with a cat-like grace, Phillip unbuttoned his shirt. Button-by-button his chest was revealed until his smooth skin was bared to her sight. Strong muscles gleamed in the moonlight as he tossed his shirt to the side and stepped toward her naked body; he was the predator and Sarah trembled to realize she was the prey.

 
His eyes never left hers, holding her in his gaze. She tried to look away, but the slow removal of his clothes mesmerized her. His gracefully long fingers now bent to unzip his pants. As they fell, Sarah saw he wore nothing underneath—only the thin fabric of his shirt and his pants had been between them all evening long. Naked in the moonlight, his eyes locked on hers as his cock grew to its wonderful length.

Sarah’s breasts rose and fell as her breath quickened. Using all her willpower, she kept her hands at her sides, even though her fingers cried out to caress that magnificent shaft of his. She wanted to feel the velvety softness with her hands—a softness she had already experienced with her lips. Opening her mouth now in remembered service, her tongue crept out to lick along the side as desire coursed through her.

With the graceful stride of a lion, Phillip moved out of the light to stretch beside her on the bed. He brushed her nipples with the palm of his hand and leaned into her ear, licking along the edge. She moaned at the pleasure and squirmed.

“Do not move, my slave.” She stuck her tongue out at him and lay still. He laughed. “I think I can find a better use for that tongue.” He kissed her then, reminding her that he’d already claimed possession of her mouth. Their tongues entwined and again she needed every ounce of her willpower to keep her hands to her sides.

Phillip’s kisses moved away from her mouth and down her neck, traveling to her soft, ample breasts. His lips sucked each nipple in turn and Sarah gasped as his tongue circled and sucked, fondling her breasts as he parted her legs with his knee. Obediently and eagerly, she spread wide for him. He grinned as he moved in between them. “My, my, slave. Do you want something?” He tugged on her nipple and she moaned in remembered pain and pleasure. “Answer me, slave. Is there something you want?”

“Oh, yes, Master,” she breathed.

“What is it? What is it you want, slave?” He rolled the nipple hard between his fingers, causing her to cry out in desire.

“You, Master! I want you. Inside me.”

“I have possessed your mouth and your ass, slave. Do you wish me now to possess your pussy?”

She arched her back as his fingers now trailed along her stomach and stopped, petting the hair covering her mound. “Yes, Master. I want you to take possession of me—all of me.”