Submission in Seattle (4 page)

“Yes, please sir,
I really need it now!  Fuck me, please fuck me!”  Victoria had never felt so
degraded and debased.

He lowered her
until he could unfasten her wrist and ankle restraints from their attachment
points.  Then with the leather cuffs still on, he led her to a low bed in the
corner.  “Get on your knees slut, you’re going to be fucked like an animal. 
Get your head down all the way.  Arch your back.  Stick that cunt out for me.” 
He reached beneath her with one hand to roughly fondle her large breasts, which
were hanging straight down in a tantalizing way.  His other hand slapped her
welted ass and stroked her cunt to bring her arousal to a peak.  He quickly
removed his clothing and touched his aching cock, which confirmed his extreme
horniness.

Cole slipped a
thin textured condom onto his thick organ and knelt behind her.  The view of
her hips and cunt was intoxicating.  He slipped easily into her wet opening and
began long slow thrusts that gradually increased in speed and power.  He always
used a condom with his paying customers, partly to protect himself and partly
to help delay his own orgasm.   He was glad for the reduced sensation this
time, since he had become highly aroused by dominating the proud Victoria.

Being fucked from
behind was Victoria’s favorite position, but she never allowed her lovers to
take her that way.  She thought it was demeaning and didn’t want them to see
her like that.  Being ruthlessly whipped, then fucked doggy style by someone
who really knew how to use her was something from her hottest and most secret
fantasy.  Her skin was still burning from nearly a hundred thin welts, when the
pounding of Cole’s cock pushed her over the edge.  She came in a long series of
violent internal spasms and a guttural scream that sounded as if she were
dying.

Cole was breathing
heavily, not from the physical exertion, but from the intense concentration. 
He was just a bit disappointed when she collapsed forward onto her face. 
“Humph!” he muttered.  “You’re not getting off that easily Miss Vicky.”

She seemed
completely incapacitated as he rolled her over onto her back.  He quickly
fastened the wrist cuffs to the head of the bed and used soft ropes to pull her
ankle cuffs to each side, leaving her cunt gaping and ready for his attention.
When she opened her eyes she looked at Cole’s face, then at his hard cock and
felt a wave of total lust.  Even though their relationship was strictly
limited, at that moment she wanted him inside her more than any man she had
ever known.

“Please, please, I
need more!” she begged, while trying to thrust her wanting pussy toward him.

Warming up on a
nearby chair was an electric massager with a large flat head heated to several
degrees above body temperature.  Grasping the cylindrical handle, Cole turned
it on and began to slide the warm, flat, vibrating surface up and down the
slippery length of her shaved vulva.  He varied the pressure in time with the
movement of her hips creating a symphony of sexual stimulation.

Straining against
her soft bonds and panting like she had just run a marathon, Victoria had two
or three more earth shattering orgasms before Cole decided to give her his own
cock again.  He released her legs, then held them up together while he knelt
and pushed himself fully into her warm depths.  Her legs folded conveniently over
his shoulder.  The extra tightness caused by holding her legs together helped
offset the effect of the condom and the soaking wet cunt.  Seeing her hands
still restrained above her head reminded him that he was in complete control. 

He looked down at her
breasts, which had flattened considerably in this position, but now jiggled
dramatically with his thrusting.  “Nice tits, my little slut, you should see
how they bounce when I fuck you like this,” he said in a humiliating tone. 
Victoria tried to respond verbally, but could only manage a series of gasps and
grunts.

The physical and
emotional stimulation soon had him on the verge of coming and he slapped her
welted ass with his hand just as he started to spurt.  Even though Victoria was
exhausted, Cole’s loud groan of pleasure and strenuous involuntary thrusting
forced her to come once more.

About an hour
later, when they had both recovered enough to talk, he inspected her for any
cuts or bleeding.  She was covered with thin welts about four inches long. 
Fortunately, none of the welts had broken the skin and they were all in areas
that would heal nicely.  “You’d better stay away from the health spa for a
while.  There’s no way you’re going to explain this,” he said.  “You won’t be
showing any cleavage either,” he noted, while looking at her striped breasts.

“I know, but it
was worth it.  I feel so relaxed, so balanced, it’s almost like being high.  I
can survive the rat race for another few months now.  Thanks, Howard...
really.”

She grinned and
pulled him into a lover’s hug.   “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll heal up OK.”

He showed her that
the video camera had been a fake.  It was all part of the performance.  She
took some time attempting to make her hair look better, then asked for a scarf
to cover it.  He drove her home and handed her the garage door opener that he
had used to gain entrance to her house.  When she asked how he got it, he
simply grinned and said, “A pro-Dom can’t tell all his secrets.” 

Victoria turned to
watch him drive away.  In many ways she wanted him for her own, but she knew
that it was best to keep their relationship just as it was.  Turning to go
inside, she started to think of her next social obligation, a party that she
was hosting in a week.  Her newfound state of relaxation allowed her to
contemplate her duties without the tension that had been present the day
before.

A few days later
Cole received a letter from Victoria addressed in her excellent handwriting. 
Inside he found a personal check for two thousand dollars and a one word note
that said “Thanks.”

Several months
later, in an apartment close to downtown, a woman with gloriously curly, long
brown hair hunched over a glowing laptop computer.  It was, appropriately,
resting on her lap as she reclined against a pile of pillows on her queen sized
bed.  Her name was Monica Peterson and she was trading email with a man whose
personal ad she discovered on the internet the previous month. So far, she knew
him only as Howard. 

She brushed her
hair back from her pretty face and frowned in concentration.  As she thought
about the best way to convey a very private thought to her new correspondent,
she recalled some of their previous conversations.

He described
himself as a professional dominant for women, a pro-dom.  When they first made
contact, he asked her to explain in great detail what she was looking for and
why she wanted it.  It was not easy for her to discuss such private thoughts,
but it was a very enlightening exchange. 

They traded email
almost daily for six weeks and talked on the telephone several times.  His
deep, sexy voice on the phone made her tingle inside.  At first, Monica was
reluctant to believe that he was genuine, but gradually she became convinced
and started making plans to meet and perhaps sample his services.

Early in their
correspondence she revealed considerable information about herself to avoid any
misunderstandings about what she was looking for.  He patiently answered her
numerous questions about dominance and submission, then asked more questions
about her past.

In one of their
first phone conversations, she asked how he would make her submit.  He
patiently explained, “I have no interest in
making
anyone submit.  Not
by seduction, threats or trickery.”

“If someone wants
to be my submissive,” he told her, “they must submit willingly, even eagerly.” 
He had vowed never to waste his time on someone who was not sure what they
wanted.  She learned that one of his greatest fears was to have a partner
appear to submit, then change her mind and accuse him of forcing her.

Monica worked as
an account executive in a well-known Seattle-based marketing firm.  She
believed that the pressures of her job were partly responsible for her intense
desire to submit sexually, but the roots of her sexuality extended back beyond
her dimmest memories.  Perhaps it was even determined by her genes. 

As she and Cole
were getting to know each other, she conscientiously answered his questions
regarding her childhood and her first memories of wanting to submit.  “When I
was seven,” she told him, “I remember hoping that my cousin would tie me up. 
He was about ten years old and had no interest in me at the time.  I was very
disappointed.”

At age nine in
Boise, Idaho, she would wrap herself in long coils of rope and pretend that she
was a woman being held prisoner by various villains.  She wasn’t exactly sure
what the villains would get out of it.  Apparently, tying up women was part of
their job, or at least it seemed that way on television.

Then there were
the Nancy Drew books.  She discovered them when she was eleven.  The scenes
where Nancy was captured and tied up held her attention like nothing else she
had read before.  In one book, Nancy was spanked with a hairbrush by a
nefarious thief.  In the privacy of her gingham and lace bedecked bedroom,
Monica found out what turned her on.

The next step in
her sexual development occurred when she found her father’s pornography hidden
in a dresser drawer among the socks.  There were several bondage magazines and
some SM oriented paperbacks. Her favorite was the Story of O.  It provided her
with endless hours of erotic fantasy.  Even more important, it proved that
there must be others like her.  She knew that someone had to be buying these
books or the publishers wouldn’t print them. The dog eared copy that she had
stolen from her father was still kept reverently with her important papers in a
safe deposit box.

When she went to
college in Chicago to obtain her business degree, the college men that she had
expected to be so sophisticated were completely clueless.  Sex was a big
disappointment.  Lots of groping and awkwardness.  It was so hard to tell a man
what she wanted, especially when so many of them expected her to take charge. 
Couldn’t they see that she wanted them to be in control?

She thought she
was close to meeting her secret need when she dated an attractive older student
named Robert Hamilton.  He was drop dead handsome and came from a wealthy
family.  Several of her classmates had dated him and many others were
interested.  She was surprised when he expressed an interest in her, since he
was only seen with the best looking women and she did not consider herself to
be very attractive. 

He certainly acted
more dominant than her previous dates, telling her what to wear and when to
show up at his place.  “Be at my place at eight o’clock, wearing a short skirt
and the white sweater that I like,” he instructed her.  At first, he seemed to
understand when she hinted that she wanted him to tie her hands or give her a
real spanking.  Unfortunately, he insisted that they stick to his script, which
invariably required her to satisfy him orally.  “Yeah baby, suck it hard,
that’s right!”  His good looks and wealth had conditioned him to expect easy
service from women, always on his terms. 

They dated three
times before she was ready to admit to herself that he had no interest in
spanking or bondage.  “He’s just a stuck up jerk,” she finally told her
girlfriends.  Giving blow jobs could be fun for her, but only in the context of
submission.  He was also uninterested in helping her climax, so the sheer
sexual frustration was becoming a problem.

During her college
years, masturbation remained her favorite sexual activity.  She built up a nice
collection of erotica that she kept in a locked footlocker in her tiny student
apartment.  It consisted mostly of soft core SM novels that she found at the
mall bookstores.  The first few times she purchased one of the dirty books, she
was sure that everyone was watching and wondering what kind of pervert she
was. 

The English
discipline stories were particularly hot.  Reading about a young woman being
tied over a bench of some sort and caned beyond the limits of endurance always
made her sopping wet.  It could be quite embarrassing if she was reading in the
bookstore, standing in the aisle where the clerk couldn’t see her and wondering
if the wetness was showing on her jeans.  She soon learned to buy the books
quickly and take them home for a thorough road test. 

The pirate stories
were another reliable trigger. Using her favorite books and a small vibrator,
she could vividly imagine herself being the helpless slave of a strong,
handsome pirate.  Of course she was not a very good slave, so she was
ruthlessly punished quite often.  Her most frequent fantasy involved being tied
to the mast and flogged on her back and ass.  Then the sexy bearded pirate
would take her to his cabin, tie her spread-eagled to the bed and rape her with
lots of pinching and slapping of her sensitive parts.  Of course her own hands
would stand in for Captain Blood, the Scourge of the Caribbean.

She had hoped that
the move to Seattle would give her a better chance of finding a compatible
partner with whom to share her secret.  Unfortunately for Monica, none of the
men she liked had been willing to provide the kind of domination that she
craved so deeply.  What she really wanted was a chance to give herself
completely to a dominant man, a master.  She wanted a man who would ask her to
take pain for him, then use her for his own pleasure. 

In her email
messages, she briefly outlined for Cole two previous relationships that ended
when her partners decided they couldn’t live with her kinky tendencies.  Modern
American men had been conditioned to think in ways that precluded good male
dominant sexual play.  The constant repetition of media messages against
domestic violence made any thinking man recoil at the thought of hitting a
woman.  She did notice however that there were more and more roles created for
sexually dominant women.  The image of the leather clad Dominatrix was getting
to be a cliché in films and television sitcoms.  It made her feel even more
alone.

Her dating
experience in Seattle did prove that she was attracted to older men.  Men
seemed to become much more sophisticated about sex after a decade or two of
practice.  She also wondered if perhaps the older men weren’t quite as well
indoctrinated with political correctness as the younger ones.

Monica discovered
the kinky side of the internet about two years ago and decided to experiment
with personal ads a bit later. She had some brief flings when she chose
partners simply for the fact that they could play the dominant role, at least
long enough to sleep with her a few times.  When she realized that what they
wanted was vanilla sex, or to have her dominate them, the spell was broken. 
Each time she came out of the semi-hypnotic state that she called her
submissive headspace, she felt disgusted that she had allowed such gross men to
touch her.

She suddenly
realized that she had been staring at her computer for several minutes, while
she analyzed the events that brought her to the present situation.   It was
time for action, she thought as she added the final sentences to her email
message. 

“You know I love
to be spanked and dominated.  It’s so frustrating to have a guy give me a few
pats on the butt and then ask politely for sex!  If I have to pay a pro-dom to
get what I want, then so be it.  Let’s meet somewhere and talk about this face
to face.  What do you say?   Sincerely, Monica.”

Working
industriously at his home computer, Cole was interrupted by a pleasant chime
that announced the arrival of an email message.  When he reached the end of a
paragraph in his report, he switched to the email program.  The message was
sent by: [email protected].

As he prepared to
open the message, he remembered her description from her second email.  She was
five feet eight inches tall and one hundred forty pounds with long brown hair
that was naturally curly.  Her friends described her face as having a touch of
Julia Roberts, perhaps because of her dark brown eyes and sexy mouth.  She
seemed to be rather sensitive about her weight and had described herself as
being slightly pudgy.  One of her messages led him to believe that there had
been some emotional damage done by her mother who was a diet fanatic. 

Although some
dominants required their on-line submissives to provide their exact sizes and
measurements, Cole hadn’t asked for a more detailed physical description.  For
one thing, she was not yet his submissive and he felt it would not be polite. 
He also felt that most women tended to greatly over or underestimate their
attractiveness.  Since Monica lived in his own city, it should be easy for them
to meet and he preferred to see for himself.

He already knew a
lot about Monica and it sounded like they would be an amazingly good match. 
There was just a chance, he thought, that she might become his long term
partner.  He pushed the feeling aside to avoid becoming too eager.

Reading tonight’s
email he found that she was finally ready to meet and possibly negotiate for
his professional services.  About time, he thought, I’ve never put this much
time and energy into a potential customer before.  There is something special
about this one.

He wanted to find
out if Monica was serious, so he quickly typed his response. He described what
he required of the women who wished to submit to him.  The list of rules was
easy to remember, as it was short and he had typed it many times before.  

The first rule was
that Monica must continue with her daily life, including work, family and
friends.  If her dominant/submissive relationship with Cole began to interfere
with her other responsibilities, it would have to end.

The second rule
was that he was not available for a complete relationship.  Only her desire to
submit could be fulfilled through this liaison. 

The third rule was
that when they were together, her submission must be complete and without question. 
He assured her that their activities would include plenty of spanking, bondage
and other forms of SM play which she would be expected to endure.

The fourth rule
was that some amount of money, to be negotiated, would change hands to
establish that he was a professional.

These rules had
worked with many women who Cole had previously dominated in the context of a
professional agreement.  He was confident that this was the best arrangement
for both parties.