Submission in Seattle

by Jack Quaiz

  “That’s no problem, I can pay!” she exclaimed quietly to avoid the eavesdroppers in the bar.

  “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want our relationship to be like that. There won’t be any fee. This is just for us. To explore each other and see what happens.”

  Monica dropped her eyes for just a moment and said, “I’d like that very much.”

  “Then ask me to accept you as my submissive.” he said in a suddenly very deep voice.

  Her breath caught in her chest and she had to wait a few long seconds before she could speak. “Sir, will you accept me as your submissive?”

  “Yes, Monica. Thank you for giving me such a precious gift. From this moment forward, as long as we both agree, I am your Dominant and you are my submissive. You may call me Master if you wish, but do not consider yourself a slave. You are a free woman who is choosing to submit to a man who you believe is worthy of that gift.”

  “Tonight you’ll go home and think about this. I want you to have a chance to back out. If you still wish to be mine, come to my house next weekend. Make sure you don’t have any other plans. Send me an email on Monday if you’re still committed and I’ll give you your instructions. We’ll start slowly. I think you’re something special and I don’t want either of us to mess this up.”

  They discussed a few more details including an agreement that they would both have tests for AIDs and all other STDs on Monday. As far as they knew, they were both free of any disagreeable maladies. Cole had a vasectomy many years ago, which they appreciated now since Monica was not on the pill and they both disliked condoms.

  After taking the elevator down to where they both had parked, they forced themselves to part with a polite hug and kiss. Then Cole watched silently as Monica drove off into the night at the wheel of a pretty blue Mazda Miata. He took several deep breaths to calm himself before climbing into his own vehicle.

  Arriving at her fashionable apartment twenty minutes later, Monica ran for the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. She threw herself onto the bed and began masturbating furiously. “I’ve never been so horny in my life!” she shouted into a pillow. There is something about Howard that really pushes my submissive buttons, she thought. Maybe it was that sexy beard or the hint of gray in his hair. Perhaps his large hands, which seemed so powerful.

  He wasn’t at all like the men she met from the internet or those posturing assholes who answered her personal ad in the kinky section of the alternative newspaper last year. She received over a hundred responses from a single ad. She must have dated a dozen guys before she got totally disgusted and gave up. Howard was different. He said he was some kind of legal professional, although he wouldn’t be more specific.

  It had been roughly eight months since she last had sex with someone other than herself. Prior to meeting Howard, the only good thing about her social life was that she had plenty of time to haunt the internet and hang out with her girlfriend Jennifer who had similar interests. There were countless mailing lists, chat rooms and web sites that discussed Dominance and Submission. She had learned enough about D/S to know that it was what she wanted and that she hadn’t yet experienced it. SM was interesting and she did love a good spanking, but it did not satisfy her urge to serve and submit.

  She felt envious of the women on the internet who wrote stories and poetry about their submission. Was it finally her turn, she wondered? After several intense orgasms fueled by fantasies of her new master, Monica fell into a deep sleep, drooling slightly from the corner of her Julia Roberts mouth.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  On Sunday morning Cole awoke at seven AM as usual and looked out the window through the tall fir trees that screened his house from the neighbors. Since the Autumn monsoon was absent today, he decided to indulge in one of his favorite Sunday morning activities. Dressing in a black sweat suit, he drove to the nearest Starbuck’s for a large Cafe Mocha. He passed the mirrored glass building where he rented a small office. Then, appreciating the light Sunday morning traffic, he crossed the floating bridge over Lake Washington and continued up Interstate Five to Green Lake. Finishing his coffee drink as he arrived, he parked and started to jog under a light gray sky around the 2 mile asphalt path that encircled the lake. While he idly watched the female joggers, he considered his situation.

  It had been twelve years since his divorce, which was painful, even though it made perfect sense. His wife had been correct, they were not at all right for each other. Constantly fighting for control was no way to live. It had taken him two years to get back on his feet emotionally and financially. Then there was a time of disappointing vanilla dating. He couldn’t count the number of times that women had lost interest when they found out that his favorite form of sex play was something they considered perverted. His discovery of the organized SM scene began an important period of experimentation and personal growth.

  Seattle had an active pansexual leather community. Kinky organizations would form and dissolve regularly. They all had the same motto: “Safe, Sane and Consensual." To Cole, the concept of SM as a form of healthy play came as a revelation.

  The large pan-sexual play parties at the mansion had been an amazing experience and a great place to learn. His new friends told him that he was something called a Top, the label applied to the active partner in SM play. It turned out that he had a real aptitude for topping and he learned a lot from the Leatherdykes who were happy to teach him their highly ethical brand of consensual and almost spiritual SM. Even the professional FemDoms, who were so influential in the scene, seemed to accept him. He eventually decided that although SM play was great fun and highly stimulating in its own way, it wasn’t quite what he was looking for.

  By the time he was ready to move on, he knew that he was more Dom than Top. It was great fun to spank or whip a willing play partner, but it was even more intense when she submitted to whatever he wished.

  He liked the term “playmate”. It seemed a little more joyful and a bit less formal than “play partner”. He played because he enjoyed it, not because he was driven by some inner demon. Taking the dominant role in sex turned him on at the deepest levels. Apparently, he was just wired that way. On the few occasions that he had tried to be sexually submissive, it had been a complete waste of time. A good massage would have felt better.

  He developed friendships with other dominant men and learned what he could from them. Many of the maledoms used names like Master Joe or Sir Harry. Cole never gave himself a title, although he had his subby playmates call him Master if it turned them on and enhanced their feeling of submission.

  He knew right away that he found some maledoms repulsive. They were the ones who talked badly about their female partners and seemed to have little concern for their well-being. He called them ego-Doms. Some of them were fans of the GOR novels by John Norman, which portrayed a planet where most women were bought and sold as slaves. To be fair, however, he had met couples who seemed to have constructed comfortable D/S relationships based on “Gorean” principles. The amazing variety of kinky relationships was a never ending source of fascination for him.

  Around this time, Cole stopped using the initials SM to describe what he did. A new term was coined on the internet: BDSM. It was an artificial acronym that incorporated Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism. It was a flexible term for a flexible lifestyle. Since he engaged in all the included activities, it seemed the perfect label.

  He had always been curious about the influences that caused a person to enjoy BDSM, so it was often his favorite topic of conversation. He never was able to figure out why he had turned out this way himself. He had no history of abuse or neglect. His earliest memories of sexual fantasies around age ten were a desire to tie up the little brown haired girl down the street. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d do with her then, but he’d seen women tied up on TV a few times and knew that it was terribly exciting.

  For the last three years, since turning away from the local scene a
nd advertising on the internet, he had enjoyed more erotic female companionship than he had ever dreamed possible. He respected every woman he played with and he learned something from each of them. He was still in touch with several of his old playmates and had parted on good terms with those he no longer saw. Oddly enough, he considered himself a feminist and on occasion had used his influence to help women advance in his profession.

  The only thing that Cole lacked was a permanent partner of his own. The house seemed so empty at times during the long Northwest winters. He wondered if Monica would be the one.

  As he jogged through some fallen leaves he noticed that the women joggers didn’t seem as attractive today. None of them had her smoldering sexuality that was a product of her intelligence and her submissiveness. OK, maybe her delectable body had something to do with it too, he thought with a wide grin.

  On Monday, Monica sent an email stating that she wanted very much to proceed with their relationship. She signed the email, “Your submissive, Monica." He sent back an email that included the following terse instructions.

  “Arrive at my house at exactly seven thirty Friday evening. You will be punished for tardiness. Be prepared to spend the night. What you wear is not important. Eat before you come. You can expect to be used sexually if I find your behavior acceptable. Bring the results of your STD tests. You are not permitted to have an orgasm until we meet.”

  That week was a long one for Howard Cole. His clients were particularly demanding. He checked the local weather website and found out that there was indeed a full moon. Instead of setting his own hours, he was forced to work evenings. At least he was able to do much of his work at home. Unfortunately he didn’t have time to prepare his basement dungeon as he usually did for a new playmate. Perhaps, he thought, this would be a good time to do something different. The dungeon could wait for a future session.

  On Friday, Monica was able to leave work an hour early and skipped her usual workout at the gym. Her friend Jennifer Lee had been envious when Monica gave her Cole’s address and phone number as a precaution. Monica promised to call the next day with a full report. The two women met on-line almost a year ago in a Compuserve forum dedicated to Dominance and Submission. Upon finding out that they lived in the same city, the two quickly became close friends with a hint of sexual interest between them.

  Jennifer, a slightly built woman of mixed Chinese and French-Canadian ancestry was a stunning beauty. Her exotic facial features with almond shaped hazel eyes and a high forehead were the type that made everyone look twice. Her sensuous waist length silky black hair drew more attention from men than she wanted. Unfortunately, her history with men was abysmal, which was why she could usually be found in the company of women. She insisted that Monica share all the juicy details of her rendezvous with Cole, so that she could enjoy them vicariously.

  Monica obeyed Cole’s instructions forbidding an orgasm and by now it was almost impossible for her not to masturbate. Her clitoris was in a constant state of tingling arousal and she was slightly wet with anticipation. She bounced around her apartment in a mixture of excitement, fear and just plain lust. She bathed and shaved, then tried on several outfits. With each new outfit she stared in the mirror and told herself that she was fat and ugly. Her mother and her first boyfriend had told her that a thousand times and now it was too late to believe differently. Perhaps her new master wouldn’t care, if she was sufficiently submissive and obedient, she thought.

  Since Master Cole said that her clothing was not important, she did not want to overdress. She settled on a pair of moderately tight jeans and a tight white top with no bra. She didn’t really need one. A pair of high heels made her ever so slightly large legs look elegantly slender.

  As she drove to the home of her new master, she was already getting slightly wet and was glad she had worn panties, even if they were just a little pair of lacy white things. She was a bit nervous, but she was comforted by the fact that they had agreed to use a safeword. All she had to do was say “safeword” and he had promised to bring their play to an immediate halt. She was more concerned that he would be too afraid of hurting her, like some of her useless boyfriends, she thought contemptuously.

  Approaching Cole’s house, she noted the impressive neighborhood, then found her new master’s home on a narrow private road. It was a large single story residence. She studied it carefully in the fading daylight. Perhaps two thousand square feet, if there wasn’t a basement and it was probably built within the last ten years, she estimated. It wasn’t the biggest one in the area, but it was nicely screened by large trees and seemed quite secluded. The landscaping had a distinct Japanese influence, with several large boulders placed artistically in beds of raked gravel. She parked in front of the three car garage and went to the door.

  Cole answered her knock with his heart pounding. There stood not only the sexiest play partner he had ever had, but someone who just might be the mythical perfect partner. He hoped he wouldn’t make any stupid mistakes. Fortunately, being around Monica made him feel very dominant and confident. Was it just a coincidence that she was 10 minutes late?

  She saw that he was wearing black jeans and a white long sleeved casual shirt. Giving in to a strong urge to cast her eyes downward, she noticed that he also appeared to be wearing expensive leather loafers.

  “You’re late,” he growled. “Come in and follow me." He resisted his impulse to give her a hug and led her toward his study, where he had just turned off the computer a few minutes earlier.

  Monica scanned the interior of the house for any clues about her master. A dining room contained an expensive looking table, but only four chairs. The kitchen had several gleaming pieces of copper and stainless cookware hanging on the wall. As she followed him down the hall to the study, she noticed several professional looking framed photographs of outdoor scenes. In one, she recognized a waterfall that was near Mt. Rainier. Since her master had mentioned his photography hobby, she made a mental note to ask him later if the photos were his.

  They entered the large study and stopped just inside the door. “We have a little bit of business to attend to before we can begin.” Cole announced, “Did you bring the results of your tests?”

  “Yes Sir, here they are. I guess I’m pretty healthy.”

  Cole handed her his paperwork which stated clearly that he was STD free. She looked at it carefully and handed it back, saying “Thank you Sir.”

  He noticed that she was wearing just the right amount of perfume. He couldn’t quite come up with the name. It was something to ask her about later.

  “Stand right over there and be silent unless I ask you to speak,” Cole said, pointing to the center of the room. A light piano concerto played softly from expensive speakers concealed in the polished oak bookcases and soft light spilled from two lamps in the corners.

  Monica’s heart was pounding and she concentrated on the features of the room for a moment to calm herself. She saw that his computer was one of the latest models. Probably a late Pentium class, she guessed, nice big monitor, ergonomic keyboard, CD-ROM drive, expensive printer. The furniture reminded her of the expensive walnut and teak pieces that her company’s CEO had in his private office. There was a fax machine or copier on a credenza behind the desk. The stereo was apparently hidden, she noted. As she looked down at her feet and noticed the fine texture of the light gray carpet, her heart was again beating normally.

  Cole pulled up a comfortable chair. He placed it in front of her about six feet away and sat down, which brought her attention back to him. He waited a few moments to see if she would remain silent as instructed. Monica was looking approximately at his feet, which he hoped was a sign of submission. She was wearing a short bomber-style jacket over her white top, so the next thing he said was “Thank you for coming, Little One. Take off your jacket and place it over the chair behind you”

  Monica complied and returned to her position in the middle of the room. Cole was fascinated by her instinctive submission.
Perhaps she had more experience at this game than she had admitted.

  “Put your hands behind your head.”

  Cole’s line of sight was drawn inexorably to Monica’s breasts and he studied them intently. “Put your arms down,” he said, then “Put them back behind your head”

  He noticed that her breasts did not sag like they should for a 26 year old woman with this kind of figure.

  “What is your bra size Monica?”

  She felt a delicious wave of humiliation sweep over her and struggled to get out her answer. “I’m a 36 C, Master."

  “Do you have breast implants, Little One?”

  “No Master!” she exclaimed.

  “Take off your top and we’ll see about that. Place it on the chair by your jacket.”

  Monica pulled off her white top by grasping it from the bottom and pulling it over her head. After placing it on the chair she resumed her position in front of Cole with her hands at her sides.

  Cole stepped forward to examine her breasts and brushed some of her beautiful long brown hair out of the way. With her arms down, they did sag slightly. The nipples were medium size and quite hard already. They were a beautiful pair, perhaps the prettiest breasts he had ever seen. The word perky came to mind, but he didn’t know if perky could apply to breasts this size. Perhaps he should mail the question to the Playboy Advisor, he thought while suppressing a grin. He very delicately brushed her nipples with his fingertips and they grew even harder.