Submission in Seattle

by Jack Quaiz

  “She’s really special. Is she the one you had a relationship with?”

  “Yes, that’s her. One of a kind. Do you want to play with her again sometime? I’d say she enjoyed herself enough to be interested in a rematch.”

  Monica hesitated, “I’m not sure right now. I just adore her as a person, but I don’t think that submitting to a woman is what I need. I was really doing it for you, you know.”

  “I thought so. Well, it’s not important. Since we both like her, we’ll see more of her socially, I’m sure.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The level of trust they had in each other set the tone for their relationship, which became warmer and deeper as the months passed quickly. Their sexual activities always involved very hot, but loving, dominant/submissive play. Monica derived a great deal of satisfaction from simply serving him. Sometimes it was in small ways, like bringing him his coffee and sitting at his feet for a while. At other times, they would engage in semi-formal training where Cole would show her how to dry him after he stepped out of the shower or how to pose herself in the sexiest positions for his visual enjoyment. Above all, they were deeply in love.

  It was not a complete fantasy world, however. They each had important responsibilities that demanded a great deal of their time. Their dominant/submissive relationship fulfilled some basic inner needs, but it also provided a form of escape from the daily stress of life in the business world. Monica was becoming an expert at changing roles when she left work. It was becoming quite natural to be forceful and assertive by day, submissive and loving by night. She felt a sense of balance in her life that had never existed before.

  Cole became a bit wrapped up in major contract negotiations involving a new method of programming traffic computers to regulate the flow of traffic on city streets. His fee would be substantial if he could arrange the kind of terms that he was hoping for.

  When the contract was signed he estimated that his planned retirement date had been moved up by at least a year. Monica had also finished a major marketing project and they felt like they needed to take a little time off. Sitting in the living room with glasses of Johannesburg Riesling, they discussed travel possibilities that could be arranged on short notice.

  Considering the limited time that was available, they decided to vacation someplace within a day’s drive.

  “Have you ever been to Victoria?” he asked. “It’s only about three hours away by ferry. We’ll need to check the ferry schedules.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about it, but haven’t been there myself,” Monica replied. “In fact, I’ve never been on any of the ferries. I’d love to go there!”

  The Canadian city of Victoria was isolated from the mainland on Vancouver Island and was only accessible by air or by ferry. A fleet of passenger and auto ferries plied the waters of Puget Sound to provide the vital transportation links. They made reservations for three nights at a quiet hotel in Downtown Victoria.

  On Thursday, Cole removed the center seat from the minivan to provide a large empty space inside the vehicle. In the wee hours of Friday morning, they loaded their bags and drove north to Anacortes.

  At 7:30 AM they parked in the waiting line at the ferry terminal. They watched from dockside as the sturdy ship maneuvered for docking. The huge hydraulic ramp was deployed from the dock to match up with the great door in the stern. The smell of salt water and the cries of the seagulls blended with the manmade odors of machinery and the sounds of automotive engines. Monica counted seventy cars and trucks racing up the ramp from the vehicle deck and stopping to wait again at the U.S. customs terminal.

  When they were allowed to drive onto the ferry, Cole was pleased that the minivan had been allocated a parking place in one of the darker corners of the vehicle deck. They would have over three hours to kill while the ferry made its way through the narrow channels of the San Juan Islands before arriving at the Canadian port of Sidney.

  As soon as people parked their cars, they all went upstairs to the passenger decks for coffee and sightseeing. Cole and Monica waited until the deck was deserted, then moved into the rear of the minivan. A pile of blankets and pads covered most of the floor. They undressed quickly, then got under a soft down comforter. The rocking motion of the ship indicated that they were underway and Cole pulled a set of their favorite leather wrist cuffs from under a nearby pillow.

  He used the wrist restraints and some spring clips to attach Monica’s hands to the base of the bench seat at the rear of the minivan’s cargo compartment. Protected by the nearly black windows, he spent the next half hour seeing how close he could get Monica to coming without actually letting her climax. His favorite technique was to simply lick her clitoris until she started to wiggle her hips. Then he would stop for a while and kiss his way up her perfect tummy to her delightfully protruding nipples. The throbbing of the ship’s engines easily covered her happy noises.

  When he felt like he was nearing his own limit, he unfastened her restraints from the base of the seat and they moved up onto the seat itself. Cole sat down first, then ordered Monica to service him orally. Kneeling on the floor between his knees, she demonstrated a natural, but not fully developed, talent for fellatio. He had to stop in just a few minutes, as he could feel his orgasm already starting to develop.

  “You’re getting too good at that, my little slut girl. Come up here with me now, I have plans for you”

  “Let’s hurry Master, I need you inside me now!”

  “Kneel on the seat with one knee on either side of me. That’s right. Lower yourself onto my cock... God that feels good!”

  Feeling his manhood engulfed in her soft warmth was an exquisite sensation. Before he could lose himself in this sensual bliss, he reminded her to clip her leather wrist cuffs to the hooks that he had installed along the ceiling where normal people would hang clothing.

  This position placed her delectable breasts right at Cole’s mouth level and provided Monica with leverage to raise and lower herself on his ironhard phallus. When she rested all her weight on him, the seat cushions were compressed and the throbbing vibration of the ferry was transmitted deep into her body. She also found that she could rub her overheated clit on Cole in a most satisfying way.

  “Oh Master, that feels so good! I can feel the vibration way up inside me!”

  “You may come whenever you want, my dear.” He took great delight in fondling and punishing her breasts for as long as possible. With her arms extended to the corners of the minivan’s roof line, her breasts were displayed in just the manner he liked. He pinched the sensitive nipples and slapped her firm globes to watch them jiggle.

  The moderate pain in her mammary erogenous zones soon combined with the vibrations in her womanly core to launch the first of several massive orgasms. “I’m coming Master!” she cried out.

  Cole was thankful that the sounds of her guttural screams and grunts were absorbed by the noisy environment on the ferry. He held out as long as he could, but when he discovered that the springy seat cushion would allow him to thrust and withdraw to suit his own inner rhythm, it was all over. His uncontrollable muscular exertions lifted and dropped Monica repeatedly, forcing her to climax again.

  When they were able to speak again, they laughed together at the steamed up windows, then noticed that it was growing cold inside their private play chamber. Cleaning up and dressing in warm clothes, they left the minivan and went upstairs to join the other passengers.

  They huddled close together at the rail as they watched the forested islands slip by, so close they could almost reach out and touch them. The clean, chill breeze soon drove them back inside for coffee and a warmer observation point inside the main cabin. Several passengers remained at the rail to watch for killer whales. Shortly before noon, they arrived at Sidney, on Vancouver Island.

  Driving off the ferry, they waited in line for the Canadian Customs agents to ask the usual questions of all the drivers. The cuffs and other toys were hidden from view, since they had been warned by fr
iends that kinky toys were sometimes confiscated at the border.

  Cole had been very careful to leave his handgun at home. The Canadian government didn’t even trust its own citizens with guns and they were certain to come down hard on any barbaric American who might dare to defy their laws. He noted the familiar sign he had seen before at the customs station which read “NO OFFENSIVE WEAPONS”. He had once asked a customs agent what might constitute a defensive weapon, but the only answer he got was an hour long search of his vehicle. This time the only surprise was the fact that pepper spray was banned in Canada and Monica was relieved when she remembered that she had left hers in another purse. Apparently self-defense was not supposed to be an option for Canadians.

  They made the half hour drive into Victoria and checked into their hotel around one in the afternoon. Although the English style shops and buildings were interesting, the usual cloudy weather made Victoria somewhat dreary looking. Monica announced, “Aren’t the English supposed to be famous for their tea? I could sure use some right now.”

  “Funny you should mention that,” Cole said, “I was just going to suggest that we have high tea.” Walking a few blocks to a busy, crowded tea shop, they ordered the shop’s version of high tea, which included a large plate of tiny tuna and cucumber sandwiches as well as various biscuits with jam. The tea itself was served at the perfect piping hot temperature and was brewed to the ideal intensity.

  Feeling fortified and wearing their favorite walking shoes, they set out on foot to explore downtown Victoria. Monica was thrilled at the English atmosphere as they passed numerous shops selling souvenirs and imports from Mother England. That evening, they dined at a restaurant which replicated old English culture from the Shakespearean era. In the courtyard out front, there was a set of antique wooden stocks that reminded them of their kinky friends back home.

  In their hotel that evening, they realized that loud sexy noises would not be appropriate, so they snuggled in the comfortable bed for a while, then happily engaged in quietly dominant and silently submissive sex. They fell asleep in each other’s arms and didn’t awaken until late the next morning.

  They spent Saturday exploring the area by car, visiting a fort, a lighthouse and the famous British Columbia Museum next to the Parliament Building. Something about Victoria was making them terrible horny, because they returned to their hotel room and fucked like bunnies whenever they could.

  They returned home on Monday, sore from too much sex. In order to be ready for work on Tuesday, Monica needed to return to her own apartment that night. “I sure wish I could stay here tonight, Howard,” she whined seductively.

  “I wish you could too. We’re going to have to do something about that soon.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was a lazy, rainy Sunday afternoon in Seattle. The weather was typical for April, cool rain instead of cold rain. Cole and Monica had played heavily the night before and it felt good to just sit around the house and talk. Their conversation turned to Cole’s experiences in the scene and his previous play partners. Monica believed that she could get to know him better by finding out more about his past. She delicately maneuvered him into discussing how he came to have so many kinky friends.

  “Tell me about the women you’ve played with Howard, were they all gorgeous?”

  “Not all of them, by any means. You don’t need to be beautiful to be submissive. People in the scene come in all shapes and sizes.” he paused for a thoughtful moment, “Maybe it would be easier to show you.”

  Cole got up from the sofa where they were chatting and went into his office for a moment. He took what appeared to be a large professional sized photo album from a locked cabinet and brought it back to the living room.

  “I didn’t know you had that,” she exclaimed. As they looked through the photo album, Monica asked just the right questions to draw out the story of his kinky explorations. She watched his eyes intently and listened to him explain how it all started.

  “When I first understood that I was turned on by SM, it was still considered a form of mental illness.” he began. “Then, when I found the Seattle SM scene, I guess I went through all the usual stages.”

  Cole’s first club meeting was a revelation. Realizing that there really were other people in his city who had the same forbidden desires was a major discovery. The fact that they felt good about it was stunning.

  “I was very impressed with the constant emphasis on safety and personal responsibility, since it matched my own philosophy. I went to a few monthly meetings before I felt comfortable enough to start talking with other people and discussing my own preferences.”

  “My primary kinky interest at the time was photography. I had always enjoyed looking at well produced bondage magazines and videos.” He was also an excellent semi-professional photographer and had recently moved into a custom built house with a basement photo studio.

  “My first attempt at sharing my kink with others was an offer to take high quality pictures of anyone who wished to pose for SM photos. I didn’t really expect any responses, but it made me feel like I was participating in the social activities of the club.”

  To his surprise a woman came up to him after the meeting and wanted to discuss her interest in being photographed in various bondage positions. Her name was Donna and she was a classic California blonde with large firm breasts on a tall, skinny frame and very long, straight blonde hair. Donna had discovered the scene a few months before Cole. She was a single mother, around thirty, and was looking for chances to explore the secrets that she had kept inside herself.

  They agreed to a time for the first photo session and she politely refused his offer to have her bring a friend to act as chaperone. Using the soft portrait lights, they arranged various bondage poses. She was attached to the ceiling, spread-eagled on the floor and tied to a chair in classic bondage magazine style. When he printed the photos, the results were surprising. They both agreed that their favorite shot was a simple pose that showed Donna kneeling with her wrists bound by a bright red satin scarf. It wasn’t just the fact that her blonde hair and tanned breasts were so sexy. The one vital element was the appearance of submission.

  The other poses turned out well too and Donna was happy to share them with others at the club meetings. She and Cole became good friends. They attended some private play parties together and tried to find what they were looking for in each other. It didn’t take long for them to realize that they weren’t sufficiently compatible to create a serious relationship, but he would always remember her fondly as his first playmate. It took more than a shared interest in bondage to make a viable couple.

  As a result of those first photographs, other scene people approached him to photograph them engaged in their particular types of fetish activity. Although he personally preferred female submissive themes, he learned to create attractive photos of many types of kinky scenes. The photo studies of tattoos and piercings were particularly artistic.

  Shooting the Femdoms with their submissive male partners was more difficult, but turned out well after a little practice. His favorite sessions involved maledom/femsub couples, who would sometimes engage in hot play while he looked on through the viewfinder waiting for just the right second to capture the energy and erotic joy of the moment. Cole would often leave them alone for a while when he was done shooting. He enjoyed seeing them come up the stairs later with big satisfied smiles.

  As Monica leafed through the large portfolio, she pointed to one picture and asked, “Who’s this woman with the long hair? Is she one of the pro-Dommes?”

  “Yes, that’s Mistress Kitty. Very nice woman on the surface. Unfortunately she likes to collect men. She has a perfectly good submissive husband, but the poor bastard has to live with the fact that his wife prefers the company of her various lovers and slaves.

  There is something about becoming a pro-Domme that has a bad effect on many of the women who do it. I suppose it has something to do with being worshipped by too many men who are w
illing to pay for the privilege.”

  “I can see how that might bring out the dark side of someone’s personality,” Monica said.

  Cole went on to explain that he created an extensive collection of bondage and fetish photography. When he photographed his scene friends, the agreement was that he would retain one or two nice prints of the session. The negatives and all the remaining prints were given to the person or couple who posed. It seemed like a mutually rewarding arrangement and it helped Cole meet a large number of people who shared at least some of his feelings about sexuality.

  He looked over her shoulder as she continued to scan the kinky images. The people in the photos were not all beautiful. Some were thin, some fat. Some were very attractive, although he knew that his artistic skills were partly responsible. He told her a little about each of the people and the circumstances surrounding their photo session. Monica could see that some of the couples were having a very intense erotic experience. She was impressed with the quality of the photos, but a little jealous when she realized that all these people had shared her master’s life before she appeared.