Submission in Seattle

by Jack Quaiz

  She knew that her friends would never hurt her. The most daunting prospect was the thought of being naked in front of them and being forced to engage in what would surely be shameful sexual acts. At least she hoped so. She was very shy about her body, especially around beautiful women like Monica. Just the thought of being forcibly exposed made her wet; she just wasn’t sure if she could go through with it.

  She was also hoping that she could experience what it meant to serve someone as a slave. Many of her favorite fantasies involved serving a man who owned her completely. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could admit to anyone unless they shared a similar fantasy.

  The email that Monica received from Jennifer proved to contain a fantasy that she and Cole both loved. Jennifer wanted to be hired and trained as a sex slave for a wealthy businessman. She suggested using the name of a handsome Japanese investment banker that she had a bit of a crush on. Since she didn’t really have time in her life to be a genuine slave, the first 24 hours of “captivity” would do nicely. Obviously, some serious training should take place on her first night.

  It took two more weeks to iron out the details, but eventually everything was settled. Jennifer would have two safewords, one to stop whatever activity was taking place at the time and another to stop the play altogether. Since she wanted the feeling of giving up control completely, no acts of sexual dominance were prohibited by their agreement. The only hard limits were that Jennifer had to be able to go to work Monday morning and she did not want any permanent marks.

  She would be picked up outside her building at Noon next Saturday and would stay overnight until Noon on Sunday. All she needed to bring was a bag with some extra clothing.

  As they had promised each other, Cole and Monica discussed their sexual activities in advance. He was a bit surprised when she encouraged him to plan for sex with Jennifer. His sex life with Monica was completely satisfying and he did not feel the need for another partner. However, Monica now knew him well enough to know that his libido would be stimulated by dominating a willing woman. She wanted to be certain that her best girlfriend would have the erotic time of her life.

  Since he did not have a long standing familiarity with Jennifer’s kinky needs, he wanted to be ready to do whatever seemed appropriate in the heat of play. He started giving Monica daily lessons with the cane and flogger in case it seemed more appropriate for her to deal out the needed punishments.

  Standing in the dungeon next to a table of kinky toys, he held out a whip with many short tresses. “This of course, is a flogger, not to be confused with a cat o’nine tails. The flogger has soft flat tresses that can create a range of sensations without doing serious damage. A cat is a much nastier whip, with braided tresses that hit a lot harder.”

  “A flogger can be cut from many different types of material. Leather is most popular, but you’ll also see rubber, plastic and rope, among other things. This one is made of thin suede. A very special woman in the scene made it for me a few years ago. It’s much too light to use on backs or butts. It was designed for breasts. Here, let me demonstrate.”

  She pulled up her T-shirt and held still while he gave her pretty breasts several strokes. The light slapping sensation was quite delightful. He handed her the flogger and showed her how to practice on pillows. For the next half hour, Monica wandered around the house, stalking pillows to attack with the little flogger.

  When she mastered it, he gave her a longer, heavier one which was made from thin smooth cowhide.

  “You must be careful not to let the ends of the flogger wrap around your partner’s body. When the tips wrap around, they strike with a lot more force and it’s in a place they aren’t expecting. It’s the mark of an amateur top and something to be avoided.”

  The heavier flogger made a more satisfying thump when she whacked the naughty pillows, but it still had a large safety margin when used on a playmate. He also showed her how to use one of his lighter rattan canes. She discovered that the flexible nature of the shaft made it difficult to hit a target precisely. After practicing a few times, she decided that she would only use this cane lightly, if at all. Cole brought out one of his black carbon fiber canes, which was slightly lighter than rattan, but almost perfectly rigid. Monica then felt much more confident about her accuracy.

  When they were finished practicing with the impact instruments, they sat down together to work on their plans. Cole began, “Since Jennifer hasn’t engaged in hard SM play before, I don’t think we’ll have to use any heavier instruments. My general theory of SM play is that you should play within your partner’s limits so that they will always want to come back for more. Now here’s something I want you to start practicing with.”

  He showed her a rectangular box about six inches long. When opened, it revealed a straight razor suitable for professional shaving.

  As the day drew closer, they were both becoming more excited. Cole prepared the dungeon for the training of Jennifer. They were very confident that the SM part of the plan would work well, but the D/S play would be more difficult. Their plan was for Monica to be the first to dominate Jennifer. As Jennifer became more comfortable with her submissive role, she would find herself under the control of Cole, in his role as “Trainer”. There was no guarantee that it would work, of course. They simply planned and hoped for the best. They had explained to Jennifer their feeling that BDSM play was really a game. It had to be fun for all parties involved or there was no point in doing it.

  On Saturday morning, Cole inspected his car, which was parked in the garage next to the black minivan. It was a large silver Mercedes sedan that he had purchased as a collector’s car. It was thirty years old and in perfect condition. The rear windows were shielded by gray curtains and the seats were covered in soft gray leather. He placed a few important items in a storage compartment on the back of the driver’s seat, then went into the house to change into his costume.

  Cole dressed in an old fashioned black suit that might have been worn by a chauffeur earlier in the century. A classic chauffeur’s hat and a pair of dark aviator sunglasses completed the look. He inspected himself in front of the mirror and allowed his face to assume an expression of disinterest. The beard and sunglasses made him look quite unapproachable.

  Monica put on her sexiest black cocktail dress. This one was short and had a low neckline, which provided a perfect setting for a long pearl necklace. She spent a great deal of time in front of the mirror, making sure that her makeup was just right and putting her long brown hair up into a rather severe bun which perched haughtily on the back of her head.

  Pausing for a delicate kiss and a swat on her lovely behind, they went to the car. Cole was now in his chauffeur role and held open the heavy rear door for her. She entered the cavernous passenger compartment and sat on the glove soft leather of the rear seat. Getting behind the wheel, he started the old German engine, which turned over with barely a sound. On the trip to Jennifer’s apartment building, they didn’t speak except for Monica’s comment about the amazing quiet inside the old car. No conversation was needed, as their plans had been made and finalized during the preceding week.

  It was a cool autumn day with light cloud cover and just enough hazy sunlight to be slightly uncomfortable without sunglasses. The traffic was heavy and got heavier as they came closer to the downtown apartment building where Jennifer lived.

  As they approached the building, Monica used her cell phone to call Jennifer and tell her to come downstairs. They pulled up to the curb and waited about thirty seconds before she appeared at the front door and walked out to the car. In her hand was a small overnight bag. Cole leapt from the car and held open the rear door without acknowledging her in any way. The dark sunglasses he was wearing prevented her from making eye contact as he took the bag from her hand and waved her into the car where Monica was waiting on the left side of the bench seat.

  Jennifer was wearing a simple green dress with white buttons, black stockings and black shoes with low heels. Her waist
length black hair was tied back to form a long ponytail. As she sat down on the right side, she brought her hair around over her right shoulder. Monica asked, “Are you Jennifer Lee?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am Monica, the Assistant Trainer, you will address me as Ma’am.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Her exotic, almond shaped, hazel eyes were cast downward.

  “Do not attempt to speak to the chauffeur, he is forbidden to respond.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “What are you wearing under that dress?”

  “Just a bra and panties, Monica. And these stockings.” Her slight Asian accent was a bit stronger than normal. As Jennifer looked around the interior of the car, she noticed the curtains that created almost complete privacy in the large rear seat area. Then she looked in the mirror to see that the chauffeur was looking back at her. Or was he? The dark sunglasses and old fashioned hat made it hard to tell. From the shape of the beard, she knew it was Howard Cole, but this cold, mechanical fellow in the uniform did not seem like the Howard she knew. She decided to simply think of him as “the chauffeur”.

  Monica held out what looked like a legal document on a clipboard and offered Jennifer a pen. “This is your contract. You’ll find it to be exactly as we agreed. One hundred thousand dollars for one year of service to Mister Toriuchi. You must sign it before we can proceed. If you wish to change your mind, we’ll take you back to your apartment now.”

  “Here, I’ll sign it,” she said, reaching for the clipboard and pen.

  When she handed back the signed contract, Monica spoke in a businesslike tone, “Your training begins immediately. You will be addressed simply as “slave” and refusal to obey any and all instructions will be punished, as stated in the contract.”

  “I understand.” Jennifer looked ahead as the silent automobile was entering the freeway, but instead of heading North, which was the shortest way to Cole and Monica’s, the chauffeur was going South.

  “You haven’t been addressing me properly, slave. That’s your first mistake. We’ll see about your punishment in a moment. Remove your dress.”

  Jennifer felt a thrill of fear and pleasure course through her slender body. It seemed impossible to take her eyes off the floor, but she forced her hands to begin unfastening the buttons on the front of the green dress. Starting at the top, she slowly worked her way down.

  “When I give you an order, I expect you to obey immediately!”

  The sharp tone startled Jennifer into rapid action. She quickly finished with the buttons, which left the dress open almost to her knees. Monica had never seen her friend undressed before and decided to prolong the show for a while. She and Cole had planned to take an hour driving to the house.

  “Stop. Leave your dress on for a moment. Open it a little so that I can get a look at you.”

  Monica loved the perfect light brown skin that was set off nicely by the white satin bra and panties. She saw that Jennifer’s breasts beneath the bra were small, as expected, and her ribs were sharply defined. For the next several minutes, Monica ordered Jennifer to slowly undress, gradually revealing more of her body. When the dress was safely in Monica’s hands, she paused for a minute to study the little slave-girl-in-training. The prominent hipbones and concave stomach seemed appropriate for a fashion model. Jennifer had, in fact, considered a modeling career, but she was only five feet two inches tall and did not have the height preferred in the fashion industry.

  Jennifer briefly raised her eyes and saw the chauffeur looking at her in the mirror. Even with the sunglasses she was sure he was looking and the sudden embarrassment caused her hands to move quickly to cover herself. Monica reacted instantly.

  “Put those hands down! Slide forward to the edge of the seat. Put your hands behind your back. Now!”

  With practiced skill that she had learned from Cole, Monica slipped a pair of chrome police handcuffs onto Jennifer’s tiny wrists, then shoved her against the seat back. “That’s your second mistake, slave girl. You’re not doing very well so far. I don’t think we can delay your discipline any longer. Hold absolutely still. You are not permitted to make any noise whatsoever. Disobedience will be punished severely.”

  Monica removed a small pocketknife from a compartment on the seatback and turned to the handcuffed Jennifer. She opened the folding knife and reached for the top of the left shoulder strap of Jennifer’s lace trimmed white satin bra. The sharp blade of the little knife slid easily through the strap, which was then allowed to drop and hang limply over Jennifer’s breast. After a short pause for Monica to savor the moment, the right strap met the same fate.

  After gently stroking Jennifer’s skin between her breasts, Monica used the knife to cut slowly through the fabric between the cups, then roughly pulled the ruined bra away and dropped it on the floor. She was rather surprised to see that Jennifer was not flat chested. There was a pair of small, pretty, and sensitive looking breasts with relatively large brown nipples set perfectly within small areolas. Jennifer looked down at her exposed breasts and saw her nipples growing larger in spite of the warm air inside the car. Then she looked up to again see the chauffeur watching in the mirror with that strange detached expression. She whimpered and bent forward to hide her nudity, which triggered Monica into action.

  Grabbing Jennifer’s hair, she pulled the smaller woman back into an upright position. “That’s it. If you can’t obey, you’ll pay the price.” Monica pulled a silver chain from the storage compartment. On each end of the foot long chain was a small metal clip. She held Jennifer’s head back with her right hand and used her left hand to attach one of the clips to each of Jennifer’s hard nipples. Jennifer’s chest rose and fell rapidly with her frightened breathing, but she did her best to hold still. The tight, mildly painful sensation of the nipple clips was quite erotic and it gradually calmed her into a more submissive state.

  Monica released Jennifer’s silky black hair and slipped a soft padded blindfold over her head.

  “That’s a good little slave girl, calm down now. Everything is going to be OK. You have a very beautiful body.”

  “Mr. Toriuchi will be very pleased if we can get you properly trained. Let’s leave those little white panties on for now. They make you look more naked,” she said with a greedy smile.

  As the old Mercedes drifted smoothly along with the traffic flow, other drivers studied the unusual vehicle carefully. One or two managed to catch a glimpse through the front windows, noticing the professional looking chauffeur, then the two people in the rear seat who appeared to be engaged in very interesting activities. Cole maneuvered gently to keep anyone from seeing too much.

  For the remainder of the scheduled hour, Cole drove the car carefully around the Seattle area, gradually working his way closer to home. Monica enjoyed herself thoroughly, touching and stroking Jennifer’s delicate skin and occasionally tugging lightly on the chain attached to the sensitive nipples. She found that pulling back on Jennifer’s hair caused her body to arch into a particularly inviting position. With her right hand holding the beautiful long black hair, Monica’s left hand was free to roam and it gradually found its way to Jennifer’s satin covered crotch. Gently stroking up and down, Monica felt the wetness slowly penetrate through the white panties while Jennifer whimpered and moaned with arousal.

  With Jennifer’s head pulled back, her throat was exposed in a most inviting manner. Monica leaned over to kiss it, then licked up and down from chin to collarbone. By the time they reached the house, both women were breathing hard and trembling with the hot lust that had ripened within their bodies

  Cole parked in the garage and waited for the door to close behind them. Then he stepped out and opened the rear door on Monica’s side. They helped the blindfolded and handcuffed Jennifer into the house and deposited her on the living room carpet in front of the fireplace. She was still wearing her white panties and the nipple clips. Cole flipped the wall switch that activated the realistic gas fireplace and stood back to look at the
delectable submissive woman who sat awkwardly on the luxuriously soft carpet.

  Jennifer felt the heat from the fire take away the chill from her body and heard the two trainers moving about the room. She did not know what was going to happen next, but the submissive thrill that had started inside her during the trip was still there. Her nipples were throbbing from the pressure of the clips, but she was nowhere near using her safeword. She had felt more pain than this during her self-explorations.

  She was delighted with the way the session was working out so far. There was enough trust to allow her to submit, but there were also enough unfamiliar elements to make the scenario believable. She could actually feel herself submitting and the thought of serving the mythical Mr. Toriuchi was a compelling goal. This was proof, if she needed it, that her basic nature was submissive.