Secrets of Submission
Page 4
“You have to trust me to know your limits and your boundaries and to push you a little past where you’re comfortable each time. That’s what a good Dom does. He pushes you to places you didn’t know you were possible. The reverse is true. I have to trust you to communicate your limits. That is what we need to discuss before we can go any further. I may push your soft limits, things you’re willing to try, and I have to trust that you’ll use your safe word if you need to. I explained safe words to you last night. You can’t be afraid to use yours. Don’t think that I’ll be upset or disappointed if you use it. In some relationships, green, yellow, and red are used. Green means you’re good with everything that is happening. Yellow means you need things to slow down. Red means that everything stops. You can use these, or you can pick your own word.”
I listened intently to everything he said, almost overwhelmed. When I realized he was waiting for a reply, I shook off my temporary distraction. “I don’t want to try and remember a random word, so green, yellow, and red are okay with me.”
Satisfied, he added, “We need to discuss your hard and soft limits. You don’t need to know them all tonight. What may be a soft limit may change to hard, and vice versa. We addressed some of them earlier at Eden like the violet wand and the fire cupping. I know the flogger turned you on, which, by the way, I can’t wait to use. I can picture taking a crop to that ass and marking it with stripes. I’ve been itching to redden that plump ass of yours for a week now. Speaking of asses, I’d love to see a plug stretch that tight asshole of yours. I want to watch as my cock thrusts in and out of that ass. Does that turn you on? Your breathing is getting shallower, and I can smell your arousal from here. That sounds like something we’ll be adding to your list of soft limits as well.”
Anal sex definitely interested me, but for now, nervousness and fear overruled my interest. There was a huge difference between the small toys I’d experimented with and a cock in my ass.
I mentally listed the things I read about or heard of that interested me and I wanted to try. I shook off my embarrassment and approached the conversation like a mature woman.
“I’ve done some research, plus I’ve read a lot of BDSM books, which I know aren’t real life, but have still given me ideas. There are a lot things I’m curious about that I would consider trying. I’d like to see how nipple clamps feel, and as you already know from the club, the flogger did intrigue me. I’ve also wondered what a paddle, or erotic spanking, would feel like. Yes, I’ve had fantasies about anal sex and have experimented a little by myself.”
When I thought about the man from the club tonight, Donovan, heat spread across my face. “I might also consider a threesome, with the right person, of course. I’m not sure how I feel about engaging sexually with another woman. I’d consider it. I am open to inviting another man. Like I said, I’d have to feel comfortable with that person. Other than that, I’m not sure what else I might be interested in. For now, I think I’ll settle for the few things I’ve mentioned to add to my list of soft limits. I reserve the right to add or subtract things from this list though, please.” Even though I wasn’t one hundred percent sure of my soft limits, I did, however, know that there were things I had absolutely no interest in. Luckily, in my research, I’d discovered a lot of different kinks that people were into.
“I do have some hard limits. I draw the line at blood play, needles, golden showers, and scat. I also have no interest in humiliation or significant pain. I’m not a masochist. Off the top of my head those are the main ones.”
It was obvious Marcus took mental notes. “Since I’m no sadist, I have no desire to cause you large amounts of pain, although you do need to realize with some pain comes pleasure. When you experience pain, it only makes the pleasure that much more intense. I’m more interested in the power exchange between a Dom and his submissive. You give me power by obeying my commands. It’s what turns me on. I can read your body signals and know when you need more. I want to share pleasure with you. Sometimes, that pleasure co-exists with pain. Do you understand?”
I thought about what he was saying. In theory, I understood the push and pull between pleasure and pain. However, until I experienced it, I couldn’t truly comprehend how they complemented each other. “Yes, I think I understand. I’m willing to turn myself over to you. I want you to teach me what submission and giving up control truly means, Sir.”
With that pronouncement, our relationship dynamic changed. Marcus exited the car and came to my side to help me out. Hand in hand, we walked up the sidewalk where he took my keys from me and opened my door. After he switched on the light he found with ease, he led me to the couch and motioned for me to sit. After slipping my shoes off, I curled my feet underneath me and sat there twitching in anticipation of what was to come. My gaze followed him as he helped himself to glasses from my cupboard, which he filled with ice and water from the fridge panel. He brought me a glass, sat down next to me, and tapped my legs, motioning me to switch positions so my back rested against the arm of the couch and my legs draped across his.
As I sipped my water, he began expertly massaging my feet, pressing on the perfect spots to ease aches I didn’t realize I had. I moaned my pleasure. He rubbed and kneaded my feet as every muscle in my entire body relaxed. It should have been awkward that neither of us had said a single word since entering my house. The silence was oddly comforting. I sighed contentedly. Ever so slowly, his hands drifted upward, pushing my dress past my thighs until I was bared to his gaze. My legs opened almost unconsciously. He stared at me so long, I grew uncomfortable with his scrutiny. I’d never been studied this intently, and it made me nervous to be so exposed. He saw everything, including all the cellulite on my thighs. I set my glass down, and as I started to close my legs, he broke the silence.
“I want to feast on this sweet, succulent cunt. It’s like a peach, waiting to be devoured. I bet you taste like honey. But you have to ask me nicely. I want to hear you say, ‘Sir, please eat my cunt.’ ” With his words, wetness pooled beneath me.
“I can’t say that,” I pleaded, as I began squirming, waiting for him to do…something.
“Then you don’t get this pussy licked. I want to hear you say, ‘Sir, please eat my cunt.’ If you don’t say it, then you’ll need to be punished. You have three choices, Penny. You submit to my commands; you refuse my commands and accept your punishment; or you say your safe word, and we’re done.”
His serious expression caused me to consider my next words carefully, because I didn’t know if he meant we were done for the night or we were done forever. I wasn’t quite willing to take the chance he meant forever. “S - Sir, please eat my c - cunt.” Before I’d even finished the last word, he turned, pulled my legs toward him so I now lay fully on my back on the couch, and lowered his mouth to me. He buried his face in my pussy as he licked me from slit to clit and then began sucking on the nub. His fingers followed behind, and he opened me wide. His tongue traced a downward path until he reached my pussy where he began fucking me with it. Mercilessly, he speared my opening. In and out, going deeper every time.
“Fuck, that feels so good, Sir.” I threw my head back in ecstasy, not even realizing what I said. I’d never been one for dirty talk until now. My fingers found their way into his hair and I tugged roughly as he continued to devour me. On and on it went, tongue and teeth licked, sucked, and nibbled my clit. The tension mounted as he maintained his relentless assault. After what seemed like hours of intense pleasure, my orgasm peaked, and as my entire body tightened in preparation for its release, Marcus pulled away. I blinked down at him and saw my juices glistening on his mouth, my body still on the precipice of climax.
“Why did you stop? I was so close,” I cried out. He moved off me while I continued to lie there trying to grasp the orgasm just out of reach. He leaned down, his lips touching mine, and I tasted myself on him. He kissed me slowly before he pulled back slightly to stare into my eyes.
“I control your orgasms. You reach your ple
asure when I let you. Tonight was only a drop of water in an ocean of the things you’ll experience with me. I think you need to stew a little. I’m leaving for the evening. You will not touch yourself after I leave. Every day this week, I want you to pleasure yourself, but you will not orgasm. You may use whatever you like, fingers or toys, and I want you to think of me while you do it. If you orgasm at any time, and I’ll know if you do, you will suffer the consequences. Do you understand?”
Stunned that he would leave me like this, I nodded mutely. I continued to lay there with my dress still rucked up around my waist as he walked out my front door.
Chapter Seven
Penny
After Marcus left, my emotions continued to reel. I finally picked myself up off the couch and took our glasses to the kitchen sink before making my way into my bedroom, still on edge from my lack of release. I was also a little pissed. Who did he think he was bringing me to the brink of ecstasy and then walking away while leaving me hanging? As if he knew if I’d made myself come or not. He wasn’t omniscient. I took off my dress and bra and put on my pajamas. I walked into the bathroom and after finishing my nightly ritual of washing my face and brushing my teeth, I climbed under the blankets and made myself comfortable.
My arm made its way under the covers and my hand crept inside my pajama bottoms. Softly, then a little harder, I began circling my clit with my fingers. I made circle after circle, all the while thinking of Marcus going down on me as had earlier. My back arched, and I continued rubbing myself, picturing his tongue flick across my lower lips before it plunged into my pussy. I rubbed furiously now, begging for my release to come. Stars burst behind my closed eyes with colors flashing and as I reached my peak, my fingers left my clit and I plunged two fingers inside my weeping pussy, wishing they were Marcus’ cock instead. I trembled from my release. Once the spasms stopped, I relaxed under the comforter and fell asleep dreaming of everything this man planned on doing to me.
I woke early the next morning, and after using the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I went to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. Sundays were my day to relax. I tried not to leave the house if at all possible. While the pot brewed, my phone beeped signaling an incoming text.
Bridget: Eden? You went to Eden?
Me: Hello to you too, Bridget lol
B: Text me your address. I’m coming over tomorrow night and you’re going to tell me all about it
M: Fine. Bring wine. I’ll be home by 7
B: See you around 8 then. Later
After our brief “conversation”, I spent the rest of the day anticipating, yet dreading, a call from Marcus. I didn’t know what I’d say if he asked me if I followed his instructions. I caught myself watching the clock the whole day. By the time I went to bed that night, I’d worried myself to death wondering why he hadn’t called. I tried to convince myself he was busy, except then my mind started playing games with me. I was nervous that he had had his entertainment for the night, and he’d lost interest. Then I wondered why I cared so much. However, I still found myself following his instructions and masturbated. This time, I obeyed and didn’t let myself orgasm.
After a restless night, I woke up early and readied myself for work. One of my clinical rotations involved a brief stint in trauma, and after graduating from nursing school, I became a certified trauma nurse. I had loved the exhilaration of working hard to save someone’s life, though the long, exhausting hours had taken a toll on me mentally and physically. So, after ten years, I moved to the less stressful and slower paced area of surgery. Occasionally though, the hospital called me into the Emergency Department to assist since I still maintained my trauma certification, especially if they were exceptionally busy.
Today was one of those busy days. Ten long hours later, I left work. On the drive home, I actually considered calling Bridget and canceling, except I knew she’d pout, and truth be told, I really did want to unburden myself. Secure in her role as a submissive, Bridget was the perfect sounding board. Plus, I knew she wouldn’t judge me and my insecurities, nor would she beat around the bush.
I stopped for carry-out on my way home, because my stomach growled with hunger since I’d barely eaten lunch. Tonight had the feel of an ice cream kind of girl talk night so I made a second stop at the grocery for two pints of banana, walnut, chocolate chip ice cream. Once I arrived home, I jumped quickly into the shower to wash off the funk of the day and put on my soft, purple with yellow ducks fleece pajamas.
I sat huddled on the couch eating my orange chicken and fried rice when the doorbell rang. I jumped up to answer the door. Bridget wore a hot pink off the shoulder crop top without a bra, skin tight skinny jeans that looked painted on, and black, four-inch, fuck-me pumps. Tall and leggy, Bridget possessed enough curves to give her the kind of figure most women would kill for. Her blunt bangs complemented the long, fiery red hair that she kept straightened. A dash of freckles were sprinkled across her pert nose, and her chocolate brown eyes were surrounded by the lushest eyelashes known to man. I could almost hate her. She held a paper grocery bag.
“My God, woman, how much booze did you bring? Are you heading to the club after this or something?” I laughed as I took the bag from her and ushered her in the house as she shut the door behind her.
“Enough that you’re going to spill your entire guts about this trip to Eden that I’m only now hearing about. Which, by the way, pisses me off that you didn’t tell me you were going. And no, I’m not going to the club. I actually have a date,” she huffed.
“Bridge, I had no idea we were going. Marcus surprised me. Shit, I didn’t even know the club existed, and I’ve lived here for fifteen years.”
She tossed a look over her shoulder while she rummaged through my kitchen. She helped herself to a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard. She opened the bottle of wine with the corkscrew and poured each of us a glass. I heard her sigh all the way across the room. “Fine, I guess I forgive you. Next time, bitch, you better call me if you’re going to Eden. We can be each other’s wingman, er, wingwoman. Whatever, you know what I mean.”
I promised her that she would be the first person I called if, and when, I made it back to Eden. After handing me my glass of wine, she pulled a pint of ice cream that I’d purchased earlier that night out of the freezer and grabbed a couple of spoons. She slipped off her shoes, plopped down onto my plush leather couch, and made herself at home.
“So, spill it,” she ordered, licking ice cream off her own spoon as she handed me the pint and the other spoon when I sat down on the couch next to her. Knowing she would hound me to death if I didn’t tell her everything, I recounted my night with Marcus at Eden as we passed the ice cream back and forth. I told her about him fingering me during the flogging scene, meeting Donovan and his hint of interest in joining us for a threesome, and I told her about Marcus withholding my orgasm, pausing between bites.
“After he up and left me, I went to my room, masturbated, orgasmed, and went to bed. I mean, who the fuck does he think he is?” I started getting pissed again thinking about it.
Brown eyes stared at me in horror, and Bridget started choking on her ice cream. After her coughing fit subsided, she continued to stare unnervingly at me.
“What, for God’s sake? You’re freaking me out.” I slapped at her arm to make her stop.
“You were specifically told that you weren’t allowed to make yourself orgasm, yet did it anyway?” she sounded completely aghast. “Holy shit, girl, you have the biggest pair of balls of anyone I know. Well, besides me anyway. Do you realize how much trouble you’re going to be in the next time you see Master Marcus. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week. You’re totally fucked. Not in a good way that leads to an orgasm either. But fucked. F. U. C. – ”
“I know how it’s spelled, Bridget,” I interrupted her. “Besides, you’re wrong. There’s no way he would even know.” Even in my head it sounded like a question. “I mean, how could he if I don’t tell him, right?”
Bridget stayed for another two hours while we talked a little bit about everything. We talked about her experiences as a sub, our hard and soft limits, as well as things outside of the BDSM community, all while I stewed with worry about what she’d said about Marcus knowing I’d disobeyed him. We discovered we went to the same coffee shop on State Street, the same grocery over on Magnolia, and weirdly, we even had the same beautician. The smallness of our world continued to amaze me.
We also had more things in common, like the fact that each of us had a parent who had died when we were young, her mom and my dad. We both loved some of the same authors, and we both hated onions. Totally mundane stuff, sure, except it gave us something more in common to talk about than only Dom/sub topics. I pictured us being friends forever. Her bold and outgoing personality overshadowed my more reserved one, but not so much that I’d get lost in the background around her. Our personalities complemented one another, and excitement filled me at the prospect of learning from her.
After she left to go out on her date, I cleaned up the kitchen and readied myself for bed. I still hadn’t heard from Marcus, and my worry increased tenfold. Did I turn him off the night before? No sooner did I crawl under the covers than my phone rang. I checked the caller ID, which caused my heart to start racing with excitement when I saw Marcus’ name across the screen. I swiped right to answer the call.