Secret Submission

by Diana Hunter

  “Yes,” she replied, a little relieved that they weren’t going to get right into hot and heavy sex this time. Last Friday they’d both needed the release. This week, she had her period and she doubted he’d even want her to stay. Plus, there were those other issues…

  “Okay, Sarah, what is it?” He sat back, facing her, his eyes stern. When she hesitated, he took her hand in his. “You need to be honest with me, Sarah. I’m not blind; I can see something is wrong. As your master, I have a right to know.”

  She put her head down, embarrassed to tell him about her period; unsure how to ask about how far he expected his Master-dom to go. Instead she twisted her fingers together, searching for words.

  Patiently he waited, but she was silent for so long, he finally reached out and gently pulled up her chin—his own stomach lurching. “Or have you decided you do not want a master?” he asked quietly.

  “No!” Her eyes went wide at the thought. “No! It has nothing to do with you, I mean, well…not like that, I mean.” She shook her head at her own folly and the words came tumbling out. “It’s just that, well, I got my period yesterday and I know you won’t want me to stay, and it’s already been a lousy day ‘cause I had to fire someone at work, and having to leave will be the icing on the cake. But if you think I’m going to ask for permission to go to the bathroom, you’ve got another think coming! I can think for myself and am not going to be punished just because I had an extra drink!”

  His laugh filled the small house; she’d gone from embarrassed to angry to indignant all in the space of a few seconds. “I see the dam broke—now, don’t you feel better?”

  After a moment, she grudgingly smiled and as he gazed fondly at her, her smile grew. “All right,” she grinned at him. “I do feel a little better.”

  “Shall we deal with those issues one at a time?” When she nodded, he continued. “Now, first of all, why would having your period affect whether I let you stay or go?”

  “I doubt you really want to have sex with me at this particular moment—I can get pretty messy.” Her cheeks turned red at the admission. She never discussed her menses with anyone, except for her mother and her doctor, of course. Certainly she did not discuss them with anyone she was dating—or trying to impress.

  “And did you bring napkins with you? Or do you use tampons?”

  His frank use of the terminology shocked her and it showed on her face. He laughed again. “I have sisters—several of them. They used the euphemism that ‘their little friend’ had come calling.”

  Now it was her turn to laugh out loud. “My mother used exactly the same phrase! So I can tell you I use napkins and you’ll know what I mean?” She shook her head in amazement. “Next you’ll be telling me you actually went to the store and bought them for your sisters!”

  “I did.”

  She looked to see if he was kidding, but there was only honesty in his eyes. She shook her head again; her father and brother wouldn’t have done such a wonderful thing for all the money in the world.

  “You know, we can still have sex, even if you have your period.” He reached out and dealt with that stray hair again.

  “Yes, I know, but I can’t imagine it would be very pleasant—or sexy.” She made a face.

  “There are other parts of your body that can be equally aroused. If you’re willing to stay, I think we could explore those parts instead this weekend.”

  A slow grin crossed her face. He wanted her to stay. “Yes, Sir. I would like that.” She gratefully slipped into her role.

  He leaned over and kissed her. It was a simple kiss, yet she melted into it as if a huge stress had left her. And, of course, it had.

  Sitting back again, he let his fingers drift across her mouth and come to rest on her cheek. “So tell me about the next part. Who did you have to fire?”

  She shuddered. “It wasn’t a good time, I’m afraid. The company is downsizing and one person had to be cut from my team. I had to make the decision as to whom. I suppose I ought to be glad my supervisors didn’t make the decision for me, ‘cause they would’ve chosen someone else. But they trust me to run my team the way I need to run it. Even so, I hated having to be the one to tell her that she was being let go.”

  She bit her lip to keep from crying. It had been an awful scene—she’d never fired anyone before and she fervently hoped she’d never have to do it again. He gathered her into his arms and just held her until she regained her composure.

  “I’m glad it wasn’t easy for you,” he told her. “That sort of thing should never be easy.” He looked down at her face, now upturned and listening to him. “I’m glad you are not callous,” he said quietly.

  They sat for several moments more before she pushed herself up—ready to tackle the third point her outburst had raised. “About that story you had me read…”

  He grinned. “I thought that might push a few buttons with you.”

  She nodded. “Oh, it did that all right. Every time I turned around today I’ve been either thinking about the firing or about that woman chained to the end of the bed.” Her nose wrinkled. “Not that being chained to the bed is such a bad thing,” she admitted. “But just the way he treated her!”

  “So if I told you that you were going to be chained to the bed all night, so to be careful about what you drank, and then you ignored my command…” His voice trailed off and he looked at her appraisingly.

  “Well, first off, I doubt that I’d ignore your command. But let’s say I had.” She stood and paced the room. “Let’s imagine I forgot, or maybe I didn’t realize I’d drunk quite as much as I did. You chain me to the bed and I go to sleep.” She paused and looked at him frankly. “We’ll ignore the fact that the master and his friend just had to have a loud conversation in the doorway of the room where she was sleeping—they could’ve shown just a little consideration there! That was just plain rude.” She sniffed at the idea. But then she cocked her head to one side, thinking out loud.

  “Wait, I think that’s it right there! He demanded obedience from her—and respect of his wishes. But he showed none towards her! Not once did he ever accept the fact that she should also be respected. Never did he accept the fact that she had a brain. It wasn’t an issue of whether she did what she was told or not that bothers me—it was his attitude toward her!”

  “Excellent!” He grinned from ear to ear. He stood and put his arms around her. “I promise to always respect you, my slave.” Bending down, he kissed her in passion this time and she returned his love. More of the day’s stresses melted away and her shoulders slumped down as the weights were lifted by the touch of his lips on hers.

  “So if I tell you that you’re going to be chained to the bed all night and that you should be careful about what you drink…” he murmured into her hair.

  “Then I will obey your commands and expect to be punished if I do not meet them, Master.” She looked up at him, a hunger growing inside her. “I agree to that, because you respect me and I know you will never punish me gratuitously, as that master did.”

  His hands drifted downward, brushing against her still-covered breasts; breasts that were much more tender at this time of the month. Their lips met again, open and soft. When his tongue entered her mouth, she pressed herself toward him, letting him know his possession of her was complete. How could she have forgotten the sweet taste of his tongue as it encircled hers and left her breathless?

  “How hungry are you?” he asked, pulling out of the kiss.

  “I could eat,” she answered, suddenly remembering she’d skipped lunch because of an upset stomach. Now, relaxing in his arms, she felt a small gnawing in her stomach and grinned. “Yes, I definitely could eat.”

  “Come on, then, my slave. There’s a great Chinese restaurant not far away.”

  They shared a pleasant dinner in a perfectly charming place only a few miles away from his cottage. About half way through the meal, she finally brought up the last remaining topic that she felt they needed to discuss. And it
was good they weren’t in the house. Out here in the real world, she felt more comfortable asking him about her friends.

  “So are you saying you’d like me to meet your friends?” he asked.

  “Yes—I guess that’s part of it. I’m torn, that’s the problem. I want to spend time with you and with them.” She put her chopsticks down in exasperation. “How do married people do it? We are not the first couple to have this problem!”

  He laughed. “And we won’t be the last. I also have friends I haven’t seen because of the time we spend together.”

  She hadn’t considered that. But of course he had friends. “So we just have to find a way to introduce you to my friends and me to your friends! Gee, that sounds so simple.” She laughed, relieved. Why had she thought he might want to prevent her from seeing her friends? Because she’d been reading too many of those silly domination stories in the newspaper, that was why. The general press had no idea what it was talking about when they reported such things, she decided. They only reported the extreme cases, not the normal, everyday folk who chose such a lifestyle.

  “Then how about next Friday?” she ventured. “Would you be willing to meet my group next weekend? I only ask because Beth is having a housewarming party and I’d really like to go.”

  He chuckled. “So there was an ulterior motive to this all along, hmm? Very well. I will meet your friends on Friday night and you will meet mine on Saturday. Sound good?”

  She nodded. A fair solution. They finished their meal and returned home. It was funny how his little cottage was quickly getting the feeling of belonging for her. Because night had fallen while they were eating, the house was dark when they arrived.

  As he had their very first night in the cottage, he bid her remain at the door while he went in and turned on a light. Feeling the familiar tingle of anticipation, she waited patiently for his return. He wasn’t long. The light blossomed in the open doorway and he was right there, holding out his hand. Taking it, she let him lead her over the threshold once more.

  Once again he stopped her in the hallway, standing behind her, her fingers still entwined with his. Only the small table lamp was lit, casting a romantic glow over the otherwise mundane hall. Stepping behind her, he pulled her arm back and up, bending it at the elbow. “Give me your other hand, slave,” he murmured in her ear.

  Obediently she put her other arm behind her and he took that hand as well, bending her arm up until her forearms were bent cross-wise across her back. “Hold onto your elbows,” he instructed. She reached further and felt her breasts strain against her bra. Because dinner had followed so closely upon her arrival, she had not yet changed out of her work clothes. She still wore the deep red button-up blouse and black slacks she’d worn to work that morning.

  Phillip’s fingers now trailed along her collarbone, pulling her thick, straight hair back and out of his way. Nuzzling against her neck, he reached around her to the front of her blouse and slowly unbuttoned each button. Pulling it free of her slacks, he let it hang open in front for a moment while he paid particular attention to one of her ears. She sighed and felt herself sway as his tongue circled and dipped into the hollow and his breath sighed in her ear.

  His hands steadied her and he pulled the blouse off her shoulders, letting it rest on her clasped arms. Then he stepped close to her again and this time let her lean into him as he reached around to release her breasts from their confines. Sliding a finger under her breast, he teased it a moment in the bra. Then carefully, as if he were handling a most precious object, he pulled her soft breast up and out of the cup, letting it hang down over the binding. He did the same with the other and she was glad for his support behind her. His slow undressing of her made her feel more naked than when she wore nothing.

  “Go and take care of your monthly visitor, slave,” he whispered in her ear. “Come back to me wearing nothing but your panties.”

  It didn’t take long in the bathroom to refresh herself and strip for him. He was waiting on the couch. Several candles lit around the room gave a pleasant, comforting glow. Remembering his preference, she knelt in front of him, her hands behind her back, her posture straight. The first time she knelt to him each weekend brought a special thrill to her. There was both a comfort and an excitement. As if she were settling into a comfortable pair of shoes that she was to wear to an amusement park. What wonders would he show her next? Her ankle and wrist cuffs sat out in the open; at his nod, she put them on, locking them in place.

  He brought out the small box he’d shown her the week before. Opening it, he again showed her the leather collar with its small lock. His voice was quiet. “I showed you this last week and told you I would ask you to wear it when you were ready. In the restaurant I was not entirely truthful with you.” He looked at her apologetically and she simply waited, sure he’d told her as much as she could hear in public. Now he was telling her the rest.

  He ran his finger along the leather band. “I would be happy to meet your friends, that is not an issue. In fact, I like the fact that you want to introduce me to them—that you’d share that part of your life with me.” He smiled and her stomach fluttered. Oh, how her friends would tease her, for finding such a handsome man!

  “But my friends…” His eyes held hers and she saw them turn serious—very serious. He was rushing things, and he knew from past experience that this was dangerous. But Sarah was right about their friends. His would understand his absence from their number if he told them he was training a new slave—in fact, several of them already knew. Yes, it was possible to meet her friends and put off meeting his own, but Sarah was an intelligent woman and would soon begin asking why. Better for her to understand up front. “My friends are different, Sarah. My friends will know you are my slave.”

  It took a moment for his words to register. He had used her name, signaling that he wasn’t playing. As things stood right now, no one but the two of them knew of their relationship. Sarah had no one to talk to about it—everyone she knew would think her insane for giving up her freedom to anyone else. And when she introduced him to her small group on Friday night, none of them would know or need to know that they had anything other than the girlfriend/boyfriend thing going on.

  But Phillip’s friends would know. There would be other people that she would meet, socialize with, talk to, who would know their secret. Unbidden, a blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She looked at him, uncertain.

  “Among my circle, there are protocols to be followed. A collared slave has certain protections that an uncollared one does not. Don’t worry,” he hastily added, seeing her look of alarm. “None of my closest friends would try anything underhanded. But in the larger circle of Doms…well, let’s just say that, like ‘normal’ life, not everyone is to be trusted. If you accept my collar, you are under my protection.”

  Again he paused. When he didn’t go on, she spoke up. “So if I accept your collar, you will protect me from all unwanted advances?” He nodded. “And by accepting your collar, then I become your property, don’t I?”

  He nodded again. “Yes. You become my property. You have no rights, no opinions, but what I give you or allow you to express. While you wear my collar, you are my slave.”

  And there was the crux of the matter. Accepting his collar meant this relationship had gone beyond the bedroom fling she wanted three weeks ago. It had blossomed in a way Sarah had never dreamed, not even when with her husband.

  Phillip had never asked about him—and Sarah had told him only the barest of facts, not wanting Phillip to think she was comparing the two of them. Indeed, there was no comparison. Where Tom had been short, Phillip was tall. Where Tom was gentle, Phillip was firm. Where Tom was passive, Phillip was dominant. Very dominant. Wonderfully dominant. Sarah knew her reply.

  “I am already your slave, am I not?” He smiled at her, but there was little mirth in his eyes. She sat back on her heels and searched for the words she wanted. “You have given me two wonderful weekends filled with love�
�and lust. A whole new world has been opened to me because I said ‘yes’ to you when you asked me on the beach if I would do anything you commanded. I do not want to stop exploring this world with you. I understand that accepting your collar involves a commitment on both our parts. It is a commitment I would like to give. Yes, Master. I would like to wear your collar.”

  He smiled in earnest now. He had been right about her! She wanted this as much as he did.

  “Then turn around, slave.” She did so without standing up. The leather had warmed from his touch as they talked. It was stiff, not yet broken in—like her, she thought. Time would make them both pliable. There was a soft ‘snick’ as the lock closed tight and the sound made her shiver.

  Sarah put her hands up to explore her newest binding. The D-ring in front was colder to her touch than the leather. Gently she tugged at it to see if it would come loose. It did not. She ran her fingers around the back, where it was locked under her hair. The lock hung there and she tugged on that, hard. It did not open. The collar was firmly fastened onto her.

  “Turn around and let me see, my slave.” Still kneeling, she turned back to face him. Phillip reached out and looped his finger through the D-ring, pulling her to him. Bending down and holding her, he kissed her—a deep, long, passionate kiss. She felt the rush between her legs at the way he could so easily control her now. Oh, yes…she liked this collar very much.

  “It is getting late, my slave,” he murmured. “And you have had a long day. Come.” Keeping his finger hooked through her collar, he led her into the bedroom.

  She had no choice but to follow—and the yearning deep in her loins spread, making her heart beat hard. Controlled, submissive, a slave following her master, she followed him as he brought her into the bedroom and sat her in the chair.

  He picked up a chain he had on the nightstand and held it up for her to see. It wasn’t long, but there were three equal parts to it. The way he held it, the chain formed a “Y.” She sat patiently as he tilted her chin up and attached one end to the D-ring in her collar. The other two ends rested their coldness in the cleavage of her breasts and she resisted the urge to flinch. The ends fell just at a level with her nipples.