Secret Submission

by Diana Hunter

  Obediently, he stepped back and let the water cascade over his body. Smoothing the hair from his eyes, he pulled her under the waterfall with him. Far from dowsing his desire, the heat of the water fueled his need. Their clean bodies entwined and he kissed her, the water running over his face to splash against their kiss. With a sudden movement, he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. So ready was she, that he entered her in one swift motion, burying himself deeply in the warmth of her smooth pussy.

  Turning, he leaned her back against the tile wall and rode her, his desire at its peak. Over and over he thrust into her, the water spilling down into the valley made by their joining. The shower walls amplified her passion as his force made her moan and explode. Her head fell back against the tiles as wave after wave of passion careened through her fevered body.

  Sarah’s pussy contracted around him as he held her in his arms, urging him, driving him; he couldn’t hold back. His groans echoed hers, loud in the glass and tile shower and his seed shot up inside her. Together their bodies moved as one as their orgasms peaked—together their bodies slowed as the passion waned.

  Phillip and Sarah rested, panting, their gazes searching deep into one another’s souls. It seemed all the secrets of the universe were contained within their spirits. He kissed her again; if he could keep this moment forever, he would. She wrapped her arms around his neck gently receiving his kiss.

  The water chose that particular moment, however, to go chill. With a cry, he jumped back as the cold water hit his back and he put her down quickly. Reaching to turn the water off, they both started laughing.

  “Well, apparently the hot water tank here has just the right amount of hot water in it, Master,” she giggled.

  “Apparently,” his face twisted in a wry grin. He opened the doors and they both grabbed for their towels, goose bumps pimpling their skin. She fingered her hair. “Guess I’ll have to wait to wash this,” she said.

  “Are you telling me I’ll have to shower you again later, slave?” he teased her.

  She put on a mock innocent expression. “Only if my master wants a clean slave!”

  He laughed. “It will take some time before that tank gets hot again.” He padded out to the bedroom and she followed him, both of them clad in their towels. He looked back and saw the dark line of her collar. “Come here, slave.” She complied without hesitation. Picking up the key from his dresser top, he unlocked the collar around her neck. “Put this in the sun so it can dry.”

  The late afternoon sun still shone through the kitchen window, so she took it out there and set it on the sill to dry. Their dirty clothes still lay on the deck outside—all except his pants, which he had removed in the bathroom. Clad in her towel, she went out to retrieve them. When she turned around, he stood naked in the doorway, watching her. He didn’t need to tell her what he wanted. Holding the clothes she had just picked up in one hand, she undid the towel, letting it fall. She raised her bundle over her head and pirouetted, showing off her nudity to the world.

  It wasn’t easy, but she wanted to do it. She wanted to show him she was willing to expand her horizons—as long as it was safe to do so, anyway. Having traipsed all over the property, she understood just how alone the two of them were. If the deer wanted to see her naked, that was fine with her.

  Yes, she was coming along nicely, he thought to himself.

  * * * * *

  The two of them made dinner, ate, cleaned up and chatted about small things—all their normal activities; with one exception: Phillip stayed nude the entire evening. She was used to him wearing clothes while she wasn’t, and to see him walking around in his birthday suit gave her an odd feeling. Not until they snuggled on the couch, candles lit against the dark of night, did she finally have words to ask him about it.

  “I have to admit, Sir, it feels odd to have you undressed.”

  He brushed a kiss onto her forehead. “Why, slave? Don’t you like seeing me nude?”

  “Oh, I like it very much, don’t mistake me,” she smiled up at him. “It’s just…well, my nudity is a part of my slavery. When you’re dressed and I’m not, then that serves as a very powerful signal as to who’s in charge. When we’re both not wearing anything, that levels the playing field, so to speak. Does that make sense?”

  “It does. Can I take from your comments that you don’t like the playing field leveled?”

  She had to consider that. “My husband and I had a level field—a normal one by what society says, I suppose. It was wonderful. We were very much in love and that was what we both needed.” She sighed. “But he’s gone now, and since I’ve met you, I’ve realized that all fields do not need to look the same. I keep coming back because I like the field we’ve been playing on.”

  He continued her analogy, ignoring for the moment her comment about her husband. “So even though my nakedness arouses you, you want the symbolism of me being clothed and you being naked on the field.”

  She nodded. “Yes. At first it bothered me a little, didn’t seem quite fair somehow. But now the symbolism is important to me. Maybe later it won’t be, but for now, I like it very much.”

  “And what we talked of before—your being naked in front of others?”

  She made a face. “In several ways, that excites me, but terrifies me at the same time.”

  “But would you?”

  Her blush reached all the way to her toes. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, if you were there, I think I would.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Then it shall happen soon.”

  The hour had grown late and she yawned. “Bedtime for you, slave,” he told her and they uncurled from the couch. Taking her hand, he led her to the bathroom. For most of the day, she had been uncollared and uncuffed. It had been pleasant, but she found there was a part of her that missed those marks of ownership. She shivered as she thought about how enslaved her heart had become.

  He mistook her shiver and covered her with the bedclothes, pulling her close to his own warmth. Snuggling in against him, she breathed in his scent—clean and wonderful—and hers. Sarah wrapped her arms around the man she was learning to call “Master” and hugged him tightly.

  “Sarah,” he said, and her heart jumped to hear him use her name. “You mentioned your husband earlier. Do you realize in all our time together, that was the first time you spoke of him?”

  She smiled up at him. “I don’t often speak of him, I guess. To anybody.” She fell silent, remembering his look, his smile, his love of life.

  “You miss him still, don’t you.”

  It was not a question, just a simple statement of fact. She did miss him. Terribly sometimes. Even here, in Phillip’s arms, the loss was overwhelming and tears burned in her eyes. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “It’s all right, you know. He was a part of your life for a very long time; when he died a piece of you died with him. You were very lucky to have had such a wonderful partner.”

  His words washed over her and her tears fell, turning to sobs. She missed her husband terribly, but if he were here, she never would have met Phillip. This exploration would never have occurred. And her heart would never have found a second love.

  She quieted herself, sniffling a few times. Reaching over to his nightstand, he grabbed several tissues for her and she blew her nose and dried her eyes.

  “Phillip, thank you. I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it—and it means a lot to me that you understand. But know this, with him gone, I have to move on and make what I can of the rest of my life. I’m no Miss Haversham to sit and mope around because my true love is gone.”

  She threw the tissues into the basket. “I am twice blessed in my life. First him, now you. I don’t know what I did to deserve two such wonderful men, but I thank the powers that sent you both to me.”

  Caressing his cheek, she lifted her tear-stained face to his and he kissed her deeply. If she would love him with half as much love as she showed for her deceased husband, then he woul
d be a happy man. Entwined in each other’s arms, they fell into a comfortable silence, and from there, into sleep.

  * * * * *

  The morning was a bit of a rush for her to get her shower, eat breakfast and get out the door. Again, he was up and had toast ready for her when she emerged from the bedroom, dressed in her work clothes and her mind already beginning to leave the weekend behind.

  “I’ve sent you some more websites to visit, slave,” he told her and she grinned at the appellation. “Email me details of Friday night—although if it’s possible, you should come here so we only need to take one car.” That was the practical side of his nature talking, she realized.

  “I can’t wait to see where you’re sending me this week, Master,” she teased. “Last week’s web adventures were pretty good. I could probably spend hours just exploring more on those sites.”

  “Go ahead—I only sent you a few this time around.” He kissed her and opened the car door for her. “Have a good week.”

  She got in and rolled down the window—putting her face out so he could kiss her again. Laughing, he obliged. Then standing aside, he waved to her as she drove down the drive and back into her normal world.

  Phillip’s Journal

  the week between weekends three and four

  Monday

  I still am having a hard time realizing I may have found the woman of my dreams. I’ve thought this before, with Tamara and with Anne. But both times, they tired of ‘the game.’ Neither one ever seemed to see it the way I do—as a lifestyle choice.

  Other Doms have found willing submissives. Until now, I’ve found women only willing to explore until it got hard. Then they bailed. So far, Sarah’s been wonderful in letting herself explore a world that, I know, is very foreign to her. I have to keep reminding myself to be patient and not push too fast. That’s what I did with Tamara—I pushed her into doing things she wasn’t ready for and she was right to leave me. I know, I brooded about it then, but I’ve since realized the fault was with me that time.

  So I’ve brought Sarah along slowly. I have to admit, that first night was just for the sex. In our dates, she seemed pretty normal, but there was a restless quality about her, as if she needed something and didn’t know what it was. I knew she was a widow—and I’m not exactly one to complain about someone having sexual experience. But bondage is a whole different ‘playing field’ as she called it. And so is submission. So I gave her the option of an ‘audition’ to find out what she’d do.

  When she showed up that second weekend, I knew this was a relationship I wanted to pursue. That first day, I pushed her pretty hard, punishing her for small infractions, putting her in a cage. But she came back anyway. I admired her for that. And yes, I was ready for her. Although truth be told, I wasn’t at all sure she’d show up.

  Gotta call the group today—tell them Saturday’s at my place and let them know she’s ready to meet them. Will have to remember to tell Will to keep it calm, though. He and Jill can really get rocking sometimes—and Sarah is definitely not ready for that. No, a simple gathering at the house for munchies with some easy play afterward, I think.

  Tuesday

  Saturday’s set. Have warned Will and Jill (told Jill she could have at least found someone named ‘Jack’ for her master instead of someone who makes their names sound like something out of a bad fairy tale). He’s agreed to keep her in line—and himself as well.

  Got Sarah’s email late—the computer’s acting up again. She’ll meet me at the cottage, but we have to be at her friend’s housewarming not too long after. I’ll have her clothes all laid out for her so she can do a quick change and freshen up before we have to dash off again.

  Wednesday

  Found the perfect outfits for her for the weekend. It’s funny, I never cared for shopping for myself—suppose that’s why most of my shirts are white and my pants are black or brown. And none of the other girls I dated liked for me to buy them clothes. Said my style wasn’t their style—and again, we’re back to the lifestyle thing.

  I suppose I haven’t been totally upfront with Sarah on that. Initially I set this relationship up as only a weekend kind of thing for my benefit as well as hers. No rushing into things anymore. If this turns into a 24/7 kind of deal…well…I’m getting to like the idea more and more. But it’s only been a month, two if you count from our first meeting in the grocery store. Way too early to know if I want to negotiate her moving in with me—even if it is as my slave.

  Thursday

  Weather’s turned nasty—looks like rain all the rest of the week and into the weekend. Don’t have much time to write today.

  Friday

  Went shopping for me today—didn’t buy anything. Sarah seems to like my white shirts, and a good thing, too. Nothing out there for a man my age—all stuff my father would wear, or stuff for the kids.

  She’ll be here soon—and I find myself growing excited at the thought. Yes, sexually excited as well as just plain old can’t-wait-to-see-the-girl-I-love excited. Have already cleaned the place up and gotten the clothes out for her. Now it’s just puttering around until 6:00.

  Have also been thinking about the lifestyle topic. Will see how she takes meeting the group before I think any further along those lines. Not that I need their approval, but I do want to be able to show her off. She did all right last weekend when I put her out on the deck, but I could tell the thought of being naked before them scares her—a lot. Will have to ease her into it, I suspect. Maybe I’ll let Will and Jill loose just a bit and let her just watch?

  Go putter, Phillip. You’ll drive yourself batty if you keep mulling things over like this. Although writing about her is almost as much fun as seeing her…

  Chapter Nine

  Her friends

  Sarah had to admit she was a little nervous about letting him choose the clothes she was to wear to Beth’s housewarming. Beth had been her best friend since high school, her maid of honor at her wedding, her confidant in all things. Well, she had been—until now.

  Several times over the past few weeks she’d tried to tell Beth what she’d discovered with Phillip, but the words got stuck in her throat every time. Beth was so wrapped up in closing on her first house, Sarah was fairly sure she hadn’t realized that Sarah hadn’t been very forthcoming about the time she spent with her new love.

  Beth had, however, been pestering to meet him and tonight it would happen. Sarah was glad there would be lots of people around; she wasn’t sure she wanted her friend buttonholing her lover and forcing him to spill secrets. A mental image popped into her head as she drove to Phillip’s: him backed into a corner by a woman half his size, jabbing her finger in his chest and demanding to know just what his intentions were.

  She laughed out loud, imagining his answer, “Well, my dear woman, I intend to make your friend into my sex slave.” No, Beth would definitely not understand.

  Phillip heard her car in the drive—she was going to have to have that engine tuned up soon. Knowing they didn’t have much time, he had the door open as she came up to the porch. Bending down, he gave her a quick kiss and a swat on the rear end. “Move it, slave—neither of us likes to be late.”

  She grinned and stuck her tongue out at him, stripping as she hurried to the bedroom. By the time she reached the bed, she had a wad of work clothes in her hand and was down to her pantyhose. Dropping the pile onto the floor beside the bed, she pulled off her stockings and dropped those on top.

  “Mmm…what a nice view, slave.” He leaned against the doorjamb watching the tornado fly about the room, brushing her hair, pulling off her earrings, and generally looking a little frazzled. The clothes he had picked out for the evening lay on the bed and to help, he scooped up her work clothes from the floor. Unwilling to look away for long, he stood in front of the closet as he hung up her suit and watched the show.

  A long-sleeved denim shirt and jeans lay side-by-side for her to wear. Picking up the blue shirt, she looked for a bra, but a chuckle from the cor
ner clued her in: there was none. She looked up to see him wearing a silly grin. With a resigned shake of her head, she held the shirt against the light and felt relief—it was not see-through. Sliding her arms through the sleeves, she pulled it close to button it; the feel of the material on her breasts made her catch her breath. It had been years since she had gone braless; doing so tonight would make her feel very mischievous indeed.

  She picked up the jeans and looked around for the panties, already knowing there were none. No socks either, but the pair of sandals she’d worn to the store waited beside the bed. Sketching a bow, she called out, “As my Master wishes!” pulled on the jeans and zipped them up.

  The arousal was immediate. The roughness of the material rubbed against her pussy and made her feel wanton and sexy. A slow smile spread across her face.

  Moving beside her Phillip took her in his arms. “I want nothing between us tonight, but a bit of fabric. Every time you move, you will think of me and of your desire. I find that very erotic.” Bending down, he kissed her, long and lingering, until he felt her relax completely. Only then did he break away.

  Oh, but he knew how to make the cares of the week fade and disappear, she thought to herself. He held out his hand and she saw the little leather collar lying across his palm. There was a question in his eyes—a challenge. With a smile, she turned and lifted her hair so he could fasten it around her neck.

  He was glad her back was to him—he couldn’t contain his grin. Tonight was a test—could she be his slave in front of her friends? So far, she had worn what he chose and had accepted his collar. It was enough. He would not test her further.

  * * * * *

  The car slid through the darkening evening as they sped toward Beth’s new house. Sarah tried to fill him in on a few of the people he would meet tonight.