by Diana Hunter
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Submission Revealed
ISBN 9781419911194
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Submission Revealed Copyright © 2007 Diana Hunter
Edited by Pamela Campbell.
Cover art by Syneca.
Electronic book Publication May 2007
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Content Advisory:
S – ENSUOUS
E – ROTIC
X – TREME
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic.
S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.
X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
Submission Revealed
Diana Hunter
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Corvette: General Motors Corporation
Hickey–Freeman: Hickey–Freeman Co., Inc.
Saturn: Saturn Corporation
Prologue
Sarah always thought of this room as Phillip’s dungeon, even though the surrounding cream-colored walls reflected the morning sunlight when it poured in through the room’s only window. Every once in a while the sun’s rays would fall just right and glint off the bars of an uncovered cage, making her squint against the glare. When the room was filled with light, only the furnishings gave away the more sinister aspects of the refurbished cottage bedroom.
No sunlight blinded her now, though. This Friday night, soft candlelight glimmered off the rich wood of the new contraption before her. Sarah shivered, goose bumps rising on her naked skin as she contemplated the black leather straps and padded surfaces that attached to the wood with solid metal brads. This was a piece of furniture designed to immobilize the unfortunate soul strapped onto it.
She smiled. Or the fortunate one. Her heart beat harder as the love of her life stepped behind her and slid his arms around her waist. Knowing enough to keep her arms at her sides, Sarah couldn’t resist leaning back into the wonderful strength of Phillip Townsend.
“Cold? Or excited?”
His rich voice, soft and sexy, murmured in her ear. Sarah turned her head so she could look up into his wonderful brown eyes. “Both,” she replied, gasping a bit when his warm hand slid along the valley where her belly met her thigh. With arrow-sureness, his finger dipped between her parted legs to find the evidence of her arousal.
“I’d say more excited than cold, my dear slave girl.”
Sarah loved it when he called her that. She snuggled her back against him, brushing the side of her cheek against the soft material of his T-shirt. Although she wore nothing except leather cuffs around each wrist and ankle, Phillip remained fully clothed. The subtle statement of power was not lost on her. Especially not when he dragged his wet finger up along her belly, tracing her white cream in a line from her shaven mound all the way to her belly button.
“So have you figured out what it is?” Phillip’s voice murmured in her ear, the caress of his breath weakening her knees. Trying to focus on the new piece of furniture, Sarah blinked hard and stared at the oddly placed pieces of wood and leather. The narrow top couldn’t be more than six inches wide, she decided—only about two feet long and covered with black leather that gleamed in the candlelight.
Four legs supported the well-padded top, each leg splayed out for stability. Smaller pieces of wood, also padded in black leather, were bolted to each support. Black straps hung from several places on the contraption.
“It looks like a mutant sawhorse,” she finally proclaimed.
Phillip’s deep baritone laugh filled the room. “You’re not that far off.” Gently he guided her closer. “Come stand here at the end. Now, lean forward and kneel on the two back pads.”
In order to do so, Sarah had to spread her legs wide enough to straddle the top of the horse, leaning on her hands to keep her balance. She could see two divots cut out of the top pad, making it look like one of those “Road Narrows” signs one always sees before an old bridge. A sneaking suspicion began forming in her imagination as to what was coming but she kept her counsel, preferring to let Phillip take her along at his own pace.
“Lie down.”
His hand steadied her as Sarah shifted, putting her hands down on the lower front two pads to lie along the length of the padded top. The leather, cold on her skin, made her shiver as her breasts neatly fell into place on either side of the divot, confirming her earlier suspicion about that irregularity in the design.
She set her cheek on the cool leather and smiled as Phillip adjusted her position, thoroughly enjoying how he played with her body as if he were a sculptor molding clay. When he pulled her back along the top just a smidge and walked around, inspecting her from every side, Sarah watched him until he disappeared behind her. Suddenly she realized how vulnerable she was, kneeling on this bench with her rear end and pussy presented to him almost as if on a plate.
She felt Phillip bring the cold strap across her lower back. He slid the end through a metal buckle that hung on the far side of the contraption and she gasped as he cinched it tight.
“I do not want my slave to think she can escape.”
Sarah resisted the urge to wiggle as he brought a second belt across her middle that strapped her chest tightly to the top of the bench.
Phillip adjusted the position of her left leg before fastening her calf to the pad with two more wide web belts, one across her ankle and one up by her knee. When he did the same to the other leg, Sarah found she was caught fast from just above her waist, down to her ankles.
He knelt beside her where she could just make him out in the dim light. The candle burned behind him and his shadow fell across her face.
“I like seeing you so open and vulnerable, my slave. So ready to do my bidding.” His long fingers brushed her hair back so the stray strands did not get into her eyes. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you. And yet you place yourself in my hands, ready to accept pleasure or pain.”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, knowing he had earned her trust.
Taking her hand, he laid her arm along the front pad before belting both forearm and wrist snugly against the leather. Satisfied, he walked around to fasten the other arm and she resisted the urge to turn her head and watch his panther-like tread. As usual, he wore no shoes or socks, allowing him to move silently when he didn’t want her to know his exact whereabouts in the room.
“You like this bench, slave?”
His name for her never failed to produce an arousal. Had
it been only two months since they’d kissed on the beach and he’d told her he liked his women compliant? Of course, at that time, she hadn’t understood what he meant. After years of being a good girl, then a dutiful wife, Sarah had decided the time was ripe for her to be naughty. That he might mean sex with bondage had never entered her mind. Nor had submission.
Yet that first night, Phillip had demanded both. He’d bound her in several ways, each one taking her farther and farther along a path she had never before even imagined. Now strapped to the bench, she tested her bindings, unable to imagine life without Phillip’s magnificent dominance.
The straps didn’t give her an inch. She tried scooting forward but the webbing across her back held her too tightly. She had just enough play to allow her to wiggle her ass an inch or so back and forth. White cream gathered in the folds of her pussy when Phillip’s hands slid off her shoulders and down along her sides to cup each breast.
“I like your nipples, slave. Feel how hard they have become?”
He pinched and twisted them, rolling the hard nubs between his fingers until she gasped and tried to squirm away. Not until she whimpered did he let go and move to her exposed ass.
The anticipation made her whimper again. How could he torment her like this? Would he spank her? Flog her? Insert a butt plug? Not being able to see his actions made her fidgety. The warmth of his hand on her back startled her and she jumped, then giggled, hating how nervous that made her sound.
Phillip’s palm pressed gently against her back and Sarah took deep, cleansing breaths, calming herself, letting go of the world outside these walls. His hands massaged her shoulders, releasing her tension. Under his touch, Sarah felt her muscles relax as her mind shifted.
There existed a state of mind Sarah never quite had the words to describe. Soft, peaceful…a gentle lulling that warmed her spirit, like a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer wrapped around her soul.
In that mental state, she was free from society’s judgment, free from her childhood lessons about what constituted “good girl” behavior. She was free to simply exist, to simply react with honesty and with pleasure. Here, nothing mattered to her except Phillip and the touch of his hands taking possession of her.
Her breathing slowed as his hands kneaded the muscles of her back, pressing out stresses with each exhalation and pulling in peace and contentment with each new breath. Sinking deeper into an almost trancelike relaxation, content to simply skim along the smooth path he laid out for her, her eyes closed. As her breathing became deep and regular, she almost fell asleep.
Which was why the crack of his palm across her ass made her squeal and jump so hard that her body slammed against the rigidity of the straps holding her down. Every muscle suddenly tightened in surprised shock. A second hard slap in the same spot made her wince. And when a third blow landed, just as hard and putting a third handprint right on top of the last two, she couldn’t help crying out.
“Hurts a bit, my slave?”
She could hear the humor in his voice at her reaction. All right, so she probably shouldn’t have been falling asleep on his new toy. Her new toy, she corrected as he now rubbed his palm over the stinging skin, easing the pain away.
“Since this is a spanking bench, it’s only right you receive a spanking from me. Don’t you think so?”
“Is that what this is called, Sir?” With her cheek pressed against the leather padding, her words came out muffled, although Phillip didn’t seem to notice.
“It is, my slave.”
The fingers of Phillip’s hand dipped between her cheeks as he caressed her ass, sending fresh waves of pleasure straight to her pussy. To be so vulnerable to him still embarrassed her a little. The fact that the two of them were now engaged, with the wedding date a scant three weeks away, made little difference, the man still had the power to unnerve her in the most delicious fashion.
Sarah heard him moving toward the table he always kept covered with a dark blue velvet cloth. He had told her he kept the table covered for two reasons—one practical, one selfish.
“On the practical side, I hate dusting. On the selfish side,” he had stepped in close to her, pulling her possessively into his arms, “I don’t want you to run away in fear.”
She remembered that conversation now as she heard him slide something out from under the blue cloth. Before she could puzzle it out, however, she heard the slap of the paddle against Phillip’s palm and understood what was coming.
“I’m willing to bet a paddling is not punishment for you, slave. You have enough difficulty restraining your climaxes when I flog you and I suspect this will be the same. Shall we find out?”
“Yes, Sir.” Sarah nodded even as fear clutched her stomach. Would it hurt? She had thought being flogged would hurt but then he had taught her how the leather thongs could caress or bite as he saw fit. And he was right. When he had warmed her skin to pink in the past, she’d often ended up begging like a rutting animal for his permission to come.
Phillip lightly rubbed the hard surface of the wooden paddle over the exposed skin of her ass. She couldn’t see it—was it round like a ping-pong paddle? Long and narrow like a yardstick? The only sense that gave her information was touch and at the moment, his touch was featherlight.
She would not be lulled again. She remained tense, waiting for the first blow.
When it came, solidly on the fleshy part of her ass, the loud smack startled her more than the physical touch. Phillip circled the paddle around her ass again, lifting it and tapping it lightly on the other cheek. Sarah grinned.
Keeping his touch light, Phillip paddled her ass irregularly for several minutes. Sarah didn’t know when the next one would land and the uncertainty begin to unnerve her. “Oh, my glory, Sir…just paddle me!”
Phillip’s baritone laugh filled the room. “My, my…listen to the slut! Begging to be spanked.”
Sarah tossed her head with the little movement she could manage but all she accomplished was to get her hair in her face. She blew it and it rose in graceful wisps only to fall back into her eyes. “It’s the not knowing when the next one is coming that’s driving me nuts.” She blew again, harder and the hair rose farther but still settled over her nose, obscuring her vision completely. “Sir,” she added when she realized she hadn’t given him his title.
“Perhaps that uncertainty is exactly what I’m aiming for, slave. Consider that.”
He punctuated his sentence with a hard smack on her right cheek and Sarah jumped, then giggled again at her predictable reaction, even as her skin stung.
She tried counting seconds between the paddles but Phillip was not keeping any rhythm she could fathom. The irregular tempo made her jumpy and several times she flinched even when no blow landed. A frustrated growl formed in her throat and came forth as a cry when two slaps in quick succession were followed by nothing for almost a minute.
“Did you say something, slave?”
Although Sarah could hear the amusement in his voice, she did not smile back this time. How could she explain that her ass wanted more? Or less? She wiggled in her bindings, knowing she couldn’t move. That immobility made her pussy clench, however, and she whimpered in her need to come.
“Remember, you are not to come unless you ask, slave.”
Sarah didn’t trust her voice. She nodded instead, her hair in her face.
“Here…” Phillip gathered the brown strands of Sarah’s hair and wound them into a ponytail. He didn’t have a band to keep them in place, however, so he waited until she laid her cheek on the leather pad again and then let her hair flow down along the far side of the bench. Only then did he move behind her again and out of her sight once more.
Sarah took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and tried to settle herself again. She felt Phillip rest his warm hand on her ass for a moment before letting the paddle fall with a loud and hard slap on her ass.
Gasping, Sarah’s body jumped, again held tight by the straps over her back and arms and legs. See
ming to take pity on her, Phillip now set up a steady tattoo—two short slaps on the right, two on the left, followed by a hard one right and left. Two right, two left, slap right, slap left.
Over and over he repeated the pattern and Sarah tried to squirm away, moaning in agony as her skin turned supersensitive. Her ass burned where the paddle repeatedly landed. Right, right, left, left, slap, slap.
“Oh, Sir! Please let me come!”
Phillip did not let up. “What was that, slave? You need to speak up.”
“Please! Oh, please let me come, Sir!”
The tempo increased and Sarah’s moans became cries. “Please, Sir! Oh, my glory, let me come!”
“Come for me now, slave. Sing to me!”
Sarah bucked against the straps, her hair falling unheeded as her head snapped back and her body convulsed. Stabs of pain accompanied each slap of the paddle now, stabs that gathered in her pussy to explode with a gush and a scream. She gasped for breath as warmth surged from her pussy outward, filling even her fingertips with pulsing heat.
When her breathing quieted and she could no longer hear her heartbeat in her ears, Sarah wondered when he had stopped spanking her. She’d never felt him stop. Her ass burned but Phillip’s touch was absent.
* * * * *
Sweat poured down his brow and he wiped it away with impatience. His cock, hard as stone, pressed against his jeans, demanding attention. Tossing the paddle onto the soft cover of the “tool table”, as he thought of it, he watched Sarah’s body writhe and convulse in her bindings. He didn’t move until her cries turned to whimpers, then he unzipped his pants and kicked them off and into the corner, pulling off the T-shirt and throwing that into the pile as well. Usually fastidious, tonight’s activities had awakened the latent tiger that slept inside him. Already it pawed at the door of its cage, wanting out.
