Aching to Submit (9 page)

Michael put one hand at her low back as he kissed her, his other hand tweaking one of her nipples.

“Ouch!” she said. “What was that for?”

He grinned. “It was just because I wanted to do it. Dress looks good on you,” he said, turning her around. “Did the box get here?”

“Yep, it’s in the dining room. What did you order?” she asked.

They walked in that direction. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said. He picked up the box. “I’m going to have a quick shower and we’ll be ready to go. Come upstairs with me.”

She did.

Once in the bedroom, he set the box on the bed and turned to her, his eyes sweeping her body.

“Take the straps off your shoulders and pull the dress down to your waist.”

“Michael, do we have time?” she asked.

“Sophie,” he said, brushing a finger over her cheek. “When I ask you to do something, I’d like for you to do it without question, without hesitation, and remember to always be respectful,” he said. He’d slipped off his jacket and was now unbuckling his belt. “Let’s have a little reminder before we go out tonight. Take the dress to your waist.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said.

His cock was hard and her pupils were dilated. She slowly pulled each strap off over her arms and tugged the dress down so it sat around her middle. Michael pulled the belt from its loops.

“Is your pussy bare?” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” she answered. Her nipples hardened beneath his gaze.

“Show me. Pull the dress up and show me.”

She slowly lifted her dress and Michael caught his breath at the sight of her naked sex. He doubled the belt in his hand and didn’t miss her nervous glance.

“Turn around and grab hold of your ankles,” he said.

Although they’d been together for over four years, he’d never asked her to do anything like this for him, at least not until the other night. He watched her face color a little. He liked the look of her like this, her submissive nature so apparent he wasn’t sure how he’d not seen it before. This was so completely natural for her. And somehow, for him too. She glanced once more at his belt. He imagined her hesitation; he himself wasn’t sure he should be wielding his belt against his wife’s ass just yet, but some base part of him was in charge now and he couldn’t resist.

He raised an eyebrow and she turned, slowly bending over, her legs spread just wider than shoulder width, until she was bent deep and her hands circled her ankles.

Michael sucked in a breath. Her ass was magnificent, he’d always thought so, and now, with her pussy waxed as it was, she was bared to him completely.

“Keep it like this from now on,” he said. “I want to always see your pussy and your ass, just like this.”

He stepped closer and two fingers swiped at the moisture between her legs.

“You like it, Soph? Showing yourself to me? You like me looking at your ass like this?” he asked, rubbing her clit before fingering her pussy, then running that finger all the way up to her asshole. When she didn’t answer, he delivered a quick smack to her pussy and she jumped, breaking position. He caught her before she fell. “Back down, girl.” He waited until she’d grabbed hold of her ankles again. “Now answer my question.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, her voice coming out quietly.

“Yes, Sir, what?” he prodded, rubbing again, kneading the hard nub of her clit.

“Yes, Sir. I like to show myself to you. I like for you to look at me.”

“You’re a good girl, Soph. Straighten up and put your hands on the wall,” he said.

She did as he said more quickly than when she’d gone down and he gripped the belt tighter when she leaned forward slightly to put her hands against the wall.

“Walk your hips farther back,” he said.

She took two hesitant steps.

“Good. Now stay still. Just a few to mark you before we go out. I want to make sure you know who you belong to.”

Before she had a chance to panic, he brought the belt down, listening to the sound it made as it connected with her buttocks, watching the quivering of her flesh, followed by the clenching of her cheeks. She barely managed to keep her hands on the wall, but lifted her leg, pressing her thighs together as she managed the pain before setting her leg back down. He struck again, the second one a little higher than the first. She made a sound; it wasn’t quite a cry, more a soft, feminine, fragile sound. The third and last struck at the crease beneath her buttocks and at that, she did call out.

“Stay,” he said, his voice rough. He threw the belt on the bed and unzipped his pants. Lifting her from behind and pressing her into the wall, he thrust his cock deep into her dripping pussy. Keeping her trapped between his chest and the wall, he cupped her clit in one hand and rubbed, pinching roughly at the swollen little nub until she was whimpering, her pussy clamping down over his cock, milking it as he, with a final thrust, stilled behind her, a groan vibrating from deep inside his chest.

When he pulled out, he slapped her ass hard, then gripped it in his palm.

“Ow!”

“Shh. Stay there, skirt hiked up, until my cum drips out of your pussy,” he said, leaning down to close his mouth over her neck, just behind her ear, sucking a little.

* * *

Dinner was at Alexander’s, a chic new restaurant in Amsterdam. Michael parked the car a few streets away and the two walked the distance in silence, Michael’s hand either on her elbow or her low back the entire time, guiding her. He’d always done that before, but the gesture felt somehow different tonight.

He hadn’t let her shower after the episode in the bedroom and she was very aware of the residue of semen on her inner thighs. A few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have allowed him to tell her no when she’d wanted a shower. In fact, after sex, she always rinsed off. But now, as she walked down the street without panties, with this reminder on her thighs and the quiet, warm awareness of the stripes on her backside, she felt owned. She felt like she belonged to him for the first time in her life.

Once they were inside, the hostess took their coats and they were led to a table at the back of the restaurant. The patio doors were made of glass and the restaurant overlooked a pretty canal with residential homes on the other side. But neither Michael nor Sophie cared much for the view tonight. Once they were seated and handed menus, Michael quickly consulted the wine list and ordered a bottle of red. He then took her hand.

“I’m considering a membership at the club,” he began. “I told you the other night I didn’t want to do this thing half-assed, so I thought going there, watching, and participating perhaps would help us to figure this out. It will help me to figure out what you want and need and how to give it to you, while helping me understand what this is for me. Are you good with that so far?” he asked.

“I think so, I mean, I… this is so different than I expected,” Sophie said. “Have you seen the club, I mean aside from… the other day?”

“If you’re asking whether or not I know what goes on inside, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Okay,” she said. How did she feel about being a member of the club now that it was a real option? Were the tables turning? Was she the one putting the brakes on this?

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I didn’t think you’d be into it.”

He nodded slowly and she could see the confusion behind his eyes.

“What?” she asked.

He looked away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “I liked it,” he said. His struggle became clearer to her with those three words. “I don’t know what that makes me, but seeing you like that, then hurting you… seeing my marks on you. Shit.” He let her hand go just as the waiter came to deliver their wine. Sophie made small talk with the waiter while Michael tasted the wine. She wondered if he could actually taste anything at all or if he was simply wanting the waiter away. Once both glasses were full, they both ordered the special without even opening menus, wanting to be alone to talk.

“I don’t ever want to really hurt you,” he said. His eyes were full of emotion as he searched her face.

“Michael, I… I don’t know how to explain what I want or why I want it. It’s strange, it’s maybe twisted,” she began, but he interrupted.

“No, it’s just in you. I don’t want you to feel ashamed of anything. Not with me. I won’t judge it. I won’t judge you.”

“I love you,” she said. “I just, I love you. When I was talking to Kyan, I thought maybe if I could just try it once, feel it, maybe I could get it out of my head without having to tell you. Without having you think I’m… sick or something. But when he offered to paddle me, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let another man do this to me.”

“He told me that,” Michael said. “I don’t even want to imagine what I might have done had you said yes.”

“But that’s the point. I couldn’t. I want
you
, Michael. I trust
you
. I want this with you and when you found out, you figured out how to give me exactly what it was I needed. I don’t think I could have verbalized it the other night. Or this afternoon, for that matter. Don’t be afraid of hurting me; I know you won’t.”

“We’ll establish a safeword.”

She nodded. “How about lavender?”

“Okay,” he said, but she could sense his hesitation.

“Michael, I want this,” she said straight out. “I want to experience this with you. I can’t tell you yet exactly what it is that draws me, but I know it has to be with you. Please don’t be afraid.”

* * *

Michael looked at his wife across the tiny table. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t that he was afraid he wouldn’t want to do it. It was that he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop. But that word, that word she’d said the other day, that wouldn’t leave him alone, that was the reason they were having this discussion.

Sadist
.

Did he want to hurt his wife? It aroused him to have her naked, bent over, and waiting for him to strike. It made him hard to watch her buttocks quiver, to watch her unbound submission, to know she was giving him this power. It was heady stuff. Christ, even the thought of it now made his cock stir. And it wasn’t only that. There were other things he imagined doing to her, things that wouldn’t even leave a physical mark, and those too only made him want. The thoughts made his mouth water, made him hungry. And here she was, his little, trusting wife. A girl, really. Twelve years younger than he and trusting him so completely, so absolutely.

He wasn’t sure what was the right thing to do. She wanted to experience this, she said so herself. It wasn’t an option that someone other than he be involved. That thought just made him angry.

“Okay,” he said. “Lavender is your safeword. If you use it, everything stops. But you have to promise to use it if you need to.”

“I promise.”

“If we do this, we do it all the way.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He checked his watch just as the food arrived. Once the waiter was away, he picked up his fork and looked at her. “I’d like to try out some of the things that came in that box when we get home,” he stated rather than asking.

“What did you buy?” she asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, grinning and placing a forkful of food in his mouth. “But only if you consent to doing exactly as I say from the moment we step into the house until tomorrow morning.”

She paled just a little, but her pupils had also dilated. He imagined her pussy was wet and slid his hand beneath the tablecloth. He found her thigh and traced it up to find her hot, moist sex. He then pinched her clit.

She gasped.

“Do you consent, Sophie?” he asked, keeping pressure on the hard little nub.

“Yes,” she said, breathless. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl, now eat your dinner,” he said, suddenly ravenous as he smeared his slick fingers along her thigh before picking up his knife and fork.

Sophie could hardly taste what she ate at the restaurant. Michael, on the other hand, ate as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Even so, she could see the battle that had begun within him. He was unable to understand that he could like what he’d done, that he could become aroused by it. Perhaps he was surprised at how easily it came to him, or how naturally he took on the role of the dominant partner that she sought.

She’d meant what she’d told him; she had no doubt he would never really hurt her. She wondered if it would help him to talk to Kyan a little more, but didn’t want to bring it up. He needed to figure that out for himself.

Michael parked the car along their street and walked her inside without a word. The dim overhead lamps they’d left on and the one in the living room were the only light in the place. Sophie took in the elegant entrance with its large black-and-white, diagonally placed tiles, the old staircase with its marble handrail.

She had baked a Dutch apple cake earlier in the day and the house still smelled of it. It was Michael’s favorite.

His fingers were on her back. She shivered beneath his light touch as he traced both shoulders until he reached the straps that held the dress up. She held her breath when he slipped each off her arms and remained perfectly still while he slid the dress down and off her body.

“Step out,” he said, holding her arm for support.

She swallowed and slowly did as he said. He then led her up the first set of stairs and continued up the second to the attic. There, he hit the switch to turn on the overhead lamp, using the dimmer to keep the light soft. He closed the door behind them.

“Put the chair in the middle of the rug facing me,” he said.

She hesitated a moment, wondering why they’d come to the attic. The house was big enough that they’d only used this space for storage. It wasn’t a warm place, quite the opposite. It was dark with exposed beams and wood all around. The only pieces of furniture were an old, worn bench, a dusty dresser, and a chair set among boxes stacked along the walls. A carpet covered a circular area in the center of the room, an old, thick sheepskin she’d loved, but they had not had anywhere to put once they’d moved here.