The Big Book of Submission (19 page)

“Eleven, Ma'am.”

“Eleven? My goodness me. That just so happens to be the number of swats you're getting, too.”

“Oh no, Ma'am. Please?”

“You know I hate it when you beg. Just for that, we'll make it an even dozen, and I want you to count each one and say, ‘One, I'll never lie to you again, two, I'll never lie to you again.' You got that, Dave?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good. Now let's get started.”

And with that, she struck the first blow. Fire spread immediately through my left buttcheek, searing me so badly I almost forgot my instructions.

“Count, Dave. Now.”

“One, I'll never lie to you again.”

“Good boy. Keep 'em coming.”

The next blow brought my feet off the ground, and I twined them together to bear the pain.

“I swear to god I'll never lie to you again, Ma'am.”

“Hmm. I bet you won't.”

Blows three, four, five and six were quick but devastating. I choked back tears as I counted them off, and my wife waited until she heard each one clearly.

Seven almost broke me.

“Ow! Please, Ma'am. I won't lie to you again. Ever.”

But she showed me no mercy. I thought I'd lose my mind, they hurt so bad, but still she made me count, the evil bitch.

“Please, Ma'am. No more.”

“Nonsense. We're celebrating your team's big win.”

“But they lost.”

“Really? What a coincidence. So did you.”

And though I couldn't see her face, I knew her expression was grim and forbidding. She hauled back and let the next one fly.

“Oh god,” I wept shamelessly. “I can't take any more.”

“You can and you will, Dave. And after I'm finished here, back in the corner you go. I'll set the timer for ten minutes, and then I want you ready for the prison strap.”

What?

You don't know what a prison strap is?

Then let me enlighten you.

A prison strap's a thick and heavy piece of leather shaped like a fraternity paddle. It has a handle that's perfect for small hands like hers, and it gets its point across very quickly.

Thank god.

Since it's so heavy and cumbersome, her arm got tired fast, so all I had to endure were a few swats.

A few swats were enough, though.

Trust me on that.

I stood there in the corner waiting for the timer to ring. Ten minutes might not seem like a long time to you, but when your nose is planted against the wall and you're standing in an awkward position, it's an eternity.

Such an eternity I was almost
glad
when that timer rang.

But having to face that prison strap?

No one could be glad about that.

No one.

THAT MOMENT WHEN

Martha Davis

T
here was that moment when I first saw his ass. Tight enough to bounce a quarter off, highlighted in tailored gray suit pants. Above it, under a white shirt, broad shoulders and a well-muscled back, not overdone like baby-oil-soaked bodybuilders, just strong. He returned my appreciative gaze with eyes so rich they'd make Hershey's beg for the recipe.

“Hi. I'm Alicia. This is my second year teaching first-year Algebra.”

“Wes.” He shook my hand, held it a moment longer than necessary in a grip that made me simultaneously soak my panties and have to lock my trembling knees to maintain balance. “First year English Lit.”

Wes asked me out and over the next couple of months he proved himself witty, intelligent and beyond
charming. I spent many a daydream moment—there was just something about this guy.

But the newness of me and Wes began fading, revealing all his secrets from his life before there was a me and Wes.

“You aren't his normal type,” said one of his old college buddies the first time we were introduced, “but you're adorable. I can't help but like you.”

Later, I asked, “What did he mean?”

Under much prodding, he confessed a past in which he tied up his lovers and did totally indecent things to them. My charming, sweet-tempered, easygoing Wes—who would have thought? How intriguing!

“Why don't you do those things to me?”

“I don't do them to anyone any more.”

“Why not?”

“Sometimes subs don't realize they can push a Dom's limits, too.”

“So you retired? How sad.”

His eyebrows arched.

I surfed the Internet for days, studied the pictures I found, fantasized. Wes's mouth dropped in amazement when I tossed a picture in his lap and said, “I want you to do that to me.”

“We'll see.”

Wes's version of “No comment.”

A full week passed, making me half crazy wondering what else I could do or say. I researched even more. He acted like nothing happened. Then last night, after
dinner and a movie, we returned home and I found a dusty cardboard box sitting on the living room coffee table. He must have put it there before we left when he came back in for his forgotten wallet.

“Take all your clothes off. Turn slowly while you do so I can see every curve.” He spoke soft and deep. “Then get on your knees with your hands clasped behind your back. Open your mouth wide enough to hold a dick.”

I couldn't stop grinning as I did what he instructed, complete with lots of hip wiggling and butt bouncing. My show earned me a hard smack on my bare butt. I squealed and petted the spot where he struck me, relishing the new feeling. My ass burned from the single contact, then melted into a warm heat across my whole bottom. I'd been officially spanked and, well, I liked it.

As soon as I got into position on my knees, Wes took a finger and stuffed it deep in my mouth.

“Suck it like a cock. Flick your tongue on the creases between the digits. Yeah, that's a good girl.”

He braided a hand in my hair to hold my head still while he forced me to take two fingers, then three. I could see his growing erection through his jeans. When my hands left my back to reach for his zipper, he momentarily let go of my hair and smacked them back down to my sides.

“You don't have permission. I see I'm going to have to train you from the beginning.”

He went over to the box and pulled out leather handcuffs
and tethers, pushed me facedown on the floor and held me there while he cuffed and tied me, face and upper body against the floor, ass stuck in the air. He stroked his cock through his jeans, dry humping my right asscheek until my pussy grew so wet it smeared my thighs. I wanted him to fuck me so bad.

He rose, walked over to the computer desk in the corner and signed on, completely ignoring me.

“Wes?”

“Don't make me gag you. I don't do that on a first date, but if you keep talking, you'll leave me no choice.”

That was my WTF moment. Yes, I wanted exotic and hot sex of the extreme sport variety, but tossed on the floor and forgotten? I struggled in my bonds and my tummy fluttered with the thrill of my complete helplessness. My pussy grew even wetter. The passing time only let me meditate and mentally masturbate on my predicament.

“You really need to delete your browser history. The things you've been studying? Good for me to know, but makes me wonder about the educators of our impressionable teenagers.”

He reached in the box and pulled out a black leather paddle. “How does it feel to be tied up like that little computer glossy you gave me? You like it?”

“Yes, Wes. Fuck me please.”

“You are not in any position to give me a list of demands. Fuck you while you're trussed up like a wild
animal on my floor?” He ran a finger down the length of my spine. “Really?”

He smacked my butt with the paddle. First one cheek, then the other. Tears formed in my eyes and ran down my cheeks. When I grew to expect it on one side, he changed his pattern and landed another blow in the matching spot on the opposite cheek.

“Are you actually getting wetter as I spank you? Now that kind of naughty behavior
will
get a girl fucked.”

He positioned himself behind my burning ass and stuffed his entire length into me, withdrew almost to the tip of his cock and plowed into me again. He gripped my tender buttcheeks and made me wail as he rode me. I came like that, faster and harder than I ever had before. Instead of petting me and coaxing me down from my orgasmic high like he usually does, Wes upped his game and made me come again, sooner than I ever thought possible, then pulled out in the seconds before his own hips shuddered and smeared my ass with his come like they do in the porn I'd been watching.

“This is a good beginning. I would like to go deeper with you, but I need you to understand something. I enjoy giving you a little pain with my pleasure, but I won't permanently harm you. Cut you. Scar you. I love you, Alicia, but if you feel like you need those things, I can't give them to you.”

Finally, there was that moment—the one when my reddened bottom, sticky with his come, wearing sensations I'd feel for days, every time I tried to sit down,
spoke to me. That moment when I knew beyond all doubts that I'd fallen in love. There would be no other for me.

“I'm not your ex, Wes. I only want what you're willing to give.”

I sobbed into the shag carpet, loving his hands petting my hair and his gentle kiss soothing the small of my back.

THE DINNER

Erzabet Bishop

C
omfortable?” Sir's cool gray eyes stared into mine over our glasses of house wine. I had to struggle not to fidget.

“No.” I flinched, gasping, as he powered up the vibrating egg he'd placed inside me before we left the car. My pussy began to clench around it and I had to grit my teeth not to cry out as his hand reached underneath the table to stroke my leg. I was so close to coming, it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge.

“No, what?” His words curled around me like smoke as his hand slid up my inner thigh. I hitched my breath as it eased closer and closer to my bare pussy. Tonight he'd insisted I go completely bare underneath the dress.

“No, Sir.” I looked down at my barely eaten salad and groaned as his fingertips brushed against my mound.
Thankfully, the lighting in the restaurant was dim. It was one of Sir's favorite destinations when he was feeling adventurous. Glancing up at the table closest to me, I was relieved to see the couple talking amicably. The din of the other guests and clatter of silverware on plates combined with the soft classical music playing helped to disguise my moans. He flipped the switch again and eased his finger just inside my slick opening. I ground my pussy against his hand. As my clit brushed his thumb, my release thundered through me, uncontrollable in the force of my body's need. Waves of fluid doused my inner thighs and I bit my lip, knowing he would be very displeased.

“You were not to come without permission. You are being a very naughty girl tonight, Arin.” Sir watched me behind hooded lids, no doubt assessing the delicious torment he had in store. Pussy throbbing, I was ready for more.

Trying to control my breathing, I reached for the glass of wine in an effort to calm myself. His touch was making me into a puddle of want. Picking up my fork, I stabbed some lettuce absently, preparing for what was to come next.

I paused with the fork in midair; it quivered in my hand as I met his eyes. “Yes, Sir.” His finger edged inside of me once again, one finger becoming two, and I gave up all pretense of trying to eat. When he turned up the control on the egg, my fork clattered to the plate. Sucking in my breath, I looked up in alarm as a warning cloud settled on his features.

“I think I was away on business too long.” He took a sip of wine, his eyes trailing over my breasts as they pushed out against the snug fabric of the dress.

“Yes, Sir.” He withdrew his fingers and wiped them on the tablecloth.

“I want you to get up, Arin, and go into the men's room, remove the egg and wait for me there.”

Panic caused me to suck in my breath.
The men's room
? I hesitated in getting up and his stony expression darkened further.
Uh-oh
. I scrambled out of the seat and pulled my dress down as I stood on shaking legs. Not looking at him, I felt the thrill of whatever he was planning shiver down my spine. His two weeks out of the country had left me pining for his touch.

I walked past the seated guests and made my way down the dark hallway to the restrooms. The bustle of the waiters and the laughter of the guests made the scene even more surreal.

Opening the door to the luxurious bathroom, I was relieved to find no one inside. Making my way through the lush carpet and comfortable couches in the lounge area, I came to a stop in the main area of the bathroom. The marble counters and granite floors were breathtaking, but it was the mirrors that really made the pulse race in my veins. Reaching between my legs, I eased the small egg-shaped device out, wrapped it in a towel and placed it into my small clutch purse.