Treasured Submission (17 page)

Dean led her to a nearby log, guiding her to sit while he sat on the Igloo in front of her. The fish could wait a bit, this was far more important. He looked down at her. "Abigail, I promise you won't ever feel abused. I don't believe in abuse of either women, or my leadership in our life. There is a huge difference between men who abuse women and those who discipline. One is out of weakness and anger, wanting to be seen as powerful, to mistake a woman's fear of abuse as a sign of respect. In domestic discipline, the man is not reacting out of this mindset. I'm not interested in you fearing me, nor am I interested in beating you down into submission. I don't want a milquetoast woman to share my life with. I want a strong, secure woman who understands the difference. And, sweetie, you won't be 'bad'. You might be naughty or make the wrong choices, but, Abby, you will always be good, even when you are over my lap learning that those choices have some painful consequences."

Attempting to cover her nervousness with a giggle, she teased, "Well, I suppose if I'm always a 'good' girl, then my rear end has nothing to worry about."

Sensing that she needed additional reassurance, Dean explained a bit more. "Honey, even if you've been extremely naughty, I promise your bottom has nothing to worry about. Sure, naughtiness will earn you a spanking, but you'll always know why you are being punished, Abigail. There will never be confusion as to why your butt is sore, or need to worry, as I will only punish you out of love and concern."

She had absolutely no doubt that he was serious. "Even if I don't agree with you? What if I just know I've done nothing to deserve your discipline? Will you spank me anyway? Is that something I simply have to accept because you are the head-of-household?"

Dean wasn't put off by her continued questions. He had not only lived a life centered around domestic discipline, he also continued to write books, and give lectures and private classes about the subject. He knew it took a great deal of reassurance at first when any couple, especially the female half, began this journey. "I can positively guarantee that there will be times when you don't agree with my decision to discipline you, Abby—at least at first. But, honey, I can also guarantee that by the time any discipline is over, you will understand why I chose to discipline you. If there ever comes a time when you feel in your heart that I've misused you in any way, then we will work it out. It's all about trust. Know that I love you, and that I'll always strive to do the right thing in every aspect of our partnership."

She thought for a few minutes, and then said, "I trust you Dean. I guess we'll just have to see as we go along. I'm not saying I'll submit, but I guess I'm saying I'm not really afraid anymore." Dean smiled and leaned down to kiss her. Her heart opened, remembering he had said he loved her as she eagerly returned his kiss. He stood and helped her up, his hand gently patting her rear. As they continued down the trail, she shook her head and smiled, deciding that she'd just be such a perfect partner that her bottom would never be in jeopardy.

Dean led her to another beautiful spot on the river. A grouping of very large boulders rose above the water. Striations of colors lay in layers and swirls, as if nature had painted an abstract masterpiece out of minerals on the large stones. He showed Abby a path to the top, where a flat expanse spread out to hang over the river. She stood in awe at the beauty as he set down their gear. Abby squealed as he opened a Styrofoam container to reveal a mass of squirming worms, grimacing as he chose one and threaded it onto her hook. He prepared his own line, then taught her how to cast into the river. She waited as he expertly cast his line far downstream.

"Okay, what do we do now?" Abby asked, causing Dean to laugh and hug her to his side.

"We wait. That's why it is called fishing and not catching. Just keep your line in the water. If you feel a tug and see that your bobber has disappeared, yank back hard to set the hook and then reel your fish in. First one to catch a fish wins a prize!"

"That hardly seems fair as I've never done this before!"

Dean just grinned, and they sat on the edge of the boulder in companionable silence, enjoying the beauty of the early day, and each other. Abby thought she felt something, and squealed as she quickly reeled her line up. As her hook cleared the water, it was empty except for the now still worm. She frowned and cast again. Dean laughed after she pulled her empty line free of the river for the third time.

"Honey, the fish aren't going to jump up and bite the worm in the air. You need to keep your line in the water."

"How can I tell if a real fish is on it then?" she asked, casting for the fourth time.

"You'll know honey. If you feel a really hard tug, it means the fish has taken the bait and the hook, and is trying to pull away. If the bobber goes underwater, you can be pretty sure the fish is unable to spit out your hook."

She nodded and leaned against him, determined to keep her eyes glued to the red and white ball that was moving gently in the current. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her in even closer. Lifting her face for his kiss, she forgot all about the bobber. Opening her lips to accept his probing tongue, she suddenly shrieked and pulled away.

Dean was startled but then laughed as he saw her pole bending sharply towards the water. "Reel it in, honey. You've got a fish!"

Abby laughed and reeled as fast as she could, allowing Dean to help her to stand. As the fish broke the surface of the river, she squealed and almost dropped her pole in her excitement. Dean laid his own rod down to help her to bring the fish in. As it cleared the surface of the boulder to flop at their feet, she was momentarily struck silent. "Oh my God," she breathed, "It's a fish! A real live fish!"

Dean threw back his head and laughed heartily. Her joy at her first catch was contagious as she began to giggle in pleasure. He drew her into his arms and said, "It sure is; good job, baby."

Abigail beamed at his words, and watched as he unhooked the fish and then threaded it onto a thin yellow rope. As he dropped the line over the side of the boulder, she yelled, "No! You're letting it go!" She leaned over the edge, trying to find the fish.

Dean instantly pulled her back. "Careful, Abs. I've just put it on a stringer line. It can swim around but can't get off the rope. If we catch enough to keep, we'll take them home, but if we don't, we can release him until another time."

"Oh." Abby grinned, loving his patience with her. After he had secured the free end of the stringer around a small grouping of rocks, she picked up the carton of worms and held it out to him. "For the Master baiter," she said, and then slapped her hand across her mouth, her face blazing and her look of horror priceless.

Dean chuckled, then took pity on her, knowing she was hugely embarrassed. He reached out and took the carton.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," she said, as he calmly threaded another worm on her hook. "I–I can just imagine what you must be thinking."

Shaking his head, Dean chuckled again. "Oh, babe, I seriously doubt that you can," he teased, and gave her a wicked grin, wagging his eyebrows up and down. He wiped his hands on a cloth and reached out to take her into his arms. "I am picturing all sorts of delicious things," he whispered in her ear. "However, since those activities would require energy, a single fish will not suffice. I suppose I can't demonstrate all you might be imagining, well—at least not yet."

Abby shivered, and when he kissed her, she found her mind racing along the same paths his was most likely traveling. She was still trembling when he handed her the pole.

"You are just too adorable," he said, and led her back to the edge of the boulder. Abby managed to cast her line into the water, her body suddenly aching for far more than that one kiss. She giggled as she thought about what she had said, and was glad to hear Dean chuckling as well. Dean caught the next two fish and Abby watched as he added them to the stringer. After she caught another, he decreed that they had enough for a good dinner.

As he put the gear away and spread out the food he had provided, she looked up at him with a grin, her own eyebrows wagging. "Okay, Master… fisherman, what's my prize?"

Dean chuckled and shook his head, delighted that she was able to overcome her embarrassment of earlier and tease about it. He bent close to her, "While I love hearing the word 'master' from your gorgeous lips," he said, quickly giving her lips a kiss, "since you claim to love education, you might want to know that the normal address of respect in a DD relationship is 'sir'." When she blushed and giggled, he continued. "Master, hmmm, no, a title I've not yet earned."

Her shudder against his chest caused him to smile and want to know exactly what her creative mind was now conjuring. Instead, he answered her question. "As for your prize, cheeky girl, you won the right to just sit back and relax tonight while I clean and cook the delicious dinner we've caught."

Abby looked surprised and then frowned. "What kind of prize is that?"

"Ever gutted a fish before?" At her disgusted look, he laughed. "I didn't think so. Believe me, once you've had to actually clean the fish, you'll understand what a wonderful prize you won."

Abby grimaced, then giggled, and as they settled on the blanket to eat, she poked him and said, "I guess it's a good thing I got the first fish then because, buster, if you really expected me to clean a fish, well, I can tell you that they all would have mysteriously gotten off that little rope!"

Dean burst into laughter and hugged her close. They enjoyed the sandwiches and fruit he had packed, and she poured more coffee from the thermos.

After they had eaten, he sat back against a smaller rock and pulled her to lean against him. He loved the feel of her small body against his; she seemed to fit just perfectly to his much larger form. She relaxed into his arms, feeling safe and loved as he held her. The day grew warmer as they sat and talked quietly. He bent to press kisses to the top of her head, and to gently stroke down her arms. Abby responded with passion, wiggling a bit when she felt his erection growing to press against the small of her back. When he turned her to him, she willingly went, pressing against his chest. He kissed her deeply, and she moaned.

"I want you, Abby, God, I want you so much," he told her, as he cupped her face in his large hands. Her eyes were glazed with her own desire.

She blushed and whispered, "I want you too."

Dean kissed her for a long time and she relaxed into it, allowing him to guide her. He slowly slipped his hands under her tank top and cupped her breasts, rubbing the pads of his thumbs across her nipples. They instantly peaked and ached for his touch, her bra suddenly feeling like an unneeded barrier. She reached back to unhook it but he easily captured her hands, pinning them between their bodies.

"No, allow me. Just let me take care of you." She hesitated and then nodded, lowering her hands. Dean caressed her breasts, stroking them gently and occasionally grazing her nipples. When he reached behind her and unhooked her bra, she was trembling. Slipping his hands under the cups, his fingers on her bare skin retraced the same route as they had before, causing her to moan and press into his hands.

She was tingling all over, moisture gathering in her panties, wanting him—needing him badly. It had been a very long time since she had been with anyone, and his continued caresses were driving her wild with need.

Feeling the hard length of him pressing against her body, she knew he was as aroused as she was. He put his hand on the hem of her tank top and slowly drew it up over her head. Several minutes passed, as he gently stroked her neck, her shoulders and the very tops of her breasts, before he slid the straps of her bra from her shoulders and pulled it off. The touch of the sun on her naked back warmed her as his hands cupped her breasts and warmed her front.

"Wait," she moaned, looking around. "Um, what if somebody comes out here?"

Dean continued to caress her breasts and said, "Don't worry, sweetheart. I promise no one should come, and if they do, I'll protect you."

Though she was still nervous and trembling, as he bent his head and took a taut nipple into his mouth, she was instantly beyond protesting. She pressed her hand against the back of his head, drawing him closer to her as she pushed her breast into his mouth, wanting more. He laved her nipple and gently nipped at it, causing her to gasp and throw her head back, arching into his mouth. He released her now-slick breast only to treat the other with the same attention, his fingers making sure the abandoned nipple remained hard as he rolled and gently tugged the turgid tip between his fingers.

Abby felt like she was going to explode from his breast play alone. "Please, please," she moaned, her hands going to his belt buckle.

Dean raised his head only long enough to say, "Let me love you, Abby. Submit to me."

She felt her entire body shake at his words, at his direction. She stiffened for a moment at the word 'submit', but her body overruled her mind and she put her hands back against his chest. With that simple movement, she realized that submission meant far more than just accepting a spanking. Submission also meant having the courage to simply let go, to trust, to let him take control of this, a simple act of love.

Her moans grew deeper as he tweaked her nipples. He gently laid her down on the blanket, cupping her face between his palms and bending to kiss her. She was moaning deep in her throat, her body arching towards him, clearly begging for more. Dean unzipped her jeans and began to draw them down her legs. Abby lifted her bottom off the blanket and submitted to his attention. He kissed her stomach and then moved his lips slowly down her body. Arching up, wanting his mouth to kiss her more intimately, she moaned when he barely kissed her mons through her panties.

"Please, oh please," she begged, her hands clenching at her sides.

"Shh," he said, as he kissed her thighs and then down one leg and back up the other. As he brushed his lips over the apex of her thighs, she shuddered and whimpered. Dean grinned, loving the soft sound of her need. He captured her eyes as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties. "Okay?" he asked softly, using the very tips of his fingers to stroke her skin beneath the lace of her waistband.

"Oh, God, yes, please," she whispered, lifting her hips to allow him to remove her panties. Dean drew them ever so slowly down, his fingertips continuing to stroke every inch of skin he encountered. Trembling, her inner voice was screaming for him to hurry—to get the damned things off her body.

"Shh," he said again, bending to slowly use his tongue and lick up her inner thigh, her panties held just above her knees.

"Oh, God, Dean, please," she pleaded, her hands clenching at her sides as she felt his tongue move to her other thigh, giving a long, slow lick up towards her pulsating sex, but not coming close to give her throbbing clit its own long lick.

Dean loved every single inch of her body as he deliberately took his own sweet time removing her last article of clothing. He acknowledged that teasing her with his tongue was driving her wild, but then again, he liked seeing the little beauty straining and begging, the desire evident in her throaty voice, the heavenly scent of her arousal intoxicating him with her fragrance. He drew her panties down another inch, licking and kissing her skin as he followed the path of her panties with his lips. When he finally reached her feet, causing her to gasp as he licked and nibbled on her ankles and then her toes, he again heard her groan and felt her tremble. The lacy scrap was at last thrown aside.

Abby tensed for only a moment as she was completely revealed to him for the first time. His fingers soon had her forgetting her embarrassment or concern that her body was not perfect. When he moved up her body, his fingers, lips and tongue constantly in motion, she gave another throaty moan as he gently spread her legs wide. She closed her eyes and whimpered as he lowered his mouth to her very center, licking and kissing the lips of her outer labia extremely lightly and excruciatingly slowly.

"Oh, dear God, Dean, please!" she begged, shuddering with need, and when he gently pressed his tongue up inside her, just the tiniest bit, her legs moved of their own accord as she opened herself to this man who was driving her crazy with desire.

"That's my good girl. Open yourself for me," Dean gently commanded and she obeyed, allowing her legs to fall further apart.