Treasured Submission (22 page)

She buried her face into his chest and let him hold her. Her heart was pounding, her pulse racing, and she smiled softly as she heard his heart galloping along with hers.

Dean stroked down her back and her arms, giving her time to settle, time to come down from the intense feelings flooding her. After several minutes, he bent and lifted her chin with his fingers. He looked deep into her eyes and said, "Thank you, Abby. Thank you for trusting me. God, you are beautiful in your submission. I love you hearing you scream your pleasure. I love you so very, very much."

Abby felt her eyes fill with tears and then felt them begin to slide down her cheeks. She saw his soft look turn into one of concern. "No, Sir, don't worry. I'm crying because I am so happy. Oh God, Dean, I never knew it could be like that. I have never felt anything that intense and so consuming. I've never felt so alive, so possessed, so truly taken, so desired. God, thank you, thank you for loving me, for…for forgiving me. I love you."

Dean felt an intense sense of honor at her words. He bent down and kissed every tear away. They sat together for a long time, allowing the intensity of the day to be acknowledged and then released. After a while, he helped her off his lap and stood, drawing her back into his arms.

She snuggled into him as he cupped her very sore cheeks. Giggling softly, her face flushing a delicate pink, she looked up at him. "Yes, I'd have to agree with you, Sir. Aftercare is an element that should never be overlooked. Samantha was right and I pray that Olivia is also learning that it is definitely great."

He grinned at her reference to the couple from the lecture she had attended. He gave her a crisp slap, causing her to yelp. "Worth a sore bottom, little one?" he asked, pinching a welt and feeling her quiver all over, as she squirmed but didn't attempt to remove herself from his hold.

She moaned and said, "Maybe at the moment, but I have a feeling I might not feel the same once this fabulous feeling dissipates. My butt really hurts."

He laughed, kissed her again and said, "Then I consider my job well done, my goal achieved."

"What? Are you telling me you enjoyed spanking me?"

He grinned down at her and moved his hands to cup her face. "No, baby girl. I don't enjoy spanking you—not like that. I just mean I'm glad that the first time is over. Instead of having to be deliberately disobedient, because you were too scared to ask me to give you your first spanking to answer your question of what it would be like, now you know." He chuckled at the look on her face, as she accepted the fact that maybe her ploy had worked a bit too well. "Next time you are wondering about something, how about taking a leap of faith in trusting me enough to come to me and discuss it? It might be a bit scary, but won't earn you the additional discovery of how a switch feels or my finger buried in your bottom like that leap off the boulder did. But, I will admit, it was very effective in removing the pressure of the unknown."

She blushed as she looked up at him and said quietly, "I guess you are right. It was stupid of me and I got way, way more than I bargained for, but it does seem to help. My ass is still aching but I know that you mean business."

He bent to kiss her and said seriously, "I will always mean business, Abs. I will always take you in hand when you need it. You can count on me every single time, even if you are too scared or embarrassed to acknowledge or ask for what you need. You will never have to question if I still care, you will always know. I wouldn't bother if I didn't love you, sweetheart."

She leaned against him, knowing he meant every word. "Thank you," she whispered.

Hearing her moan as she pulled her jeans over her bottom, Dean shook his head. Walking to his dresser, he offered her one of his t-shirts. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable wearing this," he suggested.

"Thanks," Abby said, accepting the shirt.

Dean dressed as he watched her pull off her own shirt and pull his over her head. He grinned seeing how it hung on her small frame, and then had to stifle a groan as she reached under the shirt and removed her panties, dropping them on top of her jeans. He moved to kiss the top of her head and simply held her close until he finally sighed. "Those fish aren't going to clean themselves, and I seem to recall some beautiful woman offering to help."

She giggled and shook her head. "You must have misheard. I won the prize. How about you clean the fish and I'll help with everything else?"

"Deal." They walked arm in arm into the kitchen, working together to get dinner made. Abby squealed over his modern coffee machine and eagerly accepted his suggestion she make them a pot. After grinding the beans, they both smiled as the air filled with her favorite aroma. By the time Dean had the fish frying and she had finished the salad and taken the freshly steamed vegetables from the microwave, she felt she was where she belonged. He didn't make a big deal of what had happened in the bedroom. He didn't tease or make her feel ashamed of having basically attempted to orchestrate a way to discover how a spanking from him might feel. What he had done was teach her who would be in control in their relationship. She had been spanked, switched and reminded with his finger. She might wonder about other things as they continued to discover and explore their needs and desires, but his control would be the one thing she never had to question again.

Dean laughed with her, and was constantly reaching out to touch her arm, her cheek, and to give her quick kisses. She felt secure in his love and savored every moment, often putting her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest or his back. He never pulled away, he always hugged her back and smiled, as if to reassure her of his love.

Dean showed her where the plates and silverware were and she set the table. The food was marvelous. Dean raised his fork and said, "To a wonderful fisherwoman. Good job, honey. This is delicious."

She giggled and raised her own fork. "Thank you, but how do you know this is my fish?"

He laughed. "Because, my dear, it tastes sweet and delicious, just as you do."

She blushed to the roots of her hair and concentrated on her plate, though her body was humming. Dean grinned and they finished their meal.

He poured them fresh cups of coffee and led her out onto the back porch. She loved that he also had a porch swing and was soon on his lap, her feet tucked up beneath her as she tried to find the most comfortable position. Dean allowed her to wiggle about until she finally settled, as he swung them gently back and forth. They enjoyed their coffee and then he began to place soft, gentle kisses all over her face. She moaned against him and when he stood and scooped her up, she was more than ready.

"It's killing me knowing you are naked beneath that shirt," Dean said, as he carried her through the house. Once back in the bedroom, he quickly set her down on the bed. "You are overdressed, my dear," he said, pulling the shirt over her head. As he stripped and climbed in to straddle her, he said, "Reach up and take the rails in your hands, Abby. Don't let go."

She did as she was told, her eyes glazed with desire.

Dean smiled as she submitted, and knew she didn't realize she was doing so, learning to obey without hesitation. Taking her legs in his hands, he slowly spread them open until she trembled and gasped. He bent down and kissed her lips, before pausing at each breast and kissing and then nipping each erect nipple, moving from one to another until her breasts were swollen, her nipples taut. When he moved down to press his lips against her spread pussy, and then slowly tongued her from anus to clitoris, she quivered and moaned as she lifted her hips to meet his mouth. Closing his lips around her clit, he suckled it gently, before releasing it at her moan to look up.

"Just as I remember, absolutely delicious."

She blushed and moved her head from side to side, aching for him. No one had ever made her feel this desired, this feminine. His touch and his control were driving her out of her mind with lust. When he pressed two fingers deep inside her, curling the tips to stroke across the rough pad of her G-spot, she arched, screaming her passion, flooding his fingers with her climax. She felt her entire body flush as he slowly withdrew, the evidence of her orgasm glistening on his fingers. As he moved to bend over her, Abby gasped when he brought his slick fingers to her lips.

"Open," he whispered.

She felt her sex spasm at the command she had never imagined hearing. Feeling the head of his cock slide just the barest inch inside her, she parted her lips slowly. As Dean slid further into her body, he slid his fingers into her mouth, and Abby shuddered as her lips closed tightly around them.

"Suckle," he ordered, and she obeyed. He watched her face as he felt her tongue hesitantly lick his finger. "Good girl," he said, flexing his hips to drive just a bit more into her. Her moan made him shudder as he felt her lips close tightly around his digits, her tongue now wantonly licking as she suckled her own essence from his fingers. He began to fuck her harder, and Abby's mouth didn't release his fingers until she screamed out her next climax.

After a brief moment, her eyes opened, and she smiled even as her face flushed. "God," she whispered.

"As I said, delicious," Dean said, bending to kiss her and pushing inside her to the hilt. His weight pressed her sore bottom into the mattress, the slight discomfort heightening her arousal as he entered her slowly, until she was begging him to take her hard and fast. Obeying her orders, he plunged into her as far as he could. As he buried himself deep into her warm pussy, her velvet walls caressing his rock hard cock, he reached down between them and slid his finger into the cleft of her bottom. Her eyes flew open wide, and she stilled when she felt his finger at her most intimate opening. Dean watched her try to comprehend what he was doing, knowing she was bracing herself against an invasion. She whimpered and squirmed away, but he simply pressed her body down more firmly under his weight and she stilled, her eyes huge as they looked into his.

"Shush, it's okay, Abby. Have you ever had anyone love you here before?" he asked, gently tapping her anus. She blushed, this time the color flooding her entire body as she shook her head. He grinned and said, "Remember, you are required to answer me, honey. I can't hear you nod. Honesty in all things, remember?"

She nodded and then said so softly he could barely hear her, "Um, no. No, Sir, never. I've never had anything in my bottom...um, well," she blushed even harder as she saw him grin down at her, "I mean, well, just–just your…your finger."

He bent to take her mouth, which she gave willingly. He lifted up, pulled his cock out a bit and then slowly impaled her again until she was moaning, her hands shaking as they gripped the rails above her head.

"You will have more, baby, believe me you will. I will know all of you, every single inch of your magnificent body."

She moaned and reveled in sensations she had never imagined existed, feeling a twinge of disappointment when his finger disappeared from her bottom. Soon though, she was flying apart as she climaxed, the rails shaking under her clenched hands as her body bucked and writhed. Dean joined her and filled her again and again.

Afterwards, he held her spooned against him, feeling her shudder as her striped bottom connected with the warmth of his skin. Before she slipped into sleep, he gently pulled one cheek apart from its twin and stroked her anus again. Stroking all around the rim of her pucker, he then gently inserted just the bare tip of his finger into her anus. Her deep moan caused him to smile, noticing that she wasn't attempting to move away as he felt her press back against him. He grinned to himself, knowing she had so very much left to learn and that he'd enjoy every minute of teaching her the depths of passion. He removed his finger and heard her soft groan. Kissing her shoulder, he moved to whisper in her ear, "Not yet, little one, but soon."

She shuddered and pressed back, wanting to feel every inch of him. She smiled at the use of his operative word. 'Not yet' had taken on a whole new meaning and she knew that he alone would decide when 'yet' arrived. She snuggled into him and took that leap of faith—trusting he would take her where she needed to go, places she had never imagined existed.

The next few months flew by as Abby filled them with Dean.

They had dinner with her parents, and Abby had been amazed when her mother drew her aside and told her that they had also attended one of Dean's seminars. A sense of relief flooded through her at the thought that her parents would be able to fully understand the dynamics and depth of her new relationship.

"I can't believe you're dating Dean Koonig! I think we have all his books." Her mother lowered her voice. "Do you know, I must admit that in some ways, the man reminds me of your father."

"Thanks, Mom, knowing how much Daddy loves you, that is the best compliment you could have given him."

Dean had shown no embarrassment as they discussed his teaching at the university, as well as his lectures and books on domestic discipline. Abby's father had laughed and unabashedly asked Dean to autograph his personal copies of several of Dean's books. Abby's mother had giggled at the look on her daughter's face, both women smiling with silent acknowledgement that the lifestyle was exactly what they desired.

They also spent a lot of time with Ian and Sam. The couple introduced Abby to their church and their friends, where Abby instantly felt welcomed. The four had even returned to the boulders for a fishing trip that resulted in a bunch of screams and giggles, as the men teased the women with the worms. As the men packed up to return home, Sam and Abby waited by the woods. Abby was staring at a tree when the men joined them.

She turned when Dean wrapped his arms around her. "When did you do that?" she said, pointing to where a heart had been carved into the tree, the words 'DK loves AP' inside the heart.

"The day after the first time we came," Dean answered.

Abby smiled and then shook her head. "Um, don't arrows have those triangular arrow heads and tail feathers to help them fly better?"

Dean bent to kiss her ear before whispering into it, looking at the straight line he had carved through the heart. "It's not an arrow, babe," he explained, his hands dropping to cup her bottom. "I promise you, it found its target without a single wobble." Hearing Sam giggle and Ian chuckle, Abby blushed hotly, realizing he had carved a replication of a switch.

Turning to face him, she looked up into his smiling face, trying to keep her own face straight. "For someone who is so adamant about laws, I must say I'm shocked. Isn't it illegal to go around carving up trees?"

Dean shook his head. "Not if you own the land," he explained. Abby's mouth dropped open and he chuckled. My house is just across the river, honey. I bought the land on both sides as I wanted to always have a serene place to enjoy with those I love." He cupped her face and continued, "That's why you shouldn't be too worried about strangers showing up to see you skinny-dip or hear your cries." Abby shivered at the delicious and painful memories he was evoking. "It will be interesting to see how many trees in our woods find hearts carved into them." Abby moaned as he drew her close and kissed her.

Ian and Sam stood quietly, knowing the two were communicating even more deeply—not truly needing words. After Dean kissed her again, he released her. Sam smiled and ran her hands over the carving, her silent question easily understood as Abby blushed and nodded, telling Sam this was the tree that had sacrificed one of its own for Abby's first switching, and whispering she hoped none of the tree's relatives got their own tattoo. Sam and she had giggled, completely relaxed and happy, knowing that they were safe to share any and all thoughts and fears with each other.

When not with Dean, Abby was at her desk, coffee growing cold in her mug as her fingers flew across the keyboard. She poured her new found experiences into her book, bringing the characters alive both in her mind and on the pages she had written. Anna and Richard were near their final destination, eager to build not only their new home, but their new lives with each other. Anna was still managing to get into trouble, and had been over her new husband's knees or across the barrel inside their covered wagon several times.

Abby laughed as she wrote about a scene where Richard had hauled Anna out of a creek where she had snuck off to bathe. He had told her to stay near the wagons while he joined the men in a hunt. Despite her promise to obey, the sounds of the rushing water of a nearby river had drawn her in with their delightful melody. Once on the bank, she had decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to wash off a week's worth of dirt and grime from the trail, and couldn't wait to feel the refreshing water against her skin. Pushing aside any thoughts of possible consequences, she had quickly stripped and walked into the water. Anna had just finished washing her hair and was standing in waist-deep water, bent forward to rinse her long hair when she heard a sound—

"Damn!" Abby exclaimed, as she realized that she was actually hearing a sound, and not just imagining one from her story. She had been so engrossed in her work, and hated being interrupted when she was lost in another world. The doorbell rang again, and then a third time. "I'm coming! Geeze, just a minute," she yelled, and pushed away from her desk. She tripped over Cicero, who was sprawled in the doorway, but managed to regain her balance without falling. "Cat, you're going to kill me," she said to the unconcerned feline.

Opening the door, she saw a delivery boy holding a large white box, with his finger stabbing at her doorbell again, the loud buzzing reverberating out onto the porch.

Obviously unconcerned about her jumping at the irritating noise, he spoke hurriedly. "I was about to leave." The young man held out a clipboard, pointing where she should sign for the delivery. Abby did so, then took the box he shoved at her.

"Thank you," she said to his back, as he was already halfway down the sidewalk. Perhaps he understood he had been just the tiniest bit rude and that a tip was unlikely. Abby had a brief thought about calling his employer, and then giggled, remembering she had once had the same thought when Dean had scared her that night at the bookstore.

Shutting the door, she forgot about the teenage boy and went into the kitchen to lay the box on the table. She untied the string and opened it. Inside, dozens of red and pink roses filled the box, a single white bloom nestled in the exact center of its vivid companions. Her face lit up as she lifted the enclosed card which she slipped out of the envelope. As she read the words, her face flushed to match the deep pink of the roses.

"My love - roses will always be your flower, though even their beauty can never match your own. I will pick you up at seven. Wear that stunning red dress and that sexy white thong. 'Yet' has arrived. The single rose symbolizes the virginity you will submit to me, keep it with you today and think of me. All my love for the rest of my life, Dean xxx"

"Oh my God," Abby gasped, rereading the card even though she had instantly understood what he meant. She blushed all over, her face growing hot. It took several minutes before she felt steady enough to lift the roses from the box. Just the simple act of touching one of the soft petals caused her to tremble, remembering Dean's touch on her own intimate and private rosebud.

Dean had been teasing her for weeks and gently preparing her for his intended use. Her bottom clenched, and yet her panties grew moist with arousal at the same time. They had made love many times and she realized that he had always stroked her buttocks and down her cleft, making sure that she felt his presence against her anus. Her hands were shaking as she filled a crystal vase with water and carefully arranged the flowers. Setting it on the table, she sank back into her chair. She drew the single white rose from the vase and gently pressed her nose into its intoxicating fragrance, her thoughts drifting back to a few evenings ago.

*****

Ordered to her hands and knees, she was once again holding onto the bedrails. Dean had taken forever to kiss and lick her all over until finally he arrived at her bottom.

She remembered that it hadn't been pale either. It was still quite red and burning after she had been punished for not wearing her seat belt when she had driven to his house. He had been waiting for her on his porch, and had walked towards the car as she pulled it to a stop in his drive. Seeing his expression change from one of pleasure to one far more unpleasant, she had immediately known she was in trouble. She had been grateful that he did manage to wait until they were inside before ordering her to remove her dress, remembering standing outside his car that day, her jeans and panties at her knees.

When he had barked for her to remove her dress, she had been a bit shocked at his tone, but immediately began unbuttoning it and pulling it over her head. She stood in the middle of the living room in her red bra and matching panties, remembering to put her hands down at her sides as she knew he expected.

Dean sat down in what she had been informed was her 'spanking chair' and looked up at her. He remained quiet for several long moments, causing her to shift her weight from foot to foot, every moment seeming to drag into hours. When he had called her to him, she had gone and stood between his legs. He had put his hands on her waist and felt her trembling.

"Panties down," he said succinctly, and waited until she had bared herself to him. "Tell me why you are going to be punished," he had ordered as he always did.

She felt exactly like a naughty little girl and stammered, "Be…because I'm supposed to always wear a seat belt?"

"Why?"

She had looked down at her feet as she answered, "Because it is the law and, and I endangered myself."

"Look at me," he had ordered, and waited until she had lifted her gaze to his. "I will always punish you for disobedience, both for breaking the law as well as for breaking our rules." The fact that her teeth began to worry her bottom lip had given evidence of her nervousness.

"I'm sorry, but, Dean, it's not like I always forget." The flash in his eyes caused her to instantly correct her statement, "I promise I won't forget again." She had shifted her weight, embarrassed to be standing before him, her underwear bunched beneath her buttocks. She whispered the words she really wanted to say. "Please, I don't–don't want a spanking."

"I know you don't, baby, but you also know you are getting more than just a simple spanking, don't you?" Dean had asked, quietly but firmly letting her know that though he was well aware of her plea for him to skip this spanking, he had absolutely no intention of doing so.

Her legs had begun to tremble with the memory of her first punishment that had included a switching for endangering herself when they had gone fishing. She whispered, "Please…please," but he had simply tightened his grip around her waist, stilling her. Abby finally nodded, tears falling down her cheeks and had said, "I know, Sir."

Satisfied with her acknowledgement, he had relaxed his knees, allowing her to move. "I'm going to give you a spanking for breaking the law and then I'm going to give you a whipping for breaking our rules about putting your life in danger," he had informed her calmly. "Take off your panties."

Abigail had burst into tears at his announcement of her punishment, but had obediently pushed her panties down to her feet and stepped out of them. He had guided her across his knees and spanked her for a long time, until she was wailing and her bottom throbbed. Her thighs were spanked just as hard, something she absolutely hated as they burned immediately when he smacked his huge hand down on her tender skin.

Only when he considered her well-spanked did he pull her up and settle her on his lap. She cried out as her burning backside connected with his legs, but he held her close and let her cry.

Eventually, she had settled, snuggling into him, grateful for the comfort. When he had then lifted her to stand, Abby had begun shaking again. When he reached down and unbuckled his belt, she had become almost hysterical.

Dean had led her to the sofa and said, "Bend over and put your hands on the cushions, face forward."

Despite her fear, she had obeyed, and when he told her to lower herself to her elbows and spread her legs, she had complied. Hearing him move, she had suddenly jumped up, turned away and cupped her hot cheeks. "Please, please, oh God, Dean, please don't whip me. I'll never do it again. I swear I'll always wear my seatbelt. I won't ever, ever forget again. I'm begging you, please don't whip me."

Dean had listened and then firmly said, "Abigail, get your hands off your ass and get back into position. I'm going to whip your ass until it's as red as your panties, and it's going to be difficult for you. It is very difficult for me to believe you endangered yourself as we've discussed this before. You are the love of my life. You are never, ever to put yourself in harm's way."

The love and concern in his voice had enabled her to assume the position he had ordered. "Tiptoes, Abigail," Dean had reminded. She was always made to present herself in this manner, lifting her bottom high as if begging to be punished.

Abby gave a quick glance at the scarlet panties on the floor before raising herself onto her tiptoes. She tried to relax, to submit, but when the belt struck her across both buttocks, she had shrieked. She filled the room with her cries as he whipped her again and again. The sound of the leather slapping against her skin was loud, the distinct crack drilling itself into her mind, never to be confused with another sound as long as she lived.

As the strokes continued, each crack leaving a scorching heat across her ass, she wagged her bottom up and down and from side to side to try to avoid the burning strokes. No matter how much she danced about, Dean simply followed her, landing stroke after stroke against her rapidly swelling posterior. Though it didn't take but a minute or two before he had given her twenty strokes, it had felt like a lifetime to her.