Natural Submission: Book 1 of the Submission Series (3 page)

Then she smelt it. Her hair. The rest of her wasn’t smelling too fresh either. No matter, that would be just one more reason for him to stay away.

Her stomach growled, the clock ticked and the towel waited.

Irritated she threw off the quilt. One shower. He probably looks like a toad, short squat with bug eyes and bad teeth. What other kind of man has to go through these changes to get a woman?

A towel wouldn’t make a difference. She’d take it and move on with things. All of a sudden she couldn't wait, the urgency to be clean overwhelmed her. A long hot shower, the water beating down on her? The desire to be clean became strong, stronger than she could stand, and according to the annoying little clock it had been almost an hour - not including last night and so far no one had bothered her. With the door locked there was nothing else to do.

Cautiously she approached the empty and small, but clean and serviceable bathroom with its white tile. Her black towel was soft and plush against her skin with the crispness of brand new terry cloth or cotton against her skin. The wash cloth felt brand new too, like the tags were just removed. Both stood out stark against the edge of the white sink. She pulled back the double white lined shower curtain noting that while simple, everything about the bathroom was clean, serviceable and well maintained. Except for the lurking presence of her captor(s) elsewhere there was no reason to not feel comfortable taking a shower here. She’s seen seedier bathrooms in bad motels. After quickly relieving her aching bladder she turned the handle on in the shower.

The water eventually heated up like it had to journey a long way through the pressurized pipes to spring forth from the shower head, but when she eventually stepped inside, the sluicing water began to work it’s magic on her aching body the pressure pleasing against her back and her scalp. Francine reached for the waiting bar of soap, she had seen out of the corner of her eye, but then stopped in her tracks. There, was a loofah, with a creamy over the counter body wash,
for women.
Slowly she reached for the loofah and took it carefully in her palm, it was soft and fluffy as she meshed it.

She reached for the body wash squeezing a fair amount onto the loofah and began to rub... and rub... and rub. A soft feminine fragrance rose with the steam from the shower casting a spell over her frayed nerves, the soft lather coming easily and plentifully. She rinsed, then not able to help herself she squeezed another large pat onto the bright pink loofah and rubbed it over herself again, not able to quell the thought of how they had taken her, held her, how she never thought she’d be able to enjoy a simple shower again, and hoped that some of her bad memories would go down the drain with the suds. She rubbed and rubbed until finally, she saw the shampoo.
Oh heaven,
2 washes with conditioner, and maybe, just maybe, she could face whatever came next.

Reluctantly she stepped from the shower wrapping herself in the large dark towel and padded back into the bedroom only to find...

...jean shorts and a blue t-shirt and flip-flops? Really? It was like, zero degrees outside.
What the hell?
In her “situation” to be given anything to wear was probably a “kindness”, but this was really - strange. Upon closer inspection she realized there was actually underwear too, even the right size underwear. Pastel blue size medium panties and a lacy push up blue 30D bra. How did he know? Again, he had put her in the position of
accepting
things from him (it had to be a
him
right?) which caused resentment like acid to bubble up in her chest.

First the shower, now clothes, and she was certain she smelled breakfast. Was this how it started? That Stockholm Syndrome thing? Well she certainly wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of wandering around in a towel. Casting it off she donned the surprisingly comfortable bikini style underwear along with the other climatically inappropriate clothing and “snuck” as best she could to the door to try it again, fully expecting to find it locked.

It was not.

It opened with a silent turn of the brass knob and Francine entered the hallway on her tippy toes, cringing at the possibility of the dull wooden floor to giving her away with a creak - it did not. Whoever it was was still down the hall in the kitchen a short distance away cooking breakfast, it smelled
wonderful
, and her empty bellow bubbled in response. She put her hand over it trying to hush it, but hunger rose like an angry serpent.
Was there nothing more tempting to an empty stomach than bacon? Unfortunately yes, that thing was freedom. The front door of the cabin was
right there
and so was she; she could sprint for it. She had been ready to spring for it without a stitch on before her shower if she had to and now she had the empowered feeling of the provided clothing, even if it was grossly inappropriate for the elements.

Gosh that bacon smelled sooo good,
(focus Francine!)
stealing her resolve she quietly turned the lock on the front door and was out the open door and across the porch.

Chapter 4

Once outside she crept off the short porch & down the stairs her heart beating rapidly as she carefully crossed the snow her flip flops; crunching the soft firm mush on her way to the drive, wondering if she should risk entering the woods in her despite her foolish footwear for additional cover or not. So far it had been all too easy.
Just run Francine
her inner voice screamed with panic inside her.

She trotted for several minutes before eventually resorting to a brisk pace. As she walked already beginning to shiver with the cold, her nose began to run. She didn’t have any tissues and she began to worry there might be even more snow where this snow came from. She thought about what her mother used to say about snow, that when it was plentiful and stuck around it was surely just waiting for some more, and this place was pretty barren. Well, she had no choice, she would simply have to hope the weather held until she found someone - anyone who could help her.

She began to feel exposed like all eyes were on her, out there in the wilderness, but she told herself that was only because again, it had been so easy! She had just opened the unlocked door! Not very bright thus new "Master" of hers, and probably ugly as a pig, she thought again, and slow as a slug she thought, suppressing a giggle.

As she moved further away from the cabin her confidence grew, as her ruminations took a superior turn. What kind of name
was
"K" anyway? Well, no matter, this whole ordeal would be over soon enough. She was in decent shape, if she did say so herself. She could walk to a neighbor’s & have his sorry butt tossed in jail, she thought, doing the best she could in her awkward footwear. Eventually her still sensitive nipples began to harden uncomfortably inside the soft bra inside the thin t-shirt. Surely she should have come across a neighbor by now? When would she even reach a main road? This drive seemed to go on forever.

It was rapidly getting colder and now so was she and goose flesh appeared on her arms no matter how much she tried to rub them down. Her teeth began to chatter & soon her mind became obscured by thoughts of nothing except the incredible cold that seemed to numb her legs. How long had she walked? It seemed like miles. Eventually she fell, falling for what seemed like forever towered the frozen ground.

Eventually she felt herself being lifted off the ground by an unseen, unheard force. They were strong arms, very strong arms, holding her close to a muscled build. She felt herself let out a hopeless but requisite yell of protest, but by then even she knew her "escape" was doomed. With defeat she saw the same damn cabin coming up in the distance before she closed her eyes again in weary defeat. Before losing conscious again she realized that without warmer clothes her attempt at escape was all over before it had even begun.

K realized his new fawn had shown a lot of determination, leaving the cabin already. Quickly he got her in front of the cabin’s fireplace laying her down on a blanket he’d retrieved from the linen closet. There was a couch, but he wanted her to be as warm as possible and she felt frozen through and through.

She was tenacious, his Francine. As he laid her before the fire briskly rubbing her arms and legs to help move her circulation he realized just how much fortitude she had shown. She had to be exhausted from her ordeal and it was freezing outside. It hadn’t taken long to track her down shivering, struggling to put one foot in front of the other over the hard earth. He cursed his luck getting to her just before she fell in the frigid cold. Her mind was so already so captured by the freezing elements she hadn’t even heard him come up behind her. A zero degree forest could do that to you after a while, get you all turned around, which was one of the reasons he wanted her to stay inside. This was the number one lesson he was determined to drive home to her - that she had to stay inside the cabin, for a variety of reasons.

Capturing her easily he’d tossed her over one muscled shoulder making long strides back to the warmth of the cabin. Knowing what he knew now he decided to take things a step further and on impulse took some strips of cloth tying her to a leg of the heavy coffee table in the living room in front of the old tube color TV set where she shivered pitifully while he went in the kitchen to retrieve her something hot to drink.

Returning to the fireplace he lifted her onto his lap after wrapping her in the blanket, waiting for her to come to so they could have a nice long chat. Chatting was not the first thing on his mind after seeing her risk her health and possibly her life out in the cold, but he couldn’t help but understand it. If he was in her place he was sure he’d of tried to make a break for it too. He’d have to be much more careful from now on to keep tabs on her.

Eventually as her body soaked up the warmth from his and the fireplace and the blanket she turned against him and he was able to study her again at his leisure. Last night he’d been so busy trying to help work the drugs from her system he hadn’t really had a chance to appreciate her beauty. He’d not had that chance since he’d first seen her, back at the center, but now she was here with him and there was noone to stop him from looking at her, holding her.

She was such a lush armful against him, her bruises from her earlier ordeal with the slavers had just begun to fade and she had to be still hurting all over, and starving, but still her spirit was not broken, defiant little thing. Overall she was in good shape; “undamaged” the way they like to deliver their "merchandise".

Slowly her hazel eyes opened and he looked into them, his gaze locking with hers. After a moment panic glazed over her bright gaze and she began to shake in his grasp, struggling to be free, but after all she’d been through and passing out they were very weak struggles and easily subdued.

“Shhh.” He said. “Be still Francine.” Having no choice she gave up and his heart broke seeing a tear squeeze past one closed eyelid. Continuing to hold her with one arm he reached behind him grabbing the hot tea from the kitchen. “Drink this.”

She turned her head, remembering the room, the food that had made her sick. All of a sudden, comprehension dawned as he looked at her reluctant face and closed lips. “It’s just tea Francine.” Then, “Ok, there’s a shot of brandy in it too, and herbs, but really no drugs.” They had actually given him more of the drugs to assist with her compliance and their getting to “know” each other. But he’d be damned if he’d use any more of them on her. She’d accept him or she wouldn’t. He wouldn't drug her to get her compliance.

She looked up at him, finally seeing him for the first time. He had a strong face, chiseled features and dark eyes framed by spiked lashes. Something about his voice lulled her in spite of her fears. She was sooo thirsty, and the tea smelled sooo good. When he brought it to her lips again she sipped slowly feeling the liquid warmth seep down her throat into her body.

He didn’t look like a toad, nor was he short, or fat.
Dammit.
The tea was good, really good and his hands as he coaxed her to drink very gentle.
Double damn.
The warmth was spreading and with it came questions. Questions she was determined to ask in spite of her fear.

Her voice was shaking, but still held defiance, underlining steel. She was really something he thought. She barely had half the tea down before she was ready to start in on her questions. As she looked up at him she knew she should be cautious, this man was very strong and in obviously very good shape. He had caught up with her and carried her back to the cabin with no trouble at all. A distance so difficult for her had been nothing to him and again, he’d
carried
her back. But she could not stop the words from coming up and past her lips. It was like the more the heat from the drink and the cabin hit her so did a bit of bravado, okay, so it was false bravado, nevertheless her mouth got the better of her.

“Are you K?” She asked.

He was like a mountain above her and she remembered vaguely his heavy breathing as he carried her, his walk back through the cold. Shamefully she had not been able to put up more of a fight (having passed out and all). She looked up warily at the man above her. His black t-shirt stretched over his muscled pecs and biceps. She vaguely thought she remembered black boots, black jeans and general scariness as he’d set her before the fire and she’d drifted again into unconsciousness.