Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission (21 page)

She licked her lips and clung to him, relishing the feel of
his hard planes as they pressed against her soft curves. His erection was a
rigid bulge under his pants, pressing seductively against her lower stomach. “I
will. I promise.”

“Good. I can’t wait. Tomorrow, then.” He kissed her softly,
his moist lips sliding over hers. And then he released her and she staggered,
unsteady, dizzy and exhausted. He gripped her waist and held her until she was
firmly on both feet and her wobbly legs were able to support her weight.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yep. I want to give you some time to prepare.”

Prepare for what? “Okay.”

“I’ll take you home now. Did you bring a purse or anything?”
He followed behind her as she slowly ascended the stairs.

“Yes. I nearly forgot.” She went to the dining room for her
purse.

He stopped in the kitchen and pulled a container out of the
refrigerator. “And I want to make sure you take this. You might get hungry
later.” He winked.

Her stomach growled in response, and she salivated. “Oh,
yes. I’m starving now.”

Holding his hand, she walked out to the car, settled into
her seat then, a smiling, giddy goof, she rode in silence, determined to be
fully prepared for tomorrow—whatever that meant.

Maybe it was all a silly game, but she was hooked. Andre had
already proven to be an attentive, masterful lover. And he hadn’t even actually
made love to her yet—in the purest sense of the word. She wanted to learn more,
to overcome what reservations remained. To explore and grow and experiment.

And Andre was the perfect man to do that with. Perfectly
handsome, gentle, sexy…and patient. The man had the self-control of a saint.
But she was determined to find a way to shake that a bit. Next time, she wanted
to see him as desperate for release as she was.

A lengthy Internet field trip revealed some interesting
pictures, but little else. She found lots of photographs of bondage gear.
Spreaders and special toilets—yuck!—and ball gags, and leather straightjackets.
All kinds of stuff. But nothing about the actual use of the items, or the
dom-submissive lifestyle. How would she be prepared if she didn’t know what she
was preparing for?

Finally, frustrated after hours of scouring the ‘net, she
called Mary. Since her friend lived only a few blocks away, she was at Britt’s
door within minutes.

“It’s about time you called me!” Mary burst into the room
with her usual bluster. “What happened last night? Give me all the juicy
details.”

“I’m not telling you anything. Come over here and help me.”

“You promised.” Mary plopped into the kitchen chair Britt
had pulled up to the computer. “I can’t believe you’re holding out on me.”

“There isn’t much to tell.”

“Much. Ha! You expect me to believe that? You went on a date
with an incredibly sexy man, wearing a leather dress—my leather dress, may I
remind you?—not to mention he’s a confessed dom. Either you think I’m
completely ignorant, or you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I just like to keep things
private.”

“Since when? You told me when you lost your virginity. I
taught you how to perform oral sex on a guy. Remember that?”

“How could I forget?” Britt giggled, remembering the scene
in Mary’s parents’ kitchen, Mary being caught by her obnoxious baby brother,
Adam, as she was sucking and slurping on a carrot.

“Up until now, we’ve talked about everything.” Mary’s voice
echoed the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. “We’ve been friends since
kindergarten.”

“And we’re still friends. I love you like a sister.” Britt
gripped Mary’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I just don’t know how to talk about
this stuff. It’s all so strange and new to me. I honestly don’t know how I feel
about any of it yet.”

“Then why did you call me?”

“I wanted to do some research on the Internet, but I can’t
find anything. I was hoping you could help me.”

That seemed to boost Mary’s suddenly glum mood. “Okay. What
are you looking for?”

“Stuff on the bondage lifestyle. I found lots of sites that
sell bondage equipment, but nothing else.”

“You’re looking under the wrong key words. Scoot over.” Mary
settled her chair in front of the keyboard and punched in a command. A black
page with dozens of links appeared. “See? Lots of stuff. You can find anything
on the ‘net if you know where to look.”

Britt skimmed the headings. “Oh, this is great! Thanks!” She
clicked on a link for slave training, and immediately felt a flush spread over
her face.

“What is it?”

“This…this sounds like Andre. He kept talking about my
thoughts and feelings. I didn’t know what he was doing.”

Mary’s eyebrows lowered as she read the glaring white print
on the black page. “Master and slave are a little different from sub and dom,
although the difference between them is subtle. A slave eventually grants her
choices to her Master where a submissive doesn’t. It sounds like Andre has big
plans for you.”

“Yeah, it does.” She squirmed as she read the slave rules,
all one hundred and twenty-eight of them. In one way, the idea of serving
someone, of turning over her will and freedom to a Master was exciting. In
another it was absolutely terrifying. “Do you think he’ll expect me to follow
all of these?”

“It says you can choose how to interpret these rules for
yourself.”

“It also says that eventually I’d have to make a choice to
let him do all the decision-making for me. I can’t imagine doing that.”

“It’s new. You have to go slow. He’s not asking you to do
them now, is he?”

“No. We just played around with a swing in his basement. It
was an amazing experience.”

Mary grinned. “I bet it was. But what do you think about all
of this?”

“I’m not sure. But at least now I’m not going into it
blindly. I wonder if that’s what he meant.” Britt skimmed further down the list
of rules. “These rules include undressing in public, and licking his ass clean?
Oh, God! Do I have to get my labia pierced?” She shuddered at the imagined
pain.

“Sounds like you need to talk to Andre. Find out what he’s
thinking. Maybe he doesn’t want to take it this far.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“When are you seeing him again?”

“Tonight. And he said to come prepared.” Britt clicked the
print icon at the top of the screen. “At least I’ll have this.”

“Sounds like a good start.” Mary stood and rested her hands
on Britt’s shoulders.

Her eyes drifting from one shocking rule to another, Britt
muttered, “After reading it, though, I wonder if I’m really cut out for this.
Look here. It says he will decide what my sexual orientation is. How can he do
that? My undergrad psychology professor said we can’t even make that choice for
ourselves. I’m not a lesbian.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll take things slow for you. I’ve
got to go. Call me if you need me.”

Britt’s gaze refused to stray from the screen. “Okay. Thanks
for coming over so quickly. Really.”

“No problem.” Mary pulled open the front door and exited,
leaving Britt with a horde of doubts and fears running through her mind. And a
heaviness in her pussy.

She couldn’t deny it. For some reason, although the idea of
being Andre’s slave was scary, it also made her hot and bothered—in a good
sense.

What would tonight bring?

* * * * *

That night, after a full day’s work, she sat in her living room
waiting for Andre to arrive, barely able to contain her jitters. She squirmed.
She paced. She chewed her lip. She played with her purse strap.

How would she ever get through the evening? She was a
walking bundle of nerves. At one point, she even picked up the phone and dialed
his cell phone number, intending to cancel. But before it rang, she hung up.

This was silly! Not once had he ever made an unreasonable
demand—unless she counted his unusual request to chitchat while in the middle
of heavy petting. He’d never told her she couldn’t look him in the eye, or had
to kneel on the floor with her head down, or had to have sex with another
woman.

That website was for people who lived the extreme. Outside
of the fact that Andre had a basement full of bondage gear, he didn’t appear to
be one of those kind.

Yes, everything would be fine. He was a sexy, kind man. They
would have a great time together.

Her doorbell made her jump nearly out of her skin,
highlighting the fact that her feeble attempts at calming her fears hadn’t
helped much. Determined to find out exactly what Andre’s intentions were, she
scooped up her purse and walked to the door.

When she opened it, she found Andre standing on the porch, a
huge bouquet of red roses in his hand.

“Hi, beautiful.” His gaze wandered over her face, and his
wide smile faded as he handed her the flowers. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes. I’m fine.” She took the bouquet and turned toward
the kitchen to put it in water. “The flowers are beautiful. Thanks.”

Andre followed her. “You look gorgeous.” He slipped an arm
around her waist and pulled her closer then placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

She felt herself flinching slightly.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, this time more sternly. He took
her hands in his and coaxed her to face him. “Why won’t you look me in the eye?
What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m just nervous.” She lifted her eyes,
meeting his penetrating gaze.

“Why?”

“I read some things on the ‘net.”

“I see.” He nodded. “Let’s go talk.” He took her hand and
they walked outside, down the sidewalk and past his car.

“Where are we going?”

“On my way over I passed a nice park. It’s a beautiful day.”

“Okay.” She strolled beside him, enjoying the feel of his
warm hand wrapped around hers.

“I see you took my request to heart. I’m very pleased.”

“I’m glad you’re happy. Although I have to admit, reading
that stuff has made me a little unsure about things,” she confessed, knowing
she had to be honest. There was no way she’d be able to pretend to enjoy some
of those things on that list. Heck, some of them sounded downright excruciating
and humiliating. She was an independent, intelligent woman. Allowing another
human being to treat her—or any woman for that matter—like trash went against
everything she believed in. This was one instance where complete honesty was
vital. He had to understand where she was coming from.

“But it has made you aware of what being submissive can
mean. And it’s opened you up. You’re talking about things now instead of
hiding.”

“Sure, out of shock and fear.”

He sighed. “If you feel that strongly about this, then maybe
it isn’t for you. That’s okay. I was just hoping we’d be able to talk about it.
No rules are set in stone. I…haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”

She glanced at him, catching his forlorn expression. He
looked genuinely disappointed, and that left her feeling worse. “No, you
haven’t. I’m just being goofy. Maybe a little defensive. I’m sorry. I do want
to talk about it.”

They rounded the corner and followed the path into the park.
She pulled her snug skirt down over her bottom and sat on a swing, heating
slightly at the memory of the last swing she’d sat on. He stood in front of
her, his legs straddling her knees. His hands gripped the chains suspending the
swing and his gaze fixed to hers. “Tell me. Please. What did you read?”

“I found this site about Masters and slaves. It had over one
hundred rules. All sorts of things about piercing body parts, stripping naked
in public, kneeling nude with eyes lowered, the Master choosing the slave’s
sexual orientation. Enemas and whipping and humiliation. Some of the milder
stuff I could handle—as a bedroom game, maybe. I’m too independent, too
stubborn, to live like a slave all the time. And I know for a fact I couldn’t
handle torture. Pain does nothing for me sexually. Some of those punishments
were—do I need to explain further?”

“No. I understand. Really.”

She hesitated and tried to read his expression. It hadn’t
changed. Was still encouraging and gentle and kind. Her heart felt heavy even though
she was relieved. “Are you disappointed?”

“No way! I’m glad you told me. I’m glad you’ve opened up to
me. That’s all I ever wanted.”

She felt a giggle wiggling up her throat. “Really?”

“Later, if or when you decide we should, we can go over
those rules and talk about each one. Until then, we’ll talk about other things.
We can explore and learn about each other. I’m not just looking for a slave,
Britt. I’m...looking for more. A partner. I want to settle down soon. In the
next few years. Get married. Have children.”

“You do? You are? I would never have—”

“Yeah, you figured I was out for a good time. Miss
Right-for-Now. I’ll ask you the same question. Are you disappointed?”

“No,” she answered honestly. “I’ve been feeling the itch to
settle down soon, too. It’s time. My life is good. I’m not needy or desperate,
so I know I’ll make the right decision for the right reasons.”

“I’m glad.”

She didn’t know what to say. It was mighty soon to be
talking about long term relationships, marriage. In the past, if a guy
mentioned marriage on the second date, she’d bolt. Rushing into a serious
relationship was plain stupid.

But with Andre, in this situation, it felt right. She needed
to know where he was headed, what he expected. Knowing he wanted more than a woman
to chain to the wall eased her fears considerably. Knowing he understood her
reservations, and supported her decisions, made her feel even better…cherished.

If Andre Cruz-Romero was everything he seemed to be, she
could see herself falling fast and hard for him. Like a block of cement from a
third-floor window. Thunk.

Then the image of the basement popped into her head. “I
wonder, what will you tell your future kids about the toys in the basement?”

He grinned, stepped around her and gave her back a push,
sending her swinging into the air. “That’s Mommy and Daddy’s playroom. My kids
will be so spoiled they won’t care what’s down there.”

She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the fresh, cool
air blowing in her face as she ascended and the funny feeling in her belly as
she descended. “That’s where you’re wrong. Kids are like all humanity. They
want what they can’t have.”

“Hmm. You probably have a point. Do you have any
suggestions?”

“Keep the door locked?”

“Sounds like the perfect solution, at least until they’re
teenagers and learn how to pick a lock.” He plopped into the swing next to hers
and watched as she skidded her swing to a stop, sending a cloud of dust up from
the ground. “Are you ready for some dinner? It’s a work night. I don’t want to
keep you out too late.”

She stood and took his hand in hers, giving it a playful
squeeze. Her shoulder brushed against his arm and she felt her face warming
with a blush. “Yes, I’m starving. Let’s go eat.” As they walked back to her
place, she added—surprising herself, “Then, maybe we can go back to your place
for a little while? I’m in the mood for a visit to the playroom. I’ve
rediscovered a fondness for swings.”