Surrender: Guilty Pleasures #1 (BBW Erotic Romance) (9 page)

I looked down, the marks were
fading a bit but still visible.

“They’re a bit tender, but they
look better. I think I’ll have to wear long sleeves to work tomorrow.”

There was a smile in his voice
when Jake spoke. “It will remind you of our time together, your first session
as a submissive.”

There as a pause; Jake’s voice
was almost stern when he spoke again. “I want us to have dinner tomorrow night.
Some place casual, quiet…some place where we can talk. I think we need to go
over some of the protocol for you, Abby. To make sure you understand this relationship.”

I was nodding. “Yes, I’d like
that. There are things I think I need to talk about.”

“I want you to come as my
submissive, Abby. That means you’ll do as I say, be under my control, during
the entire evening. I want you to wear a skirt and shirt with buttons. And no
panties. You can wear a bra; it should be lacy or sheer.”

I swallowed hard.
Am I ready
for this?

“Yes, Jake.”

“Abby, part of that protocol is
calling me Master.”

Oh.
“Yes, Master.”

***

Jake chose a little five-star
restaurant, close to my apartment. I’d spent far less time agonizing over what
to wear this time, only pulling half the clothes out of my closet rather than
all of them, even though I had clear direction from Jake as to what he wanted
me to wear. I’d finally chosen a pretty green skirt and matching blouse,
complete with buttons. The bra was easy; I love lingerie, so there were several
to pick from.

I pondered the no panty protocol
for a long time. I’d never knowingly gone out in public sans underwear. Going
to Jake’s for the session didn’t count, I reasoned. That wasn’t public.

To know that I’d be walking down
the sidewalk, sitting in a restaurant, with nothing between me and the world
but a thin summer skirt was a little out of my comfort zone.
Who was I
kidding; it was way out of my comfort zone.

But it occurred to me as I was
getting dressed, or rather, not getting fully dressed, that I was only going to
get out of this relationship what I was willing to put into it. If Jake was
going to put himself fully into this relationship, then the least I could do
was respect that—and him—and give myself fully to being his
submissive, even if it was difficult. Especially if it was difficult. And I had
no doubts, after our first session that being a submissive was going to be far harder
for me than being a dominant was going to be for Jake.

He’d picked me up at my apartment,
casual and elegant at the same time, dressed in a pair of black dress pants and
a sport coat over an impeccable white shirt. He managed to take my breath away
just standing in my living room.
The man would look good in anything…or
nothing.

Jake’s eyes traveled
appreciatively over my outfit, and my body, taking in all the details of both.
His mouth curved into a slow smile.

“I trust there are no panties
beneath that skirt?” His voice was light, teasing. I smiled up at him.

“Yes, Master.” I had the
overwhelming urge to turn around and flip up the edge of my skirt but held
myself in check.
Probably not considered good submissive behavior.

Jake had a reservation, and we
were efficiently escorted to a tiny booth in a secluded corner, candles set in
glass holders casting soft flicking light over the table. I slid behind the
table, Jake sitting close to me, his thigh brushing mine. I was excited to be
out with him, but also nervous, unsure of my role as a submissive in public.
This was almost like a first date, although we weren’t dating. Everything felt
new and somehow Jake felt almost like a stranger, even after what had happened
in the tower room the day before. 

The waiter came for our order,
raising an eyebrow in my direction. I started to speak, but Jake interrupted
smoothly, ordering for both of us. I gave him a look, waiting until the waiter
had turned away before saying anything.

“I can order my own meal, Jake.”
I toyed with my water glass.

“Yes, I’m sure you can.” He
leaned forward, his eyes dark and intense, his face very close to mine, holding
my gaze. “But I asked you to be my submissive tonight.” I felt his fingers on
the back of my hand, gently stroking my skin. A frisson of electricity ran up
my arm.

“Oh, well…sorry.” I dropped my
eyes. His touch intensified.

“I don’t want you to be sorry, Abby.
I want you to think, to be part of this. Can you do that?”

I looked up at him. There was a
challenge in his eyes, but something else. A longing, perhaps? The desire…or
the need…to dominate me. I wasn’t sure. I took a deep breath.

“Okay. Yes. I’m willing to try.”
I took a drink of water. “But do I really have to call you Master in public?”

Jake sat back, his hand still
caressing mine. “We can negotiate. I’ll accept Master in private, Jake in
public. Will that be acceptable?”

I tilted my head, considering.
“I’ll agree to that.”

Jake smiled. He took his hand
away from mine, moving it beneath the table to my leg.

“Do you remember what I told you
my goal had been for our first session?” His eyes were locked with mine.

I nodded. “I wasn’t supposed to
come until you gave me permission.” My breath caught in my throat.

Jake nodded. “I think we should
try that again, give you some practice.”

He rested his hand on my thigh
for a moment. Just the weight and heat of his hand sent a thrill through my
body. Very slowly he began moving his hand beneath my skirt, his fingers
sliding to the inside of my thigh, gradually increasing the pressure against my
skin, circling that sensitive spot just north of my knee.

“How was work today?” The
banality of the question caught me off guard, contrasting sharply with the
teasing fingers working their way beneath my skirt. I could feel cool air
against my naked skin as he slowly pulled my skirt higher on my leg, the warmth
of his fingers on my skin amazingly erotic and arousing.

I shivered, my thigh muscles
tensing briefly. There was a corresponding pinch from Jake, gentle but firm.

“Um…well, fine. I have a new
client.” How was I supposed to have a conversation about work with him doing
whatever he was doing to me under the table?

“Nice. Big account?” Jake’s voice
was like velvet over fire, low, seductive and entirely too sexy to be discussing
work.
Submissive…you’re a submissive. Play the role.

“Too soon to tell.” My breath
caught in my throat; his hand rested on my upper thigh now, gently pulling my
leg toward him, opening me up beneath the table. I panicked, looking down to
make sure the tablecloth actually obscured anyone’s view. My muscles tensed
again, straining against his hand, holding my legs together.

The pinch this time was long and
slow, making me gasp. Jake leaned toward me, his lips against my ear, his
breath brushing against my skin.

“Let go, Abby. Trust me…” I felt
the briefest brush of his lips on my skin, soft and firm at the same time.

I took a deep breath, a long
drink of water and relaxed. Jake’s hand resumed its pressure, and I allowed him
to manipulate me as he wanted, my legs spreading open beneath the table.

With gently strokes he began
caressing the inside of my thigh, circling higher and higher, edging closer but
not quite touching my pussy. It seemed to go on forever, this seductive dance
of his fingers over my skin.

When his fingers finally brushed
slowly and deliberately against the outside of my pussy, I jumped, a surprised
sound escaping my lips. He pulled his fingers back and I tensed, leaning
forward, aching for his touch, wanting to apologize. But I remained silent.

Slowly, his fingers moved back,
like an animal circling its prey. He slid them into me then, slowly, over and
over, probing deeper and deeper. My gasp this time was loud enough to make Jake
cover the sound with a cough and for me to bite the inside of my lip. I glanced
at him; his smile only aroused me more, that smile that held all kinds of dark
promises.

His deliberate touch on my skin,
into my most private recesses, had set off a cascade of feelings in my body. I
felt a flush rising up my cheeks, my palms were damp and I knew damn well if he
probed any further he find out just how aroused I was. My insides were
throbbing, somewhere deep, a low pulsing that made my hips move imperceptibly
in time to his inquisitive fingers.

I closed my eyes, breathing
shallowly through parted lips. I felt him shift next to me; his mouth was at my
ear, his lips brushing my skin.

“Look at me, Abby.” I turned my
head, his face just inches away again. I met his gaze and held it, the
intensity in those blue depths drawing me in.

His fingers were sliding between
the folds of my pussy and I knew he’d discover how wet I was. There was no
hiding anything from him now, not that I really wanted to. I discovered with a
bit of a shock that I wanted him to do this to me, to take me on this little
wild erotic ride in public, drive me over whatever cliff he choose, and I’d go
willingly.

My eyes were locked with his, my
breath coming in short gasps when the waiter arrived with our first course. Jake
sat back, completely relaxed, in control of not only me but himself, chatting
easily with the waiter, asking for a bottle of some wine I didn’t recognize. I
was a quivering mess, held on the edge of something, poised there, waiting,
unable to do anything about it. And I didn’t want to; I wanted Jake to take me
further.

“Well, Abby. How are you enjoying
dinner…so far?” I looked at Jake, that Cheshire cat smile on his lips, his eyes
practically twinkling, looking urbane and sophisticated in contrast with how I
felt inside; a wanton disheveled woman on the edge.

The last thing I thought I wanted
was dinner. I wanted him, but I knew that wasn’t what was on the menu. I needed
to be patient, to let him control this, and me, and trust him. And damn, that
was hard.

“I’m anxious for the main
course…or maybe dessert?” I took a bite of the food placed in front of me, the
rich, complex flavors distracting me briefly from the fire raging through my
body. Whatever Jake had ordered, it was sublime. I moaned a little as I chewed.

“What is this?” I was
industriously working through this creamy little thing I’d been presented with.

“Goat cheese flan.” He was
watching me eat, an open smile of amusement on his face.

“It’s nice to see a girl who
enjoys her food. It’s something I like about you, Abby. You enjoy sensual
things, like eating. Or enjoying the scent of your own perfume.” He leaned
over, his nose near my neck, inhaling. He sat back, his fingers brushing the
hair behind my ear. I leaned into his touch, seeking more contact, like a cat
rubbing against an outstretched hand.

We finished the first course
quickly. I wanted Jake to continue his erotic play, but he leaned forward,
elbows on the table.

“Let’s talk a bit about protocol,
okay?”

I nodded. I started to pull my
skirt back down, but a little voice said Jake had not given me permission.
Oh,
yeah…that’s how it is. Got it.

 
“Okay.” I squirmed a
little, the heat still throbbing low in my belly.

“We need to talk about
punishment, for the times when you disobey me.” Jake took a swallow of wine, turning
the stem of the glass with his fingers.

“Oh. You mean like yesterday.” I
looked down at the wine in my glass, something deep and red and wonderful. I
took another swallow.

“Yes. I can’t punish you in
retrospect; that’s not right. But I can tell you that in future sessions, you
don’t speak unless I ask you a question or ask you to speak. We can discuss
what that punishment will be before our next session.” He looked over at me,
his eyes icy blue.

“Do you understand? And, do you
agree?”

I nodded my head. While he’d been
talking, his hand had slid back under the table. I felt the warmth against my
skin before I felt the pressure of his fingers. They were back where he’d left
off, stroking me softly, slowly. My body responded with a surge of heat, a whole
body tremble that didn’t go unnoticed by Jake. I heard a sharp intake of breath
to my right and the hand on my leg clutched me briefly, hard and insistent. I
longed to reach over to his lap, to disturb that cool exterior, to grope and
fondle him beneath the table, to see just how aroused he was by this whole
thing. As if reading my thoughts, he spoke, his voice husky, a bit rushed.

“You’re driving me wild, Abby.
And you’re being a very good girl tonight. A very good girl.”

There was a moment there when the
restaurant faded away; the sights and smells, the sounds of the other diners,
everything disappeared except the touch of Jake’s hand on my skin and the sound
of his voice in my ear.
‘A very good girl.’

I wanted to be a good girl,
wanted to please Jake. I relaxed my legs as far as I could without sliding down
on the leather seat. In all honesty, I wanted to melt right onto the floor, but
I did my best to remain upright.

My hips were twitching and
flexing, my breath coming in little hitching gasps. I looked over at Jake, my
eyes willing him to continue but begging him to stop.

Something passed between us, a
look that told him everything. His hand moved away, sliding down my thigh.

“Very good, Abby.” He smiled. I
felt a surge of something close to gratitude, which seemed an odd feeling to
have for someone who was tormenting me in public. But I was actually enjoying
this, willing to let Jake do to me what was giving him pleasure, and taking
pleasure in not only his hands on my body, but in knowing I was doing what he
wanted me to do.

With perfect timing, our main
course arrived. I was presented with a sea bass on a bed of greens. I’m not a
fish girl, but this was amazing. I don’t know if Jake’s hands on my body had
anything to do with my heightened awareness and increased enjoyment of the
food, but the sea bass was indescribably delicious.