Jake looked down at me. “Do you think that’s submissive behavior, Abby?”
I frowned. “Well, no…
His voice was soft, questioning. “I’m not criticizing you here. I want you to think…about your actions and reactions…and how you think that fits into this relationship, about your role as a submissive. Were you submissive today?”
My frown deepened. “No, I wasn’t. I wanted to be, at first at least. I wanted you to control everything, to give myself over to you. But when it got, well, frustrating, I got mad at you.”
Jake smiled. “I sensed that,” he said wryly. “It was pretty clear you were frustrated. But did you ever stop trusting me, trust that I was going to somehow make things better, give you something in return? Something beyond what you could have had in other context?”
“Maybe I did. Maybe that was the tipping point: I stopped trusting that you would take care of me. I thought you were just being mean.”
Jake made a non-committal noise in his throat. It was a long time before he spoke, as if weighing his words carefully.
“You’re not ‘winning’ anything; it’s not a contest. You’re submitting willingly and taking pleasure in the outcome…and in being a good submissive.” He hesitated, looking up at me. There was pain in his eyes. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Abby. I hope you know that.”
I reached out, touching the back of his hand. “I know…I know that now. But then…” I waved my hand. “I wasn’t really thinking then. I was going off pure emotion, or past experiences.” I made a face.
“I made a mistake today. My goal in this session was to withhold your orgasm until I wanted you to come, until I gave you permission, not until you won it from me. There’s a difference; I’m not dominating you if you feel you’ve gotten one over on me. There’s no power shift if you feel you won. And I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer in my expectations today. It won’t happen again.”
His gazed fell on my hands, still clutching the edges of the blanket. He took them both in his, running his fingers slowly over the angry red marks.
“We should wash these off. You can put ice on them later; it will help with the pain.”
I sat up suddenly, a flash of memory coming back, of Jake’s shoulder against my mouth, the taste of blood on my tongue.
“Oh! But I bit you.” I looked at his shoulder, a tiny drop of dry blood visible. My hand flew to my mouth.
“I didn’t remember…I’m sorry.” I reached out to touch him, but stopped, my fingers held above his skin. Was this aftercare or just caring? I pulled back in confusion.
He glanced down at his shoulder, frowning, then looking up to meet my gaze. A smile played around the corners of his mouth.
“And good submissives don’t bite.”
He slid off the bed and left the room. I could hear water running and then he returned with a damp washcloth and towels. He took my hands, lightly pressing the cool wet cloth against my hot wrists, dabbing gently.
Silently he handed me the cloth and I sat up, the blanket slipping from my shoulders. I dabbed at the marks, wincing inside. I really did that?
Jake offered me a shower and food, but I refused. I wanted to be home, in my own bathtub, eating my own food. We dressed separately and he walked me down the stairs to my car, holding to door as we stepped outside. I blinked, expecting the bright sunshine of mid-afternoon. But I’d walked into the soft light of early evening.
I spun around. “What time is it?” Neither of us was wearing a watch and it dawned on me there had been no clock in the tower room.
“I really don’t know, Abby. I wasn’t paying attention.” He was looking down at me, a slight smile playing around the corners of his lips.
“I told you sessions can sometimes run long or that we’ll lose track of time. It’s why I want true sessions here…” he gestured up at the tower “…to just be on weekends.”
Just on weekends? My face gave away my thoughts. Jake took a step toward me, his fingers on my face. When he spoke, his voice was low.
“There are other things we can do during the week, Abby. It’s not just sessions in the tower room. If you choose, you are my submissive all the time, in every way. It’s up to you how far you want to go with this. ”
I nodded. Something clicked in my head. This really was more than just occasionally being tied up and tickled; this was a lifestyle choice. Or could be, if I was willing to go that far with Jake.
“I’ll call you later, to check on you.” He pulled me to him, his mouth claiming mine in a gentle kiss. He was wearing just the gray sweat pants and his body was warm under my hands as I slid them over the smooth skin of his chest, winding them around his neck.
We stayed like that for a long time in the fading light. After a while I was aware of a not so subtle pressure against my stomach, a shifting of Jake’s h*ps as he pressed his growing erection against my body. I slid my hands down his lean back, my fingers working beneath the waistband of his sweats, aching to cup his ass in my hands.
But Jake pulled away, reaching behind his back to grab my hands, pulling them to his chest. He held them, bringing them to his lips, kissing my fingers. That seductive smile was playing around his lips, his eyes were hooded and dark.
“Okay, Abby. I think it’s time you headed home.” He released my hands, reaching for the car door.
I watched him in my rear view mirror, standing beneath the shadow of the portico, as I drove away.
***
The phone rang later that night while I was checking my email, trying to avoid those from Leslie, along with her texts and voice mail messages. I scooped it up; saw Jake’s cell phone number. My heart skipped a beat.
“Hi, Jake.”
“Hello, Abby. How are you? How are your wrists?”
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.”