Sarah K - The Secret Life of a Submissive

‘You look fabulous,’ Max murmured after a few moments more. ‘Put your hands behind your back.’

I did as I was told, lulled by his voice and a peculiar sense of euphoria.

Max caressed my shoulders and neck, his touch proprietorial. One hand stroked up and down my back while the other hand worked its way into the top of my corset, his long, strong fingers cupping one of my breasts. His thumb brushed across my nipple, which stiffened in response. He let out a soft sigh that made me quiver, my skin tingling, electrified by his touch. His hands were cool and almost dispassionate, caressing, squeezing, exploring and kneading.

I gasped as the intensity increased and he nipped and twisted my nipples, before folding the top of the corset down so that first one and then both breasts were exposed.

I could feel the cool air on my naked flesh and a charge of expectation. I could sense his growing excitement along with my own. All the joking and banter were over and I realized that Max wanted and needed this as much as I did. He moved so that he was standing in front of me. I felt his lips close around my nipple, sucking, nipping, biting, drawing my nipple deep into his mouth, making me gasp, the sensations coursing through me like ripples of white light.

As Max pulled away, my body clamoured for more. His lips moved to the other nipple, eagerly licking and sucking his fingers as they worked on the heavy swell of my breasts. As he pulled away, I heard a sound I didn’t immediately recognize. An instant later I felt the unexpected bite of something cold and metallic clamping tightly down onto my nipple. I shrieked in surprise and pain, trying to pull away as little teeth bit down harder, holding the clamp fast, and as I exhaled I heard the tinkle of bells.

I discovered later that they were nipple clamps with a string of tiny silver bells hanging from them.

Now every movement, every shudder and every gasp were echoed in silvery tinkling sounds. The teeth bit into my engorged nipples, sending tiny hot splinters of pain and pleasure through me.

‘Beautiful,’ Max whispered, stroking the bells’ strings, making me gasp.

Max and I had talked a lot about what I liked sexually, areas I wanted to explore, things that were a definite no-no and represented a deal breaker – the hard limits beyond which I wouldn’t go – and those things that I might like to try once my confidence had grown. I’d told him things I had never told anyone else. I’d just signed off on it, hadn’t I? We’d definitely talked about the fact I didn’t want to be tied up until I knew Max better, so I didn’t think twice when something cool and smooth clicked onto one wrist, although I had a blinding flash of revelation as the second cuff snapped home.

I gasped and opened my mouth to protest. Bugger the no talking rule.

‘What the hell do you think you are you doing?’ I gasped, little bells tinkling furiously. I struggled to free my hands, even though I knew it was pointless.

‘That’s what the hell do you think you’re doing, Sir ,’ said Max. ‘You said no ropes. And now I’m going to have to punish you for talking without permission too.’

I was stunned. Semantics: Max had got me handcuffed and helpless with semantics. There was some part of me that loved the fact that he had outwitted me and another part that was furious. Not much of me was anxious.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Max asked, serious now. ‘If you’re not happy I can always take them off.’

I found it hard to speak.

‘Are you OK?’ he repeated, seeking an answer. ‘I’m not going on until you tell me.’

‘Yes, I’m fine, just bloody annoyed,’ I snapped, after a second or two, and added more haltingly, ‘Sir.’

Max laughed. ‘Pleased to hear it,’ he said, ‘and I’m glad to see you’re getting to grips with the Sir thing.’ As he spoke he traced the line of my jaw with a finger.

Despite the trick, I felt more excited than I had in years. I also had no doubt that had I asked Max he would have taken the cuffs off. I couldn’t have gone this far if I didn’t have an underlying trust in him and feel inherently safe. No one else can make that call for you. I trusted him.

‘Are you ready?’ he said.

Ready for what? ‘I think so, yes – Sir,’ I said.

‘Good,’ Max said, and I could hear the warmth and approval in his voice. He led me across the room and had me stand while he settled himself on a chair. He stroked me gently until I was completely still and those little bells finally stopped ringing.

‘I’m going to put you across my knee and then I’m going to spank you. But before I do, I want you to ask me to do it,’ he said.

I froze. ‘I have to ask ?’ I said incredulously.

Max laughed. ‘Yes, and you’ve broken the no talking rule again – and not calling me Sir. You’re only supposed to speak when you’re spoken to, and only answer the question you’ve been asked.’

‘I’m going to find that hard.’

‘Really?’ he said, with mock surprise. ‘Now ask me.’

I’d never found it particularly easy to ask for what I wanted sexually. Had I told him that? I tried to remember. Ask ? In my fantasies all this happened without a word being spoken.

‘Well?’ pressed Max.

‘I want you to spank me.’

‘ Want ?’ There was more than a hint of rebuke; submissives can’t demand anything. ‘Ask nicely, Sarah.’

It was the kind of thing adults said to small children and said in almost exactly the same tone. A little charge of humiliation stoked the fire of desire.

‘Please will you spank me?’

‘Better, but not quite good enough. Sir ,’ added Max. ‘Ask me again, properly this time.’

‘Please will you spank me, Sir?’ I murmured, squirming with embarrassment.

‘Very good. Here, let me help you.’ Very gently he guided me down over his knees, which was not elegant and certainly not easy in handcuffs, with the little clamps biting into my skin and sending little flares, bright as stars, through my consciousness. When you are blindfolded, pain and pleasure are not just sensations but colours; bright, unexpected flashes of colour.

Then, when I was calm, the bells were still and my breathing had slowed, he pulled down my knickers. I was so stunned that I almost stood up again. I had to remind myself that I’d agreed to all this. I had, I really had.

‘Gently, gently,’ he murmured.

Gently, my arse, I thought, although under the circumstances maybe that wasn’t quite the right phrase. I was flooded with a wave of panic and a horrible squirming embarrassment. In my fantasies I was altogether more lithe and the scene of my spanking more subtly lit; certainly I was not in broad daylight in my sitting room. Had Max been expecting lithe? Did Doms get put off? In fantasies they didn’t, but in the flesh – the acres of flesh, offered my brain helpfully – maybe they did. I could feel myself blushing scarlet. Then I wondered if it was this, the sense of discomfort and humiliation, that Doms got off on? More than that, this felt like my fantasy – the sense of exposure, the vulnerability. I shivered. I was doing it; this was it.

Max, meanwhile, didn’t seem at all put off – quite the reverse, in fact. He made soothing appreciative noises and stroked my thighs and backside, easing the tension from my body, and gradually, remarkably, unexpectedly, I began to relax.

‘Gently,’ he murmured. ‘You’re fine, Sarah. Just fine.’

And just when I had been lulled into stillness, Max hit me, one big flat-handed, stinging, spanking slap that ricocheted through my body. The slap wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make me cry out in surprise and pain – my whole body flexed.