Posted on Spanking Romance on 9/23/2013
I've always known that trust is essential to submission.
That was kind of a given. But having read the recent Round Table Discussions, I
really thought about that trust for the first time.
Sometimes I look up the definitions of words I know the
meaning of and am surprised at the true definitions, or maybe the way to say it
is they add another layer to my understanding of the word.
There was one comment in particular that Gemini made about the
gift of Dominance. As a sub, I am completely and selfishly focused on myself
and this was interesting to read. In my post, I spoke about struggling with
submission - wanting to give it but being unable to. After reading what Gemini
wrote, something clicked for me. When giving the gift of submission, you must
trust that the gift of Dominance will be given in return. It's like you have to
trust that the one you are giving your submission to can take it, can accept it
and give you back what you need - fill the lack with his Dominance.
In Aching To Submit, the blurb reads that Sophie hadn't told
her husband of her kink out of fear of rejection. Yes, that's one side of
things, but there's also the other side - maybe she wasn't sure or didn't trust
that he could take it and give her back what she needed - his Dominance.
* * * *
Once in the attic, she stripped
off her clothes and folded them, setting them on top of one of the boxes. She laid
the belt on the chair and chose a corner, touching her nose to it and clasping
opposite elbows behind her back so her bottom would be displayed for him once
he came up.
Michael’s dominant nature
surprised her. No, that wasn’t it. He was dominant in every way, but the fact
that he took on his new role with such zeal was what surprised her. There would
be pain tonight; she wasn’t fool enough not to believe that. But she also
believed there would be pleasure afterwards. Riding that fine line between the
two opposites thrilled her, her submission itself almost better than the
orgasm.
It was a good twenty minutes
before she finally heard his step on the landing, and when she did her entire
being shook with anticipation.
“Good choice,” he said, and she
knew he must be looking at the belt.
She didn’t dare turn around
until he called her to him after a few moments. He stood in front of the single
chair that sat in the middle of the room on top of the rug. She made her way
over to him.
He was shirtless and barefoot
and she couldn’t help but look at the wide span of his shoulders, his powerful,
muscular arms. “Bend over and put your hands on the seat of the chair,” he
said. He wasn’t yet holding the belt.
She turned and did as he said,
knowing to keep her legs wide as she supported her weight on her hands, looking
straight down at the doubled-over belt. It wasn’t a moment before his fingers
were massaging a cool cream over her anus.
“This plug is a little bigger
than the last one,” he said, his voice coming out a little hoarse as his finger
penetrated her tight ring. “I want it in your ass when I whip you.”
She made a sound, unable to
manage words, taking in the not-unpleasant sensations.
“Good girl, that’s it,” he
encouraged as he pulled his fingers out and began to insert the plug. With that
she struggled a bit; he wasn’t kidding that it was bigger and thicker. Michael
pressed it in and pulled it out, patient and slow, waiting for her to open and
accept it. “You can take it, Soph, come on, open. Reach your hips back. That’s
it. Push against it. Almost there.”
She made another sound as the
thickest part penetrated and the plug was finally seated firmly inside her.
“You can straighten up,” Michael
said. He went to wash his hands in the corner sink.
Sophie tightened her muscles
around the plug, which was heavier than she’d anticipated. Michael returned
with a pair of leather cuffs.
“Hold out your hands,” he said.
“You don’t have to bind…” she
began.
“How many additional strokes do
you think you deserve for speaking when you did not have permission to speak?”
She stared at him. “I’m sorry,
Sir,” she said quickly. “I just…”
“Ten more, then. Another word
and we’ll make it twenty on top of what you’re already going to get.”
She stared at him, her mouth
open, but luckily too smart to keep talking.
“Hold your hands out,” he said.
She extended them to him and he
bound them in front of her before sitting down on the chair. “Lay yourself
across my lap,” he said.
Sophie took a step to his side
and held on to his thigh as she leaned forward, then put her hands to the
floor. Once she was situated, he trapped both her legs between his and pulled
her tight to him. She then felt the weight of the belt as he laid it over her
low back.
“I like you like this,” he said,
his hand circling her buttocks, then pressing on the base of the plug before
dipping down into her pussy. “You’re wet, Soph, even for your punishment you’re
wet. But pain before pleasure and this is going to hurt. Are you ready?”
“I don’t know, Sir,” she said,
her voice wavering.
He chuckled and slapped her ass
once, then caressed softly before repeating the motion on the other cheek. The
caress was just momentary and only heightened her anxiety as she knew the
strike that followed would be sharp and quick.
“Ow,” she said, already
squirming.
“Oh, honey,” he said and she
could hear the smile in his voice, “this is nothing compared to what’s coming.”
He slapped harder and she
struggled against each one, but with her hands bound as they were and her legs
trapped between his, it was useless. When he picked up the belt, however, she
shoved her full weight against him, trying to get free, panic overriding
everything else.
Michael pulled her to him,
holding her tight by her waist. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay, Soph. It’s me.
You can take this; you’ll feel better for it.”
“Easy for you to say,” she
cried.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked,
surprising her.
She turned her head to meet his
eyes. “No.”
Her eyes, which had been dry
until then, suddenly filled with tears that overflowed onto the carpet beneath
her. “I don’t want you to stop. I’m just scared. I think I made a mistake. I
think I should have chosen a different belt,” she cried.
He laughed out loud, but it wasn’t
cruel. In fact, as he did it, he hugged her to him, rubbing her back. “Baby,”
he began, “you think I’d have let you get away with that?” he asked. He was
massaging her low back.
That was the moment she
understood that he wouldn’t have let her off the hook.
Goose bumps covered the flesh
over her entire body as this realization settled upon her. She exhaled and
closed her eyes, relishing the release, the knowledge that she was safe here in
his arms and that she could lean on him, that he would carry her. That he could carry her.
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