Read The Big Book of Submission Online
Authors: Rachel Kramer Bussel
“Well done, well done,” Sheila said at the end. “I like the fox particularly. It's just the right symbol: the spirit of the country invades the city. Perfect.” Their faces shone with pleasure. “Maura, I want you to pitch it on Friday.”
“Me!” The young woman showed a mixture of joy and terror.
“Absolutely. You've earned it.” Sheila smiled quickly. It wasn't the same smile as earlier. “Both of you; make sure everything is spotless and seamless. The last few slides showed the haste of revision, Anthony. We want that account.”
“Yes, Sheila,” they all said together.
Sheila grinned at that. “Then we celebrate.”
The rest of the day seemed to crawl by, but Sheila forced herself not check the time too often. Leaving at five meant struggling through the rush hour press of flesh; the tube was always packed at that hour. Sheila found the walk to his flat soothing after that madness.
But as she rang the bell her pulse quickened; she fought the urge to touch her nipples, which felt hard already.
“Ah, Ms. Evans, welcome,” he said as if he had forgotten their appointment. A quick kiss on her cheek and then he guided her onto the entryway's white plush carpet. Sheila bent to remove her shoes but stopped halfway.
“Yes,” he said walking on into the sitting room, “you may remove your shoes.”
Sheila's heart pounded; she knew she was already wet. To look at him, you wouldn't necessarily guess how provocative he was. Mr. Howarth (he was always
mister
) looked the epitome of the middle-aged, middle-class sort of fellow. He wasn't conventionally handsome, although the warm intelligence of his eyes gave away much to a careful observer.
He returned from closing the curtains and smiled up at her. Sheila towered over most men, usually causing annoyance, but Mr. Howarth didn't measure himself against anyone. “Long day? You must be tired.”
Sheila shook her head but didn't otherwise move. He took her shoulder bag and laid it on the little table,
then led her into the sitting room, positioning her on the white rug. The fireplace crackled, casting warmth and light across the room.
“We'll soon have you comfortable.” He slipped her jacket off and threw it over the back of the comfy chair. Then he reached up to unbutton her blouse, keeping his gaze locked on hers. They had the same smile on their faces. When he slipped off her blouse, he leaned forward to bite her nipple through her bra.
Sheila whimpered.
When she stood in only her bra and knickers, Mr. Howarth took off his tie, brought her hands together and lashed them tightly with the silk garment. Sheila felt a surge of excitement pound in her breast.
What's he going to do?
Gently, he led her over to the leather armchair and bent her over the arm. They had discussed spanking, but Mr. Howarth had not accepted her pleaâor so she'd thought. Sheila found herself quivering with anticipation despite her awkward position. Something about the way her bottom thrust upward made her feel so vulnerable.
She wasn't the Rhino now.
Mr. Howarth stood beside her, perfectly in control. Only his voice hinted at his own excitement. “I'm going to spank you. I suspect it may hurt. I don't want you moving, Ms. Evans.”
She nodded her head to show she understood. Sheila's heart thudded against her rib cage.
His hand stroked the silky globes of her cheeks. Sheila smothered a moan. Silence was all. He pulled her knickers down to her knees, trapping her legs in the fabric, then sliding his hand up to her cleft. Finding it wet, he tsked. Sheila gasped as his fingers fluttered between her lips, then just as quickly withdrew.
It seemed like forever before his hand fell with surprising sharpness. The blow hurt more than she'd imagined it would, but before she had time to think, another fell and another and another. It was everything at once: the pain, the heat, the methodical timing, the care he took, the joy she knew.
Bliss.
T
he bright-pink speeding ticket was taped to the side of the nightstand. Even without turning my head on the pillow, I could see where my wife, Marni, had underlined
30 miles over the speed limit in a construction zone.
I wiggled my bare butt against the sheet. The handle of Marni's big black leather paddle extended over the edge of the nightstand, right above the ticket.
Looking at the paddle made my cock throb. Marni's clothes weren't helping my self-control. She has long, wavy brown hair and the kind of round, full curves a man can really get a grip on when he's riding his wife hard and heavy. Her long, flowing skirt swayed with her hips and her slinky button-down shirt clung to her huge, heavy breasts. Her nipples poked out stiff and long. Damn, I loved sucking Marni's tits!
I licked my lips and concentrated on her breasts, trying not to look at her right hand. It was covered with the translucent glow of a white rubber glove. My eyes darted back to the nightstand. I couldn't see the prostate milker, or the big pump bottle of lubricant, but I knew they were there. I came from being spanked, every single timeâunless my balls were emptied beforehand.
Marni used to make me masturbate until I climaxed before she paddled me. Then she discovered that fucking cock-milking toy. Her new routine gave a whole new meaning to the word
dread
when I fucked up. She walked over to the side of the bed, her hips swaying and her boobs jiggling, frowning so hard my balls wanted to climb inside and hide. She picked up the lubricant and squeezed a long, slick stream over her middle finger.
“Pull your legs up and back.”
Her finger was like a heat-seeking missile, zeroing in on my asshole, yet it was slick and cool. I gasped as she slid it deep. She pressed up toward my belly button, right into the hypersensitive place where my orgasms startedâthe place I'd learned the hard way was my traitorous, touch-hungry prostate. I groaned as a drop of precome leaked through my cocktube.
“You're exceptionally sensitive tonight.” She rubbed until another small stream oozed through. “You should get an excellent milking.”
Just like that, her finger was gone. Then she was holding that fucking prostate milker. The fat part glistened with lube. Marni said it was shaped like the
life-sized inside of a rectum. I had no idea if she was right. I'd never looked up my ass. All I knew was that when she slid the milker in, it felt like it was made for me. I couldn't help squeezing. I gasped as it slid over my prostate, the knob beneath pressing up hard in back of my balls, massaging from the outside as well. The handle snugged into position in my crack.
I shuddered with each squeeze, trying to relax my hips in spite of the awesome fucking feeling. Precome ran down my cock, each drop getting me that much closer to Marni's paddle and a world of fire-assed, hurtin' bawling. But each squeeze felt so good, I couldn't make myself stop.
“Lower your legs and keep squeezing.” Marni pulled off the glove and tossed it in the trash.
I shivered as the pressure shifted, hating how awesome it felt. Marni and I had masturbated together more times than I could remember. But cock milking was different. I was emptying my dick in front of her not so I could comeâI sure as hell wasn't going to get to do thatâbut so I wouldn't be able to get an erection. All I'd be thinking about when she blistered my ass was how much it fucking
hurt
! Marni tapped her fingers impatiently, waiting for me to finish.
My whole body trembled as rivers of semen started streaming out of my prostate, up through my ultrasensitive cocktube. I panted and shook, clenching my ass muscles as hard as I could. I was so close to coming, but I couldn't quite get there!
Marni stroked one finger up the underside my shaft, pressing out what should have been the rest of my come. I lay back, panting.
“I'm empty.” The words sounded hollow. I drew a ragged breath. “I, uh, guess I'm ready.”
“I doubt you could ever be ready for the paddling you're going to get. But you certainly won't be distracted by another erection anytime soon.” She picked up the paddle and smacked it sharply on her hand. “Move over.”
I rolled shakily to the side of the bed, sitting quietly while Marni settled herself so the entire length of her thighs rested on the mattress. She tapped her lap firmly. I took a deep breath and slowly lay down across her lap, my cock lying quietly on her leg.
“Spread your legs and relax your bottom.”
Marni's finger rested on the removal ring. My face heated as she pulled.
“Bear down.”
It was so embarrassing, feeling the smooth, fat shaft of the cock milker slide through my asshole. Marni dropped it on the nightstand with a thunk. Then her arm tightened around my waist.
“You know better than to drive like that!”
I gasped as the paddle exploded across my butt. Fuck, that paddle hurt! I wasn't turned on at all anymore. Well, I was a little bit, knowing Marni had me over her lap and was paddling me. But my cock couldn't do anything about it. She paddled my ass until I could hardly breathe.
All I could think about was how much I wanted the pain to stop. I wasn't ever going to speed again!
Tears streamed down my face as Marni eased me off her lap, then onto the bed to lie down beside her. She pulled me into her arms, opening her top and unhooking the front clasp of her lacy white bra. Her warm, full breast fell against my face. I opened my mouth wide, latching on to the tip of her nipple and sucking hard.
“Oh, yes!” Marni's groan was pure pleasure as she pulled me toward her with one hand. The other was between us, yanking her skirt up, then fumbling in the nightstand drawer. I jumped at the buzz, then settled into a slow rhythmic sucking as the vibration between her legs had her arching against my mouth.
“Thank you for paddling me, Marni.” I held her breast with both hands as I talked feverishly around her nipple. “Thank you for letting me suck your tit. I'm sorry I was such a jerk. I'll do better.”
“See that you do,” she gasped, shuddering as the first climax rolled through her. “One of these days, I'd really like to make you come with that thing up your ass while you're fucking me.”
My exhausted cock twitched just the barest bit. I sucked her so hard she came again. With incentive like that, I sure as fuck was going to give good behavior a try.
I
f you want to make me submit and give myself totally, just show me fur. Cover me, smother me, then grant me permission to writhe upon it and I'm all yours. Let me feel the warm inviting hairs brush up against my body, tickling it into complete and pure submission. It doesn't even have to be real.
I didn't tell Ian about my fetish when we got together but he soon found out. How he did I don't know, but one day he turned up with a fur blanket and a lustful look in his eyes. A day later we emerged, our relationship changed forever, with the understanding we would explore one another's desires completely. From that point on Ian became my Master, taking control of my fetish and allowing me to completely indulge in it. We decided to lock my furs away when he is not home.
So now I wait outside of what has become our playroom, naked, in a position of submissionâkneeling down with my head back, looking toward the ceiling. I'm already aroused at the thought of all the fur just inches away from me. My nipples are aching, my pussy already wet with anticipation. I've been in this position for over an hour, since I got his text, and my legs are aching from the strain. Arching my back, I push my breasts higher, with my head tilted backâall to please him. I don't look to the door as I hear the key in the latch.
A dull thud suggests he's putting his bag on the floor and undressing, then total silence. In my mind I can see him staring at me, a familiar smile on his face. My body aches from exertion but I force myself to remain in position, the thought of letting him downâor worse, not getting my furâis almost too much for me to bear. Sweat begins to bead as my muscles burn and scream to change position.
A shadow moves over me and I almost weep in pleasure as his hand brushes up my body, starting between my legs, stopping to squeeze my breasts. When he looks down at me, I catch my first glimpse of him today. I shiver as his dark eyes drink me in; I would do anything for this man. A knowing but loving smile briefly settles on his lips before he hungrily squeezes harder, pinching my nipples until I have to squirm a little. At that he stops and with one hand reaches down, taking my wrists in his grasp and pulling me up. I've been in one position so long my muscles cry out in both relief and protest as
I move. Though I'm shaking, he easily holds me up and unlocks the playroom door, guiding me in.
With him standing behind me but holding me close, I can feel his arousal pressing against me. My body melts with the thought of him pushing his way inside me. My heart begins to pound as I tremble with delight. Whatever happens, I must get to that fur so I can get the sweet release only it can give me.
He leads me away from the rug and the throw to an area that at first appears free of fur and pulls me down onto a seat. It's an oddly shaped seat; the front part is wider than the back, meaning to sit on it comfortably you have to do so with legs open wide. Upon the sides are wide cuffs designed for my thighs whilst upon the back of the chair is a cuff large enough to hold both my wrists together firmly. With a practiced hand, he does them up so I am held helpless on the chair, spread wide, knowing full well in this position he could do absolutely anything to me. My enforced confinement from the fur-lined cuffs makes my submission that much sweeter. By wriggling and straining against the cuffs, I can get the fur to move against my skin, sending arcs of pleasure through me.