Finding Submission (Service & Submission Book 1) (19 page)

“Sweetie, I’m taking your tail out so I can have anal sex with my Kitty.” He didn’t ask permission — he was telling. She liked that. He was sure of himself, sure of her needs and responses. He never asked permission. He knew she could safe word at any time. He would demand her obedience but he would also tell her what he was doing. Still, she knew he wouldn’t push too far, too fast.

She felt the mortifying suction as the plug pulled out, the relief, mixing with almost a feeling of loss at its absence. She needn’t worry for too long; his cock was at her back entrance instantly, and thanks to the stretching of the plug he was able to push himself in with no resistance. She groaned deep in her throat as his fullness filled her channel. When he was fully seated, he thrust his hips against her sore backside with a pleased murmur.

“Jesus, you feel great. Your ass is so hot from your paddling. Let’s get you ready, sweetie.” Preston squeezed her breasts and stroked her clit, sliding two fingers into her pussy, pumping them as he pounded himself into her ass. Avery clenched around his fingers, her hips spasming in time with his thrusts, pushing back hard onto his cock.

“Preston, I’m coming. Please give me permission… I don’t want to disobey!”

Preston chuckled. “One of these days you’ll understand how this permission thing works, but for now… you have permission to come, sweetie.”

Relief flooded her for a moment before her climax overtook her, her thighs quivering, and her pussy clamping his fingers tight in time with his cock pounding into her ass. She screamed until her throat was raw, and then heard his roar, warm semen filling her deep inside. He collapsed onto her back and they lay panting, catching their breath, their bodies still convulsing with the remnants of their orgasms. As their bodies cooled, Avery could feel the sweat on their bodies cooling, slickness between them. Preston pulled his erection out of her and walked to the bathroom. She was only dimly aware when he’d returned, and warm wet cloth cleaning her up.

She still had her ass up in the air and jumped when she felt the cold rubber at her bottom. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Swat!

“I’m putting your tail back in. You aren’t much of a kitty without a tail.”

He tried pushing it in again, and Avery swung her hips, trying to get up, only to have Preston put a hand to her bottom, pinning her in place. “You already have a very red bottom, my dear. Do you really want me to get the cane and give you more before I put your tail in?”

“Preston, don’t! I don’t want a caning. But I’m sick of the tail.”

“Avery, sweetie. Your bottom is already accustomed to the plug, and just took my cock. The plug isn’t going to hurt going in, and you’ll be taking a nap as soon as it’s in. It won’t bother you. I’m not going to fight with you on this. Put your ass in the air, hold your cheeks apart, and bear down while I push your tail in — or I’ll be getting your cane.”

“It isn’t my cane,” Avery muttered under her breath.

“I heard that!” Preston slapped the outside of both hips, hard, leaving a tattoo of his handprint on each hip. “It’s
your
cane. You know why, little girl? Because it certainly isn’t mine. I use that beautiful stick on my sweet girl, my beautiful kitten. It
keeps
her sweet and kind, just the way I like her. So which is it? Are you opening your cheeks and receiving your tail, or are you receiving your cane? I want to hear your answer loud and clear — now!”

Avery hated when he made her recite to him what awful punishment she had chosen. It was just too much. Sadistic, is what it was. She grit her teeth, and wanted to fight — but her bottom was already so sore.

“I’ll receive my tail, Sir.”

“See what a good Kitten you are? Such a good girl. Now pull your cheeks apart so I can slide it in.” Preston pushed it in with no problem. “See? Don’t you feel silly fighting me like that?”

Next, she felt the leash being attached to her collar. He tugged at it gently. “Come, kitty. It’s time for your nap.”

Avery got up on all fours, and he walked her over to a small braided rug in front of the rocking chair near the bed. “You lie down here and take a nap. Curl up into the fetal position.”

She looked up at him from her little rug, not knowing how to explain how she felt, at the confusing jumble of her emotions.

Then he was gone.

* * *

Preston walked into the kitchen to prepare some dinner for the two of them. He was going to make some chicken fettuccine for dinner — the noodles would be easy for her to eat.

While cooking, he checked on her to see if she was sleeping or still looking around wide-eyed. It was a lot for her to take in, he knew. He hoped he wasn’t pushing her too far. She was curious, and he knew she could use her safe word at any point. But it still concerned him that she would get spooked and take off. He had fallen in love with her, and didn’t want to lose her. She was more important than his kink – more important than anything. He liked kitty play, but not if it meant losing Avery.

But if she agreed and they could do kitty play every now and then in this playroom, he would truly feel like a blessed man. She looked adorable all curled up on that rug, sleep finally claiming her. Her bottom was a pretty shade of red and he could see wheals from the leash striped across the lush curves of her buttocks. The white tail was sprawled out next to her, the plug peeking invitingly from the crevice.

To see Avery with the pink collar on, to see her delight in the bell jingling, was almost more than he could take. He had to control himself and not fist pump the air when she’d smiled at him with her collar around her throat. However, the tail was another issue. She didn’t seem to enjoy the tail as much as the collar. He laughed to himself – she was always so damned mouthy. She’d had butt plugs in before — it was the punishment used for her mouthiness. She just didn’t like the fact that she was going to have a tail, too. But he watched her closely after it was inserted, and if she had truly objected he would’ve backed down on the requirement for a tail. He wanted this to be a good experience for her. He wanted to see her further explore submission.

The progress she had made in six months was amazing. She’d come to him as an undisciplined, irresponsible, impulsive, mouthy criminal. Now she was responsible, organized, and cautious. She was still mouthy — but she was at least trying to control it now. None of this had occurred without stern discipline. There were weeks where he began to wonder if she was getting a leather butt. He had spanked, paddled, hair brushed and belted her bottom regularly, and yet he still had to punish her almost daily.

At first, he had started disciplining because he didn’t want an unruly, spoiled brat in his house for six months. But now, the discipline was because he didn’t want the woman, whom he hoped would be his future wife, to believe she could behave in any manner she deemed acceptable. Most of all, he wanted her to learn submission right at the beginning of their relationship.

He’d watched her soften, the rough edges mellowing, her innate sweetness coming to the surface, no longer hidden by that sarcastic mouth. Once she was routinely and consistently paddled for disobedience, she quickly and quietly slipped into submission. She
wanted
to please him, wanted to serve him, and more than anything genuinely seemed to want him to be comfortable and happy. In return he catered to her. He found himself wanting to be sure she was cared for — he watched her diet, made sure she was warm, not tired, and that her mood was stable. He even made sure she called her father regularly, and if she behaved, as a reward he’d let her call friends to keep in contact with them. She’d flourished under this attention. She had told him that her family was distant, and that while they loved her, they weren’t particularly attentive. That was the job of the nannies. She seemed amazed that he even
cared
if she needed a sweater or bottled water, while she was sorting furniture in the barn.

Heading back to the kitchen, he wondered what other fights she had in store for him tonight and tomorrow. He pulled out the warm chicken that he’d just cooked, cutting it into bite sized pieces. Stirring the sauce and then tasting it, he added salt and pepper, deciding it was perfect. He checked the timer on the microwave, a couple minutes left before the pasta would be done. He straightened up the kitchen while he waited, thinking of the beautiful naked woman curled up on her rug, waiting for him. He set the table, taking her bowls out of the cupboard just as the timer went off. He poured sauce over the pasta he put in her bowl, and cutting it into bite sized pieces, mixing the chicken into it. Setting the bowl on the floor, he prepared his own dish, setting it on the table close to her bowl.

Preston returned to the slumbering Avery and just stared at her a moment as she slept. She’d been asleep for an hour — a nice little cat nap. He chuckled at the new meaning of that phrase. She was sleeping with her mouth open slightly, her eyes fluttering. She didn’t appear to be sleeping peacefully, but he’d learned early on that she always slept fitfully. He routinely would ask her in the morning how she felt and how she slept. She would say she felt rested and not tired - if she hadn’t, he’d have insisted she go in for a sleep study. But despite her often fitful slumber she seemed to have the energy of two people. So, she didn’t have sleep apnea or any sleep disorder. She was just a busy person — sleeping or awake.

He squatted down in front of her and lightly rubbed his finger over her puffy, pouty bottom lip. She quickly closed her mouth and swatted at his hand reflexively. Then she startled awake, and immediately sat up, ready to run.

“Whoa, sweetie, slow down. It’s just me. You were sleeping and you looked so damn sweet, I just had to touch those lips. I startled you. It was my fault and I’m sorry. I hate having you wake up like that. Lie back down and wake up slowly.” He tried pushing her back down but instead she leaned forward, resting her head on his thigh. He stroked her hair and shoulders. “Good kitty. Such a goooood kitty.”

Preston slowly sat on the floor cross legged, laying Avery’s head in his lap. He stroked her hair with one hand, and rubbed her still very pink bottom, feeling the outline of the wheals on his palm. “You have a sore backside don’t you, girlie?”

“Mmmm-hmm. It hurts a lot.”

While he continued rubbing and stroking her he said, “Do you remember why you have a sore bottom? Tell me what you
aren’t
going to do again this weekend.”

She stiffened under his hand. He knew she hated having to repeat her sins, or state what she learned. Early on, she’d said no one ever cared if she learned her lesson in the past. From that day forward, Preston made sure that she never felt that way again. She would always know that he encouraged her to learn, that he expected her to improve, and that he wanted her to become a better person because of the discipline he administered. She was taking way too long to answer his question — she was in a mood today — and he would let her feel his ire if she continued.

Preston raised his hand and gave her two crisp slaps on the back of her thighs. “Answer me, Miss Avery, or I’ll go get the ruler from the desk here in the playroom.”

She whined at the swats, scrambling to sit up. “Ow! Okay, I’ll tell you. I learned that while I’m a kitty, I’m not supposed to talk and I’m not supposed to swear. I also learned that I’m not supposed to tell my owner how a kitten acts. He’ll tell
me
how a kitten is supposed to act and what I’m supposed to do.”

“Yes. Exactly. However, let me also point out that most of those behaviors are behaviors you have learned in our relationship. That’s how a sub is supposed to act also, right?”

“Well, yes and no. I mean I’m allowed to talk in the house. Or are you taking that way now too?”

Avery responded with too much sarcasm for Preston’s liking.

“Avery Rose, do you need another reminder about sarcasm?” When she shook her head, he continued. “I didn’t think so. No, of course, I haven’t taken away your ability to talk. Why would you say that? Before you get yourself in more trouble, let’s get you to the table for some dinner. I just set it out, and I don’t want it to get cold.”

Preston snapped the leash onto her collar, his heart soaring at the sound of the bell. He would always associate the sound of that bell with the blow job she’d just given him. He didn’t even want to think about whether that was good thing or a bad thing.

He walked her to the kitchen, and when she moved to sit at the table, he tugged back on her collar. “Nope. Not today, girlie. Today you get the privilege of eating like a kitty, out of the pretty white dish with pink hearts on it under the table. See how I put it right at my feet? You get to eat there.”

Avery glanced at him then looked under the table. Wide-eyed, she looked back at him. “Get the fuck out of here! Are you kidding me? There’s no—”

“You. Will. Not. Swear at me!”

Preston snatched the serving spoon from the table, smacking her bottom hard with it, white oval marks left on her skin after each swat. Avery desperately tried to crawl under the table, apparently no longer so opposed to the idea, if it got her away from the spoon. Preston kept her on a short leash though, tugging her close and swatting her bottom twice more.

“Avery Rose! Head down. Ass up. Now!”

To his initial surprise, she didn’t hesitate, immediately dropping into position. She would never know that this was beyond anything he’d dared expect.