Surrender: Tales of Submission (12 page)

"Sounds real educational."

"That's not all we do," she said throatily.

"Don't tell me...you sip champagne from ladies'

slippers?"

"Huh?" She laughed at the archaic reference. "No. We let the boys tie us up. Then they do what they want with us."

John's chest seized like a fist. He was instantly jealous.

What would a boy know about bondage? They wouldn't

know what to do with Steffy...naked...helpless.

"That can be a risky proposition," he said. "Especially if alcohol is involved."

"I like to take chances," she said.

Typical. The Myth of Invulnerability...the disease of

every twenty-one-year-old.

"You can wind up dead taking chances."

"Why?" she asked. "Do you know anything about bondage?"

"We're almost to the restaurant," he evaded. "This isn't the time to talk."

"Why? Do I have to get ready to jump out or

something?"

"No, you don't. Damn, you're even more of a smart-

ass than I remember."

"Quite a compliment coming from you, Uncle John."

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"Don't call me that anymore," he said.

She looked at him for a moment. He gripped the

wheel, avoiding eye contact like the plague.

"John..." She said it in a whisper, trying it out.

"I'm beginning to think dinner's a bad idea," he announced.

"You want to go somewhere else instead, John?

Somewhere more private?"

"Private, yes. With you, no."

"I know all about your secret," she declared out of the blue.

"I don't have secrets."

"Sure you do. You're a Dom."

He pulled into the parking lot of Carolyn's Steak

House, wishing he were anywhere else on Earth. Finding a spot out of the light, he said, "We need to talk."

"You said it wasn't the time."

"I changed my mind."

"Do you really want to talk?" She reached for his erection.

"Yes." He grabbed her wrist. "I do."

"You're strong," she marveled.

He put her hand on her lap, out of harm's way. "I

don't know what game this is, or what you think you're

doing, but Carl is my friend, and I would never—"

"I have no panties on, John. You can check. I'm naked underneath...for you."

"You're old enough to be my daughter," he snapped.

She gave him a look. "No, I'm not. Unless you had a kid when you were, like, ten."

"Just tell me where to take you," he said. "I'll drive you. Right now."

"Your place," she said boldly. "I bet you have a lot of toys in your bedroom. I'm a real bad girl, John; I need punishment."

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"You're barking up the wrong tree. I'm not into that stuff."

"Sure you are. I overheard my brother and you talking one time, about someone named Sherry..."

Sherry...shit. His little blonde slave girl from a few

years ago. She was married to a doctor, but once a week like clockwork she crawled to John, a play collar on her neck. The way she whimpered and begged and climaxed

got to John in a major way. It was one of the few times he almost tipped the balance over into obsession. He'd talked to Carl about it at the time, looking for some advice.

Luckily, her surgeon husband got a position at a

hospital out of state shortly thereafter, ending the problem altogether.

"Things shouldn't be taken out of context, Steffy; that was a complicated situation, and you couldn't have

understood it."

Steffy grinned. "You said you couldn't live without her twitching, bound ass, freshly reddened and paddled,

stuffed full of your hard dick, pleading for you to come inside her. That seems pretty simple to me."

John winced. He'd no idea she was within earshot at

the time.

"Whatever." She feigned indifference, pulling back to her side of the seat. "If you don't want me..."

His cock screamed not to let her go. "You're incredibly beautiful, Steffy, and desirable, too. It's got nothing to do with that."

"Is it that you don't think I'm submissive enough?"

Perceptive girl.

"That's part of it, yes."

"There's only one way to find out. A man needs to

teach me."

"Why not your boyfriend? Don't you have one?"

"No. I don't like guys my age. They're babies. I let them play with me, that's all. When someone ties me up, I 99

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feel so hot. Sometimes I'll tell a boy to tell me what to do, like he's my master. But it's not the same when you're the one giving the orders, you know?"

"Point taken," he concurred.

Steffy leaned in with all the exuberance of youth. Her

lips landed on his, so vital and fresh, her eagerness and passion making up for lack of experience. "Will you show me...tonight?" She was practically panting. "I picked you out. I got my brother to get you to take me out. He doesn't even realize how I manipulated him, calling the last

minute when I knew he was busy, and then planting the

suggestion of you as a companion for me."

John could believe that. His partner Carl was a

brilliant legal mind who could find his way around the

most hostile courtroom, but give him some personal

situation to deal with and he was all thumbs.

"What is it you expect me to show you, Stephanie?"

"How to submit. I want to know if it's in me. If it's something I'd enjoy."

John knew if he didn't do this for her, she would keep

experimenting with the wrong people. She might end up

in a very bad situation. There wasn't a choice here,

although he was not sure the results were going to be to anyone's liking. He was liable to lose a friend...his best friend.

"If you truly want submission, Stephanie, you must begin with obedience. Ninety-nine percent of this stuff isn't sexual at all."

"I...understand," she said, though clearly she didn't.

"You'll do everything I instruct, beginning with

dinner. You'll conduct yourself as a disciplined young

lady—good posture, please and thank you, no displays to draw attention to yourself."

"Yes. Can I call you
Sir
?"

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"You may." So much for this being ninety-nine percent nonsexual. He was ready to burst and they had barely

touched each other.

"Thank you, Sir," she said coyly.

"Recline your seat," he ordered.

The tiny motor whirred until she was nearly

horizontal. John allowed himself to feel her bare belly. Her skin was smooth as silk, taut as a drum. "Are you wet?" he asked her.

"Sopping wet, Sir." A smile curled her lips, a mix of pride and wonder.

"Show me."

She lifted her bottom, shimmying the skirt up past her

full hips to her narrow waist. Her pussy lips were pink and glistening and swollen. He slipped a finger inside her, just past the delicate crack. Stephanie let out a moan.

"Oh, Sir..."

"Move," he commanded. "Against my finger. Make yourself come."

"Yes, Sir." She lifted her hips, an athletic arch, hot and eager. She wanted it pure and raw and now...a finger, a cock, whatever was available.

Her teeth chattered. She was already climaxing. He'd

never seen a girl this quick, this responsive. Her face was locked in sheer pleasure, eyes shut tight against the world.

A man would have to move fast to stay on top of this one; she was like lightning in a jar.

And he was about to unscrew the top.

"I want you to take a little pain, Steffy."

She screamed out as he pinched her nipple through

the sequined top. The mild sensation rode her to a fresh orgasm, bucking, wild enough to shake the car.

"Omigod, omigod, omifuckingod..."

He let her ride it out, then brought her back down,

keeping control the whole time. Her toes were still curled 101

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as she collapsed back against the seat, her body covered in sweat.

"Good girl," he praised, giving her his wet finger to clean.

Steffy popped it in her mouth, sucking with unbridled

enthusiasm, her eyes alit with puppyish devotion.

"Can I do something for you now?" she said.

He shook his head. "I will tell you what to do and when."

Her voice held obvious awe. "Yes, Sir."

"So are you ready?" he asked. "For steak, I mean?"

"Yes, please, Sir." She was in that post-orgasmic phase, soft and complaint. He knew it would pass quickly,

especially without any kind of corporal discipline as a reinforcement.

Sure enough, on the way in, she surreptitiously

pinched his bottom, back in full brat mode.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," was her coquettish reply.

He took her by the arm. "I warned you about your

behavior, young lady. Later there will be punishment."

"What kind of punishment?" she asked after they were seated at a small, intimate table in the corner, complete with candlelight.

"Too much curiosity is not becoming in a submissive female," he replied, spreading his napkin in his lap.

"What, do you have a paddle or something?"

"Or something," he replied.

"Please, tell me." She was wheedling like a child.

"Please, Sir?"

He decided to give her what she wanted. "First you'll strip naked. Then you will stand against the wall, holding three coins in place, one each with your nipples and one with your nose. After a half hour or so, ass exposed,

waiting, you will be given a dozen strokes with a riding crop. It will leave welts on your ass. After that, more time 102

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to think. Following this, you'll be on your knees, you can guess what for. If at any time during punishment you

should happen to drop the coins, by the way, we start over."

"Oh."

"Still feel like you want a submissive experience?"

She had her lower lip in her mouth, wild

determination on her face. She could be riding a cock right now for all her sexual focus and intensity. "If you only knew, Sir."

"If it gets to be too much," he told her after he ordered a bottle of red wine and two prime ribs, "you can use a safety word. How about Valentine's Day?"

"What's a safety word?" asked his cute-as-a-button slave wannabe.

John narrowed his gaze. "I knew you shouldn't have been letting boys experiment on you. A safety word is vital to any BDSM experience. It's how the sub ends the activity if it's uncomfortable. A Dom will instantly stop what he's doing."

Her eyes twinkled. She wrinkled her nose. "Are you jealous, Sir, of other boys doing things to me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he growled, trying to cover the nerve she'd just struck. "I just think a girl like you needs a guy, one guy, to look out after you."

Her small foot, sans shoe, found its way to his trouser leg. "Would you look out for me, Sir? If you were my guy?"

"Keep it up, missy, and we'll be addressing your

behavior
before
we get to my place."

She pulled her foot back, though she seemed quite

pleased with herself for getting a rise out of him. "Yes, Sir."

"I mean it." He let himself get egged on. "I know the owner of this place, and he'd happily let me use his office."

"What would you do to me?" Her eyes were slits, Eve straight out of Eden, gunning for Adam.

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The need to corral her, to put her lovingly in her place, was overwhelming. She was a tough customer, though,

not nearly as innocent as some of the women he'd known.

Sherry was a child in comparison. It wasn't a matter of how much experience Steffy had had, he decided, but

something in her character. She was an old BDSM soul,

some kind of vixen reborn.

"Ever been whipped with a belt and fucked over a

desk?" he inquired.

She raised a brow. "I thought you'd never ask...Sir.

Aren't you afraid I'll break, like a piece of china?"

"Your brother would kill me," he shook his head.

She teased him with her big toe, this time right

between the legs.

"That's enough, Stephanie."

"Make me stop."

He was on his feet before he could think about it.

Events unfolded in a weird slow motion, with pure erotic punch, the two of them lost in their own world. It was a game he'd played a thousand times before but never with this sharpness, this clarity.

"Let's go, little girl."

She stood, obediently enough, though her lips

continued to defy. "I'm not that little...you better hope you can handle me."

John put his hand on her back, the contact electric.

"This way."

He steered her into the kitchen and made a hard right,

exchanging the barest few pleasantries with Tony, the chef, along the way.

He could see the flush on Steffy's cheeks. Was she

aroused, embarrassed?

"Does that man know...about you?" Steffy asked as John walked her down the corridor past the store room to the small but serviceable owner's office.

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"You mean have I brought other naughty girls here for correction?"

"Yes." She was all over him, trying to undo his shirt.

He spun her about. Using his tie, he secured her wrists behind her back. "This would be a good time," he breathed hotly, "to change your mind...before we get too far into it."

She leaned back against him. Her voice was

otherworldly, the most feminine and arousing he'd ever

heard. "No, Sir. I want it, please beat me and fuck me."

Who was he to deny such a pretty and determined

young lady?

"Over the desk," he ordered. "On your stomach."

"Yes...Sir...," she rasped.

Her voice was magic; ten times more intoxicating than

the wine they'd left behind on the table. Would they ever get back to it? Who cared—as long as he had her in his