Karen Dreams of Submission

But she kept her hands tightly around her ankles.

He made her wait. He teased her with light little taps on her behind and the backs of her thighs. He used the corner to stroke between her legs.

Finally, he let her watch as he raised his arm, slowly...

Oh God, why didn't he do it? She knew she would start begging him any second. Her legs were shaking; her breasts, still hanging out of her bra, felt as if they might explode; the blood had all rushed to her head and her ears were ringing...

Ringing...over and over...

************************************************************************

Her cell-phone! Christ, what time was it!

Karen dropped the ruler she'd been holding, straightened up--somewhat painfully--and scrambled off the desk, simultaneously grabbing for her purse and trying to tuck her breasts back into her brassiere. She managed to dig out her cell-phone fairly quickly...but then had to wait while she forced her breath to calm before she answered.

She knew it was Michael without even looking at the display, since a glance at her watch had told her she was already twenty minutes late for their dinner date.

It was extremely difficult for Karen to answer and apologize for a made-up meeting that ran late and promise that she was on her way...when what she really wanted to say was, "Michael, I'm standing in my office in my underwear and my panties are soaking wet and I want you to come up here this instant and spank my ass with this ruler."

But she wasn't that crazy. Not yet, anyway.

Karen had never been spanked in her life, and had no idea how the idea had suddenly taken over her fantasy. But suddenly she wanted it more than anything.

She was restless all through dinner and had to keep herself from fidgeting, even though Michael had remembered—which she hadn't--that it was the anniversary of their first date, and had brought her a dozen roses and a lovely bracelet.

He was such a sweetheart. And she loved him, she really did. So she did her best to smile adoringly at him while he prattled on about their upcoming weekend at his family's cabin in the mountains, even while she was counting the minutes until they could go back to his place.

When they finally got there she pretended to be slightly drunk and made him sit on the bed and watch while she stood on a chair and stripped for him--after which she turned around, bent over and grabbed her ankles, hoping against hope.

But no. He was sufficiently turned on by her display to stand and run his hands all over her behind, and stroke her a little, but all too soon he simply pulled her backwards onto the bed with him. It was sweet and romantic...and she had been so aroused all evening that she even managed to have an orgasm.

But it was so unsatisfying. And she didn't dare ask him for what she really wanted.


Which was why she was attempting, pathetically, to turn their weekend hiking trip into an imaginary kidnapping.

It was Friday. They had left as soon after work as possible but it was already dark and negotiating the winding mountain road they were on would take another hour or so. She had been to the cabin before and it was a very basic hewn-log affair without indoor plumbing or electricity—perfect for a kidnapper's hideout.

She thought about all the things she'd imagined that the stranger had promised he would do to her, and make her do, once he had her all to himself in the cabin. Things she knew would never, ever happen. And without meaning to, she let out a long sigh.

Suddenly Michael pulled over to the side of the road and switched off the engine. Then in the darkness and sudden silence he grabbed her chin and turned her face towards him.

"We have to talk. You've been acting strangely all week. ...Karen, are you seeing somebody else?"

Shocked by this sudden turn of events she began to babble—first a complete denial, then a partial explanation and finally, in tears, a complete confession of the fantasy life she had been living.

His reaction was even worse than she had expected. When she was finally done and was still sobbing quietly to herself, he sat there, turned slightly away from her and said nothing for a long time.

Then he turned back, reached across her and opened the car door.

"Get out."

What? He was just going to leave her by the side of the road? She was only wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and a light jacket—this high in the mountains she'd freeze to death!

He didn't seem to care. He gave her a shove that almost made her fall out of the car and repeated, "Go on, get out."

Bursting into fresh tears she hauled herself out and let the door swing closed behind her. She waited, sobbing, for him to start up the engine and drive away.

But instead the next sound she heard was the sound of Michael's car door opening and closing, then the sound of his heavy footsteps on the gravel road as he came around the front of the car.

Then suddenly she was being forced, face down, onto the hood of the car by a hand at the back of her shoulders.

Her jeans and then her panties were jerked down around her knees. Christ, it really was cold up here, she realized...

...And that was her last coherent thought for some time, as Michael began shouting at her, and emphasizing every word with a barehanded slap on her naked behind.

"FROM!...NOW!...ON!...YOU!...DON'T!..EVEN!...THINK!...ABOUT!...ANYONE!...
ELSE!...BUT!...ME!!! IS!...THAT!...CLEAR!?

And then, even though she'd whole-heartedly agreed several times already, he gave her ten more.

He made her strip completely naked, then took her clothes away and locked them in the trunk.

She had to ride the entire rest of the way to the cabin kneeling naked in her seat and facing the rear of the car, so that whenever Michael felt himself getting mad again he could reach out and give her another smack on the behind without taking his eyes off the road.

Being Michael, however, he had considerately turned up the heat in the car so she wouldn't be cold.

Karen was very happy. She was well and truly loved...just the way she wanted to be.

...And she was really looking forward to the weekend.