With Grace - A Tale of Submission Vol. 03

...

When she woke up, she was in her bed. The sun was still high in the sky, suggesting that she must not have been sleeping for too long. She became aware that she was still naked, and her thoughts pivoted quickly to what had happened earlier, how wide Karen had spread her for Marcus, how his tongue had taken her places she'd never imagined; how even when she'd reached a peak, he continued his movements, only with more intensity. As her mind worked to process these feelings and memories, the tingling began again between her legs followed, as it always seemed to be, by the same warm wetness. A curiosity came over, and she slid her hand tentatively between her legs. The first thing she noticed was the amount of liquid there. It had seemingly dripped out of her and formed a little wet spot on her pink sheets.

She noticed how her the little nub of flesh that Marcus had fixated on during his time between her legs seemed to throb, like a beacon, pleading for her attention. She answered its call, and, trying to remember the motions that Karen had used the previous night, began to glide her finger around it in circular motions.

As she began to explore herself, she realized, to her chagrin, how, compared to Karen, her fingers seemed so clumsy, so inept. Nonetheless, despite her lack of skill and familiarity, she felt her body respond, her hips quiver. She kept her eyes closed, bringing all of her awareness to the path her finger was taking, diverting occasionally from its circular route to dip down into the cleft between her legs.

She began to lose herself, bit by bit, in her maiden voyage of self-exploration. As she was about to continue further on that journey, Karen and Marcus walked into her room to check on her.

"Oh darling, you're touching yourself. How beautiful." Marcus smiled, as he and Karen sat down on the bed on either side of her.

"Let's see how you're doing, sweetie," Karen said, gently pulling the blanket down and off of Grace's body.

"Spread for us, please," Marcus instructed. Grace, too humiliated to protest, did as she was told, and moved her legs apart.

"No, no, dear. Fully spread, please. Knees bent and apart for us." Karen used a firm tone, and felt like she had no choice but to obey. "That's a good girl."

She and Marcus could see everything, the wetness within and its path down past Grace's ass to her sheets. They took several moments to examine her closely-the aroused state of her nipples, the wetness now on her fingers, and the earliest quivers between her legs.

"Grace," Marcus began, "Karen and I are were speaking about you while you were asleep. We both had the sense that your first two experiences-the one last night with Karen and the one just this morning with both of us-would cause you to want to explore on your own, to touch yourself, to sample yourself, to begin the process of learning about your body, what it likes, how it responds, what arouses it."

Marcus was stroking her head as he was speaking to her, and Karen had one hand on Grace's stomach and one on the back of her knees, as before, keeping it bent and the leg open.

"But," Marcus continued, "Karen and I both feel very strongly that any exploration that happens of your body, any stimulation, any arousal, happens with one or both of us."

He paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in.

Karen went on: "We know it's going to be tempting to want to touch yourself, to bring yourself the kind of release that Marcus and I helped you with this morning. Your body is like an instrument, sweetie, we want to help you learn how it's played, but we feel like it's important, very important, that you not try to learn how to play that instrument alone."

"How does that sound to you, dear?" Marcus asked.

"Ummm, so like, what happens if I feel like I just did a few minutes ago?"

"Oh baby, we expect you'll feel like that a lot in the coming days, more and more. There are things happening in your body, beautiful things, that you've never felt before. But when you feel them, you're to come find me or Karen. We'll decide if it's an appropriate time for you to experience release?"

"But I mean, what if you guys aren't here, or you're asleep?"

"Then you'll be a good girl and you'll wait." Karen chimed in, with more firmness in her voice than Grace had ever heard.

Marcus continued: "What you'll find, Grace, is that holding those feelings inside of you, wanting to release but not getting it, will make the moment when we do allow you to release even more intense, even more beautiful."

"I think that makes sense," Grace said, somewhat reluctantly.

"That's a good girl, sweetie," Karen replied, kissing Grace on her forehead. "Now why don't you get dressed and we can all go out for the day."

"But-" Grace blurted out, without even thinking.

"But what, dear?" Karen asked.

Grace's cheeks flushed, and she looked up at Karen: "Can I, ummm?"

"Can you what, Grace? You need to use your words, like a big girl."

"Can I touch myself?" Grace whispered, too embarrassed to speak the words aloud.

"No, baby. I think you've cum enough for now. Now, let's go."

"But-" Grace stammered again.

"But what, baby?"

"I really need to." Grace could not believe she was speaking these words, but her body was crying out for release.

"Sweetie," Karen looked deeply into Grace's eyes, with a firmness that Grace had never seen before. "I know you think you need to, but you have to trust me and Marcus that we have a better understanding of what you need."

"Do you trust us, baby?" Marcus asked.

"Yes, I do," Grace whispered.

"That's a good girl," Karen smiled. "Now, those feelings you have between your legs, this wetness that's dripping out of your beautiful pussy and down your ass, I want you to hold that feeling inside your little body. Imagine there's a little fire burning inside you. I want you to keep that fire burning for me. I want you to think about it all day, think about how warm it's keeping you, where you're feeling it in your body. Think about what makes the fire hotter, think about what thoughts you need to think, think about the sorts of things that you'd like Marcus or me to do for you. Do you understand, sweetie?"

"Yes, I think so," the girl responded.

"Good girl. Why don't you give me and Marcus an example right now of something you might think about to keep that fire burning inside of you?"

Karen and Marcus looked down at Grace, observing her quivering body with so much love and attention.

"Ummm, do I have to?"

"Grace, I asked you a question. Now, of course you have to answer it."

They watched as the girl's cheeks, which seemed to be in a state of permanent blushing, darkened in color, and a faint shade of redness even appeared on her neck and above her clavicles.

"OK, ummm, I could think about Marcus with his mouth down there."

"Yes, that's a wonderful example, sweetie. Now, please be more specific for us. Where would you like to think about Marcus putting his mouth?"

"I already said," she protested weakly, "Down there."

"Yes, I heard you, my dear. But you're a big girl, so I need you to big girl words."

Grace didn't know what to do, where to look. Marcus and Karen remained on either side of her, their bodies each pressing against hers, their eyes focused intently on her.

"Marcus, shall we help her?" Karen asked him, adopting the tone a teacher would use to discuss a recalcitrant student.

"Yes, I think we need to," he responded, with a hint of sadness and resignation in his voice.

Karen lovingly rested one hand on Grace's forehead, as a mother would to comfort an ill child, then she brought her thumb and forefinger to Grace's left nipple. As if on queue, Marcus did the same to other nipple.

Slowly, gently, the two of them began to apply pressure to Grace's nipples. At first, the feeling was one of tightness, but it quickly ripened into a dull, aching sensation, and finally, into the early stages of a burning pain.

Grace's first reaction was to try to bring her arms up to protect herself. Anticipating this movement, Karen's reaction was swift. "Stop that right now, Grace. Arms to your sides. Right now. And we did not give you permission to close your legs. Open them for us. Right. Now."

Startled, Grace immediately complied.

"Good girl. Now, breathe for us. Feel the pain in your nipples. Don't fight it. That's a good girl. Breathe."

Pleased with the girl's complete compliance, Karen softened her tone. "Now, baby, tell us, where would you like to think about Marcus putting his mouth?"

"On my vagina," Grace responded, trying to breathe deeply as the pain in her nipples intensified.

"Good girl. Now, there's another word we'd like you to use for now. Will you try saying it for me?"

"Yes, Karen. Please tell me."

"You're to address your vagina, for now, as your pussy. Will you say that for me?" Karen again employed the tone of a teacher, imparting a critical lesson to her student, and as she did, nodding at Marcus. The two of them intensified the pressure on Grace's nipples ever so slightly, which had the anticipated effect of coaxing even more complete obedience from her.

"My pussy, my pussy," Grace said, in a way that sounding like she was pleading to Marcus and Karen.

"Yes, my little girl. Now, the full sentence. Use it in a sentence, please."

A further increase in the pressure.

"I want to picture Marcus kissing my pussy. I'll think about his mouth on my pussy, licking my pussy, making my pussy come," Grace cried out, as a single tear rolled gently down her cheek.

"Yes, I know you will, sweet girl. I know you will."

With that, Marcus and Karen released the pressure on the nipples, which elicited what sounded to them like the purest music. It was the sound of submission, of giving in, of beginning to let go of the idea that her pleasure was hers, that her pleasure was hers, and even the notion that her body was hers to explore when and how she chooses. Marcus and Karen felt it, and they knew Grace did as well. Marcus and Karen could not recall quite when they felt so proud, or when they felt so hopeful about what the future had in store.

Chapter 9...adjustment...

Nights were hardest for Grace. But then again, some days were too. On more than one occasion, she'd be sitting at her desk at work when the feeling would arrive, seemingly unbidden, from the depths of her consciousness. The sense was that of a flower blooming inside of her, as though opening its petals to an invisible sun, which would, in turn, share with her its gentlest rays. That blossoming, that stirring of parts deep inside her that, she was now realizing, had been forever asleep, seemed to occur independently of her conscious mind, and seemed immune to her mind's efforts to put it back to sleep.

It wasn't that these new feelings were unpleasant. Rather, it was the lack of control she had over them, as though she was bobbing in the ocean, powerless to the waves swirling around her.

Adding to that lack of control were the restrictions that Marcus and Karen had placed on her. Even without those limitations, she had never touched herself in that way in her entire life, but there was something especially frustrating, even cruel, about Marcus and Karen precipitating this powerful awakening while keeping a firm hold on her ability to fully experience it. But then again, she thought to herself, she had no doubt about the purity of their intentions.

As Marcus had explained to her on the way to work one day, while she squirmed (imperceptibly, she hoped) in the passenger seat next to him, responsible parents do not gift a bike to their child then abandon them with it at the top of a hill. In the same way, Marcus said, the feelings between Grace's legs, the way they seemed to take over the rest of her body, bit by bit, were powerful, even overwhelming, and it was important for her to have experienced, loving teachers to guide her, to walk with her down the twisting, mysterious paths of desire.

Though Grace's mind was well on the way to making peace with, even welcoming, Marcus' explanation, the reality of her existence under their rules brought its share of challenges. There was one occasion when she was at work, trying to concentrate on some mundane task, when an image of Karen floated into Grace's mind, from the first time Karen had touched her. With supernatural clarity, Grace saw, in her mind's eye, herself on her back, fully naked, her knees bent and her legs apart, her arms above her head, grasping the bars on her headboard.

Why had Karen ordered her to keep her arms in that position? Grace had felt so helpless, so exposed, so vulnerable, like the very essence of her being had been laid bare before Karen, as though being offered up on a silver platter for Karen's enjoyment. As this image occupied more and more of her mind's eye, Grace tried to wrench her mind back to the present moment, where an email, partly written, seemed to mock her. Grace found herself wondering why that image, from that part of the interaction with Karen, had presented itself to her, and not, for example, the surging orgasm that had swept her away, moments later.

Could it be that the vulnerability, the nakedness, of that moment, had impacted her more deeply even than the release that Karen had helped her achieve shortly after? Whatever the answer to that unanswerable question, the effect on Grace's body, days later while sitting on her office, was profound. The flower within her opened itself, and that now familiar feeling of wetness and warm, filled the space between her legs. Glancing at her computer screen again, Grace felt powerless, and a sense of panic began to overtake her. The email needed to be sent, and yet, she could not write it. Her mind was elsewhere, and she felt no more able to concentrate on her work than she'd felt able to close her legs when, that fateful night, Karen had set beside her on the bed. Grace knew what had to happen in order to release the pressure that was building up inside of her, but she also knew that Karen and Marcus had prohibited her from doing just that.

In this way, she felt trapped. But yet, she realized, she held the key to her own escape, but using it required disobedience to Karen and Marcus. As she contemplated that path, the future that would await her unspooled in her mind. For one thing, there was no question that Karen and Marcus would find out, and lying to them would only make things worse. She sensed that even honesty, even begging for forgiveness would bring with it some sort of punishment whose contours she could scarcely fathom, though she felt a tingling in her nipples when she tried.

From this prison with invisible walls, she regarded her computer screen, her hands resting uselessly on her keyboard.

"Grace, are you okay?" a coworker strolling by her cubicle asked her. "Did you eat something for lunch that didn't agree with you?"

"Ummm, what do you mean?" Grace responded, a genuine feeling of befuddlement overtaking her.

"Well, you're kind of squirming, like your stomach is upset."

A feeling of panic began to overtake her, as though the wall that ordinarily kept her inner world from public view had dissolved.

"I, well, yeah, I haven't been feeling well for the last couple of hours. It must be something I ate," she offered, hoping that the coworker would attribute her troubled expression as relating to digestive issues rather than the truth.

The lie worked. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Grace. You should go home since you're not feeling well. No use sitting there suffering when you could be at home in bed."

"Thanks," she said, "I may do that."

She breathed a sigh of relief as her coworker kept walking. But that relief did not last, as her awareness quickly returned to the warmth radiating from between her legs, and the feeling that, as always, it was accompanied by a wetness that was threatening to saturate her underwear. Glancing at the clock, she saw that the deadline to send the email was approaching rapidly, and yet, there she sat, her concentration hijacked by the memory of Karen's slow, sensuous exploration of her body.

A desperate thought crossed her mind. She got up from her desk and walked into one of the conference rooms, phone in hand, her sense of desperation increasing in proportion with the intensity of the glow between her legs. Her mind raced as she scrolled through her contacts, then after, finding the desired contact, as the phone rang.

"Karen?" Grace whispered.

"Yes, sweetie. Are you okay?" Karen answered.

"I'm fine, yes. But umm, I just, I can't focus at work."

"I'm sorry to hear that, my dear. Why don't you tell me what's happening?"

"I just, I mean, I have that feeling down there." Grace whispered.

"Grace, we talked about this. I will not have an adult conversation with you unless you talk like an adult." Karen's voice was stern, scolding.

"Karen, please. I'm at work." A pleading tone infused Grace's voice.

"I understand that, Grace, as am I. Now you called me because you wanted to have an adult conversation, so I suggest you start talking like one."

Karen's words stung, and Grace could feel her eyes starting to water. But from Karen's tone, Grace knew what she had to do for the conversation to continue."

"Okay, Karen. I, I, I just feel it so intensely in my pussy right now."

"That's a good girl. Now tell me, sweetie, what do you feel so intensely in your beautiful pussy?"

"It just feels like it's going to explode." Grace's voice was trembling.

"I see, dear. And why does it feel that way? Please tell me what you're thinking about."

"I can't stop thinking about that night when you came into my bedroom, and you know." Grace's voice trailed off, too embarrassed to speak the words she knew Karen would demand her to speak.

"Sweetie, I don't want to have to remind you again. We're adults having an adult conversation." Again, the sternness in her voice that always jolted Grace from the net of embarrassment that so easily ensnared her.

"When you, ummm, when you made me orgasm." She pushed the words from her lips through sheer force of her will.

"Yes, I did bring you to orgasm. It was quite intense for you. You were such a good girl."

"Thank you, Karen."

"And now, you're sitting at work, thinking about me rubbing me your sweet little clit until you came for me."

"Yes, Karen."

"And you're calling because you'd like to rub that little clit so you can come again and go back to work. So you can concentrate again."

"Yes, Karen," Grace replied, so far beyond embarrassment now that all she could do was obsequiously respond as requested.

"Oh, sweetie. You did the right thing by calling me. I know you can feel that orgasm deep inside your pussy, just wanting to come out. You feel like your orgasm is enslaving you, that it's wrapped around your mind like a snake, not letting you think other thoughts, or feel other feelings."

"Yes, Karen," Grace whispered, astonished, as always, by Karen's uncanny ability not just to seemingly guess what Grace was feeling, but to perceive exactly what she was feeling, and articulate it with a precision that Grace never could.

"Good girl, sweetie. You're such a good girl for being so honest with me. Even though you know that if you weren't, I would know immediately."

"Yes, Karen." Again, Karen's perceptive abilities unnerved Grace, who knew Karen was exactly right. Karen's perspicacity made anything short of complete candor an impossibility. That realization terrified Grace, but at a deeper level, in some strange way, it was a source of liberation, though she could not fathom why.

"Now, sweetie. I want you to listen to me. You will not touch yourself now. You will not come now. You will go back to your office, and you will do your work. When you come home tonight, we can talk about whether it's appropriate for you to have an orgasm."