Spent in Submission

I stood there quietly waiting for him to appear. The stares from the passing airport guests were easy to feel and I did my best to ignore them. It was hard. I admit that; it still is hard to recall the lewd looks and the disgusted glares that washed over me from people I didn't know. Funny, how a person wishes to be liked by even those they will probably never encounter again. I knew what they were seeing and why they disapproved of me. It was sad too, sad for them, because they were dismissing me without knowing me.

I had dressed for him. He'd instructed me in what to wear and I obeyed. It is second nature for me to do his bidding. Without hesitation that morning I rose from bed and walked over to the closet where the outfit he'd chosen rested in a plastic bag. The smell of leather filled my senses and a moment of weakness fell over me as I breathed in the scent of the soft black fabric. It was a scent I will always relate to him, the scent of power, strength, dominance. It is him.

The dress, and I use the term loosely, hugged my full frame. A zipper ran the length of the front and it barely closed at the top. My breasts threatened to spill out, but that was the point he wanted to make. He wanted me to showcase my attributes, attributes that I had often found lacking due to their generous proportions. My hands ran down the fabric as I studied my reflection in the mirror. I saw the flaws, manifested them in my mind until they were larger than life. If he had been there, he would have seen the difference in me and quickly dealt with the issues, making sure I stripped and pointed out all the qualities he enjoyed. I gave the dress a final tug, but it did nothing to hide the fact the hem stopped just a couple inches from the rounded cheeks of my ass.

That outfit, occupied by a long black trench coat and a pair of thigh-high boots is what I was being judged on. The outer shell hid the inner woman. Or did it? I looked the part of a slut. A whore. A cunt. In reality, my reality and his, I was and am those things. It took his friendship and patience for me to realize it, but now that I have I wouldn't go back. I live to serve and please. It is my nature. This shouldn't surprise me, for years I have served others and lived my life to please those around me. This is a bit different though. This time I am doing something for myself as well as for another.

Who is getting more out of this relationship? I have often asked myself this. He says he is and that I don't know how much he enjoys our friendship. Yet, I don't know if he truly realizes how much I need this relationship. He is my teacher for the next three days and when I leave his side and return to my quiet life, it will be his touch that stays with me when the nights are long, cold, and lonely. It will be his voice in my head that brings me to climax. It will be the memory of us that makes me shudder with desire. Perhaps after this weekend, he will know how much we need each other, if even for only the occasional fantasy.

"You're slouching."

Immediately my back goes straight and I assume position. My head snaps up, my arms rest against my sides, one foot crosses in front of the other and I remain still, barely breathing. He's there now. I can smell him, his scent. I'd never breathed it in before, but I recognize it. Power. He walks around me; my eyes remain fixed on a spot on the wall as he inspects me. I can see him through my peripheral vision. I take him in. He looks just as delicious in reality as he does on the web cam. He still radiates strength, confidence, and authority, just like he does online. I am in awe.

"Very nice," he tells me. My lips move taking on a small, soft smile. He sees it and grins. I chew on the inside of my bottom lip. He stands in front of me now. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, still looking over his shoulder. He reaches into his jacket pocket and my breath catches in my throat as the collar is pulled from its depths. Again my lip is assaulted by my teeth. He reaches up and I close my eyes as the leather band wraps snugly around my neck. I want to sigh and melt against him. To whisper "yes" but I don't. My lips tremble as he steps closer, places his lips on mine and tastes me for the first time.

As his tongue moves against the edges of my lips, a whimper escapes me and a tear falls from my closed lids. My mouth is open now, I breathe in the same air as he does and he takes the opening I give him, pushing his tongue into my mouth and claiming me in the flesh as he has on the screen. His hands move down my arms and he pulls me closer to him. Our heads angle, the kiss deepens and another whimper and sigh escapes my lungs only to be swallowed up by him. When we pull apart, I look into his eyes and feel my soul slowly being consumed by the darkness he claims possesses him. "My God," is all I whisper as he trials a finger across my cheek and down my neck where he rubs the skin under the collar I now wear.

The muscles in my stomach are tight and for the first time since he appeared there is no one else in the airport. We are alone, or so it seems. I feel as if I am on a cloud, suspended above all others as we enjoy the moment we both hungered for. It ends though when he pulls away, releasing my arms and taking my hand. We walk away. I have no carry-on. His instructions were followed to the letter. I brought no other clothes with me. I knew what my attire for the weekend would be. "Nothing but the collar." His typed words spill over me as he took me to his car and opens the door for me.

He gets in and all is quiet for a while. I am tense. I can feel it in my shoulders, my back, my legs. I wonder if he is also. I want to reach out and take his hand. Hold him just so I can feel safe. All of this is new to me. He is my teacher, my friend, and soon to be my lover. Once more I chew on my lip. My hands rest on my knees and then his hand is there. He takes one of mine in his and holds it firmly, a slight squeeze and then he releases me. I relax. He knew what I needed and simply provided it to me with a simple touch. "Thank you," I whisper. He smiles and our drive continues.

We arrive at the hotel and he helps me from the car. His hand slips beneath the trench coat and I feel his fingers resting at the small of my back. The deep cut of the dress allows his touch to skim across my flesh. I tremble and he chuckles softly. "Easy pet," he whispers against my hair and gently guides me toward the hotel lobby, to an elevator and then down a long hallway. We stop in front of a door, where he produces a key card. He looks down at me. My eyes hold his and I give a quick nod. He answers back with a firm one of his own. There is no turning back now. The door opens and he guides me in; once more, his hand is on my skin.

The room is dim, only the sunlight tries to cast its rays across the interior of the sparsely furnished area. The drapes are drawn tight and my eyes land on the bed. There is a bag next to it. Black. Ominous. Comforting. Threatening. I have an idea of what is inside, but still I am not totally aware of all He's planned. "Undress," he tells me, dropping the keycard and his car keys on the table and then walking over to a chair set under the window. I bite down on my lip and pull off my coat.

I feel my blush spreading from my cheeks, down my neck, across my shoulders. I don't hesitate. I find that odd because the entire time I was in flight I told myself I would balk. I would chicken out and I would run away. But here I stand, removing my coat and folding it carefully to drape across the table. He watches me and again I don't feel any apprehension as I step over to the bed and lift one leg onto the mattress. I move slowly glancing at him as I pull the zipper of the boot down, exposing my thigh, my knee, my calf and eventually my ankle and foot. The process is repeated leaving me standing with only the leather dress on.

One more time I gaze at him. His fingers rest in a steeple, pressed against his lips. I can still taste him on my own and I lick at them, recapturing the feel of his mouth on mine. I swallow, blush more and then smile softly as my fingers tremble while sliding the zipper of the dress down. My breasts pop free and his eyes flicker over my bosom. My nipples instantly grow harder. I bite on my wet lip, pull the zipper further, exposing the small scars that lie across my stomach. The sound of my breathing seems to echo in my ears, playing with the same melody of my rapid pulse. The only other noise in the room is from the metal teeth as the dress is fully opened and then gently pushed from my shoulders where it falls to the floor.

"Very nice, pet," he tells me and then stands.

I stay still as he approaches me. I want to cover myself, to hide the flaws. I don't though. I stand there. Nervous and afraid he'll not like what he sees. He does though. I know it, but it is still hard to believe. He's seen pictures of me, all kinds and yet in the flesh is so very different. He's seen me live, but again here I am in person, waiting for some sign that he is still pleased. When his hand runs across my ass and then trails across to toy with the soft hairs of my pussy, I know he still desires me. A puff of air I didn't know I was holding releases itself as does the tension I had in my gut. I relax.

"Go over to the closet door."

I move to the door and wait as he opens the bag and pulls something out. He approaches me and I glance at what he has in his hands. Straps, buckles, leather, cloth, all of these things appear to me as a tangled web. I shiver. Excitement courses through me. He opens the door, tosses one of the straps across the edge and then closes it. A puzzled expression is clearly written on my face.

"Lift your arms."

I do. He slides a pair of leather bands on them and then these are attached to the strap that hangs from the door. I recall then the use of over the door restraints and grin as dawning fills my features. He adjusts the size, forcing me to follow his lead and raise up on the tips of my toes. I do hate being short, but right now I am thrilled with the sensation of being at his mercy. His hands run down my arms, then up again. Goose bumps appear not from a chill, but from the hunger his touch is producing deep inside me. I feel my sex tighten and know if he were to check, he'd find me slick.

I feel another pair of bands being wrapped around my ankles and then he pushes my legs apart. I can smell the scent of my arousal and blush knowing he can to. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but then again maybe it would scare me and I would change my mind. No, that won't happen. I hunger too much for this to abandon it. He leaves and then returns, never gone for long as he prepares me for his use. A bar is placed between my spread ankles. I am thankful for it, knowing now I will have no choice but to remain spread for him. Open. Exposed.

His hands travel back up me and I tremble. I feel more metal glide across my flesh. I am so hot and yet I shiver. "Open your mouth, pet."

I lick my lips, swallow and do as He's demanded. I knew it was coming. The gag. He talks about it often, writes about it, so I'm not surprised. I am however surprised by my willingness. Again this shouldn't shock me. I want to do this. I want to please him. The ball slides easily into my mouth and behind my teeth. I bite down on it, swallowing the saliva that naturally builds up around its rubbery texture. The taste makes me gag, but I fight the urge and the rise of panic. I breathe deep and then watch as he moves away once more.

"I told you I was going to beat you then fuck you, remember?"

I nod my head, my eyes are wide as they take in the whip. I feel my pussy grow more heated and more wet with juice. I want to lick my lips, bite on them, chew them nervously, but I can't. I breathe deep through my nose as he lifts the whip and the first strike is felt across my skin. I jerk and he chuckles. The sound of the whip being lifted brings me back and the bite of it lands on my back. Again I jerk, whimpering against the ball in my mouth. He continues to cover me with various degrees of strength. Some strikes are softer than others, some land on my ass, my back, my thighs, my calves. Some even wrap around and caress my breasts, licks at my areolas and kiss the hardened points of my nipples.

Through it all I feel different things. Pain is one. That is a given. I have never been whipped. I've never been struck since I was a child and had my ass spanked as a punishment for a wrong I had done. Now I was being whipped and my body craves it. I feel my sex grow slicker. My breasts grow heavy with desire. My ass burns from the beating, but I want more. I push back, welcoming every blow. He sees my hunger, recognizes it and drops the whip, bringing out a multi tailed flogger in its place. More blows are laid across my body. He covers more of my flesh. One after another they land on my tits. Lash across my hips. He manages to settle several stinging wallops onto my pussy.

I shiver and pull at the restraints that hold my arms over my head. I want to touch myself. I want to push my fingers into my sex and cover my hands with the silky release. In my head I am screaming "Master" "Oh fuck Master" "Oh God, yes " He can't hear these words, but something tells me he knows what I want.

The flogger is tossed away and I hear him pulling his clothing off. This is it. I tell myself, over and over, that he is ready to fuck me. But I am wrong. He picks up the tool he'd dropped earlier and beats me again. I grow heady with lust and a fire burns deep inside me. "Fuck me, please " I beg against the gag. All He hears is moans and grunts as he litters my flesh with red streaks.

Without warning a final blow is delivered against my pussy and then He is there, behind me. His naked body pushes me into the door. His cock rams into my cunt and his mouth bites down on my shoulder. I climax around him, blanketing him in my juices and shuddering violently as he continues to pound his way through me. It isn't long before I am feeling another orgasm consume me. I work my pussy muscles, clenching and releasing him, milking his cock with the power of my own body, knowing how to bring him pleasure. I want to feel his come shoot into me. I have wanted his cock for so long, now that he is buried to the hilt in my sex I wish only to feel it explode.

His hands are everywhere as is his mouth. He pulls my hair away from my neck and bites the flesh. I come again and he laughs in my ear, calling me "His slut" "His whore" "His". I feel euphoric as he continues fucking me, taking me higher and higher and then he pulls out. With lighting speed the buckles on my ankle and the bar is taken away, my hands are free and I am lifted and tossed on the bed. My eyes are wide as he spreads my legs and drives his cock into me. The gag still holds my screams inside and it is a wise move on his part to leave it in, for I would surely have forced anyone in the hotel to come to my aide.

I wrap my legs tight around him, push him deeper into me. His hands latch onto my large swaying breasts. He squeezes them hard and then bends down to bite first one nipple then the other. I feel his teeth and jerk under him, push his head deeper into my breasts, wanting to feel him tear me apart, needing to feel him possess and mark every inch of me. As he delivers a hard bite, breaking the skin, he comes. So do I. Together we wash each other in the hot fluids of our passion. We soak our pubes. We blanket the bed. We cover ourselves in come.

I am still for a moment as my breath comes back to me in ragged attempts to fill my lungs. He holds himself inside. I milk him, wanting every ounce. When he retreats I whimper. His hands work the buckle of the gag free and he tosses it away. It is replaced by his tongue. I push myself up, wrapping my arms around his neck and suck greedily on his tongue as he drinks from me and I from Him.

In time he pulls away and I lay on the bed, legs spread and body exhausted. He stares down at me, smiling and I blush again. He grins wider. "Thank you," I whisper.

"You're welcome, pet. Go shower. We are far from done."

I rise from the bed and move toward the bathroom. "Master?"

"Yes pet?"

I turn to face him. My eyes rake across his naked body. His cock is limp. He's covered in sweat, but he's my Master. There is nothing about him I don't like. I desire all of him. "May I?" I ask, my gaze dropping to the juice-covered cock that rests lazily against wet pubic hairs.

His grin is my answer and I smile back. I slide to my hands and knees, crawl toward him and settled happily between his thighs as he sits on the edge of the bed. Slowly I begin to wash my Master. I lick at his thighs, capturing the white, creamy liquid that had spilled from our sexes and settled on his legs. First one. Then the other. Each is treated with long swipes of my tongue. Soon I reach his balls and I moan in ecstasy as I taste Him. I wash away every stream of come that lies along the dark curls of his sex. I lick my lips, wrap my tongue around each ball and treat it to its own personal bath. When I feel I have throughly washed them. I look up into his eyes. They are staring down at me. I feel for a moment my own rush of power and begin to lap slowly at his cock.

I run the tip of my tongue across the swollen veins, following them up to the tip of his dick and then back down. It jerks under my mouth and I grin. I wrap my mouth around the head, lower myself onto his shaft and let my fingers slide up to rest on his hips. I push deeper, opening my mouth wider, taking him in fully and then sucking hungrily on his cock. It grows in my mouth. I moan against it and then I feel His hands in my hair. I shiver again. In my head I beg for him to fuck my face. To use me as if I am just his fuck toy. He knows this and yet he holds back.

I lift myself up to the tip, slam myself back down, angle my head one direction then another, continually taking him further down my throat. I start to gag and then He is there. He pushes me down fully. My instincts take over and I try to get my freedom. I gag again, swallow and still he holds me down. His hips rise and I feel my pulse race. My blood boils. My pussy grows hotter, fresh juices ease out and my mouth constricts around his dick. He has a fistful of my hair and lifts me up, only to push me back again. Over and over he uses me. I relish it. I grow wet. I moan. I beg. I whimper. My fingers dig into his hips. My nails mark his skin. His come shoots into my throat and my own flows from deep within me.

Swallowing quickly I work another stream of milk from his balls and then suckle gently as he relaxes the hold on me and allows me to continue washing him in my own slow way. When I am done I sit back on my legs, lick my lips, swallow the final drops that rest on my tongue and thank him for His come.

"You're welcome, pet."

I can't help but notice his voice is raspy, his breath ragged. I rise and walk to the bathroom. Inside I feel triumphant. I have supped on my Master, just like he will sup on me as the days progress, giving us both memories to get us through the lonely nights.

Slipping the leather collar from my neck, I hold it in my hand, rub it with one finger and then sigh as I place it to the side. I shower doing my best to ignore the sounds coming from the main room. My imagination tends to run wild and I don't need to over think the situation or the likelihood that something I want to happen may happen, only to be disappointed when it doesn't. I wash my hair, noticing my scalp is tender to the touch. It doesn't bother me, even now the stings from the whip and flogger are no longer an issue. I reflect on this as the water washes away the frothy bubbles that skate down my clean body. As soon as his cock was in me, I came. The pain was no longer a part of me. It had brought me to an edge and Master had taken over. I smile and shut the water off, step out and proceed to dry myself. All the while I hear more noises coming from behind the closed door.