A Gift of Submission

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Chapter 3 - Collared

He was all gentle touches and reassuring kisses when he picked her up. He asked her how she had felt at being left on the floor. He told her he’d felt cruel. It was something she’d asked him to do in the past, and he hadn’t felt able to. He admitted it turned him on to leave her like that. Used and discarded trash. She was less sure that it had been a good feeling for her. She’d hurriedly gotten to her feet, adjusted her skirt and blouse, and rushed to the bathroom to clean herself up. She felt dirty. She had wanted that feeling, but the added layer of her being at work had confused and frightened her.

She left her car parked at the school, getting in to his at his insistence. As she sat and reached for her seatbelt, the low, growing vibrations started again. She turned to him with a smile, which faded when she saw the blindfold, just before he placed it over her eyes.

‘Marc, what…?’

‘You’ll do as you’re told, remember?’

It took a conscious effort to block out the outside world. Thoughts of colleagues in the car park pushed violently down. Accept. Accept and trust. She was going to be good, to do as she was told. The thrill in her vagina wasn’t just coming from the continuing rise and fall of vibration from her toy.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘You get to answer questions, not ask them. But the answer to that one is wherever the fuck I want.’

She heard the car start and pull out of the carpark. She tried at first to follow the route in her head, a left turn to the main road, the big roundabout, then… She was lost in minutes, no longer sure where they were. The vibrations in her vagina had ceased. She squeezed her vaginal muscles around the toy, willing it to turn back on. She felt her nipples hardening against the fabric of her bra. Marc didn’t speak to her for the journey and didn’t put music on. She struggled to make sense of time passing and had no idea how far they had driven. Home? A hotel? Where else would he take her?

When the car stopped, she was disorientated enough to be uncertain that she was home. He opened her door and took her hand to help her out. Neighbours! Fuck it. Push the thoughts away. Breathe. She fought the temptation to raise the blindfold and peak. He opened a door and led her thorough it. Did she hear his keys? She couldn’t be sure. She heard it click closed, a familiar sound. And then an unfamiliar sensation – he was holding something around her throat. It smelt of leather, it circled her neck and she felt it pulled tight, like a buckle. He stepped away from her and pulled her by her collar. He pulled it down until she was forced to her knees. Then he pulled her forward again; she was led on all fours down a hallway, across a cold tiled floor. Their kitchen? She thought so. She slowed but was brought to heel by a sharp tug on her collar. ‘Good girl. Come on’ he called softly. ‘That’s my good little bitch.’

‘Marc…’ she began, unsure of what she was ging to say. She’d felt an instant anger rise in her, ready to stand up, pull the fucking collar from her throat and tell him this was too much.

She felt a hand pull up her skirt, felt a stinging slap of a bare palm on her ass. She jumped in surprise and pain.

‘Bad girl!’ she told her. ‘Bad girls get punished. Are you going to be a bad girl?’

‘No.’ It was immediate surrender. She felt the thrill of his command, his threat and a real desire to please him. He’d called her bad. She wanted to be good. ‘I’ll be a good girl. I’m sorry. Tell me what to do.’


She felt down to her feet and removed her shoes. She wriggled out of her skirt. She slid out of her wool cardigan and pulled her top over her head. She was on all fours again, wearing just the underwear he had bought her with this morning. That’s how it felt now. She’d been bought. Paid for like a whore. She liked it and felt guilty about liking it in equal measure.

He held her face up, squeezing slightly at her jaw, forcing her mouth open. He rubbed her bottom lip with two fingers, pulling her lip down away from her teeth, pulling it sideways, before sliding them into her greedily eager mouth. She sucked on them as a treat she had been given. A reward. She wanted him inside her. She felt him slide his hand over her buttocks, straight to her cunt and remove the latex toy. She had forgotten it was there. Then she felt it replace his fingers in her mouth and felt it come back to life, buzzing gently on her tongue, as she tasted her own juices. He removed it teasingly, running it down her neck, under her chest, exciting her nipples through her bra. He unclipped her bra, pulling it free of her breasts and slid her underwear over her ass and down her legs. He pulled her up to kneeling and fastened her hands behind her back with heavy metal cuffs, passing them first through the bar of the kitchen isle. Then he removed her blindfold, and pulled her collar tightly to him, kissing her full on the mouth, his tongue invading her. The collar had a long chain attached, which he had circled around one hand. It also had two smaller chains with clamps. He held them up for her to see and wordlessly applied each one to a nipple, tightening it just to the point where she squirmed.

‘I’m going to tighten these a quarter turn every few minutes or so. And you’re going to say thank you, each time. If you cry out or complain, you’ll be punished. Understood?’

Cold sweat as she digested his words. The clamps were already tight, and she felt her heartbeat in her nipples as they reacted to the pressure.

“Yes, Marc. Thank you,’ she managed. Her conflicted feelings intrigued and aroused her. This was demeaning. It was arousing. She was a little angry with him, a little with herself. She loved him. She wanted to please him in the game, but for real as well. Hell, this was real – she was naked, handcuffed to furniture in the kitchen, wearing a leather collar with nipple clamps. If she tried to raise her head, they pulled tenderly on her nipples.

Marc went over to the sink, poured himself a glass of water and drank it whilst he watched her. Then he came back, and deftly gave each of the clamps a quarter turn. She winced but didn’t cry out, repeating ‘fuck fuck fuck’ in the silence of her head. He observed her silent suffering. ‘Good girl,’ he repeated. ‘You make me very happy when you are good.’

She didn’t know if she wanted to scream ‘fuck you’ or ‘thank you’. A small part of her definitely felt proud. She wanted his praise. She wanted to yield to him. To give him whatever he wanted. He gave the clamps another turn. This time she let out a cry.

‘Oh, dear,’ he said theatrically. He walked over to the utensil drawer and took out a large wooden spatula. She felt her skin freeze as he approached her.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry I cried out. I won’t do it again. Please don’t hurt me.’ She begged him not to slap her.

‘You know the rules, bitch!’ he hissed at her, turning her by her shoulder, pulling her arm awkwardly behind her back and he took a swing at her ass. The spatula made a shocking sound as it smacked her ass, sending short-lived wave of pain though her. She gasped, biting back a scream.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I tried not to call out.’

“What do we say?’

‘Oh, sorry. Thank you. Thank you for punishing me. For helping me to be good.’

‘That’s better. Not so hard, is it? Now she’s my good little girl again.’ He caressed her ass, sliding a finger under her and inserting it slowly into her cunt. She leaned into the intense pleasure of having him inside her, moaning gratefully. He probed her two or three times, each time a little deeper before withdrawing his fingers, and wiping them dry on her breasts, pulling uncomfortably at the clamps on her nipples in the process. ‘You see, you get rewards for being good.’

He turned to walk away, but then returned and tightened each clamp one more time. He waited.

Through clenched teeth she muttered, ‘Thank you.’ Then she watched him leave. She heard the front door open and close. She heard the car start and pull out of the driveway. Now she was fucking scared. She gave an experimental pull at the cuffs and gave up instantly. There was no way she was getting out by herself, and every unnecessary movement tugged at her nipples, enraging them further.

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