Surrender: Guilty Pleasures #1 (BBW Erotic Romance) (11 page)

I’d plunged myself into work that
week, which wasn’t too hard with my new client. Leslie had been inquisitive at
first and then disappointed with the lack of certain details she deemed
crucial. We’d finally had time for lunch later in the week.

“At least you can tell me about
the non-bondage sex, can’t you?” We were back at the Italian deli, this time
sharing a stromboli. Leslie was practically drooling; I wasn’t sure if it was
over the spicy food or the anticipation of some juicy details about Jake.

“Well, yeah. I suppose.” I chewed
for a minute.
What the hell. I really do want to talk about Jake.

I gave her the details, leaving
out the bit about the sex being my reward for being a good girl. It was fun
indulging in girl talk with Leslie. And it gave me a thrill to remember all the
details of my time with Jake.

Leslie was looking at me, one
eyebrow raised.

“What?” I frowned at her. “Why
the look?”

“You. You’re different with this
guy. Normally you’d have spilled the details about the sex and then gone off on
a riff about how much in love you were with him. But you have not said the word
‘love’ once. Not once.”

I sat back. She was right.
Whatever I felt for Jake at this point, and I did feel quite a bit, love wasn’t
part of it. I respected him; I liked him a lot, and I certainly was attracted
to him. And I thought I trusted him a great deal. But my usual obsessive
version of love was absent.
That’s good, right?

Leslie was watching me closely. “Abby,
are you happy with this…thing, this relationship? Really happy?”

I looked at her. And then I
nodded. “Yeah, Leslie. I am. Really.” And I realized that was a far better
feeling than my usual obsessive love.

***

Saturday had seemed so far away
on Monday night, but it finally arrived. Jake had said I would be in submissive
mode the entire time, from when I arrived at the tower room until he said I was
not. I was to call him Master, not speak unless spoken to and not to indulge
in, as he called it while explaining my behavior in our first session, ‘topping
from the bottom’.

In other words, no outbursts,
stay in the session and use the safe word if I needed to.

I parked in what I considered my
spot now, beneath the portico, at three o’clock. Jake met me at the bottom of
the tower stairs, shirtless and barefoot, wearing the gray sweats. I felt a
thud deep inside; seeing him like this brought back memories of our last
session.

“Abby.” He kissed me deeply,
pulling me against him for a moment. “I’ve missed you.”

He led me by the hand up the
stairs to the tower room door, which stood open.

“Come in for a minute. I want to
talk about this session and make sure you’re comfortable with where I want to
go with this.”

Jake took me to the bed,
motioning for me to sit down. It was stripped down to just the black sheet,
stretched taut across the mattress. The lush linens and pillows from our last
encounter were gone, as were the candles. With a shock, I realized I’d had that
image in my mind, but the romantic atmosphere was gone. This was Jake and me,
dominant and submissive. Something clicked over in my mind. I really hadn’t
been in submissive mode until now.

“I want to try nipple clamps with
you tonight. Nipple play; heightened sensory awareness.”

For some reason the clinical
description irritated me. I knew Jake needed to control these encounters and
for him, that meant the textbook description of whatever he was going to do
with or to me. I swallowed, letting it go.
Starting off on the wrong
submissive foot here, girl.

“Are you okay with this? You can
stop it at any time.”

He was holding something in his
hand, two clamps with some black rubber attached by a silver chain. They looked
wicked but intriguing all at the same time.

I took the clamps, experimentally
attaching one to my little finger. It pinched, but not hard. Jake took the
other end, holding my hand, turning it palm up, holding the clamp above the
webbing between my thumb and index finger.

“They’re adjustable. We can start
with the lightest pressure, like this…” The clamp came down on the sensitive
skin of my hand. I jumped, more from surprise than pain. Jake looked up at me.

“Okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it just
surprised me. They’re fine.” I wiggled my hand, the weight of the chain and
other hook pulling on my hand. I looked up at him. “I’d like to try them.”

Jake smiled. “Okay. You can go
change and I’ll get set up. When you come into the session, hang your robe on
the hook on the door and then stand, your hands in front of you, eyes lowered,
and wait for my instructions.” He stood, pulling me up off the bed, kissing me
quickly.

“And it’s Master when you
return.” With surprising force, he swatted my backside as I left the room.

In the bathroom, I took off my
clothes, this time just a shirt and jeans, no bra or panties. I slipped into my
robe, pulled my hair back and secured it before padding down the hall to the
tower room.

Jake was waiting, the clamps in
one hand and something black in the other. I wanted to ask, but remembered I
was now in total submissive role. I hung up the robe, stood with my hands in front
of me. I dropped my eyes, but I would not lower my head. He hadn’t said I
needed to do that.

“I have a collar for you, Abby.
Something to help you remember your role. And remember too that there is
punishment for disobedience. I will spank you if you disobey. Do you
understand?”

I looked up at him. “Yes,
Master.” He smiled.

“Good. Come here.” I walked
across the room, very much aware of the feel of the rug beneath my bare feet,
the gentle breeze from one of the open windows. The curtains were pulled, but
it had been an unseasonably warm day and Jake must have opened a window
earlier. It surprised me to think he spent time here when we didn’t have a
session.
What exactly would he do here alone?

But then all thoughts left my
mind as I stood in front of Jake. He held out a wide black leather collar with
a large silver ring in the center.

“Kneel, Abby.”

I did, and he moved behind me,
bring the collar around my neck, fastening it behind me. It was heavier than it
looked, the weight settling against my skin. Jake moved back in front of me,
standing just a foot or so away.

I was a submissive, kneeling in
front of this man, wearing a collar. A week or so ago, I’d have been horrified
at the thought. Now, it didn’t seem all that terrible. There was a tiny nagging
voice, way back in my mind, that still protested. But a louder voice—and
my body—welcomed this.

Jake was watching me and I
realized I was staring at his crotch. There was no visible erection, just a
sense of weight and mass. And then I realized Jake had spoken.

“Abby?”

My eyes snapped up to his.
What’s
the submissive way to say ‘huh’?

“I’m sorry, Master. Could you
repeat the question?”

“I asked you if the collar was
too tight.” There was a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth. I
wasn’t sure if he was amused by my gaff, irritated because I disobeyed or just
enjoying my discomfort.

“No, Master. The collar is fine.”

“Good. Stand up.” I did. The
collar was actually quite annoying, wide enough to rub against my neck, heavy
enough not to ignore, which I figured was its purpose.

Jake had picked up something from
a silver bowl on a nearby table. I saw it was an ice cube and since we were
dealing with ‘heightened sensitivity’ and my nipples, I knew exactly where that
ice cube was going to go.

I tensed, jerking away, like a
skittish horse. There was a sharp intake of breath; Jake stopped, the dripping
ice cube held in his hand. My eyes flew to his face, my hand to my mouth.
Oh,
shit.

“I’m sorry, Jake….I,
just…it’s…well, cold…” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the melting ice
cube held forgotten in his hand. There was more; I felt vulnerable, standing
naked in this room, aware of how imperfect my body was, suddenly feeling out of
my depth. I wanted the lights out, or the blindfold back on.
If I can’t see
you, you can’t see me.

But there was no way to explain
all that to Jake, not now, not unless I wanted to stop the whole session. And I
didn’t want that.

“Abby. You are disobeying me at
the moment. You can stop talking.” He turned, tossing the ice cube back with
the rest. I heard it clink against the edge of the bowl. He wiped his hand on
his sweat pants.

“Come with me.”

I followed Jake to the other end
of the room, away from the bed. There was a small table and chair set against
one wall. I’d never paid attention to this end of the room, couldn’t even say
if this furniture had been here before.

“You’ll receive your punishment
here.”

I shook my head, not so much in
protestation of receiving punishment but in resignation…in recognition that I
had disobeyed. I did lower my head now, in disappointment and something like
shame. I wasn’t Jake’s good girl at the moment and that actually hurt.

“Look at me, Abby.”

I lifted my head, meeting his
eyes. I was crying, tears running down my face.

“I’ll spank you ten times, with
my hand, on your bare ass. You don’t need to count the strokes; I’ll do that.
But you do need to think about why I’m doing this and what you can learn from
it.”

Jake had me bend over the table.
It took all my courage to crouch there, waiting for Jake, for my punishment.
All the insecurities that I had about my weight came bubbling to the surface as
I pictured myself from Jake’s point of view, in this most awkward and
unattractive of positions.

The first stinging slap across my
skin made me jump, a sharp cry escaping my lips. I started counting in my head.
The second slap hurt more, and then I was distracted by Jake’s voice.

“You’re being punished for
avoiding me, avoiding what I wanted to do. Do you understand that, Abby?”

I didn’t think he’d speak; it was
disconcerting to hear his voice, feel his hand on my flesh and be expected to
reply. I swallowed hard.

“Yes, Master. I understand.”

His hand struck me again. My ass
was burning, the sting of this slap adding to the heat of the first two…or
three?

“You’re being punished for
speaking when not spoken to. Do you understand that?”

Slap. “Yes, Master. I
understand.”

“Apologize, Abby.” His hand
struck me again.

“I am sorry, Master, for
disobeying you.”

The rest of the slaps melded into
one searing sensation of heat across my ass. And then he was done, moving away
from me. I was breathing hard, no longer crying.

“Your punishment is done and it’s
in the past. I won’t bring it up again. If you have questions, you can ask me
now. Or we can talk later. You may stand up.”

Jake was standing a few feet
away. I looked up at him, not sure what to expect, anger maybe. But his eyes
held pain, as if he’d been struck himself.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, Master.” I held his gaze. He
took a deep breath, as if coming to a decision.

“We can continue with the session
or we can stop. I’ll leave that decision up to you, Abby. You may speak freely
now.”

He stood motionless, no hint of
expression on his face, save the pain in his eyes. I had no way of knowing if
he wanted to continue or not; his body gave nothing away. I took a deep breath,
surprising myself with my answer.

“I want to continue.”

He arched an eyebrow at me.
“You’re sure? Don’t do this because you think it may be what I want. Your enjoyment
of this is just as important as mine, your comfort and safety are the most
important thing to me. I would never force you to do something you didn’t want
to do. I hope you know that.”

I nodded. “I’m fine. I disobeyed;
I received my punishment. But I still want the session.” I was amazed at my
clarity. I truly wanted to experience whatever Jake had planned for me.

“Alright.” He took a step toward
me. “It won’t be a very long session, Abby. You’re back under silence again. Do
you understand?”

“No, Master.”

“What do you have questions
about, Abby?” He watched me intently.

“Silence as in no sound, or just
no speaking?”

He smiled. “You can make any
sounds you like, including any expletives. Just no talking to me or…” he moved
closer “…no expletives directed at me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

We walked back to the other end
of the room. He had me stand where I had been earlier, picking up an ice cube
and walking toward me.

I held still, watching, as he
stopped in front of me. I could feel the heat from his body, smell that rich
scent that belonged only to him. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. When I
opened them, he was looking down at me.

The ice on my nipple was colder
than I could have imagined. I sucked breath through my teeth, but did not cry
out…or speak. I looked down, watching in amazement as the nipple contracted,
the sensation of pain—but not quite pain—intense but not
unbearable. There was a simultaneous thump deep in my body, centered somewhere
south of my navel.

Jake applied the ice cube to the
other nipple. I was expecting the sensation this time but it still took my
breath away. When he stepped back, both nipples were hard, harder than I’d ever
experienced, sticking out from my breasts. He bent down, sucking one nipple into
his mouth. I cried out then, the heat of his tongue flicking against the icy
nipple an exquisite torture. He moved to the other, sucking hard, pulling the
nipple into his mouth. I arched against his mouth, longing to hold his head
against my breasts, clenching my hands at my sides.