Submission (18+) - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

The screen went black.
"How the fuck did you do that?" I demanded of Malcolm. He and Nicole both laughed.
"You should have seen your eyes getting wider," Nicole teased me, "Like I said, he's a goddamn wizard."
Malcolm shrugged but looked distinctly self-satisfied. "Simple. I told her to cum and she obeyed."
"How is that supposed to be a warning?" I asked. "No woman on Earth could see that and not want a taste. Do that to me too please." I pointed at the screen, "I'll have what she's having."
"Okay, kidding aside, there's a lot of conditioning that makes hypnosis like that possible." Nicole mouthed 'Wizard' behind Malcolm's back when he said 'hypnosis.' "It isn't mind control, it required her to genuinely want to let me into her mind and to obey me. Anyway, step back a second. Can you give yourself a hands free orgasm? Either of you? Of course not, that's why the video is so fascinating to you. Neither could Chloe."
"But," I motioned to the phone, "I just saw her do it."
"Yes and no. Yes, she had an orgasm with no physical stimulation. But no, she couldn't give it to herself. She couldn't think herself over the edge, she needed me to talk her through it. She came because I told her to. That, Devyn, is your warning." His smile vanished and his stare bore into me, as if trying to force his message into me with the weight of it. "In a very real way, I told her to do something that was impossible for her on her own, but she obeyed me anyway. That is how much power a dominant can wield over a submissive. That's how much control I might have over you. If that doesn't worry you, at least a little, it should."
Nicole nodded, also serious, "It's true. It's the same for me. After a while, you get so used to submitting and being obedient that disobedience feels viscerally wrong. Like, even just the idea of it. I'm also super sensitive to everything from my mistress. I think that's true for all submissives. If your Dom is mad at you, or hell, even just slightly disappointed, it ruins you. Can't eat, can't sleep, can't think about anything else. You'll do a whole hell of a lot to avoid that feeling."
That worked its way into my head. I was pretty damn sensitive to Malcolm already. Hell, I'd just spent a week edging myself just to try to drown out my fear of feeling rejected by him. Would I feel that fear even more acutely? Would it expand to include any kind of negativity from him? It worried me. I never wanted to be that emotionally needy, but wasn't I already on my way there?
But that didn't give us enough credit as a pair, right? Malcolm cared about me. He'd always cared about me as his best friend and now I knew he would care even more as my lover. I could feel it deep within myself. He genuinely cared about making sure I was comfortable and felt safe.
"I trust you," I tried to put as much feeling into the words as possible, to reassure him that I really did mean it. I've always sucked at conveying my emotions, but his returning smile let me know he understood. I met his eyes, trying to convey as much emotion as possible, but I felt myself getting lost in the beautiful patterns of blue, teal and yellow surrounding his black pupils. He, on the other hand, seemed to be looking past my exterior deep into me. I wanted to show myself to him, for him to see me. 'I trust you, I want you.' I tried to convey my thoughts into his head through our eyes. 'I trust you. I want you. I want all of you. I want to make you happy. I want to kiss—'
The thought had barely begun when there was suddenly no space between us. His arms around me, his face inches from mine, he seemed to tower over me despite being the same height. I breathed in his warmth and closeness and felt my eyes close on their own. 'Oh my god oh my god oh my god.' As romantically cheesy as it sounds, when his lips touched mine, my legs really did nearly give out. My entire body seemed to sigh all at once and I barely had time to register how hot his lips felt before his tongue was in my mouth. Did he feel so hot because the ice cream had cooled me? Why hadn't it worked on him? Why was I thinking about ice cream at a time like this? I turned my mind off and pressed myself into him. My tongue grappled with his and we danced around my mouth. Try as I might, I couldn't seem to gain any ground into his mouth. We alternated between entwining our tongues and him pinning mine. He held me close to make me feel wanted, wanted in a way I'd needed to feel from him for years.
It was perfect. In retrospect, I can't say if it felt that way because the kiss was actually that good or because it was our symbolic first. At the time, I felt pure elated joy. Well, maybe not actually 'pure' joy. It was diluted with a bit of lust. All right, maybe a lot of lust. I was panting, wet in some places and rock hard in others when we finally came apart.
"You read my mind," I whispered to him, "You really are a wizard."
"No magic, simple muggle biology. Your pupils were very dilated. Means you're aroused."
"Wow, you both look like you needed that." I'd forgotten about Nicole!
"Sorry! We didn't mean to turn you into a third wheel."
"It's cool, I've creeped on many make out sessions. As far as heteros go, that was pretty hot. I give you guys 8 outa 10. Points for raw thirstiness, but could be improved with more groping and less clothing."
'Less clothes! Now there's an idea.' I realized I was shamelessly pawing at Malcolm's chest along the buttons of his shirt. Nicole noticed with a smirk, "That said, I think I'm gonna head for home now. I'll find you online, Devyn. I'm sure I'll see you both soon!" She might have vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. I don't know, I was too busy grinning like a fool at Malcolm.
"Let's go home," I said. Seeing his nod felt like pure victory.
My tiny apartment felt completely different. Malcolm sat in my comfortable desk chair while I occupied the hard folding chair typically reserved for guests. It had just kind of happened that way. Like it was his home and I was just living here. I cast a sheepish look around the place. My work clothes still lay in a heap where I'd tossed them earlier, my bed was unmade against the back wall, dishes were still in the sink and my desk was in complete disarray. Malcolm noticed the hard drive still plugged into my laptop and teasingly asked if I'd gotten any use out of it recently. I felt my blood rise. It might have been the most sexual jab he'd ever taken at me.
I liked it, and after all the buildup I was tired of waiting. So, I told him all about what I'd been doing before dinner. I told him how I'd done the same thing every day for a week, working myself up to tonight. I turned on the erotic flirt I'd always wanted to be for him, being as provocative as possible describing my fingers twisting inside myself as I imagined all the things I'd do to him and he'd do to me. How I'd suck all of him down to his balls until he grew hard down my throat. How I'd been so wet for hours that he'd slide into me instantly without any foreplay. How I wished he'd thrust into me, hard and fast, pounding me hard enough to make the bed shake.
He listened, politely attentive as ever, as casual as if we were talking about where to get lunch. "And you say you're bad at expressing yourself," he commented ironically. His posture shifted subtly from casually relaxed to being more focused and intense. "That's what you want, eh? To 'choke on my cock and get fucked to splinters', as you so eloquently put it?" I swallowed and nodded, my words sounding much more dirty coming from his mouth. "Well, we'll get to that soon enough. First, though, we need to talk about the two laws."
"Just two rules?"
"Oh no, you'll have tons of rules to keep track of. These are different, they're called laws for a reason. When you get down to it, rules are just part of the game. If you disobey the rules, you get a sexy punishment and the game goes on. The laws, on the other hand, must always be obeyed by both of us.
"The first law is for safe words. Red and Yellow. Say 'Red' at any time and everything stops. Say 'Yellow' and we slow down. The safe words exist to keep us both safe and to help us both feel comfortable. You can use them at any time, for any reason. We'll talk about how you're feeling and how to help you feel better. There is never any shame is using a safe word." His focus added an edge to his words, "It doesn't show a lack of trust or willingness to submit or anything like that. You should never feel pressured against using them. If anybody ever tries to tell you different, tell them to fuck themselves.
"The second law surrounds honesty. I'll never lie to you and I expect you to always be honest with me. If, for example, I'm spanking you and I check in on you, I expect you to be honest. If you're in serious pain and you can't take any more, I expect you to tell me that and not lie because you think it's what I want to hear. Similarly, if you think you've messed up and I tell you it's okay and I'm not angry, you should believe that and not second guess it.
"Basically, the two laws are about open and honest communication. It's important for all couples, but it's especially critical for BDSM. Power exchange is more than complicated enough without having to deal with basic stuff like that."
"Red and yellow. Easy to remember. I understand. But doesn't that mean that I could just complain my way out of getting tied up or spanked?" That turned his smile from serious to wolfish.
"That might be a concern for some people, but not you. You don't know how to do anything half way. It's part of what makes you so attractive to me. I'm not worried about you giving less than 100 percent, I'm worried about you trying to push yourself for 130 percent and getting injured."
"Fair enough," I nodded.
He sat up slowly, somehow seeming to gain more height than he should have. He seemed like a predator looking down on some very tasty prey. It made me feel simultaneously smaller but desired. "You've been in control of yourself all your life. How you spend your time, how you move, who you pursue, how you have sex... You're a virgin in this new world, Devyn. A very horny and willing virgin." He feral grin broadened, as though I was a juicy smelling steak, "So now... are you ready to give up some control?"
I'd never been more ready!
Anticlimactically, he didn't push me to the ground and fuck me. Instead, he instructed me to stand with my back to the wall. That, and nothing more. He sat, his eyes roaming over me while I stood fidgeting. He seemed like somebody in a museum taking his time to appreciate a master's painting. Not focusing on any part of me particularly, he seemed to be capturing all of me at once. I imagined I could feel his gaze like a very light physical sensation playing over my skin. It made me feel very exposed, despite still being fully dressed.
"Do you know why I find you attractive?" He asked. I was surprised by the suddenness and by the question itself. Up until a few hours ago, I'd been sure he wasn't interested in me at all.
"No -- um --" I realized I should give him some honorific but didn't know what to use, so I defaulted to "—Master." That earned a chuckle from him.
"I prefer 'Sir', but I like where your head is at."
"Oh. Can I ask why?"
"You may always ask 'why'. Usually, I'll even answer. Master implies a level of... well, mastery, which I don't feel I possess. It's actually part of why I dislike that 'Wizard' nickname so much. Both seem to convey a sense of infallibility that isn't me."
"Oh. Okay, Sir. No, I don't know."
"You're strong, determined, highly intelligent," he stood and came towards me, "and you possess a sense of self that's entirely your own. You seek out and do what makes you happy simply because it makes you happy, expectations of others be damned. I admire that bravery in you." My face heated at his praise and I swelled with pride. It felt fantastic being recognized like that from him!
Nevertheless, I was curious, "but those aren't really very submissive traits, sir?"
"On the contrary, those are the most appealing traits a submissive can have. Anybody can dominate someone weak. It can be fun, but there's nothing special about it. Someone weak has little power to give up to the dominant." He lightly caressed my cheek, his fingertips sending shivers all through my head, "But when somebody strong chooses to give up her power to a dominant... well now, that's something different altogether." His hand snaked around to the back of my head, gripping my hair firmly but not uncomfortably. I found that I couldn't move, couldn't turn away if I'd wanted to. I didn't want to, I leaned back into his hand wanting to feel more.
Sexual Content Ahead
You have so much power inside you, Devyn," he whispered, his face little more than an inch from mine. "Feeling it is very intoxicating to me." He breathed in deeply, like a connoisseur smelling a fine wine. His lips consumed my vision, so close to my own. I wanted to feel them again, but his grip on the hair just behind my head held me firmly in place. I tried to lean forward, my desire briefly warring against his grip on me, before giving up and letting myself rest against his hand again. I'd never felt so very controlled before in my life. His eyes burned into me and my breath came in short gasps. I wondered if my pupils were dilating again.
Then Malcolm released me and stepped back. "Remove your top and bra," he said. Casually, like he'd asked what time it was.
Something about that made me blush again. I'd wanted this. I wanted to feel more and go much farther. But, somehow, actually taking the first step and baring my breasts to him made me feel very nervous. Pangs of uncertainty about my body crept into the corners of my mind. What if I looked like too much of a tomboy to him? My hands didn't snap into action to automatically obey his command. That would have been too easy. Instead, they fumbled behind me with the clasp like a virginal high schooler trying to reach second base. It finally came undone and I tossed the bra to the side. Ironically, it landed right next to my bed on top of my discarded clothes from hours ago.
I love my boobs. I absolutely adore them to death. I love how they feel in my hands, I love the pleasure they give me, I love the feeling of freedom when they come uncaged after a long day in a bra. And, right then, I absolutely LOVED The effect they had on Malcolm. His eyes were glued to them and he nodded slightly in appreciation. Maybe I imagined it, but I could swear there was a bulge growing in his pants.
"Intertwine your fingers behind your head and arch your back slightly." I quickly complied, raising my arms and pressing my chest out, making my tits as prominent as possible. Once again, his fingertips traced over my skin, this time on my abs. "Hold yourself still."
"Yes, sir," I promised. He glided over my smooth, hard abs, just lightly enough to send little tendrils of pleasure through me at his touch. Shivers ran upwards through me the higher he went, inch by inch upwards over my stomach. He teased me, going agonizingly slowly, feeling my bare skin all around everywhere except the spots I wanted. My nipples grew harder and more pronounced with every heartbeat. They cried out for attention, to be rubbed and pinched and pleasured. However, to my dismay, he skipped over them and instead focused on my arms and shoulders.
"You have excellent triceps and shoulders," he complimented admiringly. That almost made up for all the teasing. There's a select group of things girls are used to getting compliments on from men, and those muscles are not on the list. He liked my body for what it was!
"Thank you, sir! That's years of basketball and sweat at the gym."
Finally, in one motion, he cupped both my breasts. They expanded into his strong, firm hands as I inhaled, making me gasp in pleasure.
"Are these very sensitive?" he asked, noticing my reaction.
"Usually not this much," I was having great difficulty keeping myself still and not pressing into him. He squeezed lightly, clearly enjoying fondling me as much as I was. I closed me eyes and drank in the sensations. My chest alighted with pleasure as I presented myself to Malcolm to play with as he wished. It felt—
My nipples exploded. My eyes burst open and I doubled over, letting out a weird moaning yelp sound. Malcolm had my highly teased buds between his fingers and he was rolling them none too gently.
"Hold still," he reminded me. I nodded, but it was very hard. Pleasure surged through me, spiced with a bit of pain when he squeezed. Each pulse of sensation sent a jolt down to my clit. I felt like his plaything. Like my body existed for his amusement and my consciousness existed to add to his fun. He tweaked and squeezed, enjoying seeing me swap between pleasured sighs and startled yelps.
"Pleasure or pain?" he asked.
"Both," I gasped, "it's very intense." He smiled broadly and released them, kneading my breasts while allowing the nipples time to recover. If anything, this was even more intense than before. Powerful tingling sensations concentrated all my focus into two sensitive points as blood flooded back into them.
"Your face is wonderfully expressive. Very genuine. Now remove the rest of your clothes."
This time I obeyed with no hesitation. My jeans and panties were both over my hips and down my legs before I fully registered what he'd said. I was so wet, so ready for some real pleasure, I couldn't wait to bring my pussy out to play. I hit a slight roadblock around my calves. Seriously, whoever designed women's jeans didn't have speedy removal in mind, especially not from athletic legs. Finally, totally naked, I stood before Malcolm.
I expected him to tease me even more, but instead he immediately stroked my bush.
"Shave this before our next meeting."
Okay, maybe this was actually more teasing. He barely gave my pussy any pressure or contact at all, simply soft petting and pulling my hair. It was very distracting. "I thought you liked some hair on a pussy," I said.
"I do, and this is quite nice. However, I'm going to be learning your body and how it responds, so having clear sight of your sex will be very useful. Also, you value your bush a lot, so shaving it for me will be a daily reminder of your submission."
I gulped, "Yes, sir." 'He must feel how wet I am. Come on, fuck me!' I tried to inconspicuously press my hips forward, just a little bit, but he adjusted his hand before I could get any contact.
Malcolm seated himself again and beckoned me forward. "Kneel." I was very thankful that I'd put a rug down. My responses were coming faster, with less thought on my part. Settling into his control felt good. I didn't really have to think very much, just feel and enjoy. "Knees spread a little wider, cross your arms behind your back. Grip your forearms as high up as you can." He guided me to the position he wanted, tits thrust out and legs spread wide, saying it was called 'Exposed Pose.'
Exposed is right. Holy fuck this is intense. Malcolm towered over me like a statue. I only made it as far up the third button from his belt. Still fully dressed in his crisp, clean suit, Malcolm looked down on my complete nakedness. The difference in height felt distinctly new and weird to me. We've always been similar heights, I was used to seeing him on my level. Now, he might as well have been Zeus seated atop Olympus. On top of that, the pose itself was more taxing than I'd have thought. My knees dug hard into the rug and my shoulders were unhappy with how much they were being asked to stretch.
I tried to make sense of everything I was feeling but gave up. Saying I felt exposed or vulnerable just didn't cover it. I was kneeling on the floor at my best friend's feet because he'd told me to. But more than that, I was here because I wanted to be. I wanted to obey him, and expressing that so openly made me feel more naked than the simple lack of clothes could account for.
But no. 'Vulnerable' implies some kind of perceived threat, doesn't it? That wasn't right. I felt completely safe, held firmly in control. It was almost liberating to feel so carefree. It just felt very... open. Like my inner self was on display along with my body.
"You're beautiful," He told me, look down over me appreciatively. It suddenly hit me that kneeling put me much closer to the bulge in his pants. The very distinctly cock shaped bulge just below his belt buckle. I licked my lips, hungry for it. Two fingers under my chin lifted my attention back to his face. "Pleasure yourself."
"What?"
"You heard me."
My arms twitched from behind me. "Like... Masturbate? Sir?"
"Indeed."
Yeah, everything I just said before about feeling naked? Forget all that, THIS is what I should have saved those descriptions for. My fingers slid between my lips more easily than a skater on an ice rink. That first long, hard slid over my clit seemed to shock my system, taking me from feeling teased to full on ready to fuck! I thought I was going to cum on the spot.
He moved from my chin to caress my cheek, gently playing with a few wisps of hair.
"You need my permission before you can orgasm, my pet." I moaned in pleasure, the wet sounds of my schlicking filling the room. "You are mine now. Your sexuality is mine to play with. I decide when you cum... if you cum." It's completely unfair how being told I don't have control over my own orgasms turns me on so much and makes me want to cum NOW! I felt it boiling inside me, the pressure, building up the need for release. It was all too much, overwhelming, kneeling with my pussy spread wide, fucking myself for his whim.
He watched intently, paying close attention to my fingers, noting how I favored my clit and moved to penetration when I felt close to cumming. As I was beginning to adjust to what was happening, he added yet another level.
"Keep looking at my eyes, don't look down." Why would I look down? His expression looking back at me was beautiful. His emotion written there made me feel so special. His playful, knowing smile was back, though. That damn smile that always meant he knew something I didn't.
I heard a zipper. 'Oh my god, is that? Did he just?' Without looking, I instinctively knew that his penis was free and inches away from me. One glance down and I'd finally see it. Malcolm's cock... how many nights had I fallen asleep dreaming about being fucked by it? How many classes had I daydreamed through imagining him naked? Now it was right there! But I couldn't look at it. It was so hard to obey, I kept involuntarily lowering my head and needing to force it back up.
Of course, it only got worse when I realized he was stroking himself. The heat between my legs went into overdrive and I clenched down on my fingers.
"Please," I whimpered, "it's so hard, please can I look?"
"I'm enjoying watching you struggle. Seeing you choose obedience over your own want is very hot. You're doing well." He sounded proud. Proud of me! I wanted to be strong for him, but my hormones were all against me. I had wanted him too badly for too long, it was torture to endure. Just a few inches away and I'd feel his hard smoothness... I missed the feeling from before, the freedom I had felt without having to struggle and make decisions.
So, instead of his cock, I groped for his other hand and brought it up to my head. He understood without any words, taking hold of my hair just behind my head once again and firmly holding me in place. I immediately felt a burden lift off me. I didn't need to police myself or worry about being able to obey anymore. I nuzzled softly into his arm, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin against my cheek and the authoritative strength of his grip.
I felt connected to him. A bond seemed to have formed between us, stronger than the physical hold he had onto me. Like giving him my strength and my problems and him being strong for me had brought us closer together. It felt very intimate, and very, very sexual. I was spending more time off my clit than on it to avoid tipping over. I want to cum. Every cell in my body wanted to cum! But I could also feel how much my continual retreats away from my clit, away from cumming, turned Malcolm on. I would be obedient for him! It was difficult, but I kept on edging, deriving my satisfaction from his quickening breathing and tapestry of facial pleasure.
I'm not sure how long we stayed gazing intimately into each other. Time seemed kind of amorphous, like we existed together in a bubble where nothing else mattered. One heartbeat to the next, a circle over my throbbing and hypersensitive clit and a soft moan against his arm, circling onwards in a loop.
"How are you feeling?" he eventually checked in.
"A little overwhelmed, Sir. But in a good way!"
"Good. Time to move past foreplay."