Laura: Initiation of a Submissive

Chapter 1 ended with these paragraphs:

Laura stuttered and tried to regain some composure. She blushed, and looked briefly away, then visibly gathered her will and looked back into his eyes. "If you tell me not to cum, I will try my best not to. I don't know that I can hold back if you keep touching me, but I will do my best."

Her earnestness and strength touched him and he told her to lift herself again, and took his hand away. "That was what I needed to hear, my pet. I'll give you release later, several times. And in time, we'll work on you not having orgasms until you're permitted."

Laura shuddered, but didn't quite cum. His words alone had almost triggered an orgasm, but she fought against it and won. He saw her tremble, and knew the effect he had had on her, and grinned. "Good girl," he said softly. "You have the right attitude, and the strength, to be a good submissive. And that's what we'll work on this weekend. We have this night, and Friday, Saturday and Sunday. By Sunday evening, when you go home, you'll have learned more than you would have thought possible."

Now, on to Laura: Initiation of a Submissive Chapter 2...

Laura felt relief as she saw Jason, their waiter, coming toward the table with a large tray. He set it on a holder near their banquette, and swiftly removed their salads. "For you, mademoiselle, the Sole Florentine with rice pilaf - would you like another water, or perhaps a carafe of white wine?" She looked to her left and got no response at all.

"No, thank you. I don't think I'll need wine to help me enjoy my dinner," she replied softly, and felt an approving pressure on her thigh.

"Very well. And for you, sir, the filet, medium rare, with baked potato, sour cream, chives and bacon. More water, sir?"

"Yes, Jason, please bring one for each of us," he answered.

"Very well, sir. I'll be right back."

As Jason left, she looked at him and was surprised as he leaned in to kiss her. His lips softly met hers, and the tip of his tongue swiped lightly across her parted lips. As he withdrew, he smiled. "Good decision on the wine. We don't need any kind of 'help' to enjoy either the dinner or the rest of the weekend. Water tastes good, and is good for us."

Laura had never had Sole Florentine before. In fact, she usually didn't like fish, so she was surprised at the light, flaky texture and the subtlety of the flesh, which allowed the spices to tantalize her tongue. "This is excellent," she murmured. "Thank you for choosing it for me."

He smiled as he chewed and swallowed a bit of his filet. "I thought you would appreciate it. It's light but tasty. I wouldn't want to weigh you down with a heavy meal before we get fully into your initiation."

"Thank you, Sir. I ... well, I really didn't expect you to be quite so kind. I kind of expected ... I don't know, unrelenting ... umm, firmness, and that maybe you'd even be a little harsh." She trembled inside at her words, even though she knew that he expected her to speak truthfully to him at all times.

"You may at times consider me a harsh teacher," he said with another of those wicked grins that so enthralled her. "But when we finish your training in six months or so, you'll understand that every step, every stroke of the cane was designed especially for you, to help you become what you need to be."

Laura shuddered visibly at his mention of the cane. That thin, whippy device frightened her more than anything, even the thought of anal sex, which they had agreed would be part of her training. No one had ever even touched her there, and she was terribly worried that she wouldn't be able to do it, but she was determined to try, to become perfectly available in every way to the man to whom she would give her allegiance. She had seen pictures and even a couple of videos of women being caned, and the sight of the welts that rose almost instantly on those bare bottoms, and the streaky bruises that formed within minutes, terrified her. And just as with anal penetration, she knew that she would do all that she could to bear it, and learn to accept it as an integral part of her life.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said softly, realizing that as she had thought about the experiences to come, she had missed something he said. "I was ... thinking, and I didn't hear you."

His eyes narrowed a little again, and he looked deep into her eyes. "Turn toward me, Little One." She obeyed the firm tone of his voice, and he reached to her breasts and cupped them in each hand. She knew that many people in the restaurant could see them, but at this point, she didn't care. She had been rude to him, and whatever discipline he chose would be right. His thumbs and forefingers closed on her still-aroused nipples and slowly began to tighten. "I asked..." he said slowly as he pinched her, "if you..." his fingers tightening more, becoming painful, "wanted..." she wanted at that instant to squirm, but knew that she could not, should not. "...dessert." His fingers clamped even more tightly for a moment, then released her, his hands falling to his thighs.

She gasped from the combination pain and excitement his actions had created, and the sudden tingle brought by the blood rushing back into her nipples. "I ... I'm sorry, Sir," she stammered. Then she gathered her wits and straightened her back. "No, thank you, Sir. I don't think the dessert I would want is on the restaurant's menu." It was her turn to hold a wicked smile in her eyes, and he laughed with her.

"And what dessert would my Little One want, that's not served in one of Atlanta's finest restaurants?"

"I want... I want to be spanked, Sir. Spanked hard, by your hand on my bare bot... my bare ass. I want to feel your hand on me."

"Well, then, let us pass on dessert and head for home. You have surprised me yet again. I have to admit, I'm looking forward to that myself."

Jason the waiter came toward their table, almost as if he had been listening to them. "Was everything all right, sir?"

"Everything was fine, Jason. Mademoiselle particularly enjoyed the sole. Please give our compliments to Henri."

"I will, sir. Would you or Mademoiselle like some dessert?"

He grinned and said, "No, we just discussed that, and decided that we would be very happy with what we've had. I'll sign the check if you have it, please."

Jason brought the bill out of his pocket and placed it on the table. Laura couldn't help but notice that it was blank, except for the table number and Jason's initials. A quick scribble of a golden pen, and the check was handed back to the waiter. "Shall we go, my dear?"

"May I have a moment to freshen up?" she asked. "I won't be but a moment."

"Certainly," he said. "Jason will point you in the right direction."

Laura followed the young waiter and then caught up with him as he hesitated to point the way to the ladies' room. "Jason? Why was our check blank?"

He looked at her curiously, and then smiled. "Don't you know? He owns the restaurant!"

She couldn't think of anything to say except, "Oh. I see," and follow the waiter's gesture toward the discreetly marked door. Once inside, she stopped in front of the mirror and examined herself. Her dress was holding up nicely, no wrinkles to be seen, even when she turned to get a back view. "I guess if you don't sit on it, it doesn't wrinkle," she murmured to herself with a sigh. Her hair was impeccable, but she needed to touch up her lipstick. As she did that little chore, she once again became aware of a stickiness in her upper thighs and crotch, and thought of wiping herself down in one of the stalls. "No," she thought. "He knows how wet I was, and I think he enjoys it. No, I know he enjoys it. But I want him to see it, feel it on me - concrete evidence of how excited he's made me."

With her lipstick repaired from the meal, she exited the lounge, leaving a five-dollar tip for the attendant, who had done nothing but watch her. She didn't care. Just the time to think about what had happened in the last hour was well worth the tip. She saw him waiting in the lobby, and walked over to him with a smile. "Shall we?" she asked as she let him take her arm.

As they went out the door and down the walkway to the valet station, she slowed her steps slightly and looked up at him. "How long will it take to get 'home,' Sir? How long will it be before you spank me?"

He laughed softly, delighted with her. "It will take about forty minutes to drive home. But I can spank you in less than three minutes from now, when we get to the car."

Laura's eyes brightened with delight. "Really? Please?"

"Really." The head valet saw them coming and removed a set of keys from the rack, motioning to one of the runners. "Kenny, I believe we'll walk to the car this evening," he said to the valet. "Thank you, though," and handed him a folded bill. He took her arm again and they began to walk into the large parking lot. "Ahh, I see the car," and he guided her toward a mostly empty area of the lot. When they got to a gleaming Mercedes, he led her toward the front of the car. "Bend over the hood, Little One, and lift your skirt."

"Outside the car, Sir?" she protested. "I thought you meant..."

"You thought I meant inside the car? That's for teenagers, my pet. If you don't want a spanking now..." he let his voice trail off suggestively. She pulled her dress up until she was exposed to the night air to above her navel and bent quickly over the hood of the car. "Spread your feet apart." She did, and felt one of his feet press against the inside of hers, pushing it further. She could feel the night breeze brushing past her exposed sex, and knew that she was again wet, again seeping down the insides of her thighs.

He put his left hand on the small of her back, pressing her a little more firmly into the hood, and suddenly her bottom felt a large, heavy hand strike. The crack of contact seemed to echo through the parking lot, and she looked up to see if anyone could see them. When his hand came down on her other cheek, though, it didn't seem to matter any more, just as it hadn't with the man in the grey suit, and she laid her cheek down on the hood to focus on the sensations. He spanked her firmly, though not harshly, his hand alternating between cheeks. She could feel the heat rise, and knew that her pretty fanny was turning a bright pink. Twenty-two more smacks and she knew her bottom was burning hot - and that her cunt was leaking her excitement almost down to her knees.

His hand slid between her legs, once again cupping her as intimately as a woman can be held, two fingers laid flat between her labia, their tips pressing firmly against her erect clitoris. She shuddered, then shuddered again as those same two fingers drew back and then thrust strongly inside her. "Don't cum," he said softly. "Don't cum." She shuddered, close to losing control, and then felt as if her entire insides had been ripped out of her as he withdrew his fingers. "Don't... don't cum," he said again.

Her legs were quivering so hard they could barely hold her up. If it hadn't been for her arms laid across the hood, and his hand still pressing down against the small of her back, she was convinced she would simply melt into a happy puddle next to the wheel of his car. His spanking hand now rubbed gently up and down her back while he continued to hold her with the other hand. Slowly, she regained control and lifted her head. "I think I can stand now," she whispered. He still supported her as she raised herself and turned to stand facing him, but still leaning against the car. "I have never ... never ... never been so close to cumming, and not done it. I didn't think it was possible, but when you said, 'Don't cum,' I forced myself to stop. I was already started, I think... and I stopped. I didn't know that could happen." She suddenly realized that her dress was still raised above her waist, her shaven pussy exposed. She thought about being embarrassed, then realized she wasn't - not in front of him. Thoughtfully, she reached down and lowered her dress to its normal position.

He walked her slowly to the door of the car, opened it and helped her sit down, raising the back of her skirt to put her bare, burning bottom on the soft leather seat. "I'm so wet," she protested weakly, holding herself just an inch above the seat.

He laughed. "It's good for the leather. Sit." She sat, wincing slightly from the heat and residual pain from the spanking. "Let's head for home. It's time your real training began."

To Be Continued...