I guess the true beauty of submission is hard to write about. I hope that I was able to understand a submissive mind. That would please me quite a bit. If you don't like anything please let me know.
*****
She was busy making dinner when her cell phone vibrates to see his message. She chuckles. While she is waiting for her ziti to cook, Paoala begins to set the table, though it's not that elaborate as the dinner was informal, or so she was told. The text was from her friend from Papua New Guinea who worked with her a dozen or so years ago. At least, as she would like us to believe, when she was a bit slimmer, because for the un-critical eye, she was as slim today and would probably have more than her share of suitors on the dance floor. She was baking ziti and apple pie with whipped cream for dessert and red wine. Though, she wasn't sure that she would drink that night, as she was not known among her close friends for self-control.
Her doorbell rings and she opens the door to let Aaron in. He was in a pair of khakis and a t, as casual as one can be. "It's so good to see you!" As the hug each other, just a bit longer than what both of them were accustomed to. As though they both had unfinished business with each other or was it the weather: sticky? "You are looking gorgeous in that dress!" Pointing to her flowing white-on-black thin stripes wrapping around her body that created an illusion that still stayed with him for quite some time.
"Thank you.", Paola smiles. It has been a while since she was with someone, career and the work needed to connect with someone was too overwhelming. It was refreshing.
"Would you like to have some wine?"
"Thank you, let me take a quick shower. It poured and all of the buses were late by an hour at least. I was standing for most of my commute, chatting away as a good gullible out-of-towner would do anyway", to assure Paola that he did not (or could not?) hit on any of the other women during his commute. Why should she care if he was with someone? It probably did not, but since she saw him a few moments ago, she felt a need. Ah a need, a thought entered her mind to get brushed with so many other mundane things moving around her. She ambles across the room to turn on the radio, "Its all about the bass". Coincidence? Chuckles.
It seemed as though the song had been playing for a long long time, really long. Aaron steps out wearing his night wear.
"I hope you have room for a guest, Paola? I am not sure I would like to stay in a motel tonight." Paola was not expecting any guests that night and had an early start tomorrow.
"Of course, you can stay here anytime for as long as you want." She bit her tongue, what was that about, she thought to herself.
She felt relaxed during the dinner and saw herself opening up to Aaron, admiring his wit and was feeling herself getting trapped inside the ring of his charm. Or something like that, as she tries not to stare at him or away from him. They finish dinner, he helps her with the dishes. As the last of the dishes.
"STAY!" as she bends over to close the dishwasher.
He slides a ring about 5" in diameter, (details details: why do I keep doing that? and pulls her dress through her left cheek and before she knows it, he cuts it alongside the ring and drops the dress back. Paola is stunned to see the fabric drop on the floor as well as his expression at the tattoo of a paddle that felt exposed along with her butt.
"See, i knew it. This is why I came over all the way from New York City. mmmm". How did he know about that?
"Someone has been preparing for this", as he notices that she was wearing no panties. He was right about that, she took off her panties just before turning the radio on. She was wet throughout the entire dinner. When she brought out the dessert, her favorite, things just went downhill. She did bake a mean pumpkin pie; tonight being no exception. Cinnamon diffusing through all her pores and she felt soaked in cinnamon, her skin coming alive to become a pie to be tasted.
She closed her eyes went back to those fun-filled days at Papua New Guinea, working on the impact of the rising sea levels in the region, mapping out the habitation terrain, counting marine and shore life. She fondly recalled her technical ineptitude, which to some was her way of eking out juicy details from the innocent. Those were the days; fresh out of college, and with a mission to work with marine life, which she still is, the rest of the reading community is grateful for that. And the thing called the Internet or was it the Prodigy or Mosaic was just out. The first few times, when she was asked to submit on a form, she would kneel down, something that still brought out a smile on her face; she would still use that on lit at times. To her, the webmaster was the most powerful dominator in the world. That was perhaps true, but not exactly in the same sense.
"Bend over", as she was standing, her eyes closed, cheeks red with shame. She felt as though her entire body froze and she felt exposed to a near complete stranger. They never dated back then, the work and the island life took a lot of her time and she wanted to prove herself. Those days still were something she cherished.
With her eyes closed, she bends over across the table. "Spread them." She started to spread her cheeks, "Not yet, just your arms please. Stretch them out." Before she knew it, though not too quickly, as Aaron was not the one to speed up fun, she felt her arms tied to table across with rope. She felt good, because she preferred rope to the leather cuffs. "Now, spread your cheeks." as she spreads her legs wider to have her ass cheek exposed though safe; all of those conflicting emotions that only a submissive can manage, let alone understand.
SPANK. A paddle strikes at her tattoo. OWWWWWW!. The table shakes a bit as her weight pushes it hard. He bends down and tightens her cuffs so things move less.
SPANK "Love that cheek."
