Rebecca (our Little Secret)

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Parts of this little excerpt are based on actual events and favored memories. The rest is fiction. Names, places and time of occurrence referenced are totally fictional. Any connection to people living or passed will be absolute coincidence.

(Please include this as part of the introductory information in the header)

SYNOPSIS:

The magic that happens when a natural Dominant meets a natural submissive.

NOTE TO PUBLISHER: (not for printing)

This is now a HTML document. I have removed all italics and bold text. Hopefully it will fit now.

Sentences starting with lower case, i.e. "you", "she", etc. are intended to address the submissive character. The same is when the sub's name appears, i.e. "becky"

The Author is writing as: Master Darren

REBECCA

(Our little secret)

Rebecca Mabrey, a married 38 year old former model now mother of two, sat at a table in the mall coffee shop. The cup before her long since cooled though still over half full. Her face showed a deep preoccupation. A question of monumental proportions, perhaps as yet unresolved, occupying her mind. She did not notice Robert, "Bobby" Conroe approaching from behind.

"Hello, slut." He whispered in her ear.

"Oh!" She jerked. "B...Bobby. Have a seat...if it pleases you." She looked around to see if anybody saw or heard their exchange.

"Relax. you don't need to jump out of your skin. you look fantastic, except for being grossly over dressed." He crossed his leg slouching slightly, forearm on the table like any teenager would.

"I can't relax...I haven't slept well since...you know...Friday night."

"A night I'll never forget." Bobby smiled with a knowing expression usually reserved for a man experienced beyond his 19 years.

"You promised you would not tell anyone what happened...what you tricked me into doing."

"Look becky, I keep my word. I have not, will not tell anyone, ever. Friday was a one time thing, as I told you and I still want no damage done to your relationships or reputation. It's our little secret."

"Thank you. But, I asked you to meet me here to find out what my future really is going to be. I need reassurance somehow, that you are not going to change your mind and destroy my life and marriage. After all, you did video the whole mess."

"Yes and I have reviewed it. By the way, the camera really loves you. you should watch it some time."

Rebecca's beautiful face turned several shades of red as she quickly looked down at her cup.

"Even though George is my best friend, I will never, no matter what, tell your son how well you suck cock."

Instantly, she looked around. No one had evidently heard. "Please...Sir...please don't talk like that in public." She spoke in a low, whispering tone.

"What did you tell me Friday?" He leaned close.

"That I am your slut, whore or whatever else you want me to be. But-"

"No matter what does or does not happen from here on out, that remains a permanent fact. Could it be that your lack of sleep is because you enjoyed what I did and you want more?"

"No! No! I couldn't bear being...used like that again."

"Oh? Then why are you wet right now?"

She squirmed in her chair, knees slammed together. "I am NOT... wet."

"Have you forgotten your promise to tell me only the truth? Do you want me to punish you right here and now?"

"NO! Please...please, don't even think that."

"Well, then?"

"Yes...I am."

"Am what?"

"Wet."

"OK slut, punished you will be."

"But you just said it was only that one time."

"It was. Punishment and the rest can continue. All you gotta do is ask."

"Ask!?...to be degraded and used like...like a sex toy? I just...couldn't."

"So be. But that is the reason you called me. We both know that. We barely opened Pandora's box Friday. you only glimpsed inside. There's so much more, but you gotta look. By the way, the clock's ticking on what's left of your beauty and sexual needs. If I were you I wouldn't wait too long. I'm leaving for the University of Texas in just under three months."

Bobby got up and walked off, joining a group of recent high school graduated friends. Her gaze followed his tall, confident form till he was out of sight while her insides churned.

Rebecca had always been able to use her beauty to manipulate others to her advantage. It got her married to Edward Mabrey and his fortune. Being so completely used for someone else's pleasure, to experience such profound humiliation and at the hands of a child so deviated from all she thought she was that it dropped a wrench into her gear box. If she were to contact him asking for more, that would be a humiliation even beyond the first. She simply could not. Still, she'd never experienced anything so powerful. The question remained unresolved.

(One week later)

"Rebecca?" Edward Mabrey announced his arrival in the kitchen.

"Yes?", She replied, without looking away from the flower arrangement on the windowsill.

"For several days now you've seemed to be here but your thoughts were somewhere else. Is something bothering you?" He seated himself at the table, reading something on his I-pad and pecking at the keys.

"Of course not. I'm just concerned about Georgie's future at college and Angela, things like that."

"Their grades have always been stellar. There's no reason to think he'd have any great difficulty at SMU. I don't think that's the problem."

"What do you think it is, then?"

"I'd like to know."

"Do you want the truth?"

"Of course."

"Do you still think I'm pretty?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

"Do you still love me?"

"Well, that goes unsaid." He did not look up.

"Yes it does and to a large degree un-demonstrated, too."

"What do you mean?"

"How long has it been since we made love? And the last few times it was you who seemed not to be here."

Ed looked up at the back of her head. "Don't start that again. You know how much stress I'm under at work. With the economy like it is I've got to hold the entire business together with my bare hands. And I don't need extra pressure from you adding to my load. OK?"

"OK."

"Look, I'll make it up to you when things improve and I can relax a little." Back to the I-pad.

"So be."

"What?"

"That'll be fine."

"Good. Remember, I'm leaving Tuesday for Boston, to the conference."

"Yes, I remember. And the kids are off to band camp Wednesday."

"Now, don't you become a hermit while we're gone."

"I'll think of something to do."

Wednesday -- afternoon -- empty house -- alone

Sitting at the kitchen table, her cell phone in hand, Rebecca is dangling by a thread above Pandora's box. She looks out the sliding glass doors to the patio and pool where many an event has transpired with the cream of Dallas society gathered. And beyond, the expanse of manicured lawn, trees, each at the picturesque perfect location, walking paths and gardens. "What is it all worth, really? What are the chances of loosing every bit of it? What is to be gained if this step is taken?" She brings the phone up. Bobby's number is right there.

She jumps as the phone rings. "Hello?"

"Rebecca. How are you getting along? We haven't spoken in a long time."

"Sylvia, good afternoon. I'm just taking it easy here in happyville."

"Do I detect a note of sarcasm there?"

"No. Just rattling around in this empty house. Poor word choice, that's all."

"Oh yes, everyone's gone. The old empty nest syndrome?"

"Something like that. But nothing I can't handle. To what do I owe the honor of this call?"

"A little birdy said I should check on you. I had a feeling you might need someone to talk to."

"Good idea, but could I get a rain check on that? There is a little project that needs my attention."

"Do you need me to help with anything?"

"No. It's not that big, but thanks."

"Sure. Just feel free to call if you need someone to talk to, any time. You do know you can talk to me about anything."

"Yes, I know. Bye bye."

Sylvia, of all people, was the last person she wanted to confide in. Look up the term, "Busy body" or "Gossip" in the dictionary and you'd find her picture. She probably just called to see if she could mine up a tidbit to spread all over town. If she only...

Rebecca went back to her dilemma. In the silence of the empty house all she could hear was the ticking of the enormous antique grandfather clock in the foyer. "Clock's ticking", yeah, I know, damn it."

The phone on the other end rang. Second ring. Third ring. She centered on the kill button on her phone when a voice came on, "Hello."

"Hello,...Bobby?"

"becky, how's my slut doing this afternoon?"

"I have some questions about...about..."

"Say the words. you know the rule."

"Are you alone there?"

"Not a question for you to ask. Go on."

"About my...training?" A shiver ran up her back.

"No. I gave you all the information you need. It's time to take the step."

Silent pause.

"OK." She swallowed hard.

"OK, what?"

"You know."

"The words, bitch."

"Make me your slave, slut or whatever."

"That sounded like a command. You don't command anything. Do better or the deal is off."

"Please...Sir...will you take me and...use me for your pleasure?"

"Now, wasn't that more fun?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Mall coffee shop. One hour thirty minutes. Makeup, sundress, high heels and not another stitch."

"But sir, my breasts will..."

"That little back talk just added to your punishment."

The phone went dead.

Immediately she felt a surge go through her, either dread or anticipation. She couldn't tell. But, the house didn't seem so empty anymore.

It being the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday the mall was less crowded than at other times, much to becky's relief if, "relief" even applied to this situation. She felt naked as the air conditioned breeze flowed through and under the light sundress with complete access to her entire body. Her breasts swayed slightly with each step. The accompanying titillation not going unnoticed.

Bobby was nowhere in sight so she got a latte and took a seat. It seemed that every person in the mall was staring at her. If not for the obvious scene of her breasts jiggling all over the place she would have run from the spot before it was too late.

Catching a glimpse of movement at the edge of her view, she turned to see Bobby sitting at a near by table. Was he there all along? She didn't know. A shock ran through her. Would such a dumb thing make him mad at her? He crooked his finger summoning her to join him.

"Sit there and clear the back hem of your dress first."

The metal seat was freezing cold against her bare skin. She tried not to show her discomfort. She felt even more naked. Bobby slid a book, a white, paperback, in front of her. The title was, "Story of O".

"Read this. Highlight whatever passages impress you. Do not mark just what you think I want to see."

"Yes, Sir."

"Looks like your nipples are ready to kick this little soiree into gear."

Sure enough they were imprinted on the bodice of her yellow sundress like rocket nose cones. Or at least it seemed so to her. A quick look didn't find anyone obviously impressed by her concerns. Still, she tried to de-emphasize them by slouching slightly.

"Straighten up!"

She did.

"Plea..."

"Plea...what?"

"Nothing, Sir."

"you're catching on. I'll bet you're itching to get on with that punishment I mentioned before."

"Only if it pleases you, Sir."

"you remembered. Oh, yeah. I'm going to have some fun with you."

becky blushed again.

"I'll meet you at your car." He walked away.

No one met her at the car, so she sat patiently until a BMW rolled up behind. Getting out she locked it and slid into the BMW passenger seat.

"Clear the seat, always."

She rose and slid the hem of her dress to the back rest.

"Now, raise the front hem to your waist".

She complied without looking around. To look for trouble seemed no longer worth the bother.

"I see you shaved like I told you Friday. Do you remember why I told you to shave your cunt, bitch?"

"Yes, Sir. Because no woman is completely naked until her cunt is bare."

"From now on, you may masturbate or play with yourself in any manner you want, as often as you need, but you are NOT allowed to climax under any circumstance without first asking and receiving my permission. That means with your husband or by yourself. No questions. That is rule number one. The penalty for breaking that rule is one neither of us will enjoy. I have ways to find out."

"Yes, Sir."

"Spread your legs."

She does.

"you're slimming up my upholstery."

"Yes, Sir. Please forgive me."

"Start masturbating and continue until we stop, then when you get out clean my upholstery with your tongue."

"Yes, Sir."

"And No will be your answer before that."

She hardly made it out of the parking lot before almost breaking rule 1. Through massive effort becky managed to hold back the climax till, to her surprise, they stopped in the guest parking area behind her own house.

"When you finish with the seat, bring that bag from the back seat and join me inside. Oh, yes. Leave the dress." With that he strolled through the garage and into her home as if he owned it.

While at her task the thought occurred that she could simply wipe it up with her dress and he'd be none the wiser. It was humiliating enough to be following these orders from a virtual child half her age and none too safe from nosy neighbors' possible view of her nakedness and lewd actions. But, something from deep inside would not let her consider it for more than a moment. After all, wasn't this what she asked for? Not to mention the mind melting climax churning in her gut and the slime running down her inner thighs.

"It's about time, slut. Come here." Taking the bag and placing it on the kitchen table, he took a hand full of that mane of auburn hair, pulled her head back to look up into his eyes and licked her lips ever so lightly, slowly side to side, then eased his tongue deep between her lips to over power hers causing tremors in that looming climax.

"OK. Just checking."

One of the chairs from the dining table stood in the middle of the room. Bobby opened the bag and laid out three rods, one a half inch in diameter, one a quarter inch and one thin, wispy one only an eighth inch across. Each was about three feet long. He also brought out a silver chain that looked sort of like a necklace, but this one had a spring clamp on each end.

"I'm going to whip you with one of these rods. Just so you can have a hand in your own degradation, I will allow you to choose which one."

She chose the quarter inch diameter rod and offered it up with both hands, head lowered.

"Walk up to the back of that chair, place one foot on the outside of each back chair leg, knees on the outside, too. Behind your back, grab each elbow with the opposite hand and hold tight." He explored her entire form, including that mane of auburn hair down to her shoulder blades, the shape of her ass and curve of those hips and hall of fame legs. Moving around to face her, he looked long at the sight of her perfect breasts that showed only the very slightest sign of age or childbearing. He shook his head, "How could any man not treasure that?"

"Open that cock hole." He placed the cane between her lips. "Hold that for me and don't get any teeth marks or slobber on it.

How humiliating this must be," He slapped down hard on her left nipple, then her right. She grimaced, groaning a little, but held her place. "For a whore like you, mere arm candy for some rich bastard and of your social standing and beauty, (again, both nipples) who should be able to have any man she wants, to be standing naked in her own house in such a vulnerable and vulgar manner in order to accept punishment for the pleasure of a youth. And all at your own request. My my, how did it come to this.

Oh, I almost forgot." He picked up the silver chain and teased her nipples by dragging it across them. "Remember that little talk back that I told you added to your punishment?"

"Yesh, shur." She had to swallow saliva from gathering around the rod.

He held the chain up before her eyes. "you're gonna love these."

A surge of anxiety grabbed her. "Is this too much?" Still, she held her place. Why?

He thumped her left nipple causing the tit to move and her to grimace, then rolled it gently between fingers and pulled it in order to attach the clamp securely upon it. Her eyes closed. She let slip a grunt. He repeated on the right. Her breathing became a series of short little moans.

"Forehead on the seat."

She complied, thus presenting everything she had to offer for pleasure or pain. Nothing protected. Nothing hidden. Nothing safe and nothing to keep her from walking away.

"Damn, if you aren't a category one whore. you have a string of cunt drool hanging almost to the floor." He gathered it up in his hand scooping even in between her lower lips to get it all. "Give me that cane. Here, clean this crap off my hand." He smeared it over her cheeks as well as her lips.

He placed the cane between her butt cheeks directly against her anus. "Ready?" Not waiting, he pulled and let it snap directly on her pucker. becky screamed, gasping through gritted teeth, her butt clinching. She banged her head against the seat and began to weep.

Replacing the cane with a finger he tested the opening. "Has anybody or anything ever been up here?"

She shook her head.

"Don't worry. We'll fix that. OK. Enough play time. What say we get down to our little task? you have permission to climax whenever you like. I have a number in mind. A minimum number. I will only stop after that minimum number of strokes, If you cum before. If not, I'll continue until you do. But, you have to cum from the pain and humiliation only, before I stop. How you manage is your problem. Questions?"

'No, Sir."

"Ask me to start when you are ready."

"Please...Sir...b...begin?"

Stroke one seared the crease where her sweet butt cheeks met leg all the way across. Her response was the stuff of dreams to a Dom.

"Feel free to express your pleasure verbally if it helps."

The next met the right butt cheek dead center. Then the left. By this point her weeping was in full voice. He struck the insides of her thighs dangerously close to her clit. Hips, across the top of her butt crease, legs, all were addressed in time. Somewhere about the twelfth stroke her weeping changed to groans, then moans. She began pelvic thrusts against the chair back. By the twentieth stroke her long auburn hair was hopelessly splayed over the chair front. But her fingers remained locked to her elbows, in place, somehow.

At twenty-five he stopped. Her head bobbed up and down, side to side and the rest of her contorted totally out of control. He lifted and held her up to him. Her legs had become useless. He removed the clamps with minor response from her. Eased her arms over his shoulders.

Her clinched eyes, flowing with tears, her full but slightly parted lips, labored breath, hair plastered about her moistened cheeks, her entire body coated with a sheen of sweat, the shear passion of this woman in the throes of repeating orgasm, such beauty Da Vinci could not have done justice. He cupped each welt streaked, crimson butt cheek and gripped, pulled, digging his finger nails in. Her head fell back. She continued hunching him violently in yet another orgasm. One after another they struck her so rapidly she had no chance to gather breath between. He spanked her. They continued. He scratched across her marks. They continued. Concerned for her, he finally cupped each heated and violated orb gently, holding her from crumbling on the floor in exhaustion.

Finally, her breathing slowed to a near normal pace. Her eyes opened, at least half way looking up into his. And...she smiled.