Snow Day - Submission

Snow Day - Submission (vers. 2)

soppingwetpanties

This is an edited version of this story (version 1). It adds content and corrects a few typos. Worth a re-read if you liked the original.

Thank you D.E. for the inspiration.

The first installment gives more background but this chapter can be read standalone.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

Chapter Two

Submission

I was walking knee deep in snow from my house to my next-door neighbor's on a chilly weekend afternoon. The snow was piled so high it was spilling inside my boots, melting and making my socks sopping wet. This kind of storm came along once every couple of years in suburban Philadelphia, clogging the roads and closing the airport. But the storm wasn't what was on my mind. It was Claire, my next-door neighbor, who was leading the way to her house.

The walk was a bit more challenging because I was bare chested in zero-degree temperature, my t-shirt now safely ensconced in Claire's coat pocket and my coat left back at my house on a snowbank. She never looked back, knowing I'd follow her like a puppy. How many fifty-year-old divorced men are in tow by a thirty something stunning blonde? Only ones with a billion dollars. I was at least $999 million short.

As we reached the sidewalk to her house my heart started to race. Some sort of domination and submission thing I suspected, given her demand for my shirt and to walk bare chested in freezing cold weather. I'd experimented with professional Dommes a couple times about ten years ago, but that was make believe, this was for real. Claire was doing this for sport, so that meant for her amusement, not mine.

I walked up a short flight of stairs to her porch, the entrance to the promised land. But it wasn't at all like I pictured it. Shirtless with my feet sloshing in cold water and with the adrenaline wearing off, my teeth started audibly chattering. I felt like a complete idiot. Maybe she wanted me to feel that way. If she did she succeeded. Why the fuck was she interested in me, especially looking (and probably smelling) like a wet dog? I was at least twenty pounds overweight with a decent bald spot on the top of my head. She was like an eleven on a scale of one to ten. Stretching it, I was barely a four.

So I watched this pretty woman unlock the front door and allow me into her lovely Victorian home. We stepped onto a narrow plank wood floor covered with oriental rugs. The entranceway was about the size of a bedroom. Off of it was the living room on the left, a central hallway leading to the kitchen in the back, and a formal dining room on the right. But it was Claire my eyes were focused on. She was beautiful . . . and bewitching. I was afraid I would do anything for her.

I was sort of expecting Claire to say something about her house or show it to me. I was her next-door neighbor after all. I got none of that. It was clear to me from the first thing she said.

"You've made me soil my favorite boots," she declared, as if I was a bad dog.

"I'm sorry," I said, as if it was my fault.

She tilted her boot up by the heel so the tip was about four inches in the air. There was a clump of dirty snow stuck to it.

"Since it was your fault I think it'd be appropriate for you to clean it, don't you?"

Sure. I could do that. I'd be happy to clean her shoe. Fuck yes.

"Of course," I said agreeably. "Where's the kitchen?"

"Why on earth would you need to know where the kitchen is?" she asked me as if I was the biggest dumbass in the world. She asked it in a way that made me think that I was wrong. Were paper towels or rags kept somewhere else? Why was she talking to me in that tone of voice?

"Uh . . . uh" I stuttered. "I was hoping to get a paper towel."

"A paper towel?" I wouldn't waste a perfectly good paper towel when you've got your tongue right there."

"My tongue?" I asked in disbelief. Was she asking me to lick the dirty snow off her shoe?

"I can see you're a slow learner. Let me show you since you seem to have trouble with the spoken word."

I felt like I was shrinking in size. Even though I was a couple inches taller than her (and I'm almost six foot) at that moment in time she towered over me. She carefully draped her coat over a nearby chair, showing me her tight burnt orange cashmere sweater and the sensuous curvy body she was hiding underneath it. She lifted up her sweater high enough so I could see her entire bra. It was sheer so I could see through it. She had magnificent breasts and she knew it.

"You like these?" she asked me rhetorically. I checked to make sure my mouth wasn't open.

"Uh huh," I mumbled. Jesus Christ, what did I get myself into?

"I didn't hear your answer. Are you telling me you don't like my breasts?" she asked me, challenging my lukewarm answer.

"No . . . no . . . I . . . I . . . ," I stuttered.

It was instinctive to protest, but she backed me into a verbal corner.

"What were you about to say?" she asked me. The tone of her voice made me want to answer even though I didn't want to answer.

She stood there and waited. I could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway.

"I like . . . your breasts," I finally blurted out.

She smiled. That made me happy. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Uh no," I answered. Of course it was hard. Did I routinely tell a woman I barely knew that I liked her breasts?

"That's a good boy. My boot is waiting. If you want to know me better, and I mean in the way that your smutty mind is thinking, you're going to have to get down on your knees and lick my fucking boot right now."

I was trying not to hyperventilate. I had prayed to meet Claire, but not this way. What she wanted me to do was disgusting and degrading, but strangely it was what I wanted too. My cock was like a steel rod, about to bust through my pants. I hated myself for loving this.

Claire looked at my jeans with my cock pushing out the soaked denim and started to laugh. She knew she'd already hooked me. Then her face turned stern, showing me who was boss. I got the message loud and clear.

"Do it.

Now

," she barked.

I was free to leave. I'd just never be able to look at her house again after leaving with my tail between my legs. Did I want a life of boredom or sheer terror? I was tired of being bored. I'd play her game. Then I realized her eyes were boring into the back of my skull while my imagination was running wild. She was demanding action, and to my amazement my body obeyed. I got on my knees and bent over, my tongue tasting snow and dirt with a hint of salt. My cock was leaking like a faucet. I was getting off on my first taste of submission.

"That's a good boy gray," she said, using the pet name she'd given me during our last session. She patted the thinning hair on top of my head. "A very good boy."

Then she asserted her dominance over me. She ground the sole of her boot against the crotch of my pants, twisting her foot back and forth against my tortured erection. In my kneeling position I had no choice but to accept her aggression, gritting my teeth through the pain.

"So you're enjoying making love to my shoe." She lifted her foot higher so she was balancing on one leg, turning the sole towards me. She rested her hand on my shoulder to steady herself.

"There's more to clean . . . if you're willing."

I caressed the fine leather of her boot and tilted the angle of the boot to expose the sole to my eyes. I licked the wet leather bottom, imagining it was her full breasts, relishing my complete submission to her. The dirt and snow tasted like caviar and champagne.

She looked at my handiwork and smiled.

"You may address me as Miss Claire and thank me."

"Thank you Miss Claire," I said sincerely. It was my fantasy come true. "May I lick your other one?" I asked politely.

She smiled. "Of course," she said, standing on her right foot and lifting her left. I held her boot in my hand to steady her. I started with the upper before cleaning the sole. I started to get a warm feeling in my belly as I basked in her presence. She took her foot away from me when she was satisfied and started to leave, but stopped to give me one last order.

"Just leave your boots and socks on the tray by the door, and the wet jeans and boxers on the chair. I'll be back in a minute." She took off her boots, padding away barefoot and leaving me in the entranceway to undress. I was entering the world of the surreal. I was ordered to strip naked while Claire was going to slip into something more comfortable?

Her matter-of-fact instruction was a surprise, but it seemed it would be insulting now if I brought my icy pants into her formal space. I watched her as she disappeared into the kitchen imagining what she looked like nude and what we might do together. I set aside my salacious thoughts to slip off the frozen jeans and put them on the chair next to the mat. I was feeling a bit silly naked waiting for her to come back.

It had already been a couple minutes so my eyes started to wander. They fixed upon an oversize baroque style mirror. Inside the ornate frame was the image in silhouette of a flabby man, the product of too much fast food and pizza and not enough exercise. I laughed when I saw my erection, a short, thick cock surrounded by a nest of graying hair, knowing I was enjoying the humiliation dished out by Miss Claire. I was anticipating the rewards for sublimating myself to Miss Claire's perverted fantasies.

When she returned, it was if her inner light was shining, brightening up the entranceway. I saw now that her sweater was unbuttoned, and she wore a crisp white blouse under it with a V neckline, and her tweed skirt was fitted at the hips but flared wider at the bottom. Her legs were bare and she had exchanged her boots for flat shoes of burgundy leather. The skirt was just above her knees. Her full breasts were evident under her sheer blouse. She looked spectacular of course. I followed her to the kitchen, surprisingly not embarrassed by my nakedness with a woman I'd just become acquainted with. Claire had put the kettle on and was fixing a tray of tea and English biscuits.

"Hmm, so far you're attentive and following instructions with no back talk. Are you always so helpful? Who's a good boy? Is gray a good boy?"

It could still be a joke if I left it at that. No harm, just playful banter. Claire was studying me now with a serious look. She was obviously sizing me up - - for what I didn't know.

"Yes, Miss Claire," I answered obediently.

The tea kettle was whistling now, breaking the tension. Having studied me, she sorted through the contents of a kitchen drawer, pulling out several items I couldn't quite make out.

"Well, let's see how good you can be. We'll have tea in the library. Put on what I've left on the counter and follow me."

Claire left several items on the marble countertop as she went out with the tea tray. I stepped closer to examine them: a scuffed black leather dog collar, a silvery chain leash, and two similar wrist cuffs. I felt I was too deep into this already to leave, so I picked up the dog collar to fasten around my neck

It seemed that everything that Claire did was deliberate with an underlying purpose. I could feel the collar cinch against my neck as I pulled it tight before buckling it. The cuffs were obviously to restrain me, but how and to what end? I took a deep breath and went after her holding the chain and wearing nothing but the collar and cuffs.

The library was warmly lit, with wooden shelves holding hundreds of hardback and leather-bound books, a small dark brown leather sofa and two matching leather club chairs placed strategically in front of a fireplace with a crackling fire in it. The mahogany butler's table next to the sofa held the tea service and Claire was perched on the sofa, her shapely legs crossed at the ankles. She was smiling now, holding a blue and white tea cup of fine bone china. As I came into the room, I saw that there was a second tea cup, but also a scuffed metal dog dish on a mat on the deep red oriental rug. Claire held out a hand towards the leash I was carrying.

"Fork in the road gray. Do we laugh now and let the joke pass or is there going to be something more? Surrender the leash to me if you want more. Otherwise it's a cup of tea and a friendly neighborly conversation. What'll it be?"

My body was way ahead of my mind and already responding in obvious ways, not the least of which was the erection I was sporting. I placed the leather handle of the leash into Claire's waiting hand. It was all starting to make sense. The dog collar was my symbol of obedience and fealty to her. My handing her the leash was my way of telling her that she was in control of my body and not me.

A smile curled up on her lips. "Interesting choice. A few questions, before the tea."

"Height?"

"6' 1"."

"Weight?"

"231."

"Divorced?"

"Yes, for a long time."

"Last orgasm, and how?"

"Two days ago. Masturbation as usual."

"Which hand?"

"Right."

"Submissive fantasies?"

My constant daydreaming revolved around my submissive fantasies. Most of the porn videos I watched were about female domination. With submission came sexual gratification, but with Miss Claire there was also fear, and surprisingly fear heightened my sense of gratification..

"A few," I reluctantly admitted. I wondered why I was embarrassed at my answer after licking her shoes clean.

She gave me a skeptical look. "A few?"

Again she waited for the full confession.

"All the time Miss Claire. I think about it all the time," I said, baring my soul.

I got another smile of recognition and an acknowledgement that warmed my heart. She took the teapot and poured my share into the dog bowl instead of the cup.

"Drink your tea before it gets cold."

The leash was slack as I knelt on the rug, allowing me to position my face over the bowl. As I slurped the tea, with my beard getting wet, Claire got up and came over. I saw she was holding a metal snap hook.

"Wrists behind our back please."

I paused slurping the tea to lift my face and put my arms behind me. I felt her cool fingers, then my wrists cuffed together. I knelt again to finish the tea. I was sinking deep into the well of submission.

Claire was seated now on the edge of the sofa, with her legs wide now and her wearing nothing underneath. With a sharp tug on the leash, she brought me closer so could see her pussy, untrimmed and wild. I could smell her now. She had a unique scent, gamey and rich, which I tried to imprint in my brain. I inhaled deeply and kissed and licked her thighs under the skirt, letting my tongue slither across her smooth flesh, soft and fragrant. Being bound at the wrists made the experience more fulfilling. It was a constant reminder that she controlled her pleasure and mine.

I responded to the tug of her leash, moving higher to the source of her heat. She didn't explain herself or make any statements -- my role was clear - to please her and no one else, not even me. I dared not touch myself, even though I could have made myself cum instantly. I was using my head to push her skirt up and my lips and tongue were my vessels to explore her, taste her and remember her. She moved one leg to pull me forward, and tugged on the chain to get me moving with the right rhythm. I kept on nibbling, thrusting, sucking and licking, my need for her insatiable. I felt ashamed that she found me worthy of touching her most private of places, to feast on her womaness - her essence.

I couldn't believe my good fortune in turning my losing battle with my snowblower into being a slave to a beautiful woman and being allowed to lick her fragrant pussy. She acted as if she was bored, but I knew she wasn't. Her body was reacting to me, and that was something she couldn't control. Her pussy spasmed with each lick, and with each contraction I was rewarded with a dollop of her delicious nectar. Her hand started stroking the top of my head as my tongue traveled lower, down that ribbed ridge of skin between her pussy and her asshole.

She was unsuccessful in stifling a sigh when my tongue rimmed her asshole. It winked back at me with each stab of my tongue. She shifted to allow better access to her asshole. Her sweet fucking asshole, offered to me for plunder. I mashed my lips against it, kissing it like it was another pair of lips, swirling my tongue around her butthole while my lips were sealed against her ass. I was making love to her back channel, probing it with my tongue and forcing the tiny opening wider so I could wiggle in the tip.

I could tell she was close. Her thighs started quivering. It felt like I could make her cum with just another little push but with bound hands that wasn't an option. Besides, I was content to be worshipping her asshole. She took the liberty of slipping her hand down to her pussy, teasing the nub as I tongue fucked her ass. Her body stilled and I knew she was cumming. There was no hiding her shortness of breath and the tension in her body. Precum was dripping off my dick. For once, I didn't care about myself but only about her pleasure. I made her cum and it was the best feeling in the world.

To my dismay she acted as if my lovemaking was only adequate. "Good boy. You'll do for now," she said with a clear lack of emotion. I backed away on my knees. Her skirt fell back in place and the color came back to her face. She was quick to gather her composure after a rousing orgasm.

She jerked on the leash so I was looking up at her.

"Don't think it was good. It wasn't. I've had better. But you're trainable. And you don't lack for enthusiasm like the younger ones who are attracted to the next shiny object. You know your place in the world. You've tried conventional sex. It was never enough though, was it? You don't want a woman who goes through the motions with you, making you feel like your prick is some all-powerful tool. I'm someone who knows what you really want. Your place is to serve woman like me. A strong woman who isn't impressed by your manliness or your puny cock. Isn't that so gray? You can lick the rug in front of my feet is you agree."

I got on my hands and knees and licked the fine wool rug, with some of the fibers sticking to my tongue. I didn't care. It was the ground she walked on and was worthy of worship. She looked down, pleased.

"Good boy. Here's the deal. We're not going to the prom together, or the movies, and you'll never be my boyfriend. I enjoy control, so I'll make the choices. I have no interest in how you think this should go. You'll learn some useful skills if I decide to see you again. And someday, and that someday may be tomorrow or years from now, I'll lose interest in you so you'll only have fond memories. But that's enough gray isn't it? Or maybe more than you hoped for?"

Before I could answer I heard the front door slam shut and footsteps coming down the hallway towards me. I tried to think about how exposed and ridiculous I looked, naked with my wrists bound behind my back, being restrained by a dog leash.

"Hey, Claire, so I stopped at Whole Foods liked you asked me to," a female voice shouted as it came closer. "They didn't have the Alaskan salmon you wanted and . . . oh my God!"

I was still on my knees, with my face wet with Claire's juices. I turned quickly to see a younger woman coming into the library. She was attractive, slim and dark haired, and I was surprised to see how she was dressed in such frigid weather: a very short black skirt, sheer white silk blouse with her bra evident underneath, black "fuck me" pumps and topped with an unzipped parka. Her legs were smooth and bare. There was no hiding my continued arousal. She looked at me, and then my erection, rolling her eyes and then laughed.