Part three of Maren's fall into submission.
Story is a continuation of a series. All characters 21+.
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In my dreams, the gentle sensation of Sir's lips trailing down my delicate neck stirs something deep inside of me. Moaning, I feel a subconscious force compel me to move closer to the stimulation. I sense myself moan aloud. My ears grow warm and my cheeks flush as I become hot with a burning desire. Noticing a tingle between my legs, my eyes shoot open and I scream with pleasure as the sound of vibrations fills the room. Panting, I scramble to move away from the feeling only to find my limbs bound in place.
Terror building within me, I look around to see Sir grinning while sitting in a chair, watching me writhe. A shiver of fear trails down my spine as frustration builds from my confinement. I can't understand his sadism nor my desire for more of his treatment.
"You tried calling me five times over the past three weeks," Sir starts. "I can only assume that you were calling, desperate, for my touch." He stands and runs his finger down my leg, and softly says, "To cum." His eyes penetrate me, uncovering something invisible to others. There's an almost tangible presence, begging to emerge. It frightens me.
My mind returns to my body as I gasp in agony, feeling another orgasm reverberate through me. "You had two orgasms before even waking up, sweet girl," Sir says. He leans down and whispers in my ear, "Your sitting in a puddle of your own juices. I had a small taste, but I need more." He rakes his lips down my naked and restrained body, turning off the vibrator.
He kneels down, his tongue teases gently at my swollen clit. Sensitive and raw, I try to close my legs and prevent him, but the restraints prove too secure. He presses his tongue, flat and wide, at the bottom of my slit. Slowly, he drags his tongue up, taking a moment to dip into my sweet hole, he stops before reaching my clit. He swallows loudly and embarrassment rises within me. Now with a point, his tongue presses into the soft hood of my clit and bounces slightly against it. My pussy clenches, and I feel myself leak onto my bed. Sir then sucks my clit into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the little button. My feet curl as another orgasm rips through me. I scream.
My mind is foggy and disoriented, as I ask what day it is.
Sir stands and releases my legs. He massages the blood back into them, pulling at my toes. "It's only Sunday." He reaches to release my arms and wraps me into an embrace. He kisses me lightly on the forehead and instructs me to get dressed.
Following a light wash-up, I enter the living room in a short dress. Sir hands me a cup of coffee and pats the couch. He starts, "How was yesterday and this morning?"
Looking at my hands, I respond meekly, "I enjoyed it. But, I don't want to do that again. It's not right." A lie.
He leers at me moving closer so my legs are across his lap. "I disagree. You needed it." He leans towards me, putting his weight on my plush thighs. "How much longer do you have on your lease," Sir asks. His elbow digs into my thigh as his hand slips under my skirt and he toys with the band of my panties.
"Umm..three more months, Sir." Distracted by his touch, I answer dazedly, "And you should know, my parents already hated that I moved so far, they would be horrified if I was living with a man, too."
Sir gazes down at me with narrowed eyes and says, "I suppose they'll be horrified then. You aren't good at living on your own, Maren. You're going to move in with me."
My face contorts as I defiantly push him away, sitting up. "You can't force me live with you," I scoff, though a subtle desire lingers beneath my challenge. Deep down, I know he could. In a way, I yearn for him to make me yield to his demands.
Sir leans back, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "I can, and I will."
A surge of irritation boils within me, pushing me to rise as I yell, "Get out. I am not some naive girl. I never agreed with you intruding into my life like this." Yet, beneath the surface of my outcry, I desire him. I want him to overtake my world. I resent him, but I crave the connection he offers.
Tears flow freely as I tremble, urging, "You need to leave." The words sear as they leave from my lips, and somehow, my body recognizes the lies.
My hands tremble once I finish, and he studies me inquisitively. A knowing look cross his face, and he smiles, "I understand now, Maren."
My heart pounds in my chest. Sir continues, "You like the struggle."
"No, that's not what this is," I protest. He knows me.
Sir seizes my hair, pulling me to the couch. The familiar sense of dread begins to consume me as the memory of my spankings flashes through my mind. He forces me to kneel in front of the couch, pushing my head into the seat cushion. He moves his grip to my neck as he speaks.
With his other hand, he gently strokes the side of my face. My head throbs, and I feel dehydrated from the nonstop crying. He massages my temple and kisses gingerly upon my face. Despite his loving touch, I want to recoil from him. His indifference for my pleas serves as an ominous sign for the future ahead. As much as I hate to admit it, he's right about my laziness. The admission burns like bile in my throat.
My laziness has encompassed my life, hindering me greatly. Tears well up in my eyes, and I struggle to hold back sobs.
Assertively, Sir tells me, "I understand what is best for you, my sweet girl. You must have faith that I will do right by you. Regardless, we both know that I don't require your compliance."
The last sentence seems to have dragged on longer than the others as I rationalize with what just he's said. "But, I-," My words cease abruptly as his hand comes down hard on my left butt cheek.
"You will not speak without permission. Your role is to listen and understand," Sir commands with great authority. Unable to suppress my tears, I cry as he massages the cheek he hit.
He continues, "I intended for you to stay here and wait before moving in with me. However, I think we'll have to start your move sooner." His hand returns to gently wipe away the tears from my face. My arms remain glued to my side unsure of what he might find fault with and punish me for.
Gasping for air through my tears, I plead, "Please Daniel! I swear I'll listen. I am not ready to leave my home. It's all too overwhelming. Please."
"Hm, you'll understand your new position soon," Sir whispers into my ear, before slapping my face. "You used the wrong name, slut. You're smarter than that."
He releases my neck, and I sink back on my heels, head bowed low. Straddling me, he gently lifts my chin, our eyes locking in a fiery gaze. I wonder what he is thinking, plotting. With a shuddering breath, I maintain the stare, attempting to feign strength.
"You may speak now," he grants. His hand reaches into the pocket of his jeans, fiddling with something unseen.
Still locked in his gaze, I begin, "So, what's next? I move in with you, and then what? I'm not leaving my job."
I'm unsure of what I expect him to say. Part of me yearns for an apology, for him to admit it was some type of charade. That he never truly stalked me, only captivated by my aura. Yet, another part of me desires for it all to be true - a man obsessed with me, wanting me so deeply that he'd risk everything for me. I wonder, how can he be so sure that I won't tell what's happened to anyone?
He smiles, wrapping me up into his embrace. "You agree that you need help, right Maren? I will help you make a plan and stick to it. No need to leave your job, yet." I respond with a soft, "Okay."
Sir bends to rub his lips against my neck. He asks gently, "You struggle to keep house, are far too idle, and you are inconsistent. Correct, Maren?"
With my pulse quickening and lip trembling, I whimper, "Yes, Sir."
"Say it aloud, sweet girl," he commands.
Sighing, I say, "I need to keep better care of my home. I need to be more active everyday, Sir."
"So, you agree that I can help you. That by living with me, I will hold you accountable each day. You know this to be true."
Feeling small and weak, trapped in his arms, I can't help but agree with him. "Yes, Sir," I say defeatedly.
He releases me from his hold and I to the opposite end of the couch. His hand slips into his pocket to retrieve his phone and, with a tap to the screen, the sound of my voice echoes through the living room. My face drops as realization dawns. "You tricked me," I exclaim. "How could you record me without my knowledge?"
His expression transforms, a mess of threat and amusement consumes him. He smiles as he says, "You can't be so foolish, Maren. I have plenty of pictures and recordings. However, I merely confirmed that you need help. I wouldn't want you to change your mind, only to revert to the worse version of yourself."
"Why are you going to this extreme? Why not just ask me on a date?" I protest. "Why would you treat anyone you admired like this?"
A thrill glimmers in his eyes as he speaks, "A date would confuse you. It would make you lose trust in me if I dominated you after a date. Even if I waited until we were closer, a sudden shift would be met with the wrong kind of resistance."
Lost in thought, I think to myself that he is right. I would never allow a boyfriend to treat me in this way.
Sir adds, "We needed to start on the right foot, with me undeniably in charge and you submitting. I admire you now, Maren. And, I admire you more for the woman I intend to shape you into being."
I am not sure that my heart has stopped racing since meeting him. Yet, my heart yearns, needs, to understand this part of myself.
The rest of the day slips away committed to packing my suitcases with my essentials. Sir arranges movers to handle the rest of my belongings, ensuring a quick transition to his home. As I fold my clothing - I can't help but wonder what will happen when he grows bored of me. When my submission is no longer a challenge for him to attain, will he dispose of me? The uncertainty of the future casts a darker shadow over the busy evening. I need to tell someone, but the chance I might enjoy who I become pushes me forward.
Sir drives the car for half an hour, stopping to get us food on the way to his house. Nestled in the hills near the coast, a mere fifteen minutes from my job, his secluded home is shrouded by a towering hedge, concealing any secrets. He pulls into his garage and gets out, opening my door to unbuckle my seatbelt.
Instantly, I notice the immaculately clean and organized tool setup with a strange variety of equipment. The detached garage appears to have a mysterious second level above the car park, its stairway door locked. The air holds an unsettling tension.
Entering his house, I am taken back by its classic beauty. A modern three-bedroom home adorned with giant windows overlooking a quiet backyard. Sir, with an unsettling calmness, instructs me to become familiar with my surroundings while he sets out our dinner.
During my exploration, I find a well-styled master bedroom and en suite. I find a deep walk-in closet with women's clothing in my size. Mentally noting the effort he has put in, I am evermore certain there is no way out now that I am here.
The remainder of the night is quiet as we both prepare for the upcoming work week. He envelops me in his warm embrace as we curl into bed, amidst the tenderness, my thoughts ponder a way out of this situation.
