Claudia's Surrender: The Case of the Reluctant Submissive

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Sam didn’t chain her up for dinner. As much as he enjoyed hand-feeding Red, he liked watching her eat on her own just as much. She seemed to really like his cooking, which he found gratifying, but it might also be because left to her own devices she just nuked herself a frozen meal. Maybe she wasn’t much of a cook.

He liked to keep her naked, but she often complained that he kept the air conditioning set too low for her to be completely comfortable that way. They had agreed on a compromise. He’d bought her a fluffy white terrycloth bathrobe to wear whenever he did not bind or chain her. It was a size or so too large for her. When she stood, it fell almost to her ankles, and she could never belt it securely enough to keep him from getting tantalizing glimpses of a breast or a thigh whenever she moved. Sometimes, that was a lot sexier than complete nudity.

He wasn’t eating at the moment. He found that his hunger just to watch this woman was greater than his hunger for food. At the moment, she was too busy eating to notice, stoking her splendid body. She really did remind him of a thoroughbred, he thought: Spirited, strong and vital.

Claudia noticed him staring at her and paused with a forkful of that delicious, spicy pork halfway to her lips. He had an odd look in his eyes. It was partly that familiar hungering look of his, and partly…something else.

“What?” she asked. She looked down quickly to see if she’d dropped any food onto her snowy-white robe.

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “I just like looking at you.”

“While I’m eating?”

“While you’re eating, while you’re sleeping…just about any time.” Claudia felt herself blush, and she saw his grin widen.

“That’s not nice,” she admonished him with a grin of her own. “Now I won’t be able to eat any of this meal with you staring at me.” She lifted her fork to her mouth. She didn’t know what he’d used to season the pork, but it had an aftertaste that tingled.

“Sure you can,” he smiled. “You’re a strong woman. And anyhow, the food is way too good to let it go to waste.”

“Is it indeed?” She stabbed one of the buttery small potatoes with her fork next, then stared at him as she took a dainty bite out of it. She could eat with him staring at her after all, she thought, if she was staring back at him while she did it.

“It is indeed,” he replied, returning her stare as he lifted his own fork to his mouth.

It became a game between them then, to eat their respective meals while staring intently into each other’s eyes. Blinking was allowed. Further conversation was not allowed. Claudia began toying with her food, licking it, putting it slowly into her mouth and pulling it slowly out again. She knew she was teasing him by doing that, but she was trying to get him to laugh or look away before he could make her laugh or look away.

Her plan did not work. It wasn’t until she’d finished her meal that she realized he wasn’t at all likely to look away while she was doing all those sexually suggestive things with her food. He was left with just one small potato left on his plate, and he tried to stab it with his fork while still staring at her with that ferocious and hungry gaze. He just missed. The potato skittered off of his plate, rolled across the small table, and bounced onto the floor. She completely lost it when he ignored all that and pretended to eat the potato anyway, never changing his expression.

“Okay…okay…” she gasped, holding up a hand. “You win!” He started laughing. That set her off again. She laughed until her sides hurt and tears were streaming from her eyes. The next thing she knew, he was picking her up in his arms. He gave her a quick and awkward kiss…he was still laughing himself…and carried her out of the kitchen into her bedroom.

“Mmmmm….” Claudia purred some time later. “That was very nice.” She slid her leg over his and laid her head against his shoulder. He didn’t always tie her up for s*x, which she liked sometimes, but she had never in her life before made love while both she and her partner were convulsed with laughs, chuckles and, in her case, irrepressible giggles.

He put his arm around her and held her close. “Red,” he sighed happily, “’Nice’ doesn’t begin. But you gotta watch those claws of yours. My back’s never gonna heal at this rate.”

She had to giggle at that. She hadn’t really scratched him badly this time. He’d been too quick to grab her wrists and pin them down once he’d felt her nails starting to dig into his flesh. At the time, that had set them both off on another peal of hilarity.

This was the calm after the storm. She closed her eyes content now just to feel his nearness, his warmth and his strength. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I guess from now on if you aren’t going to tie me up or tie me down you’ll just have to let me get on top.”

He grunted noncommittally and kissed her forehead. “Or you could wear mittens,” he suggested.

“Gee…I don’t know…” she teased. “Wouldn’t that be kind of kinky?”

“Mittens? Nah…” he replied sleepily. “Now, boxing gloves…THAT would be kinky.”

They both laughed, but the wild storm had passed and this was just a last straggling squall.

“Sam…” she said after a moment “I have to ask you…”

“What?”

“Back then…back at the bungalow…” she could feel herself blushing as she brought the subject up, and was glad that it was too dark for him to see it. “How…how did you know I would…go along with…all that?”

“Ah, Red…” he chuckled and drew her closer. “My first clue was when you didn’t just run out of the place screaming. Course, I didn’t know you that well then or my first clue would’ve been when you didn’t start kicking all our asses.”

“Come on,” she nudged him playfully. “I’m serious.”

“So am I, Red,” he answered. “But if you gotta know, well, my second clue was your feet.”

“My feet?”

“Yeah. You were wearing some kind of sandals that day, and I got a good look at ‘em.”

“What have my FEET got to do with that?”

“Oh…” he yawned, “It’s just a little something I found to be a pretty good indicator. Your second toes are a little bit longer than your big toes. And you have very pretty feet, by the way.”

She frowned. He was right about her toes…well, about their relative lengths, anyway. But was that really a clue? “You’re kidding,” she said.

“I’m tellin’ the truth, Red,” he replied. “It’s not a one-hundred-percent-sure thing, but it worked for me before a lot more than it didn’t.” He chuckled. “I heard or read somewhere that those kinda feet were associated with werewolves. Given what you’ve done to my back already, I’m thinkin’ about tying you down REAL good come next full moon.”

She tried to stifle a giggle and failed. Most of it escaped through her nose in an unladylike snort.

“Does Dianne have the same kind of toes as I do?” she asked, tracing little circles on his chest with her forefinger.

“I hope you’re not upset about that, Red,” he answered cautiously. “I told you, I was a little bit crazy then.”

“Mmm…” she purred, digging her nail into him a little. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Red,” he sighed, “What difference does it make now? I came looking for YOU. I’m here with you now.”

“Until when, Sam?” she asked. “Can you promise you’ll stay with me?” Her original impression of him, that he was not the kind to stay, had come back to haunt her. She could feel it lying between them now, even with their flesh touching, breast to chest, belly to hip, leg to leg.

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know, Red,” he answered at last. “My first thought is to make that promise, because it’s what I want to do NOW. But…” he shrugged “This is all kinda new to me. For two years, I kept thinking about you. I had dreams about you. And for the past year, any time I met a woman, I’d find myself comparing her to you sooner or later. They never came off well when I did that.”

“But?” she prompted.

“Yeah…but.” He nodded. “I thought I knew what I wanted, Red. Then I met you and after just a couple of days you walked away. I thought, well, that was fun and memorable, but she’s got other stuff to do and there’s lots of other willing ladies out there. Yep, they were out there, but none of them were you or even close to you. You ruined me for other women. I fought it, but I knew I’d have to find you again, and find out if you were what I remembered or just what I imagined.”

“So, what am I?” she asked.

“More than a little bit of both and a bit more than either. I’m glad I came looking for you.” He gave her a quick, one-armed hug.

“But will you stay?”

“What do you mean by that, Red? Stay for another day, another week, a month, a year, forever? I don’t know myself right now. This is all new to me.” He yawned. “What I CAN promise right here and now is that as long as I’m with you, it’ll be just you and nobody else.”

She felt disappointed, and she wasn’t sure why. He was being honest with her, she was sure, but that wasn’t quite enough. What would be enough? For him to tell her that he loved her and he would never, ever leave? It would be nice to hear, but she wouldn’t believe him, not right now. He’d come halfway around the world to see her again, he’d told her, but he hadn’t once said he loved her yet.

On the other hand…she hadn’t told him that she loved him either. Did she love him? She did not know. The sight of him always made her heart skip, but was that love…or lust? Or was it neither one by itself? This was as new to her as it was to him, she thought. It would not be fair to him to expect him to make a commitment that she wasn’t willing to make herself. She didn’t like this train of thought. It threw a big, wet blanket over all of the laughing and playing and fierce-yet-tender s*x that had preceded it.

“Just me? Only me?” she asked teasingly, changing the subject. “Even if Dianne comes to visit?”

This felt way too much like walking into a minefield to him. Was there ANY safe answer to that question?

“I gotta ask you what you mean by THAT, Red.” He knew that she and Dianne had “played” together more than once, but he was wary about this sudden change of course.

“Well…” her fingernail was back to tracing swirls on his chest again. “Don’t most guys have fantasies about threesomes?”

Okay…was this an invitation or bait for a trap? “I don’t know about most guys, Red.”

“Come on…you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

“Well, you’ve got me thinking about it now.”

“And?”

“And what? I’m just thinking…and I’m wondering why you brought this up.” He wished he could see her face, but all he could see was the back of her head as it lay on his chest, and it was too dark to see her expression anyway. Well, he wasn’t going to try to defend himself until or unless she attacked…if she was going to attack. He didn’t know, and not for the first time, he wished he had a better idea what went on behind Red’s lovely green eyes.

“Anyway,” he said, stroking her hair. “Don’t women have fantasies about threesomes too?”

She stirred, chuckling. “I suppose some do,” she replied. “But, you see, for a woman the fantasy is likely to be about two guys and a girl, not two girls and a guy.”

“Is it that way with you, Red?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she suddenly rolled off of the bed and onto the floor. She struck a pose on all fours, her head up, her back arched. He could just make out her form in the streetlights that filtered through the drapes. As always, she was lovely.

“Okay,” she said. Her voice sounded playful again. “Now, how many c***s do you have, Sam?”

“Just the one,” he chuckled. “Why?”

“And with me like this, how many hot, wet holes do I have that you can stick that c**k in?”

Was this a trick question? “Three,” he said. He ought to know.

“Right.” She bounded back into the bed and snuggled close to him, pulling up the covers. Well, it was a bit chilly in her apartment. “See,” she went on, “one man can only service one hole at a time. A woman might fantasize about two guys and two holes at once. But if guys are fantasizing about TWO women…well, aren’t they biting off more than they can chew?”

“We’ve got hands too, Red,” he chided. “And tongues.”

“Oh, my dear Sam,” she sighed, “They aren’t the same thing. They can be quite stimulating, but they just aren’t the same thing.”

He still wasn’t sure what she was getting at, or even if she was trying to get at anything.

“All right,” he conceded. “But what’s your point, Red?”

“I thought I’d made my point.”

“If you did, I missed it. Are you talking about having another guy come in?”

“No,” she said without any hesitation. “I’m just talking about fantasies, and how they can be different for men and women.”

“Oh?” he shifted into a more comfortable position, still holding her close. He loved the feel of her body against his, he loved the sound of her voice in the still darkness. “So what kind of fantasies do you have, Red?”

“Don’t I still talk in my sleep?”

“Not lately,” he said.

She laughed, not loudly. “And does that bother you, my dear Sam?”

“No,” he replied. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“So…” she put her face close to his and kissed him once. “Shall I tell you some of my deep, dark fantasies?” She laid a slim finger across his lips before continuing. “Just remember…they might be my fantasies, but that doesn’t mean I want to act them out. I’m still getting used to you, Sam…and to me, all over again.”

He kissed her fingertip before she withdrew it. “I understand,” he said. Should he have told her that now that he’d found her again he didn’t want to share her with anybody? Not even with Dianne? Would she have believed him?

She took a long breath before beginning. “I have one, in particular, that keeps coming back to me.” Her voice was a low murmur, barely audible. She laid her head back down on his chest. He couldn’t see her face at all now, and wondered if that was deliberate. Was it easier for her to talk about this if she wasn’t looking at him?

“There’s a big mansion, out in the country somewhere,” she began. “It’s a huge place, and it’s surrounded by a high wall, very private and secure. There’s a big party going on there, in a huge hall. All of the men are wearing elegant and very expensive suits…” She fell silent for a moment.

“And the women?” he prompted her with another one-armed hug.

“I was getting to that,” she murmured. “There are plenty of women there, but no matter how they were dressed when they were brought in, whether they wore beautiful gowns or jeans and t-shirts, now they’re all buck-naked. They’re all blindfolded with a soft black cloth. They’re also all handcuffed. Well, sometimes their hands are tied behind them, with more cloth or ropes…but usually they’re handcuffed. There’s just something about the simplicity of handcuffs…that cold, hard steel imprisoning that soft, warm flesh…”

He made a sound of assent to let her know he was listening.

“I’m one of the women there. None of us saw any of the others before we were prepared and led into the hall, but I know there are a lot of other women there besides me.”

“How do you know?” he asked. He felt her shrug.

“Different ways,” she answered. “I can smell their different perfumes, or I can hear a woman’s voice whenever one of the men touches or fondles her. I don’t know exactly how many other women there are, but I know they’re there. I can’t see, so if I move, I move very carefully, kind of sliding my feet along the thick carpeting. Every so often I can feel a man’s hands on my ass or my breasts or my waist. Sometimes it’s a caress, sometimes it’s more like a squeeze, or maybe an affectionate pat. You see, the men are walking among all these chained and naked women to pick out which one they want to spend the night with. We can’t see them, and we can’t stop them from touching us. Some of the men pinch my n*****s, not too hard, just to hear what kind of noise I might make when they do that. Others run a finger or a thumb across my lips. Somehow I know that that’s a signal for me to open my mouth for them, so I do, and then the finger or thumb might go into my mouth. If it does, I suck on it, gently.”

She shivered in his arms. “It’s all very slow-motion and dreamlike at first, but as time goes by, the hands on my body get harder and rougher. At some point, a man grips me by the back of my neck to guide me. He presses me up against another woman, and we have to kiss and move against each other for the amusement of all the men. Her mouth is hot…not warm, HOT…and I can feel that her breasts are bigger than mine. I can smell her perfume very clearly then, but I can also tell that she’s very excited and aroused…just as I am.”

“Interesting,” he said. Indeed, it was very interesting. He could feel himself getting aroused by her story. “Is that it?”

“Oh, no!” she chuckled. “It goes on. You see, when a man finally chooses a woman, he puts a big leather collar on her and buckles it in place himself. Then he clips a leash to it and begins to lead her away…to a more private place. There’s always this terrific rush I get when I feel the collar being put around my neck.”

“And then what?”

It usually ends there,” she replied sleepily. “By then, I’m usually worked up enough to get myself off pretty quickly. You see, the main thing is to be CHOSEN. Being chosen is very pretty much the whole point, so I put up with all of the feeling and groping and fondling and semi-forced girl-girl stuff. Not that I mind it all that much…”

“Mind what?” he asked. “The feeling or the groping or the…”

“ANY of it, you dimbulb male.” She pinched his side playfully. “It’s what we have to go through to be chosen. The men don’t only want to know how we look or feel, but what we do, too…how we react to all those things. That’s how they pick us.”

“But you don’t even know who picked you or what he looks like.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “But that just add to the fantasy. I DON’T know who picked me, and I don’t know what he plans to do.”

“So the uncertainty is a turn-on?” He felt her shiver.

“Oh, yes!” She was emphatic. “Will he be kind or cruel? Sometimes I can get a clue from the way he puts the collar on me, or how hard he pulls on the leash to get me moving.”

“You said it usually ends there. What happens when it doesn’t end there?”

She shrugged. “It depends. I’m led away to another room. Sometimes it’s nearby, sometimes it’s a long walk to some remote part of the mansion. I know we’ve arrived when I hear a big, heavy door close behind me.”

“Mmmm…” he began stroking her back gently. “And then what?”

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” she asked.

“How can you tell?” he responded jokingly.

“Oh…little things,” she answered. He felt her fingers close softly around his c**k. “I can just tell.”

He had to chuckle. “But then what, Red? What does he do to you in that private room?”

“Ah…” she hesitated before going on. “I didn’t tell you…sometimes I’m led down long flights of stairs. When I feel cold stones under my feet instead of thick carpet, I now I’ve been taken to some dark, dark basement. Sometimes I can hear other women moaning or screaming, but faintly, like they were behind thick wooden doors. I think it’s some kind of dungeon, and I get a bit scared then. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. Actually, there was nothing I could do about it once I agreed to come here. I knew that all along.” Her fingers, slim and strong, closed more tightly around the shaft of his c**k and began slowly stroking it. He could feel himself swelling and hardening.

“Ahhh...Red…”

“Hush,” she admonished him. Her fingers kept stroking and squeezing. “Let me finish. I can hear other men’s voices, all around me, but they’re talking so quietly I can’t make out what they’re saying, or how many of them there are. Then I feel hard, strong hands grab me and force me to my knees on those cold stones. I try to fight them, but they’re too many and too strong, and I get slapped for resisting. They hold me there so I can’t get up, and then I feel someone grab me by my hair and I get slapped again. I know what’s coming, and I know I can’t stop it, but I try to at first.” She took a deep breath. “And then…I give up. I yield. I whimper once just before I open my mouth as wide as I can for the first hard, merciless cock…”

He never did hear any more of her story, because he felt her lips close around the head of his own hard, merciless c**k and begin to suck. He took a fistful of her coppery hair, but did not use the grip to urge her on. She knew what she was doing, and she could do it very well, and he never interfered with an expert who knew what they were doing. He could hear her making little murmurs of pleasure along with the soft, wet sounds he was coming to know so well. He’d been pretty well drained before, and it was probably going to take her a while to make him come again, but if she didn’t mind, he sure as Hell didn’t mind either. He squeezed the back of her neck once, gently. Something about her pose made him think, irrationally, of a vampire feeding on her prey. He almost laughed out loud at the thought but didn’t. She would have wanted to know what he was laughing at. He didn’t think he could explain it clearly, and anyway it would break the mood. He gave her slender neck another affectionate squeeze and moaned just loud enough for her to hear.