Learning to Trust Part 2: Full Submission Read online

  "Ah, well, we're going to go to another part of the house today. Do follow me when you're ready." He turned around and slowly walked toward the side of the house, a side I hadn't yet seen.

  Where was he taking me if it couldn't be accessed from the main door?

  I immediately started to get nervous again and wished that I hadn't downed my entire water all at once. For a minute, I had forgotten about our last encounter, totally fixated on the one that was about to happen. This man had taken me on his couch, something I had allowed him to do. Well, mostly allowed him to do. Why was I so worried about today? Shouldn't I trust him by now?

  I basically threw myself out of the car and onto my feet, my balance wobbly as my legs adjusted to the sudden weight they were carrying. I closed the door and trotted after him, following along the fence that ran from the front porch to his garage area. He opened a gate and we walked through, pausing after I passed to ensure that the opening was closed securely behind him.

  I fought to control my heartbeat, trying my damndest not to freak out. Okay, you trust this guy, Marisa. Relax. Despite my wild imagination, he hadn't even done anything crazy yet.

  Well, that was about to change fast.

  "Come in through this side door. We've got some stairs ahead of us."

  I walked in as he turned on the light, surprised at how far down the stairs went. It was like there was a bunker under his house or something.

  "I know what you're thinking, Marisa—a bunker. Well, you're absolutely right. My dad built this during the whole red scare business. I use it for slightly different purposes now."

  I laughed. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

  "Everyone thinks that," he said.

  Okay, good. I'm apparently not the first person to come down here. Or he's done whatever he's going to do to me to a lot of other people before me...

  "Marisa, quiet down that mind of yours. I can tell how hard you're thinking by that look in your eyes. You'll go home safely tonight, I promise you that."

  His words calmed me. However, his consistency in knowing what I was thinking was maybe a little spooky. "Okay, Roland."

  We walked down what seemed like several winding flights of stairs, going in a circular pattern. I couldn't see in front of me, so I had no idea how much further we had to go—or how far we'd gone already. When there were no more stairs, we walked down a short hallway, finally arriving at a big steel door.

  "Sorry about all the traveling," he said. "I just have my privacy, you know?" He unlocked the door with a key he had in his pocket, turning it until I heard several loud clanks from deadbolts releasing. Roland pulled the heavy steel door open and flipped on a light switch. Fluorescent lights came to life slowly, one-by-one, until the whole chamber was lit.

  I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This room was three times larger than my entire apartment—and it was filled with whips, chains, tables, mats on the floor, and various other stuff that one might use to torture someone else. This was a dungeon. I walked inside, not even thinking, so overtaken by this incredibly foreign and mysterious room. The walls were dull grey and went on forever, blending into the same grey color of the floor. His toys were the real excitement, not the room. No, this dungeon would probably never get a makeover, nor did it need one in Roland's mind.

  "R-r-r-roland," I muttered. "What the hell is this?" He closed the door as I spoke, putting the deadbolts back into place behind us and turned a lock with his key—on the inside of the door.

  "It's not what it looks like, dear. I don't torture anyone down here—unless they ask for it." He smiled brightly as if his comment should comfort me for some reason, proudly standing next to the freshly locked door as if it was some sort of accomplishment

  "Roland, I don't know if I can—"

  "Shh," he said. "You're going to learn how to trust me down here. I've just made you privy to one of my biggest secrets."

  I started to panic and turned toward the door, pulling on the knob but finding that it wouldn't give at all. "Roland, please!" What was going to happen to me?

  "From now on, Marisa, you call me Sir, is that understood?"

  "Roland—"

  His eyes turned deadly serious. "I'm letting you off just this once. Next time you violate my rules, I'm going to punish you. You'll be just fine!"

  Tears started to well up in my eyes. Once I figured it out, I quickly took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I fought the urge to flee, trying to convince myself that being down here in this dungeon was somehow going to help my story. Why was I even in journalism, again?

  I couldn't remember.

  Okay, Marisa. Put yourself back together.

  "Okay." I pathetically choked it out. It was like a puff of smoke—barely present and then totally gone.

  "Who?" He looked at me with his very intense stare, so fierce that I feared it could literally knock me off balance.

  "Uh, Sir," I stammered. I felt humiliated, yet intrigued as the words came out of my mouth.

  "That's better," he said. "Follow me, my pet."

  I said nothing and followed him around a corner to a pair of leather chairs. At that point, I could have fled, but I didn't. I guess I wanted to—no, I needed to see where this was going. The ceilings were so high for this being a basement. It was a dungeon of steel and concrete, one decorated with sterile colors and devices like I'd never seen before.

  "Sit down," he said. He sat down in the chair to my left, guiding me to the one across from him with his hand motion.

  I again took his order without responding, afraid to call him Sir for a reason I didn't entirely understand. I guess I felt like I was still in control if I kept quiet. The leather was chilly where my bare skin make contact with it. I shivered, fighting to keep my teeth from chattering. There was a raised nub between my legs, one that pressed against my crotch. Interesting.

  "Oh, these aren't ordinary chairs," he said. "Custom, very expensive. Pull up the arm. You'll find a full set of controls at your disposal. You can have a heated massage if you choose. Go ahead."

  I flipped up the arm, and sure enough, it was exactly what he said it was. I clicked on the heat. Within a minute or so, the chair was warming me from top to bottom, cooking me like a pot on the stove. I was pleased with this change. I clicked on a light massage as well, suddenly feeling the chair vibrating to life beneath me, quaking in a way that only a machine could. I felt the tension disappearing from my shoulders.

  "Ah, very nice," Roland said. "Relax yourself. We need to talk."

  I continued to sink into the quicksand of comfort, the chair easing away all of my anxiety and warming me considerably. I could get used to this.

  "Are you listening to me, Marisa?" He flicked a switch on his chair and mine suddenly stopped vibrating.

  "Huh? Oh, yes Sir!" I was suddenly back in the dungeon with him.

  "I'm not going to harm you, Marisa. But I am in charge of your pleasure. I've said it before and I'm going to say it again—you must learn to trust me. I will help you feel things like you've never felt before, pleasures beyond anything you've ever experienced. If you can learn to trust me that much, I'll give you what you came here for."

  Suddenly I felt that nub between my legs come to life, vibrating with great excitement. My head pressed against the back of the chair, my hands tightly gripping the arms as I felt shocks of pleasure shoot through me, sparks that moved about freely. I moaned quietly, overwhelmed by the sudden blast of vibrating bliss between my legs. And just like that, it disappeared.

  "Hey!" I said, shocked that my joy had come to an abrupt end.

  "I administer the pleasure here, pet. It comes and goes when I say only. Do you understand? Did you even listen to what I said?" His tone was angry like it had been when we first arrived down here.

  "Yes, Sir," I said, cowering at his intensity.

  "Do we have an agreement, then? This isn't a joke, Marisa. You're my sub—and I'm your Dom."

  "I don't really know what that means," I
said. I'd heard those terms before but didn't really know how it would apply to us.

  "I'm responsible for providing you with pleasure, both pleasure that you already known and pleasure that is currently undiscovered by you. I'm going to take you places you've never been before."

  The words made me giddy. I was certainly very curious. I sat there the whole time he talked, wishing that the vibrating nub would come to life again.

  "You need to listen very carefully though. Your safe word is blue, is that understood? Take this very seriously. All action will stop immediately if you use that word. It is your escape—but don't use it unnecessarily or you will be punished. Sometimes pain can sweeten pleasure in a manner that is simply divine." His words were matter-of-fact, precise, meaningful. "Tell me that you understand."

  "Yes, Sir," I said. "I do.

  "Good, pet. Let's get to work then." He stood up and motioned for me to follow him. I did.

  Even though he had fucked me the other day (something that requires a great deal of trust, I must add), I felt like this was not the same Roland. This one was even more assertive, a personality that didn't tolerate any indecision or insolence. He was someone both rich and powerful, maybe even more powerful down here than he was in the real world.

  He led me to a combination table/bed, a soft, low platform with restraints for both arms and legs. "Undress, please," he ordered.

  "What?" I stammered, his order hitting me off guard. Something about the bright lights in the room made his order seem totally unreasonable. I was barely comfortable looking at myself in this kind of light, let alone with him there. The other day I was basically fully clothed during our encounter—this was totally different.

  "Pet, don't make me punish you. I don't want to, but if I must, I must."

  "Sir," I said, "I'm not good to look at. I'm not comfortable with it."

  He looked at me, wicked smile across his face. "How else do you expect this to proceed? You have a beautiful body, Marisa. Show me that you trust me to see and appreciate it." His eyes looked at me hungrily. "This is your last chance."

  Did I really have a choice? This whole thing was starting to feel silly. I wasn't just going to strip here for him. I didn't want to bare myself like that. This was like a doctor's office. It was the most unflattering light ever.

  "No, Sir," I said. "I...can't."

  A look of distress broke across his face. "Ah, pet. I don't think you totally understand this relationship. I am in charge—and you take my orders. I gave you a chance, but you blew it. Now you must face punishment."

  "P-p-p-punishment?" I asked. I wanted to run away, but his eyes kept me frozen to the ground.

  "Give me your wrist," he demanded.

  "No!" I shouted.

  "Fine, then we'll just have it that way." He lurched at me, grabbing me and bringing me to the nearby table. His force was incredible. I fought, but I couldn't do a thing to break his grip.

  "Roland!" I screamed.

  "Stop screaming, now! You're only going to make it worse for yourself." He took my hand and strapped it down tightly to the table. My other free hand followed; suddenly I was unable to move my hands, pulling at the straps, feeling that leather burn against my skin. Why had I let him tie me up? Surely I could have fought harder, right?

  He was no longer in my view. By the time I realized where he was, he had clamped restraints around my ankles. That was it—I was stuck facing the table, my hands attached to it, my legs to the floor. I fought for a few moments, venting my frustration through my limited physical movement. I groaned, the pain of my efforts only making the whole situation worse.

  "Please calm down," he said, his words calm and cool. "Struggling only makes it worse."

  Struggling only makes it worse.

  Damnit! I felt like I was in the middle of a serial killer film, the victim of a sadistic man who would eventually kill me—but didn't want to cause me any additional pain right now. How noble!

  I stopped wiggling about and looked at him seriously. "Please, Roland. Let me go."

  He walked up behind me, so close that I could feel his breath against my ear. I shivered as it danced against my skin like silk. "I'm going to punish you one way or another. Every time you complain, you only make it worse. Every time you fight me, you make it worse. So, please, don't make me do more than I have to. You'll understand soon enough." His whispers burned inside of me with a consistency, so slowly and surely.

  Roland slid his hand into the front of my jeans and released the button. He pulled them down abruptly, like a magician dropping a curtain to reveal the conclusion to his trick. His calloused fingers rubbed against my skin, rough yet gentle, wanted yet unwanted. "Such a lovely ass," he remarked to himself. "So plump and soft. Probably so sensitive too." He pulled down my panties, leaving them to sit on my bunched up jeans. I felt totally exposed, closing my eyes as I leaned against the soft platform. He was eyeing me like a piece of prey, deciding just exactly how he wanted to feast.

  His fingers pinched my cheeks, feeling them, exploring them, pressing them together like it was the first ass he'd ever touched. I felt so chubby and disgusting, way more self-conscious than I'd ever felt before. I wished that he wasn't seeing me like that.

  "My pet, you're so beautiful. You have a beautiful body. You ought not be ashamed of it. You're blushing so hard I feel you might break," he said, chuckling.

  I had been naked in front of partners before—but not in a long time, and never like this. Yet, his words started to break through my hardened emotional exterior and ease away the dissatisfaction with myself. I could tell that he was being totally genuine, that he really liked me. He was making me feel a warmth that was slowly trickling down my body toward my core.

  "I'm sorry I have to do this, pet. I don't like it one bit, but you must learn the rules. Trust me, it could be much worse than this."

  He struck me with a large wooden paddle, sending needles of pain all throughout my body. I screamed, surprised by the sudden shock. I felt tears welling up in my eyes again. When he struck me again, I realized I wouldn't be able to contain them this time.

  "I'm sorry," he said. Thwack! He hit me again, this time on the other cheek.

  "Ow!" I cried out, my eyes pouring down my face. My arms fought the restraints, my body trying to free my hands so I could caress that burning skin. The leather was chewing into my wrists as I writhed, my reflexes and mind battling to try and make me behave rationally amid the growing discomfort.

  I tensed my body, ready for the next strike, ready to feel that pain—

  What?

  I gasped, confused by what was going on. His fingers were expertly rubbing my clit, circling gently, touching me like he really gave a damn. That sensitive nub throbbed, the lingering pain seasoning it with a flavor I was unfamiliar with. Oh, it felt incredible.

  The sensations rippled through me, all the more amplified as my tender ass-flesh stung. I felt like he had placed a pleasure-megaphone against my body and was literally blasting away at full volume. His fingers played with my flesh, eventually easing into the quickly-growing moisture around my folds, pressing against the walls. My muscles hugged him. Suddenly he stopped, leaving me wanting.

  Thwack!

  Again the tears and the burning flesh—it hurt worse this time than it had before. I could taste my tears as they dripped into my mouth, the saltiness overwhelming my taste buds as my nerves did their best to lower everything back to normal. Thwack! Thwack!

  "Damnit!" I cried out. His final strike hit me lower on my leg, still a fatty region, but not as padded as my buttocks. The pain pulsed in my brain as my hands clenched the restraints. Somehow I managed to keep my legs from moving, a bonus because they couldn't have gone anywhere anyway. The last strike took my breath away and left my chest heaving as I stayed bent over and vulnerable. My skin felt like it had been singed with fire and my tears streaked down my cheeks.

  Roland wrapped his arm around me and hugged me tight, stroking my hair gently. "There, there
, pet. It's over now. I had to do it, even though I didn't want to." He sighed loudly. "I hate having to punish like this. You know better now."

  I pressed my body into his, allowing him to caress me and hold me there. His comforting touch worked beautifully, lowering my heartbeat amidst the afterglow of pain. He kept his arms wrapped around me tightly and kissed my cheek, my hair, my neck. His hand departed from my torso and headed right back between my legs, touching me again. I hadn't noticed how wet I'd become until he pressed against that swollen flesh.

  His delicate circles began resonating in me, turning a tiny hum into my lower belly into a roar. I felt my body ease against his hand as he worked, my pulse again growing. I moaned quietly, feeling all of the sensations like I never had before. The pain perfectly complemented the pleasure, even if the punishment had been unpleasant in the moment. It lingered now, and I couldn't even describe how much more I could feel. My nerves were working overtime.

  Less than a minute later, I was coming against him, my juices trickling along the roughness of his fingers. He kept working me, following me as my body ebbed and flowed, easing me through the motions of my climax. I panted and moaned, again fighting against the restraints—but for very different reasons this time. My hips rocked into his fingers until I felt myself start to relax, the tension from the punishment finally evaporating from my body. I let out one large sigh at the end, a sigh that prompted him to release his grip.

  "Here, my pet. Taste what pain will do to you." He lifted his fingers until they were right in my face, the fingers he had used to bring me pleasure. I hungrily took them into my lips and sucked, sampling the moisture that was left there. It was the sweetest muskiness, a taste that I'd always left inside, so private and yet, so representative of how good I had felt.

  "Mmm," I said, overwhelmed by the surprise of his gesture. "Thank you, Sir."

  He bent forward and kissed my lips, his tongue invading my mouth and basking in the flavor that I held there. His kissing was just as possessive as his gestures were, overwhelming me with his presence. He kissed me again and again as our tongues fought. My body, freshly given an orgasm, was already starting to re-ignite.