Submit (Songs of Submission #3)(34)

He smirked. “Leave your clothes on the porch. Then, upstairs with you. There’s one door open.”

He watched as I pulled my boots off, wiggled out of my jeans, then unbuttoned my shirt. I didn’t do it in a lascivious way, using only the most functional movements to complete the task. When I was naked head to toe, he moved to the side so I could get past him. He took my hand, and I went upstairs in front of him.

My heart beat so hard I could barely breathe. I was doing it. The thing on the porch was an appetizer. Upstairs, I’d be his completely. I could do it. I had to. My soaking, pulsing snatch demanded it. My hard ni**les insisted on it. My come-covered throat required it.

I felt his eyes on my ass as I got to the top of the stairs. All the hall doors were closed except one, and it wasn’t the one I’d been to twice before.

“Go on,” he said.

I went through the open door. The difference between the two bedrooms I’d been in was more than the size, with the new one being bigger by fifty percent. The room was finished, lived in, and full of personal objects and photographs. The rug was worn where a man might lay his feet in the morning and night. The night table on one side held books, a half-empty glass of water, and a box of tissues.

“This is your room.”

“Yes, darling.” He ran his fingertips down my arms. “Get on the bed. On your back, please.”

The bed was higher than the other. I crawled up and rolled over. The down comforter was cool on my back, soft on the feather bed.

Jonathan put his hands between my knees and spread them apart, then pulled them up, bending them until my heels touched my ass. I groaned from his touch and the act of obeying it.

“Stay there,” he said. He got undressed, tossing his things on a leather chair while I lay on the bed, pu**y and ass**le up in the air. I watched his biceps tighten and release as he got his shirt off. His c**k bounced out of his pants again. Naked, he slid on top of me and kissed my br**sts and the diamond in my navel. I put my hands on his head, trying to push him down, but he wasn’t being moved.

“So, the receipt from the clinic?” he started.

“Yes?”

“When does that birth control thing kick in?” he asked, coming face to face.

“Because of when I had my period last... uuuuuhm.... I have to figure it because the doctor said it was real important.” I pretended to count on my fingers and tapped my cheek like I was thinking, screwing my eyes around.

“Monica, please.” He played at annoyed, but he was smiling.

“Immediately.”

He buried his face in my neck. “And I’m clean. What do you think?”

“You’re the boss.”

“This has to be more of a consensus.”

I touched his face. He’d already ruined me for other men. “Yes,” I said. “I want to feel you.”

“You’ve overwhelmed me twice in one night.”

“Don’t freeze up on me on my first night of submission.”

He straightened his arms, holding his body over me. “What happened to freaked-out Monica?”

“She turned into aroused Monica.”

He shifted to my side and sat up. “Roll over then, aroused Monica.”

I rolled over onto my stomach, holding myself up on my elbows. He placed his palm on my back, dragging it down my shoulder blades and the curve of my spine, landing on my ass, which he squeezed before standing up behind me.

“Okay, I’m going to show you something.” He picked my ass up off the mattress. “Bend your knees under you.”

I did it. I had one side of my face against the down comforter, watching him as he touched me and shifted my body the way he thought necessary.

“Now, pick up your butt. All the way up.”

I did as I was told, straightening my knees to right angles.

“Higher.” He gave my ass a slap that made me groan, then drew his hand along my back again, as if feeling for the right curve, “Put your hands under you, between your knees.”

I wiggled to get them under me. “Touch your ankles.”

“Like this?”

“Exactly like that.”

He touched me all over, and I did feel like his work of art, his living opus with my ass in the air, so far up and bent out that my cunt must have been saluting the room.

“Physically,” he said, “are you comfortable?”

“No, not really.”

“And emotionally?”

“Not scared, but I feel exposed.”

He kissed my ass, using his tongue along my cheeks. My snatch twitched in anticipation. But he stood up. I heard fabric shifting behind me and his movements, but I didn’t look. When he came into my field of vision, he was wearing sweatpants.

“Stay there,” he said. “Don’t move.”

“Where are you going?”

“You don’t get to ask questions. You get to wait.”

And he left me there, butt up, bedroom door open behind me. I wasn’t scared, but I should have been. My ass tingled. Was he getting something to spank me with? Some rough tether? Cuffs? Hooks? Yes, I thought I should be terrified, but all I could think about was how much I wanted him to come back and f**k the living shit out of me.

I heard clicks and steps from downstairs, then nothing.