Why submit?

As desert arrived, Charles turned the conversation to Nikki. “So, my dear, we’ve talked all about me. But I want to learn more about you. You are obviously well educated, and you clearly worked in business, but I want to know more about what led you to become a sex slave.”

“Tell me when you first started having fantasies about submission.” Charles’ question was simple and straightforward. But very personal. Up until now the conversation had been one that she might have had with any new acquaintance. Other than the fact that he had his hand on her naked thigh for part of it, it might have been any evening at a beautiful restaurant with a man she’d just met. Now he was asking her to reach into the deeply personal part of herself, her private thoughts and desires, her sexual history.

Nikki took a deep breath. Looked Charles in the eye. And he nodded slightly at her, encouraging her. He seemed like a kind man. And seemed genuinely interested. She had no right to refuse him this any more than she had the right to refuse him her thigh, or her breast, or her cunt. She opened her mouth, and started the story.

“Well, Sir, in talking about it with Mark I realized I’ve always really had these fantasies, Sir. It started when I was 8 or maybe even younger.” Her voice had started tentative, but she was gaining confidence. He looked so sympathetic, so attentive to her story. “Do you know the Narnia books, Sir?”

“Oh, yes.” Charles smiled. “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I read them to my daughters. I remember.”

“Well, there’s one where the children get captured by slave traders. They are marched in a line, ankles and wrists shackled. I must have read that and reread that hundreds of times.”

“How did that make you feel, Nikki? Do you remember?” Charles’ question was encouraging.

“I just remember being fascinated. And thinking about what it would be like to be constrained like that, and valued that way. I don’t think I knew enough to articulate it, but it was the objectification of it that was so attractive.”

“Oh, but our desert. I don’t want it to get cold.” Charles picked up the delicate desert fork, and scooped up a morsel of the chocolate cake. It was crispy on the outside, firm just inside, and then wet, almost like pudding, inside. He put a little of the vanilla ice cream on the fork as well, creamy, yellow, flecked with pieces of vanilla beans. Nikki opened her mouth and let him put the fork in.

The tastes were almost too much. She hadn’t had chocolate for weeks and weeks. Nikki loved chocolate. She used to eat it every day, sometimes more than once a day. And this was really good chocolate. Warm, too. Delicious contrast with the cold of the ice cream. The vanilla complimenting the chocolate, both rich and unctuous. Nikki moaned. Couldn’t help herself. It was so wonderful.

“You like it?” Charles raised his eyebrow at her.

“Oh yes, Sir. It’s wonderful Sir.” Nikki’s enthusiasm was totally genuine.

“Do you want to eat more of it?”

Charles’ question seemed almost absurd. Of course she did. It was wonderful. Of course she wanted more. Wanted to eat all of it, to experience the flavor for as long as possible. To feel the rich complexity of it on her tongue. To savor it.

“Please Sir, I do.” Nikki hoped her earnest answer was pleasing enough to get her more cake.

“Here’s what I’m going to do.” Charles sounded purposeful. Nikki wondered what he was up to. “I’m going to give you the fork. I want you to have as much cake as you want. But I’m going to touch you. And I’m going to watch what that does to you.”

Charles handed Nikki the fork. They locked eyes as he lowered his left hand to rest in the curve of her lower back and took his right hand back to the hem of her skirt. “Open your legs a little more, dear, I’m going to want to be able to get right up to your sex.”

Nikki gasped. Shocked by the intensity of it. The look on Charles’ face was concentrated desire. He looked like a wolf looking at a rabbit. He was going to have her, and she knew it. He was going to do it right here, in public. And he had every right to. At the same time, she still wanted the cake. Despite her embarrassment, she forced herself to take a forkful and raise it to her mouth. It was delicious and she let it melt on her tongue. Mmmm. He could do whatever he wanted to her, as long as she got this cake!

Meanwhile, Charles had moved his right hand even closer to her sex. He was touching her inner thigh, moving higher and higher. Caressing, his hand warm, his touch firm. He went higher still. Nikki felt his fingers graze her pubis. Her legs were wide enough that the lips had parted slightly and she could feel his warmth, right up in her. He was still looking intently at her.

Nikki took another bite. She wanted this cake so much. Really really wanted it. Now Charles’ finger touched her clit. She could feel it slide over the silky wetness of her pussy. Could feel, by the way his finger moved, just how wet she was. Could feel the desire in his touch. She could also feel the pleasure of it, the relief of finally feeling the warmth of his finger at her core, right where she wanted it. She rocked her pelvis forward, opening a little more for him.

Suddenly she was no longer hungry for the cake. Couldn’t imagine eating more of it. All she wanted was his touch. All she wanted was the release of it. The thought of food, even this amazing chocolate cake, about as appealing as a bucket of cold water over her head. She looked at Charles and put down her fork.

“That’s right, girl. Feel it.”

Nikki looked at him. Could feel her face starting to show what was happening. She was aware of the other tables, which had started to fill up, the wait staff. The fact that people could see. She tried to manage her face, not show what she was feeling. But the pleasure was building. Getting more and more intense.

Nikki’s breath was shallow now. Charles’ finger skimming over her clit. “Are your ready, my dear? Can you give me your cum now? I want it.”

Nikki thought of Mark commanding her, just a couple of hours before, in the cloak room. Thought of the way he had trained her to cum, just by looking at her with a certain look in his eye, or by saying simply “now”. And she felt the pleasure well up inside her, crest, and release. Her thighs were shaking, her cunt spasming. She knew Charles could feel it under his hand.

“Very pretty. Very pretty.” It sounded almost like Charles was talking to himself. He pulled his hand out from inside her dress, let go of her lower back, and now brought his right hand up to his mouth, sucking her juices from his own fingers. “And delicious too.” Charles smiled. “That’s all I want for desert myself. Got to keep an eye on the calories, you know.” Now he was grinning. Nikki smiled back. The glow of her orgasm making her feel close to this man, even though they had only just met.

“So you were telling me….” Charles seemed ready to pick up the conversation where they had left off. “you were telling me what first attracted you to submission. But tell me what is attractive to you about it now?” Charles’ tone was probing. He obviously wasn’t going to let her leave this at a superficial level. He was going to probe and probe until he had everything.

Nikki resigned herself to it. This was hard, giving these intimate thoughts and details to a virtual stranger. But this was part of her submission, part of being a slave. She had to give it. So she might as well be articulate.

“Well, Sir, I have given this some thought.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Charles chuckled slightly. “You seem like a very thoughtful woman. I wouldn’t expect any less.” He looked encouraging again, and said simply, “tell me.”

“There are four elements of it for me.” Nikki had given this more than a little thought. She was ready to launch into it.

“The first is giving up responsibility. I had a lot of responsibility from a young age.” Nikki hesitated. How much was she going to say? Did she really want to give this man all the details? She looked at his face. Thought of how proud Mark would be. Took another breath.

“My sister was difficult. Eventually it was diagnosed as ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), but I think it was more than that. She had anger management issues, executive function difficulty… there are all kinds of fancy names for it today. But when we were kids the labels were more blunt; “bad” and “weird”. I was the good girl, the responsible one. The one who always did the right thing and anticipated everyone’s needs. I was responsible for smoothing everything over. Later there was pressure for academic achievement and professional achievement. There was always a lot of pressure.”

“By becoming a slave, I give up all responsibility. Make my owner responsible for me. I don’t have to worry about anything. Everything is provided to me. I don’t have to plan or anticipate, I just am. It is incredibly relaxing. It feels like a warm blanket or a strong drink. I love the feeling.”

“I can see that,” Charles seemed thoughtful. Considering her answer and approving it. “What is the second?”

“The second is that it proves my desirability, and not for the things I am most confident about. For my physical presence and my sexuality.”

Charles looked surprised. “Tell me more about that, dear. You don’t feel desirable?”

“Well, Sir, you know what the business world is like. We’re all so politically correct in the U.S. that a woman in business is basically removed of her sexuality. Even if somebody did find me attractive, he wouldn’t be able to show it in anyway. And I’ve always had an issue with nervous eating, so my weight fluctuates and I often feel fat. My parents told me I was fat, in so many words, which didn’t help the self image much either.” Nikki shook her head at the memory. “I actually feel that being a sex slave transforms me, makes me more beautiful. I certainly feel beautiful today.” Her face broke into a broad smile.

“As well you should, my dear, as well you should.” Charles put his hand back on Nikki’s leg.

“What’s the third reason?”

“It makes me feel cared for and cherished. Kind of the flip side of the responsibility. Not only do I not have any responsibility, but others are attending to me as something of great value. As a slave I am washed, groomed, fed, exercised, taught. In a way, I am the center of attention, even though I am doing others’ bidding. It’s not about my wants, but all of my needs are taken care of.”

“That makes sense.” Again Charles was thoughtful. “I certainly see my slaves that way, and I know they feel it.” He paused. “But tell me why that is important to you. Why do you want to feel cared for this way?”

“Well, Sir. It does just feel really good. Childlike in a way. I have some very nice memories from when I was a very small child; memories of my Mother and even my Father taking care of me that way. Being bathed, wrapped in a towel, dressed, hugged. Having my head stroked until I fell asleep. But I matured early physically, at about 11, and both parents pulled away to give me my space. So I never felt that I got enough of that care.”

“And the fourth reason?” Charles wasn’t going to let her forget any details.

“As a slave, it is obvious how to please. There’s no guesswork involved. In many of my pre-slave relationships, I was always trying to anticipate what to do to please the other person, whether that was my Mother or my lover. I was never sure if what I was doing was the right thing. As a slave you are just told what to do, no guesswork. What a relief! And what a joy, to be able to perform a simple action and get so much positive feedback.”

Charles nodded. “Well that’s for sure. You will never want for instruction as a slave. Even if you don’t know what to do, it’s expected that you wait for instruction or ask, you do not need to anticipate.”

“Very well thought through.” Charles continued. “You have obviously given this some thought. And seem to understand your motivations quite well.”

“Sir?” Nikki wanted to clarify something.

“Yes my dear?”

“I don’t want you to think that this is all a product of my childhood or upbringing. I have been able to relate back all of the things that attract me to it, to things that affected me in my environment. But I don’t experience it as a product of my environment. I definitely think that the attraction is more elemental and inexplicable than words can due justice to. I think it is something you are born with, like homosexuality or skin color. It just is.”

“I have to say, I agree with you on that.” Charles looked thoughtful. “I’ve met a fair number of slaves, as you might imagine. And I’ve always been struck that it seemed to be something that was just in them, something that training brought out. But if they didn’t have the core elemental desire to submit, nothing a trainer could do could help them.”

Nikki nodded.

“My dear?” Charles sounded serious. He looked Nikki in the eye. “I like your explanation. And I am impressed by how candid you’ve been and how willing you have been to reveal yourself.” He paused. “Have you told me everything?” Charles looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him.

Nikki’s eyes widened. How did he know? She hadn’t even shared this with Mark. It was so personal, so intimate. She considered lying. Saying “Yes, I’ve told you everything, there isn’t anything else.” But clearly Charles knew there was something. Revealing herself this way was part of her submission, just as it would be to show her pussy or her asshole. She felt the embarrassment of revealing herself and opened herself to that feeling.

Nikki took a deep breath. “No, Sir. There is something else.”

“Tell me.” Again, Charles looked at her encouragingly. He seemed so kind, so understanding. She felt comfortable sharing with him. And she had no right to refuse, in any case.

Nikki took another breath. “I was molested, as an adolescent.” Nikki felt naked. Even just saying that much. She felt exposed and uncomfortable. As if she’d been turned inside out or flayed.

Charles nodded. “Go on.” Now he wanted more. Nikki closed her eyes for a moment and took another deep breath.

“It started when I was 11. He was my teacher, he gave me private bible lessons in Hebrew. There was no nudity, no penetration. He just kissed me and caressed me.” Nikki felt the tears well up in her eyes. She hadn’t talked about this in years. Had barely even thought about it. It was behind her. She was fine. Well, obviously she wasn’t fine and it wasn’t behind her.

Charles nodded again, encouraging.

“When I started to develop physically, my parents felt uncomfortable about it.” Nikki used her napkin to daub at her eyes. “They made me feel like there was something wrong with me, that they couldn’t be close to me, and that nobody should be. That I was too old for childlike affection but too young for sexual affection.”

Nikki paused for a moment. “So that left me vulnerable.” She could feel her tears welling up again. Could feel her face scrunching up with emotion.

Charles put his hand on her arm. “It’s okay. You’re okay now. You can tell me what happened.”

“He was older. In his thirties. He told me he loved me. Held me. Touched me. Made me feel good. I wanted it. But I didn’t want the sexual part, just the affection. So he pleaded with me. Begged me. Whined. And he made me agree to it. Had me tell him it was okay. Had me agree to it out loud. Had me take responsibility for my choice to do it. I knew it was wrong; so I felt guilty, bad, ashamed of my choice.”

“I think it is part of the relief of sex slavery. Nobody has to ask me for anything. They take what they want. Give me what they want to give me. And I am not complicit, the way I was with this Bible teacher.”

Nikki felt relieved to have gotten it out. But so exposed. She felt naked, more naked than she had ever felt in training. More naked than when she was taken by the slave, Oliver, on her hands and knees in the hallway at the facility. More naked than when Mark trained her. Totally and completely naked. It was scary. She felt the fear in her core, inchoate. And felt it, too, turn to arousal. Felt her nipples harden, her pussy ooze. Felt her vagina soften and melt.

Charles looked at her. Sympathy, kindness, and desire in his regard. “Good girl. I see how hard that was for you. I’m impressed.” He reached over, gently cupping her face. “All of your experiences, and how they fit with your nature, they have all led you to this moment. This is where you belong, and you know it. Breathe into it. Feel it. Enjoy it, as I am enjoying watching you in it. That was exquisite submission, giving me your history like that. Very beautiful, and impressive too.”

By now they had had their coffee and were sitting in front of an empty table. Many of the other tables near them had filled up, after all. Charles reached over and unhooked Nikki’s leash from the collar. “I’m going to take you upstairs without your leash. But that doesn’t mean you are any less of my sex slave for tonight. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes Sir.”

“I’m going to stand up.” Charles was back in command mode, and Nikki felt it. Relaxed into it. “I want you to stand, too. After I stand, I’m going to drop my pen on the floor. I want you to kneel down to pick it up. And while you are down there, you will kiss my feet. First the left and then the right. I don’t care who sees. I want you to feel your submission.”

Nikki closed her eyes for a moment. It was intense. To get down on her knees in a fancy restaurant was bad enough. But to kiss his feet. Her ass in the air. She felt dizzy. But she knew she would do it. And be glad she had.