"We're Not Role-Playing": A Story About 'Submission' Told in Two Parts
—
Author's Note:
—
I'll keep this brief. What follows is the story of a Man and a Woman* and their . It is as simple as that. Inspiration is credited to the lovely Bosslady24 and the gorgeous pictures on her account. Find her in the comments below if you'd like to see what I imagined when I wrote the character of the Woman.*
"We're Not Roleplaying" will be told in two parts. PM's regarding suggestions for *Part Two are always welcome and if I like your idea, I'll credit you for it in Part Two. Thanks for reading!*
—
—
PROLOGUE: The Light-Switch, .i
—
"Do you see the light-switch? Over by the mini-fridge." The Man pointed to the patch of wall-paper next to the hotel-room's TV. The Woman nodded, knowing silence would better express her submission than her words ever could.
The Man sat in the sofa-chair, holding a glass of Gin on the arm-chair and caressing the Woman's head, which rested against knee, with his free hand. Once or twice, the Man's large wedding-ring had caught in her hair, pulling it, but the Woman didn't mind much. She was curled-up around the Man's dress-shoes, arms around his ankles, legs spread out on the carpet.
Looking down at her, the Man continued: "Then go turn the lights off". The Woman looked up at him and nodded again. Her dress settled back down around her legs as she stood from the carpet, covering her slightly red knees the hint of her white panties.
The Woman took a step toward the light-switch.
"I didn't say to walk." His voice sounded deeper now, unmeditated. The playful tone of domination he'd been using with her earlier disappeared, in favour of something less self-aware. It occurred to the Woman that he wasn't trying to playing the role of a dominate *Master anymore; maybe, *he wasn't trying to play any role at all. "Crawl, on your hands and knees…".
—
ONE: The Woman, .i
—
The Woman looked around the hotel's bar, through a sea of balding, middle-aged business-men. The stiff suit she'd worn on the airplane was wrinkled, badly in need of an ironing. Exhaustion had worn her minimal make-up down to non-existence. Her puffy, red eyes eventually stopping on an empty seat near the bar, close to the entrance. The Woman took the seat, ordered a drink, then mostly stared at the TV playing Hockey above the rows of liquor bottles.
Her body-language and absent presence had far more in common with the travel-weary business-men sharing the air-port hotel than it did with the few other young women who entered the bar. Those women were black-holes of male attention; this Woman merely blended in, a non-entity. That was by her design. The Woman enjoyed not being noticed, for the most part. As a psychologist, she was used to being the proverbial fly on the wall. A chronic people-watcher and eavesdropper, by both habit and nature.
When the bartender delivered her Scotch and soda, she sipped it quickly, as if she'd been dying of thirst. Some years earlier, her husband joined AA after what was, in her opinion, a lacklustre career in alcoholism. His drinking was excessive, but no-body in the family or their very small circle of shared friends would have identified that as the source of his problems. Her husband, she had long suspected, joined AA more out of a need for shared company than anything else. The Woman had never expressed to him this particular pycho-analyise of her's. As a passive form of support, all alcohol or mentions of drinking had been silenced, resulting in a house with strict prohibition. Trips abroad to host lectures and give seminars on the Psychology of Aggressive Sexuality were her few chances to have a drink.
Tomorrow, she'd host the first of a short tour of appearances, mostly focused on the Culture of Porn and our society's deepening fetishization of sexuality. It was held at noon, which demanded no real limit to how much she drank. No hang-over had ever made her sleep-in passed eleven-thirty. This wasn't the first business-trip which she'd tested that hypothesis on.
—
TWO: The Man, .i
—
The seat beside her become occupied, then was empty again for some time, only for another person to come along and sit there, then leave again a few drinks later; all without the Woman noticing in the least. Until the Man sat there. Then, she noticed.
After that moment, the Woman caught her-self sub-consciously lingering at the bar, glancing side-ways at him fleetingly, hoping to see him looking in return. The Man was in his early twenties. Tall; her best guess would be six foot, maybe six one. Athletic-build, broad shoulders, dark hair. The Man's skin was light and his eyes were a bright, penetrating green.
The Man introduced him-self, leaving out pretty-much everything besides his name and a subtle indication of income, which came in the form of a pair of Lexus car-keys which he casually shifted from one pocket to another. That was around the time she noticed the gold-band around his finger, too.
The Woman had tried to have affairs behind her husband's back before; in fact, there was no try about it, she'd slept with a handful of traveling business-men when she was away from home. The essential problem, she'd discovered, was that the married men who were willing to sleep with her usually didn't perform much better than her husband could. More importantly, they all brought the same amount of drive to the bed-room as he did, which was a disappointing revelation.
She drank another Scotch and soda, listening to the Man's story about his flight. As handsome as his features were, and as appealing as the youthful glint in his eyes was, the Woman still couldn't seem to manage to give his story 100% of her attention. The Man's voice and the Hockey game's commentary blended together for a moment, in a muddy soup. Long flights often left her feeling trained and vacant.
Suddenly, the Man said something that snapped her out of it, surfacing the Woman from the fog her jet-lag had submerged her in: "I met him coming out of the bath-room. Re-filling the jet always leaves my hands dirty."
"Jet?" The Woman felt some primal pinging sensation in her chest. "What do you mean?"
"I'm a pilot", he replied, then quickly added: "I like to fly my-self, I don't trust the air-line pilots. My jet is parked in the private-lot."
That pinging sensation swelled in-side her chest, spreading down to her legs, through her thighs. It was caused by something far more specific than the allure of wealth and power, which she never had paid much attraction to in the past. Also, it wasn't just the extreme sense of confidence he displayed, which she was impervious to because of her profession.
After a short pause in their conversation, the Man said to the Woman: "I want you to come up to my room after I finish this drink." The Woman starred at him, taken aback by his forwardness. She was speechless. The Man's eyes concentrated on her, as if willing an answer. Without being aware her brain had formed the words, without noticing her lips mouthing them, the Woman replied: "Of course".
—
THREE: The Light-Switch, .ii
—
It occurred to the Woman that he wasn't playing the role of dominate *Master anymore; maybe, *he wasn't playing any role at all. "Crawl, on your hands and knees."
After a fleeting sense of confusion and angry exasperation, the Woman gave in to the idea and lowered her-self gingerly onto her knees. A voice in the back of her head protested at the notion of it, of being made to crawl like a child, but ultimately she ignored that voice in favour of theatrics. It's all for show, the Woman thought, reassuring her-self. It's like I'm acting in a porn film, it's just for fantasy, means nothing.
Moving slowly, planting one palm on the cheap-looking carpet at a time, she made her way toward the TV-set. The Woman heard his voice come from behind her again, louder than before, more even and measured: "Let your ass sway from side-to-side." She tried her best, letting her full weight shift from knee to knee, a little painfully. The Woman could feel her knees getting redder and redder.
Eventually, she made it to the light-switch. The Woman reached for it, arching her back, trying her hardest to keep her ass pointed directly toward the Man. She could feel his eyes on it, some-how in a tangible way, and she couldn't let that touch-less contact be broken.
"Stop", he said, voice placidly demanding. "Arch your back a little more for me." The Woman did, because he asked. No other reason existed. "Grab your cheeks and spread them apart, so I can see both your holes." She did that, too, without a single thought of protest.
The Woman wasn't aware of it, but some light-switch in-side her own head had been flipped off. His orders were know longer being processed inside her mind, just simply obeyed. "Now", the Man continued, "Forget the switch, I want you to crawl back to me."
She did, no longer aware of her aching knees…
—
FOUR: The Woman, .ii
—
Without being aware her lips mouthing the words, the Woman replied: "Of course". The Man smiled in return.
"Good", he said, placing a firm hand on her knee. The Woman felt the brim of her skirt slide up her leg. "I knew you'd agree." The Man's hand pushed the fabric further up her leg, exposing a stretch of dark, milky skin. "Let me finish my Gin, then we'll go up to my room, together, and I'll show you what else you'll agree to when a man asks you."
The elevator ride up to the floor with the Man's room on it was full. He and the Woman's shoulders were crammed together with the other passengers, creating a temporary sense of unwanted intimacy. They rode the elevator looking forward at the blinking red lights above the buttons, unable to even crane their heads downward.
A man coughed near to her and the Woman tried to move away, uncomfortable. The Man, who stood behind her, placed his heavy hand on her shoulder, keeping her still. The next thing she knew, his other hand was under her skirt, fingers nimbly pushing her white panties to the side. She tried to squirm again, this time unintentionally, but the Man held her in place.
When they walked out of the elevator onto the floor, the Man raised his fingers to his mouth, tasting the tips. He smiled to him-self, pulling the Woman down the corridor, toward his room. They stopped in-front of room 507. The Man turned to her, his face seeming more serious now.
"If you walk through this door, you don't get to come back out till it's over. If you buy this ticket, you have to take the ride. Understand?"
"Yeah", the Woman breathed, feeling that pinging feeling inside her erupt, like a radar with an enemy drawing near. "Sure".
The Man smiled again, reached into his coat, then handed her the keys to the room. "Then open the door and walk inside. I'll meet you in there shortly."
The Woman took the keys from the Man and he started walking back down the corridor, never stopping to look over his shoulder. He disappeared through the elevator. The Woman used the key to un-lock the door, opened it, then stepped inside.
—
(CONTINUED IN PART TWO…)
—
Part Two Link: Will be posted here when it's done!
—
Another Story I Wrote!:
http://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/23gi10/breaking_the_doldrums_volume_one_mf_foreplay/
—
Bosslady24's Account:
http://www.reddit.com/user/Bosslady24
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/23hl5i/were_not_roleplaying_part_one_mf_bdsm_control