Her First Submission (Kathryn's Training) by Aya Fukunishi Read Free Book Online

barely noticed the tears begin to flow down her cheeks. She barely noticed Stephen open the door and enter the suite, and didn't spare a thought for the fact that she was still naked, her pink, tender asshole still dripping warm come down her thighs. Stephen held out a check, oblivious to her tears, and took on a look of confusion when she ignored the offering. She'd forgotten about the money; forgotten about the deal. It didn't seem to matter anymore. The sudden sense of loss burned deep.
    All that mattered, she realized, was that her Master had abandoned her, tossed her aside like a used tissue. Her hand strayed to her neck and touched the heavy steel of the D-ring at her collar, suddenly the only thing connecting her to the man who had taught her so much, so quickly. She tugged at the strap, pulling it from her throat, and stared through tearful eyes at the black strap.
    Stephen watched, confused, as Kathryn suddenly bolted from the room, still naked. In his office the feeds from the club's security cameras played, unwatched, images of her running down the stairs taking three at a time in the darkness, then out into the central bar, up the staircase and through the dimly lit lobby. The silent video showed her banging in the door, yelling for it to be opened, before she tumbled out into the night.
    "Master!", she yelled into the darkness. "Master, wait!"
    In the parking lot a limousine sat, its engine purring. Beside it stood Kathryn's master, a satisfied smile on his face. Kathryn ran at full speed, ignoring the pain as her bare feet scraped across gravel. She reached him, red faced and breathless, and fell to her knees. Her head dropped in submission and her arms reached up toward him, holding her offering of ribbon of leather and steel.
    "I'm yours," she whispered, her voice wavering with tears.
    Master smiled, accepting her gift. He turned, discarding the collar on the gravel and retrieving a simple black strap from the back seat of the car, and crouched to the ground before Kathryn to attach the new collar around her neck.
    Only Kathryn and her Master understood what had happened. Only they knew why she smiled so broadly as he helped her from the hard, cold ground and guided her into the limousine.
    Master climbed in beside her and the car pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the empty road and vanishing into the night.
    Stephen burst through the door, followed closely by Henry, and the two stood in the empty lot, confused, until Stephen found the discarded collar and read the inscription on the tin dog take glinting in the glow of the streetlights.
    I want you to be mine.

Chapter One
    Even today I struggle to explain the truth. I struggle to find the words to make people understand - truly understand, not just nod sympathetically while secretly believing I'm crazy, scarred and broken - the hold he had over me. I don't blame them for feeling this way. Unless you've been in that situation it's impossible to understand the power. You just can't understand why I did what I did.
    I'm asked often about it these days, and not just by friends and family. People are more curious than ever. With the Syrian uprising all over the news I'm often called by the media for my opinion. They want an insight into Assad's wife, Asma, the British woman who graduated from King's College before marrying a man who slaughtered his people. They want to understand how. How could an educated western woman love a man like that, a cold blooded murderer who thought nothing of razing a town to the ground; thought nothing of ordering the deaths of so many innocents? How could I ?
    Of course I can't help them. When I first returned to the US I tried to write an opinion piece for The London Guardian but I couldn't even beat the first paragraph. I just didn't know what to say. How can a person possibly boil it down to a thousand words? An experience like that, being torn from your comfortable home in the US to serve as a sex slave for a despotic