Page 84 of The Southern Submission

I’m proud of her for expressing these emotions, but there’s likely more she’s not saying because that’s the way my girl works. She can only voice so many feelings at once and stuffs down anything that overwhelms her instead of processing what she needs to.

“Feeling a bit overwhelmed?”

“So much,” she says, eyes pleading for what she knows I’m offering.

“Do you need to stop overthinking?” I ask, ready to take on any burden she’s carrying to help her in the way we’ve found works best. She likes a little pain and a lot of pleasure to get out of her spiral of anxiety that usually comes with new situations and overwhelming thoughts. She ends up processing her feelings just fine once her brain stops spinning. Otherwise, she’ll stuff it down and dissociate. I want to avoid that with a happy new experience like our engagement causing her overwhelm.

“Please, Daddy, turn my brain off.”

She leans into me, trusting me unequivocally to take care of every need as she surrenders her control. We’ve laid the foundation for this kind of trust through countless sessions where I’ve listened to her and shown her that while she submits to me, she’s in control. A single word from her stops our play or changes the direction it takes. She has all the power in our scenes, dynamic, and relationship. Everything I do is for her pleasure, care, and protection.

“It’s a good thing I brought this, isn’t it?” I pull a butt plug and a tiny bottle of lube from my inside suit pocket and placethem on the table next to her.

“What? Here? You can’t be serious.” Her eyes are wide in disbelief. To Ainsley, this suite is basically a public space. I’m pushing her boundaries by asking her to submit with strangers on the other side of a thin sheet of glass and in the suites next door.

“I’m quite serious. I want you to have something to clench around when I spank that perfect ass.” She’ll love the feeling just as much as she’ll get off on the implied humiliation of someone looking inside and catching us in the middle of our scene. While she’s not an exhibitionist, she loves to be degraded, and we’ve discovered it extends beyond just the dirty words that do it for her.

I take off my jacket and begin rolling up my sleeves, initiating the scene with the familiar action. She stills, entering her submissive headspace in preparation.

“Take off your panties, give them to me, and put that in your ass.” I place a kiss against her temple, ready to watch.

“What about…” She gestures nervously at the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the arena and the hockey game below. There are seats right outside our balcony with fans cheering wildly, though our suite is soundproof and it’s only a muffled roar in here.

“Don’t you want to show off what a good fucktoy you are for me and how badly my slut wants my cum?” I ask with an amused chuckle.

She shakes her head and glares at me, the brat coming out when she was prepared to be such a good girl to get what she needs. “Yellow,” she says, using her safe words before we’ve even begun, making me smile proudly. “We’ll have security banging down the door when they hear me screaming from you turning my ass red. I don’t want the embarrassment ofhaving to explain what we’re up to.” She stands her ground, and I know this is a boundary she won’t back down from. I cup her chin and smooth my thumb over her cheek, so in love with this feisty little spitfire.

“The glass is one-way. They can’t see in, but we have a perfectly clear view of the ice. As much as I love your incredible body, I won’t be sharing it with random strangers.” I assure her. “It’s also soundproof. Notice how we can barely hear the crowd out there even though they’re insanely loud? No one is going to bang down our door because I’m banging you like a screen door in a hurricane.”

The suite was designed with my needs in mind. As much as I’m an exhibitionist, I won’t share a single intimate moment with my girl with anyone else. And I plan on having plenty of moments with her at games going forward.

She relaxes, realizing her privacy will be maintained. She smiles as she begins to strip, her fears alleviated.

I lean against the wall while she undresses, enjoying the view as her skin is revealed. Seeing Ainsley naked never gets old. She sends my desire flying with the briefest glimpse of her body.

She picks up the plug and pauses, holding up her left hand, my ring shining next to it. “My engagement ring matches my butt plug.” She giggles and shakes her head. “You really think of everything. Only you would ensure all my jewelry is my favorite color.” She pops the cap of the lube, coating the plug before bending over and pressing it against her ass, accepting it slowly while I watch.

Fuck me. I start naming every player on the Hydras roster to keep myself from getting too worked up from watching. She hands me her panties and I run the silky material under my nose while she watches. I’m intoxicated. Addicted to Ainsley, this little hit not nearly enough for me. I needher. I add thescrap of silk to my jacket pocket and turn back to her with a hungry look. I unfasten my belt and pull it off quickly with one hand, snapping the leather. Her mouth goes slack as she watches, eyes unfocused, entering subspace where she’ll experience this session in a deliriously floaty state.

“Hands,” I command.

She presents her wrists to me, and I wrap them with the belt. She’s so beautiful, her wrists bound and my ring flashing on her finger. Fuck, that looks good. I step back and take in the sight. It’s permanently rewiring my brain to experience an even deeper love for her I didn’t know existed. I unknot my tie and slip the silk from my neck, walking around Ainsley as she trembles in anticipation, her nipples pebbled against the temperature in the room.

“Close your eyes, Princess.”

She does, and I wrap it around her head, tying it into a blindfold. I lead her to the black leather sofa and bend her over the back, balanced on her tiptoes, her restrained arms stretched over the seat cushions.

“Did you drink more water than coffee today?” I ask patiently, my Daddy voice making her quiver.

She’s quiet for a moment. “Not yet.”

I bring my palm down across her bare ass, watching as she clenches around the plug and gasps. The first one is always a shock to the system. I tsk.

“What about your affirmations and meditation? Did you do those?” I ask, running through her short list of tasks I’ve assigned so she works through her biggest struggles and deals with her anxiety. It’s part of our dynamic that extends outside of our play sessions and the bedroom. It’s another way I'm able to care for her.

“I journaled for my meditationbut not the affirmations,” she says.

I slap her ass again, making her jump and wiggle against the couch. The wiggles help her overstimulated system deal with the pain, but she’ll settle in soon enough.

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