My Secret Submission

  Copyright © 2016 J.M. Witt

  Cover Artist and Interior Formatter: Pink Ink Designs

  Photographer: Cassy Roop

  Model: Tami Laird

  Editor: Leticia Sidon

  Publisher: J.M. Witt Books

  All Rights Reserved 2016

  This book may not be reproduced in any form; in whole or in part, without written permission by the author.

  All characters and events in this book are purely fictional. Any similarities to real life people, places, and events are purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 J.M. Witt

  All Rights Reserved 2016

  ISBN: 978-0692681145

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  More from J.M. Witt

  About the Author

  Dedication:

  To all the Sirs, Masters, Daddies, Doms, and Dommes who’ve taken that lost sub under their protection so that they might fly free in their embrace.

  To all the subs, littles, slaves, and babies who’ve discovered the wondrous creature that lies within. They deserve to be treasured.

  ENSNARED

  He was my darkness.

  He was my dangerous.

  He was my deadly.

  He was my devil.

  He was my demise.

  I was his starlight.

  I was his shelter.

  I was his salvation.

  I was his saint.

  I was his sanity.

  We were ensnared.

  ~ J. M. Witt

  Chapter One

  LOST

  THERE’S NO LONELIER EXISTENCE than being a stay at home mom and a traveling widow. The bed next to me was almost always empty and when my husband was there, he wasn’t present. I was no longer his top priority and hadn’t been in a long time. It was like I had a roommate who I screwed occasionally, but other than that I felt as if we were strangers. For longer than I cared to admit, I believed that I’d rather be alone than live with someone and feel this lonely.

  I pulled away from the drop-off lane at the airport as relief flooded me. Finally, a much needed break. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my husband, but I was accustomed to him traveling and needed the break. We needed the break. There’d been so much fighting, so much silence, so little intimacy. He’d even said he was content, that all marriages struggle and I should get over it. It was like he didn’t care and just assumed our issues would pass. I didn’t know how much longer I could sit and wait. We’d both gone to therapy, together and separately, and it hadn’t helped.

  The kids were in the back sniffling as we drove away.

  “It’s going to be fine guys. We’ll Skype with Daddy every day.” I wasn’t even sure that would happen, but I was trying to cheer them up.

  I put on a movie and began the drive home. They all had their headphones on and I scrolled through my playlist, anxious to listen to my music without Todd groaning about it. I put on Lost by Liza Anne. The words were almost all true. I was most certainly lost.

  Our marriage wasn’t perfect. We had our ups and downs like every couple, but lately it just felt like it was more difficult than it should be. Things hadn’t been the same since having our youngest and that was several years ago. I really needed this time alone to reflect without tripping over his underwear. Three weeks without his help with the kids would be the biggest struggle, but I’d manage. I always did.

  Friends rarely called and I understood, but it didn’t change how I felt. They all had responsibilities of their own and most had a husband who was home every night. Some days I just wanted to shout to the heavens, but even that would be interrupted by one of my motherly duties; I was certain of it!

  That night after I put the kids to bed and finished up some editing, I logged into my KinkyFodder account. I’d created it a few months ago—mostly for research purposes—but I had a message waiting and wanted to check it out. It was probably just like all the rest, some ridiculous offer from someone claiming to be a Dom at the tender age of twenty-two. Not likely kid. I’d probably just delete the message and log out like I usually did.

  I read the message over and over again. Then I checked out his profile. A profile he actually spent some time on. He’d written a short essay about himself. He was a few years older than me, was married, had a family, traveled for business, had desires his wife couldn’t understand, etc. He kind of just laid it out there—if he was being honest. He lived in the next big metropolis about an hour from me.

  I went back to the message.

  What are you looking for?

  It was the simplest question, but I couldn’t stop re-reading it, over-analyzing it. What was I looking for? Fuck. Did I even know? I had desires, too, that my husband just couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. I wanted, no, needed sex more than he did which was beginning to give me a complex, especially when he refused. What grown man doesn’t want a wife willing to have a roll in the hay? Unless he was getting it elsewhere, and I didn’t want to go down that road again. Now, don’t get me wrong. There were times I turned him down, but more often than not it was the other way around.

  I had cravings, desires, and a curiosity to explore deeper into BDSM. That curiosity had been there for a very long time and I was trying to come to terms with it. I decided to respond to the message. Keep it cool Mer.

  Friendship would be primary. Someone to talk to who doesn't think I’m odd! Trying to explain it to my husband, when I feel like he thinks I'm damaged or weird is hard. He just doesn't get it and I can't explain it. I'm a SAHM and he travels a lot. I won't lie; I fantasize about nights away, but not sure if or when that would happen.

  I took a deep breath and hit send. I mean, what did I have to lose? It was just an email.

  A week passed and I rarely heard from Todd. He called the kids almost every day, but barely spoke to me. It hurt, but was almost easier that way, and it was something I’d grown accustomed to. Just more evidence for me that he wasn’t invested in me, in us, like he should be. Friends asked if I thought he was having an affair. I was no stranger to his infidelity; it’d just been a long time.

  Two weeks later, Todd got home and the kids were ecstatic to see him. Me, I was just happy to have help with the kids. I was a horrible mom and wife. He’d just gotten home a
nd my first thought was ‘how the hell do I get away from them all?’ Instead, I hugged him dutifully and put a smile on my face.

  I never got a reply to my sent message at KinkyFodder and wasn’t sure if I ever would. I didn’t have time to worry about that as I had responsibilities to tend to anyway. Besides the kids and Todd, I was on the PTA and planning to run for PTA President. I also moonlighted as a freelance editor for romance novelists and had a desire to write my own novel, but didn’t know when I’d find time. I took care of all the bills at home so you could add ‘accountant’ to my resume, too. God, I just wanted to be able to turn it all off and I had no idea how to do that.

  A few months later, Todd and I were in bed. He was finally smacking my ass with a little bit of passion. I moaned as he slid in from behind. Grabbing my hips, he pulled me back and plunged back in.

  “Don’t stop…”

  “I’m not.”

  “Not that. Smack my ass…harder.” It was finally starting to feel good and then he just stopped. I needed more.

  My request went unanswered. I played with my clit as his thrusts from behind became more deliberate. He was close and I was just getting warmed up. Concentrate Mer, find your release. Closing my eyes I visualized that I was somewhere else, with someone who did what I wanted without me having to ask. The sensations were rising as my whole body tensed. I was going to get off too, goddammit.

  “I’m almost there, Todd. Don’t stop.”

  “Come on, Mer. I’m so close.”

  I wanted to scream at him to ‘Stop talking and keep fucking!’ Tuning him out, I worked myself harder until my face was buried in the sheets, my orgasm finally taking over. His hands were the only thing holding me up and then he grunted his release behind me. The same old convulsions I was used to consumed him as I gingerly fondled myself, trying to enjoy every last tingle.

  He released my hips and I rolled over to my side of the bed. Throwing me a towel from our nightstand drawer, he headed to the bathroom to clean himself up. I wanted more and knew it wouldn’t happen, but I was going to try anyway. Climbing in next to me, after putting his underwear on, he kissed me sweetly and rolled over. Circling my arms around him, I tried rousing him for round two.

  “Todd, please… Let’s do it again.” I nibbled on his shoulder as he grunted.

  Groggily, he muttered, “I’m going to take a jackhammer to that vagina of yours. Maybe then you’ll be satisfied. Shouldn’t you be exiting your sexual peak, not entering it?”

  Totally annoyed, I pushed away from him and spit out, “You’re a dick. Maybe one orgasm is enough for you, but I want more. And if you knew or researched anything about female sexuality, you’d know I’m just reaching it, not exiting it.”

  I waited a moment and realized he was already drifting off to sleep. AGHHH. I should be happy. He got me off. Well, ok, I got myself off. But, shit. I climbed out of bed, threw on some yoga pants and a t-shirt and left the room. Sex with him had always been this way. I needed more to get me turned on, to keep me there, and wanted more when it was over. Todd, not so much. For months I’d been trying to get him to explore further and he was unreceptive, sometimes going as far as making me feel guilty for my cravings.

  Sitting on the couch with my laptop, I checked my KinkyFodder account. Still no reply. I re-read his profile. Spanking, corner time, orgasm denial—uh, no thank you—teasing… The list went on and on, though he didn’t list anything that scared me or made me nervous. I slammed my laptop shut, ignoring PTA emails and editorial messages and opted to get caught up on my DVR. Things would get better with Todd. They had to. Didn’t they?

  Six more months passed. Things were bad at home. I was so unhappy. I’d proposed an open relationship, purchased new toys, a kit so Todd could tie me to the bed. Talking hadn’t worked, so maybe new items would. I was trying everything to get him to open up and explore. We were married. Shouldn’t I be the one person he’d want to evolve with, grow with sexually?

  “What’s with the sudden interest in anal?”

  Sighing. “I’m just saying I’m interested. In all the years we’ve been together we’ve never done it. Why are you opposed to it?”

  “I just don’t like it.”

  “You mean the ONE time you did it? This isn’t like getting the kids to take a ‘like it’ bite. You have to try it more than once. And why not with me?” I could barely contain the smile on my face and he wasn’t amused.

  “I said ‘NO’ Mer. Drop it.”

  It was another pointless argument with Todd. I’d had enough of his lackadaisical attitude toward me and our marriage.

  “You’re a fucking idiot.” The kids were outside and I just ripped into him. His chin popped up and he looked to me like I was crazy. “I’m a fucking catch and you’re losing me, if you haven’t already lost me.”

  “Meredith, I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Well you have a fucking funny way of showing it. I’ve been begging and pleading with you for YEARS.” He just stared back at me dumbfounded. “Guys hit on me all the time.” Ok, not all the time. “Any man would be happy to take your place and you’re too self-absorbed in your fucking job to notice me. I’m good looking, I work out, I’m fucking funny, and Jesus, I LOVE sex. You’re a fucking idiot.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.” His voice was calm and flat.

  “Am I? If you were invested in me like you claim to be, things wouldn’t be so difficult between us.”

  Staring at me dumbfounded, he nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “About?”

  “Marriages go through tough times. It’s to be expected.”

  How could he be so calm? “Yes, they do. But what isn’t expected is for me to be the only one putting in some fucking effort.”

  He set his laptop aside, not saying a word. I wasn’t trying to be an egomaniac, but I was confident enough to know I was right. If he stood up, I didn’t see it. I was already out the door and heading to my SUV.

  “Mom, where are you going?”

  Looking to my daughter, I tried smiling through the tears. “I have to run out. I’ll be right back. Daddy’s inside.”

  She just nodded, but watched as I pulled out of the drive. What I know now is that was the moment I put up my walls in regards to Todd. I shut down, no longer wanting to be hurt by him. I was tired of all the letdowns and rejection. Yes, all marriages hit rough patches, but this had been going on for years. Anytime he said he would put in more effort, he would—for a few weeks—and then the same old Todd would resurface.

  I mean, what was I doing this for? This seemed like insanity. I felt like a hamster in a wheel and wondered when or if things would ever change. And I knew they wouldn’t change unless I was that change. But what did that mean? Was I prepared to be a divorced mom, single, really alone...? I just didn’t know. The other option was to grin and bear it. I shook my head. I’d been doing that for far too long already. Too many years of waiting for him to show he still wanted me, wanted us, loved me, loved us. It was just too much and deep down I knew too much time had passed.

  A few days later, Todd and I were walking on eggshells around each other. Nothing new really. That night I plopped down at my desk and powered up my laptop. Immediately I thought about him and the message that he never replied to. Logging into KinkyFodder, I checked his profile. No change. I deleted a few other messages, none of which intrigued me in the least, and then logged off. I had PTA things to deal with and there was always editing to be done.

  A few weeks later I was on my computer when my email program alerted me to a new email awaiting me at KinkyFodder. Thinking nothing of it I opened it up and there it was, there he was. He’d finally replied and according to the timestamp it was within the last hour. I took notice of where Todd was and spotted him in the other room watching baseball. I was safe.

  Sorry - I am not sure I ever responded to your reply. I do not get on here much unless responding to someone's message. Did you find a friend to talk to? I know the feeling
of having a spouse that just doesn't get it. Mine is vanilla but at least now understands this is a "real" thing...

  Did I find a friend to talk to? What a loaded question. Only girlfriends and we mostly joked about it. No one knew how deep my cravings ran, probably not even myself.

  I've talked to my husband, basically demanding more, and it's helped some. We have good days and bad as I'm sure most relationships have. I still feel like a fish out of water most days.

  I totally underplayed how bad things were in my relationship. I mean, who tells someone they just met ‘Yeah, marriage is in the shitter!’? I vaguely wondered how long I’d wait for a response this time. Several minutes later another email popped up. It was him. Deep breath and I opened it up.

  It took me a long time to accept this as "normal" or at least that many share the same interests even if not exactly mainstream. Took me longer to figure out how to make it work in my "normal" life. That, I have found, is a never ending process/learning experience.

  Was this dude for real? This was so bizarre and liberating. Someone to really talk to about this shit with no judgment. Bring it on!

  Yes. Agreed. I hate that word 'normal', always have. Who can say what's normal? Writing and reading are outlets for me, which is good and bad for fantasies! It's nice having someone to talk to who 'gets it'. I wouldn't normally just give out my email, but that's more accessible to me. meredith@meredithedits.com

  ~Meredith

  I must have been out of my mind. But I just didn’t care. I needed and deserved to have someone to talk to. And considering it took him almost a year to respond to my first reply, I wanted to make sure he had a way to email me directly, if he wanted to. Months and years of feeling like my desires were wrong and dirty seemed to vanish after a few simple emails. It was now after ten p.m. and Todd had gone to bed. Another email alert popped up.

  Is that a corporate/business email? Looks like it. If so – I would be VERY careful with it. Do you have a generic gmail or yahoo email account? If not – I would set one up for discretion and to keep this completely separate from the regular life.