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SAMANTHA’S NEW LIFE 7
CHAPTER SEVEN: AM I SUBMISSIVE?
Funny how perception can be so misleading. Both Wichita and Tucson are in the Southeastern quadrants of their respective states and between the two states is only three other states and just the narrow panhandle section of Texas, at that. But, this is a big country and the total trip driving was about 17 and a half hours. With our late start the previous day due to finishing up with the police, we still had almost 11 hours of driving from Amarillo, TX to finally reaching home (hmmmm … what a lovely sound) on the northern edge of Tucson. It would provide even more time to talk and explore ourselves and our present expectations and our future hopes and desires.
With the new day, I was antsy to know more about Nick’s comment, suggestion, insinuation of the night before. But, how to even bring something like that up, again. You don’t exactly start the day off over breakfast with a question like, ‘So, you want me to fuck your dog?’ Or … do you? No, I don’t think I could do that. But, somewhere within an 11 hours of driving in a less-than-easy riding U-Haul truck, it might just happen.
It took quite a while as it turned out. The entire morning and part of the afternoon was easily concentrated around our new lives, mundane things like money and finances and what do we tell people about us. Nick had a good job and being the owner of the firm meant that he ended up with a very good salary when times were good as they currently were as evidenced by the need to expand the employees of the firm. He was convinced, and I largely agreed, that the cost of two people in the house were only marginally different than one person. I wasn’t used to extravagance and didn’t foresee my needs or style changing. In fact, in the warmer climate, I could see my clothing needs reducing, but that would partially depend on if I wanted to work or not. We eventually settled on agreeing that my desire to work should be my desire and need to be doing something more than taking care of the house. Taking care of the house and Nick, though, felt like a wonderful thing for me, at the moment. I had worked much of my life, though, and could see the benefit of having a casual, low-stress activity that was part-time. It wouldn’t be like what I had been doing, but something to augment our finances with some minor extras. He left that up to me, convinced that the finances would be sufficient without my working at all. That was another example of the relationship, he didn’t demand, push, or strongly suggest. He gave options and allowed that I could and would make the reasonable decision for my needs and preference.
We stopped for lunch at a truck stop along the way and I dozed off afterwards. I hadn’t intended to sleep long, but when I woke up he was stopping in a rest stop. That gave me the opportunity to wake fully with a short walk, washing my face, and the rest room. The whole issue of demands, pushing, and strong-arming to have things done and how that related to my life previously somehow all entwined into a discussion whose seriousness in his approach indicated that he had been thinking about me and the way I relate to relationships seriously and deliberately.
Initially, it seemed odd that he was spending time as we headed down the Interstate on my past. I wondered why he wanted to go back over all that, again. But, I reminded myself that Nick never did anything thoughtlessly or selfishly, at least with me. If he was reviewing these events and times of my past, it must have something to do with a thought process forming in his mind, something he was working out or wanted to understand better, or to eliminate a potential of misunderstanding or assumption. Then, he got quiet. I looked over at him and saw his face seemed to be a reflection of thought and concentration. There was something going on inside him but his attitude did not reflection tension or nervousness. I could live with quiet around him. There was one thing I had learned as a result of my time with Nick, there didn’t need to be noise or conversation or something to distract the senses. At first, it was a surprise. He could be very quiet while reading, playing with Harley, occupied around the house, the yard, or the garage. It wasn’t always about me and him, he wanted me in his life but that meant his life and his life wasn’t about doting on me constantly. I found that I like that and it was comfortable and reassuring that he was perfectly comfortable just having near but not needing to always be in dialog. It was a big change for me. A change that I like, though. I like when we were separately occupied and I could just look up and see him comfortable, sometimes looking at me at the same moment and that always drew a smile from both of us.
That’s what this was, just quiet but comfortable and relaxed. Then, he started up, again, and I knew he truly had been working on something in his head.
“I’ve done a little research …” and he chuckled, “… and there is nothing worse than someone who has done ‘a little research’.” He turned to me with a smile that let me know that what he was going to discuss now might have some holes in it. He was admitting that he was possibly in over his head. “Based on what we’ve been talking about, let me give you this description and see what you think.” I nodded. We were still talking about me and he was working something out in his head. “Okay … this is off the top of my head as I remember it … having a tendency to yield to the will or authority of others, often a stronger, more dominant personality.” He looked at me.
I hesitated. That was me. That was how I have always responded. Professionally, I could handle customers, but otherwise I seemed to always yield to someone else or look for someone to lead. He kept turning to look at me, the road ahead, and back to me. “That’s me. That’s what you guessed, isn’t it?”
“Yes. That is the medical definition of a submissive.”
“Submissive. You mean like …”
He interrupted me. “I don’t mean like anything. That’s the definition of a submissive personality. It merely indicates how that type of person might respond in relational situations.”
“It seems to fit, Nick. You saw it, too. Even before you did your ‘little research’ (we both smiled at my reference to his joke) you wondered. I want to be led, told what I should do and when.”
“But not always. Or, at least not as much. In your professional handling of customers and situations, you have been an independent thinker and developed your action plans. It is your social side where you don’t seem to give in. Maybe, professionally, you go outside yourself, much like an introvert can be a good salesman but for limited periods of time because it is outside his personality. Could it be that professionally, you worked hard to be independent, but you could manage that effort only so long? So, in your private time, you relaxed, having to for your energy needs, and you gave in to your tendencies? But, your selection of men to rely on were dominant, which might have been what you were looking for because you needed that someone who could take charge. Dominants kartal escort have their own issues, especially with submissives.”
“What do you mean by that? I’ve always seen in stories that a submissive is controlled by a dominant.” Even as I said the words, they almost caught in my throat. Control was such a restrictive term. Not that it hasn’t been applicable to me past. Perhaps that is what has been going on in my life. Men have controlled me and, as such, dictated how and when I do things and with whom. But, is the alternative to simply have to fight against my personality in all situations? So, where was he heading with this? So, I probed a little more directly. “If I am a submissive by nature, wouldn’t I want a dominant to control me?”
He looked at me for a long time, or at least it seemed like a long time because his eyes were off the road ahead for that length of time. “Yes, in stories … submissives in stories seem to be controlled in every aspect by their dominant, right?” I nodded. “You might have also read about a submissive having a contract detailing what is to happen, identifying what limits will apply, what things are off limits that are to occur. Whatever is not specifically restricted is fair game, so to speak.” I nodded, again. He looked at me probingly, “Almost seems like a slave, doesn’t it?”
I looked away from him and out the side window. Is that where I was headed? Is that why things got so out of control? That was what they told me and reinforced it with references from websites. I was a submissive and they were dominants. I did what they said, when they said it, and exactly how they said I should do it. Nick was right, that’s almost like being someone’s slave.
I turned back to him and saw he continued to look over at me in between attention to the road. I turned in the seat to face more directly at him. “Okay … where are you going?”
He took a deep breath. “Again, off the top of my head … I found a study performed many years ago, I think it was at Stanford University, on the premise of people in dominant roles. To me, it illustrated the dangers I always felt inherent with put another person over someone else and, especially, someone who would be psychologically predisposed to a tendency to yield to the will of another. As I remember the exercise, a psychology professor selected students to play prisoners or guards in a mock jail in a campus basement. They all understood it was to study behavior patterns in their roles. Within only a few days, the students acting as guards were spraying prisoners with fire extinguishers, keeping them naked, and locking them in closets. The experiment was supposed to last two weeks, but the abuse became so severe that the professor ended it after six days. I was reading a summary of this experiment contained in a larger dissertation on the subject of submissive and dominant roles. The summary essentially stated that the Stanford Experiment remained a milestone and recognized proof of the concept that power corrupts.”
“So … what you are saying, if I can summarize for my understanding, even though the students knew they were being monitored for behavior reactions in their assigned roles, those acting as guards sunk into abusive actions despite being watched.” He nodded. “If you are saying that ‘submissive’ truly is a medically recognized psychological personality, how does that personality … oh, hell, I’m just going to use me since that is what we are really talking about. How do I act or interact so it’s not always requiring me acting outside myself? We’ve agreed that my actions and history demonstrate that the definition is me. I am inclined to yield to a man’s strong control. According to that study, power over another has a tendency to corrupt. That just seems like the story of my life, doesn’t it?”
“So? What are we talking about?” If he had challenged me, I would have admitted to being frustrated and approaching angry. Instead, he put his right hand out and stroked my thigh and pressed down on it. Slowly, my tension eased away and I put my hand on his. “Okay, so what are we talking about?”
“I have an idea. Maybe it’s crazy, but hear me out. It seems that you truly are most comfortable with someone leading you, giving you the idea of what to do. The problem in your life has been the men you gave that control to. And, maybe even the word control is too much. Power corrupts when the critical element is having the power. What if power isn’t the primary driver? What if love is? And, what if it isn’t a matter of having power, but accepting the power?”
“Nick, I would gladly give you that over me. I would have wanted to eventually, anyway.”
“No … I’m not telling this right. I don’t want control over you, or power over you. I don’t want you to be submissive to me in that way. BUT … but I think you will have that inclination. I think it will come out in ways and those ways may be confusing or may cause anxious moments for one or both of us. I don’t want you to be submissive to me, but I could help you by providing a strong lead for you in our lives. I can suggest things, recommend things, present my ideas and desires. But, you would have the approval control, I would require you to have approval, the final acceptance. You would know that I have your interests in mind at all times, but I would extend your comfort boundaries, challenge you into new experiences, and always be there for you, to protect and watch over you.”
I looked at him coyly, “Like having Harley mount me? Ideas like that?”
He laughed, “Yea, like that. I was wondering how that might come up, again.” He squeezed my hand. “But, yes, just like that. Think about it, though. It would be a natural progression, but would you have ever gone to that idea on your own? How would you suggest it to me? This can take that off you, let you only respond, knowing that if I bring it up that I am already okay with it. You just have to decide if you want to do it, be a part of it, or whatever. Wouldn’t that be freeing? For me it would be. We make it into outrageous playfulness and I am not thinking about ‘controlling’ the woman I love. I can just love you and help you have the most fun you can have.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes. This isn’t about talking about it, but understanding it, accepting it openly with each other. We aren’t wondering if I am assuming too much in the relationship or you wondering how to give more control, possibly being frustrated when I don’t step up to assume that control and it is because I don’t want it.”
“So, you tell me to do something, or suggest to me to do something, and if I don’t want to, I just say no.”
“Maybe. Maybe you tell me ‘no way … in your dreams’, or maybe you say ‘not yet, let me work up to that’. That tells me you aren’t totally against it but we need time. But, I would hope there aren’t too many times you tell me no, I hope I will have a better understanding of you than that.”
I watched him closely for several minutes. I marveled at how confident he was. My watching him didn’t make him at all nervous, he just patiently waited. “What you are saying is that I get to be submissive pendik escort bayan to you, but I don’t give up ultimate control over what affect me. Chances are you will suggest things that might make me uncomfortable, but will probably excite me. And, all the while I know your primary concern is me, my safety.”
“Yes. And, I hope they do excite you. That would be the idea, anyway. We’ve already established that you are very sexual with submissive tendencies. If you feel safe and respected and comfortable, you will enjoy it more and accept challenges more. And, for me, I will also benefit.”
I smiled wide at the thought. If he challenges me to expand my experiences, it has to be in ways that he has never been to before, too. We both gain and that is the best kind of experience possible in a relationship. I lean over and kiss his cheek, my hand stroking the other one, falling down onto his chest and slide down to his lap. I could feel what the discussion had done for him. “I love it! And, so you know just how much I love the idea, I can’t imagine you challenging me in a way that I wouldn’t trust your judgement. So, what’s going on inside your brain right now? There is no way you’ve been thinking about this and not having ideas already bouncing around in there.”
He smiled at me, a brilliant smile that I loved. “As a matter of fact, there are a few.” He winked and smiled. “If we’re going to be kinky lovers, we can’t also let anyone get wind that we are also mother and son. You’ll always be my mom, you know that, but I am also love Samantha.”
“Agreed. And, I am quite fond of Nick, also.”
He winked, again. “You should, you gave it to me.”
I loosened the shoulder strap and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “That was easy, but I am already getting excited just thinking about how this works.”
“Good, because the next one might not be quite so easy. Strip off your clothes and ride naked.”
“Already? I’ll give you warning before I take an exit or the rest stop, but I may have another request at that point.” He looked at me with a wide smile and I knew that he already had a thought about then, but first was this request.
No, not ‘already’. No way was that happening. As he said, he would add excitement. I was even nervous in the privacy of his enclosed backyard. I took a breath and I unbuttoned my blouse to my waist, pulled it out from my jeans, finished with the buttons and slid it off. I looked in the large side mirror but didn’t see anything but a truck further behind us. We were cruising at a good speed for the U-Haul and dolly, staying in the right lane because our good speed was slower than most of the Interstate traffic where it seemed the speed limit was considered a guideline or suggestion. My biggest exposure would be if he passed someone and that hadn’t happened too often. I leaned forward, reached behind my back and undid the two hooks of my bra. I was now bare from the waist up. The only way to do the rest was to release the seatbelt. I undid my belt, snap, and zipper on my jeans. Then I remembered my shoes. I reached down to untie my running shoes and removed the socks. His hand reached over and cupped my breast as it hung just above my thigh. I gasped but instantly wanted his touch, that was what all this was really about, excitement and enjoying it. I leaned back into the seat and raised my hips, pushing my jeans and panties over my hips and down my legs. I pushed them off my feet and into a bundle on the floor of the truck. I refastened the seatbelt and became more aware than ever how the shoulder strap went between my breasts.
I was incredibly self-conscious. He was fully dressed and I was fully naked. Cars, mostly, zipped past us on the Interstate roadway and every time, I was sure they could see me. Nick suggested I just relax and act as though everything was normal and that only the occasional semi-trucker would be high enough to see me in the passenger seat and even they would have to look at just the right time. His words were only slightly helpful. I remained very conscious of my surroundings, as evidenced by the tight nubs of my nipples and moistening between my legs.
Nick was right. Soon, I was just talking and watching the scenery as we made our way down the highway, just a part of the rushing vehicles moving in the same direction for the time being. I found that my arms rose to cover my breasts less and less often until it wasn’t occurring at all. When I was deep in concentration to explain a thought to Nick, I sensed something along my window and found a semi-truck coming down the on-ramp alongside us. Traffic in the left lane didn’t allow Nick to move over, so for a short while the trucker moved closer and closer alongside me, the entire time he was watching my window closely as he also adjusted his speed to merge into the traffic flow. By the time it occurred to me that he had clearly seen me sitting at the window naked, he was dropping back and merging into our lane behind us. Our speed seemed to satisfy him because I could see in the side mirror that he created some space between us and his speed matched ours. Then, I saw his through the windshield move his hand to his mouth and I saw a cord dangling to the dashboard to the side of him. I watched him for a moment longer and saw him moved the object to the dash.
I was still looking behind us through the side mirror when I asked Nick, “Do you know if truckers still use radio to talk with each other?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I would think it would be more modern than the old CB technology, but I would guess they do. Why?”
“Hmmm … just wondering.”
Shortly after that, Nick commented, “Have you noticed how many semis have been passing us lately? And they all seem to pull into our lane and move ahead but never as far ahead as their passing speed would seem to indicate.”
I hadn’t noticed as I grew more comfortable being naked, but after his comment I did take notice. After a twenty trucks passed us and formed a long line of just trucks in the right lane, that line of trucks seemed to slow down, not dramatically but enough that we were now slowly catching up to them. Nick looked over at me, at the line of trucks ahead, and back to me.
“Why did you ask about the radios?”
“That truck that was merging alongside us a few miles back … when I looked in the mirror, I thought I saw him talking into something in his hand and not a cell phone.”
Nick chuckled, “I think he was putting the word out that he was following a U-Haul truck with a naked woman in the passenger seat, or something like that. Look how they are lined up and ready. They organized a long line before they slowed down for us to pass.”
“Are you going to? Pass all of them, I mean?”
“Hell, yes. How can we disappoint the hard working men and women of America?” I looked at the line of trucks we were approaching as Nick changed into the left lane and I thought, ‘yea, easy for you to say’. But, then he came out with more. “Okay, my submissive love … take your seatbelt off and turn in your seat on your knees.” He said that as he buzzed my window down. “No reflection off the glass to block their view. escort pendik And … blow each one of them a kiss as we pass.”
I turned my head to look at him in some disbelief, but I was already on my knees facing the window, so it was clear I was going to comply. When our eyes met, we both had big smiles. I couldn’t quite believe he was having me do this or that I was doing it so easily. But, it also showed me a glimpse of what was ahead for us and I was very excited by the prospect.
The first two truckers found me sitting on my heels, my upper body fully displayed to them and I blew each a kiss as they were even with me. Then I felt Nick pressing against my shoulder blades with one hand, leaning me closer to the window until my elbows were on the open window. The driver got an even better look at me. Then I felt a finger slip between my legs and flinched forward, my head moving halfway out the window. I turned and loudly said against the wind rushing past my head, “Two hands on the wheel, buster! This is dangerous enough.” He laughed, but complied.
After passing the last truck and we moved back into the right lane, we heard a chorus of truck horns blowing behind us. I put my hands to my face, laughing, but blushing intensely. Many of the trucks repassed us, each giving us another blast of their horn and enthusiastic waves. I had to admit, it was a thrill. My pussy was wet and all I did was expose myself. All? I’ve never done anything like that before! But, I knew I would be, again.
About an hour later, we were approaching a rest stop and I told Nick I really needed to use it. I released my seatbelt and was reaching down for my clothes, when Nick stopped me with, “I don’t want you to put your clothes on.”
“I can’t walk into the building naked!”
He smiled devilishly at me, “No … I will give you one of my t-shirts, you can wear that.” I knew it was another challenge, this one an extension of the last one. He was building on experiences to take me a little further each time. If this kept up, he just might have me walking around naked in public. I shivered, but knew in my heart that if he did he would be sure to do it somewhere that was pretty safe.
I refastened my seatbelt and sat back, closing my eyes for a moment to gather myself. When we would be pulling into the rest stop, we would be moving increasingly slower. I trusted he would come to a stop away from other trucks and cars. And, when he did exit from the Interstate, that was exactly what he did. Towing the car behind us, we qualified as a truck and he pulled into the parking lot for semi and trailers. He coasted down the parking area to the very end, which was empty for many spots between us and the building. He patted my thigh, got out, and I heard him unlatch the back of the truck, open the door and reclose it.
I watched in the side mirror and saw him turning around the back corner of the truck carrying one of his black rock band t-shirts. He handed to me and I saw it was Black Sabbath, even though I had never heard the music played in the house. I slid it over my head and stepped down from the truck, slipping my shoes on. The t-shirt was big on me and seemed to cover my butt, but I wasn’t sure by how much. I gave him a look that I hope told him firmly, ‘If I wasn’t also your lover, young man, you’d be in so much trouble.’ But, as I stepped past him, he raised the back and patted my bare butt, reinforcing for me to keep it held against my body.
I managed to come out of the building without outright flashing anyone, although I received a lot of question stares wondering what I had on underneath. A couple young men nearly fought over holding the door for me coming out and I had to smile as my gait provided a little extra swing to my ass. Having young 20-somethings making a fuss over you is good for any 44 year old’s ego. After giving a thankful smile to my gallant gentlemen, I saw four guys clustered just to the right of the main sidewalk, in the general direction of the U-Haul. Nick was among them and, if I guess right, the other three were drivers I had exposed myself to.
I walked up to them, pretending to be innocent and calm, and Nick introduced them to me. And, yes, they were three of the semi drivers we had passed. I was very impressed. I developed a much higher regard for drivers on that encounter. None of the three even made reference to what happened on the road and maintained good eye contact while we talked. They did giggle though when Nick suggested we get back on the road. Then, the comments came about putting on another show somewhere down the road and making more fans.
A State Trooper pulled into the rest stop and the truckers said it was a good time to get back on the road, themselves. I asked what the connection was. If the trooper was in here, the road was probably clean of radar for a while. They smiled, waved, and thanked me for the entertainment.
As we turned to make our way to the U-Haul, Nick pointed out that the State Trooper was slowly approaching our rig. There was nothing to do but continue on to our truck. The trooper stopped in the adjacent slot, got out of the car, and stretched. It was a woman with a long pony-tail. She put her ‘Smokey Bear’ hat on, spotted us walking that way and waited between the two vehicles.
“Are you folks driving this rig?”, she asked.
Nick took the lead and stepped slight between us. “Yes, ma’am. Anything wrong with it? U-Haul assured me it was good for all the states we’d be going through.”
“No, it’s fine.” She looked at me, then at Nick, and took a step closer as if there was a need to avoid others hearing the conversation that would follow, despite the fact that we were well away from the rest of the travelers and the Interstate traffic presented a loud roar. “I just wanted to say … well, there has been a lot of trucker radio noise about a U-Haul pulling a car that has a naked woman in the passenger seat.” She looked us in the eyes and I tried not to panic, or at least not let her see my panic. She took her hat off and pulled some stray hair behind her ear and smiled. “I like having fun as much as the next person, I hope. I just hate to have my highway messed up with an accident.” She winked directly at me and looked down my body, noting the bareness of skin showing below the t-shirt and my hands against my sides holding it tight to me. She reached out for a handshake and I had to return it, just hoping the gusts of wind wouldn’t decide to come just then. She smiled, again, at my nervousness. “You folks have a good day … and a safe trip.”
She got back into her car and left. I fell into Nick, laughing partly out of the scene we just played through and partly out of relief that it had ended well. As I was reaching for the passenger door, though, Nick had another ‘request’, that I take off the t-shirt BEFORE getting into the truck. What the heck, I had already done so much. I looked around to make sure there were no families nearby, then pulled the shirt over my head and climbed into the truck.
Five miles down the road Nick pointed at an overpass. There on the overpass was a State Trooper standing at the railing aiming a handheld radar. As we approached, she pointed her finger at us and waved. The sun was shining in the windshield making me very visible from outside.
* * CHAPTER EIGHT: AN AWKWARD FIRST TIME will follow * * Thanks for reading.
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