Submissive

by Anya Howard

  “You have worked here for a while,” the woman said with an uncertain smile as she exhaled.

  Gillian felt suddenly uncomfortable, wondering what this woman was doing in the staff parking lot. But it was not really her concern, and besides, her laid-back demeanor was welcoming.

  Before Gillian could answer, she sidled close and brushed Gillian’s wrist with her fingertips. Gillian smiled awkwardly, hoping this woman would not feel her discomfort.

  “Gillian,” she murmured huskily, “how would you like to be done with this establishment and this provincial town?”

  Gillian cleared her throat. She wondered suddenly if the woman was one of the escort-service proprietors from the nearby city. They were known for cruising out here now and then in order to size up prospective employees from the college.

  “Well,” Gillian said slowly, “who wouldn’t? But I have another year to finish before getting my bachelor’s.”

  “Yes, an art major,” the woman said and licked her crimson lips. “But I sense your wellsource of wisdom yet calls to be dipped.”

  Now Gillian felt a chill. She had shared none of her life’s ambitions with this woman. Why, she had been too daunted by her to ever start a conversation except to take an order.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, my break is over.” Gillian gave a congenial nod and started to stroll back toward the door when the woman’s hand grasped her forearm, bringing Gillian to a clumsy halt. Gillian jerked about, terrified, angry, and found herself mesmerized by the sensuality in the bold gray eyes that met her. The woman’s fingers clamped over Gillian’s chin and she drew her mouth close to her face. Much too close.

  “I am not interested in a whore,” the woman said, “I want the hungering lust of your soul. Your pussy must be starved.”

  Gillian shrieked and pulled her arm away. She turned and lunged toward the restaurant. As she threw the door open, she saw the kitchen just as she had left it minutes before: the assembly of young men and women in their stained, ugly uniforms and net-pinned hair. The manager was too preoccupied to see her, ranting at one of the other waitresses from over the saloon doors at the front, demanding the tea be watered down before it was served. Gillian’s panic turned in a new and sickening direction. Gillian backed out, and let the door swing back on its hinges. No one had seen her.

  She wondered if she had gone insane as she turned and looked at the Goth queen. Why did this woman’s words affect her? It was ridiculous, but she was seized with the most urgent desire to flee here altogether, say good-bye to her job and college, too.

  The woman’s heels clicked across the pavement as she sauntered up to Gillian and clasped her hands like a delighted little girl greeting her best friend.

  But her voice was all charming crispness. “You will come with me, Gillian? Depart this place and discover your true self?”

  Be careful what you wish for. It seemed she’d gotten it.

  Gillian blinked and glanced at the delicious white cleavage peeping over the front of the woman’s dress, the tiny hard nipples poking through the silk. How she wanted to tear the fabric away, nurse those breasts, and suckle the woman’s firm, smooth mouth.

  And when the next moment the woman reached for her skirt and lifted it, Gillian’s clit sprang to life and her nipples hardened.

  “What are you doing?” she said softly.

  “Come here,” the Goth queen whispered and gathered Gillian’s ponytail in one hand and with it drew her close. The woman’s lips brushed over Gillian’s, parting them, and her tongue pressed deeply into Gillian’s mouth. A shiver quaked through Gillian’s breasts and her fingertips glided over the woman’s lean, firm arms. She accepted the probing kiss, and when the woman’s mouth grazed down over her throat, she moaned and her pussy grew even moister. Never had she known such mindless desire for another human being.

  She felt the band yanked from her hair so that the breeze whipped blond tresses over her shoulders and arms. The woman unbuttoned every last button on the front of Gillian’s uniform. Anyone looking from the doorway would see her standing there, half naked under the funky blue-green glow of the security lights. Though there was no one, fear only increased the heat between Gillian’s thighs. The woman stooped and yanked Gillian’s panties down over her hips and down her legs to her knees. Gillian moved her hips pleadingly, oblivious to everything but the red lips kissing the insides of her thighs.

  She curled the ends of the woman’s hair with trembling fingers. “Oh, yes,” she crooned deeply, “devour me with your mouth!”

  The Goth queen threw her a quick, thoughtful smile. “We have need of women like you, Gillian. If I give you the satisfaction you crave, you must join with us. Your pledge will be more binding than blood.”

  Gillian blinked, trying to concentrate on the strange words. “Women like me? What does that mean?”

  “I am Madame Nevja, a recruiter of Disciples of Pleasure,” the woman answered and her tongue flicked out to rub the hood of Gillian’s clit.

  Gillian echoed the reply. “Disciples of Pleasure.” One or both of them had to be insane. Yet she did not care, except for the pleasure Nevja’s actions promised, and she laughed wantonly. “Sure. Whatever.”

  “It is no joke,” Nevja said.

  Gillian touched the soft skin of her temple. “Sure, I’ll be your recruit, you have my word. Now, please, just fuck me, fuck me now with your mouth!”

  At once the woman parted Gillian’s pubic hair and then her glistening wet nether lips. Her mouth smothered Gillian’s pulsing clit and with her tongue she strummed it until it was swollen. Over and over again the wicked tongue waved across the pulsating organ, and then down to enter the sodden nether lips to plunge inside Gillian’s drenched pussy. Again and again her stiff tongue fucked Gillian. She parted Gillian’s buttocks, and with her forefinger, fucked her virgin anus. Gillian’s sensitive inner walls shuddered intensely. Her clit suddenly seemed to explode, and her sex and anus were filled with an orgasm that blew away the last refrains of her unsatisfying act of masturbation.

  She was panting, when through half-lidded eyes she saw that she was still holding the woman’s hair around her fingers. The Goth queen was all cool poise again as she smiled and lowered Gillian’s hands. Nevja drew something from one of the scalloped cups of her bra. She parted Gillian’s buttocks again and plunged something long and slender into her ass. It was soft and warm, like beeswaxed ginger, and the embarrassing sensation it imparted inside Gillian was a nameless ambrosia.

  “You have been recruited,” Nevja said, and the heavy toll of the words drowned even Cynthia’s voice coming from the restaurant door. Gillian paid no heed. She wanted to escape…wanted to go beyond every limit.

  Drunk with satisfaction and feeling light-headed, Gillian gave no resistance as the woman pulled her panties back up and led her by the hand across the pavement to a long limo with tinted passenger windows parked at the remote end of the lot.

  The woman tapped on the driver’s window. The door opened and out stepped a tall youth with a sandy ponytail that hung from the back of his starched blue chauffeur’s cap. This he tipped to Gillian and opened the passenger door.

  Gillian felt a single twinge of reluctance and looked back. I am a fool, she thought desperately.

  “Get in, Gillian,” Nevja ordered.

  Gillian gave in, distracted by the sight of the front of Nevja’s dress poked by enticing nipples and then by her long, perfectly manicured indigo nails. They were intimidating, those sharp nails, and Gillian was sobered a little by the sudden instinct to flee. Before she could, however, Nevja shoved her inside the vehicle. Gillian pushed up angrily from the plush seat and turned around, hitting at Nevja’s knee, which was rising to enter.

  “Let me out of here!”

  Nevja bowed and looked at Gillian complacently. “You have made a vow, Gillian, and there is no turning back. Now be silent and stay on that seat or I shall have Tepcha restrain you.”

  Gillian panicked and screamed. With hands
and knees sunk firmly into the seat, she rammed her head into Nevja’s belly with all her weight. The woman fell back into the driver’s arms. At once Gillian bolted from the vehicle and ran toward the entry doors of the restaurant. She ignored the heaviness she felt, the sense of unconsciousness approaching; she did not care if her dress was flapping open or what her coworkers or anyone else might think when she came flying through the doors. All that mattered was returning to the comforting dullness of ordinary things.

  The Goth queen hissed something and Gillian heard Tepcha’s feet pounding the pavement behind her. Just before she reached the green and white striped awning of the entryway, he snatched the ends of her flying hair and yanked her back hard against his chest. He heaved Gillian up with his free arm so that her kicking feet swung above the ground and hauled her back to the limo and threw her roughly over the seat. This time the door was shut before Gillian could clamber to her hands and knees. She spun about toward it and at that instant heard the driver’s door open. To her dismay, she saw there was no handle with which to open the door. An electronic lock. Hearing both passenger doors lock, she beat the dark window desperately with her fists.

  “I take it back!” she screamed, angrier, more frightened than she had been in her life. “I take it back, you bitch!”

  Then from above her head she heard Nevja’s frosty voice. “Soon, Gillian, you shall learn the value of a pledge…and much more.”

  Gillian’s vision grew darker than the tinted windows, and as she pounded on the door she heard both doors up front slam shut.

  “No,” she said, but her voice was only a faint murmur in her ears. Her head sank into the upholstered seat. She dimly saw an oval aluminum intercom staring down at her from the ceiling. Just before she drifted to sleep she overheard Nevja issue a cool, incomprehensible order to the driver.

  Be careful what you…This was Gillian’s last thought. So careful…

  2

  It was not the intercom Gillian’s eyes saw when she opened them, but the full yellow moon shining down from the black velvet Appalachian sky. She was lying naked on the damp grass, her mind finally clear of the drug that had been inserted into her earlier that night. At least she supposed it was that night. She glanced around and saw no one else in this clearing somewhere in the woods. Trying to rise, she found her wrists were clamped solidly to the earth. Stretching her neck left, then right, she saw that each wrist had been bound with wide metal staples. Arching her legs beneath her, she struggled to push the staples free of the earth, but they had been driven far too deep; her arms were secure.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, her heart pumping with terror. Again she arched and with a growl, pressed with all her might against the staples. They did not budge.

  Hot tears came to her eyes. She tossed her head, desperate to forget the rising panic that threatened to sweep away her reasoning altogether.

  Then she felt it: an encroachment in the crisp mountain air, something drawing closer to her vulnerable, bound body. Her eyes darted this way and that, but for a moment she saw nothing except the shrubs against the bordering woods. Still, she heard what seemed like drawn breath. A second later something loomed forward out of the shadows from all directions about her. She saw silhouettes gathering over the untamed grass, figures that strode toward her.

  She gasped and watched as one by one the circle of figures began to glow in their forming solidity, developing features and taking on proportion, depth, character. Men, women, donned in garments of whispery hues, they were smiling, some of them, with the most ethereal quality. They whispered among themselves, the soft sound striking a hammer of terror upon Gillian’s heart. As they drew in on moonbeam-sandaled feet, Gillian felt the last reserve of calm abandon her. She screamed and closed her eyes and pressed against the staples until she felt the metal cut into her flesh.

  At once the hush silenced, and she felt something descend over her. It was weighty, real, and smelled of a raw musk so thick and drugging that it suppressed her terror and replaced it with a mad, ripening lust.

  She opened her eyes and looked into the masculine face of the being that had stooped and unveiled itself over her. He was fearsome, unearthly in his dimensions and the sienna eyes that glowed in the darkness. Even his skin glowed faintly green over lean muscles as smooth as a woman’s, dappled with sweat, replete with the musk that played with her rationality.

  The ends of his long hair tickled her face. Determined not to be seduced again, she tossed her head angrily. “Go away! Go away!”

  The being looked to the other watchers, and his eyes narrowed at one in particular. “Is this not what you wish, Gillian—to know the ecstasy of perpetual desire?”

  Gillian shivered at the voicing of her most private and dearest of fantasies. She followed his eyes and saw the figure of Madame Nevja among the encircling host—glowing and ethereal like the rest of them now, her face bright with assurance.

  “Speak up, Gillian,” Nevja bade.

  The being looked down at her, its great eyes thoughtful as he smoothed her damp cheek with his fingertips. “Is this as you wish, Gillian? Heed not any vow you may have made in haste. Open your heart to me, and know you shall come to no harm by the truth.”

  Gillian trembled under his looming face, yet for all her fear, she imagined his large succulent mouth grazing over her sex.

  “I—I—” Her voice faltered as for the first time she felt his naked cock crush against the V of her clenched thighs. It was proportional to the rest of his dimensions, and she wondered, without wanting to, just how well he could use it.

  The musk thickened in her nostrils, and she saw a soft gleam of lust in his eyes.

  His lips caressed her ear and he said softly, “You would have me pry your legs open and fuck you until dawn?”

  Gillian’s first thought was to dispute it, to tell this creature, whatever he was, that she would rather die than to allow herself to be used again. But as he moved up over her so that she could see his naked torso better, she knew it was self-deceit. They had frightened her, Nevja and her servant, by abducting her the way they had, forcing her to awaken stapled to the earth, naked and bound in the woods. She knew these beings were nothing close to human, and yet, if it had only been explained to her before—yes, she would have come willingly, if just for the unlikely but precious chance she would know a little moment of liberty from her mundane, predictable life.

  “Yes—” she said thickly.

  “Yes?”

  As she looked into his eyes his features shifted…she saw not this beautiful, heavenly being, but Bruce Wolff. Sensual, formidable—and so powerfully human—Bruce Wolff. The image only remained a moment, but her body softened and quivered with passion. She nodded and glanced shyly at the others still watching.

  “Yes,” Gillian whispered. “But must I be tethered to the ground?”

  An answering smile graced his lips and he kissed her then, pressing her mouth open with his penetrating tongue. Her mouth quickened and her body flamed. He cupped her head to the side of his face and said, “Had Nevja been mistaken, we would never again have had this opportunity to see you so pleasingly laid out. And even though your opposition would free you, we are not ashamed to come away with at least an image of what we desire.”

  Gillian was beginning to understand that she was safe for the moment, in a bizarre way, to be sure. She replied with a nervous titter, “But that is wicked.”

  “No. That you do not believe,” he murmured. He kissed her again, this time his huge tongue plowing into her mouth, and with one hand he scooped her breasts together, heaving the nipples together, his fingers pressing into them delightfully, painfully. With his thumb he then massaged both nipples until they were stone-hard. Gillian moaned, further excited. With his other hand he forced her thighs apart and pressed her vulva open. His fingers ran up and down her pussy lips and he gently squeezed the clit. She felt her fluids pour over him and when his attention swayed to the cleft of her thighs, her clit throbbed again f
or attention. As if knowing this, he sat up suddenly, leaving her mouth craving his drilling tongue. He lifted her legs so that her bottom rose from the ground, and dividing her legs a little, draped his mouth over her vagina. His tongue invaded her there, parting the labia and crushing her clit. He suckled it roughly, then tenderly, lolling it back and forth under his tongue until Gillian knew an orgasm was close to bursting through her. But the next moment, he threw her legs open and set them about his waist. She saw his cock then, purplish and erect, inflexible as marble, and the size of it filled her with a delicious dread.

  He entered her slowly, stretching her pussy with his cock, engorging the orifice. Watching an intense look sweep over her face and breasts, he began to thrust hard and quick, pounding her so thoroughly she feared her pussy would burst. She clenched her legs about his waist willingly, loving the savage fucking. At last, she exploded with such merciless rapture her shrill shriek pierced the air. His sweaty loins continued to grind upon her throbbing sex, but soon he stiffened and his seed exploded deep inside her.

  Several moments later, he withdrew and lowered her legs back down to earth. Straddling her waist so that his softening cock lay against her lips, he said, “Cleanse me, Gillian.”

  Eagerly, she sucked the dewy cum from the head of his organ, and the taste of it left a brilliant tang in her mouth.

  He lowered himself down over her and kissed her lips. Gillian’s thighs were hot and sore. Yet, she craved him again already, or, if not him, one of his companions, and the realization almost overwhelmed her.

  “You are ordained,” he whispered and his tongue penetrated her mouth a moment. Then he rolled her over onto her left side so that her tethered right arm twanged with the stretch. She made a discomfited sound and tried to roll back over. He responded by giving a hard slap to her upturned buttock.

  “Oww!” she cried, and wished she could rub the smarting throb.

  “You will sleep now, Gillian,” he said and she felt him spread her buttocks. Again, a long slender waxen object was inserted inside her anus and, confused, she whimpered.