Submissive

by Anya Howard

  He seemed bent on possessing Gillian’s will, determined to crush entirely her every last objection. Aghast, she shrieked, and kicked his shin with all her might. He grunted, but only that, and suddenly he lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder just as Abraham had done earlier. His shoulder pressed into her pubis, and he patted her buttocks firmly. A tremor of heat filled her pelvis even as she pounded his back with her fists.

  “Let me go!” she screamed.

  He carried her into the adjoining chamber and sat down on the bed. At once she fought to crawl off him, and even made it to the mattress, but he captured her ankles and pulled her back over his lap. Gillian twisted and kicked, but his strength was incontestable. Snatching her wrists, he pressed them against the small of her back. She writhed fiercely and tried to wriggle away, to which he answered by giving her backside a single, smart spank.

  “You cannot escape me, Gillian. My fortitude exceeds that of mortal men, and even if you were to free yourself, my men are outside the door.”

  She grunted and kicked again, which brought a harder spank. Again, it was only one stroke, but Gillian sensed the warning behind it and tried to keep silent as his chastening hand moved to her pubic hair, which he brushed slowly with his great fingers. Her thighs were clenched, but a moment later, with only the slightest of efforts, the Dhjinn E’noch separated them. He patted her exposed nether folds and opened them gently. With a finger he traced her fount, and then her clit. Against her will she grew slick, and as he drove a finger slowly into her fount, her whole sex swelled with sensation.

  He worked her more rapidly. Gillian’s breasts heaved helplessly over his lap, and her pussy grew wetter, hotter with need. The nipple clamps pinched into her swollen nipples. To her deeper chagrin the little coins chimed daintily.

  “Please,” she whimpered, struggling yet to free her wrists. How humbling it was to know he watched her bare buttocks undulate and enjoyed the slippery heat of her pussy! But under his devilishly sensual torment, her mind and senses seemed to drift back to Nemi. She imagined it was Sir Bruce’s lap she was over. An anxious moan escaped her and her back arched wantonly for something more…

  She heard a masculine grunt, and the exploring hand drew away. The Dhjinn E’noch lifted her and set her upon her belly onto the mattress.

  Before she could think, she was turned over onto her back. The Dhjinn E’noch was hovering over her now and his smoldering eyes had turned into two deep amber pools. He was physically flawless, and her entire body tingled as he unbuttoned his breeches. Splendidly endowed he was and she reproached herself for even acknowledging it. She closed her eyes and welcomed memories of Bruce.

  I can bear anything because you’re the one I love…

  “Look at me,” the Dhjinn E’noch ordered, “or I will chain you to that fixture in the niche.”

  She complied, but it was not his glowering, lusty regard she saw, but Bruce’s sensuous face.

  He draped over her, clasping her wrists down to the bed above her head. He suckled her right breast roughly, then the other, chafing each manacled nipple with his feasting lips. His knee parted her legs and the crown of his swollen cock bulged against her fount. It rubbed against her this way several seconds, and then he penetrated her. She felt engorged by his great cock. With slow, careful strokes he moved in and out of her, creating a decadently delightful sensation that spiraled through the pulsing depths of her orifice. It filled her with remorse, even doubt of her love for Bruce, and even as her hips rose to meet his plunging loins, she wept.

  “You will forget him soon enough,” the Dhjinn murmured, and his face glowed with sweetness as he kissed her mouth.

  Poignant sensation filled her mouth now, too. The Dhjinn provoked the same needy physical passion that Sir Vincent and the Warden had. How very close they had come to fulfilling her utterly! And though Gillian had come away from her time with them without the spiritual appeasement she found with Bruce, she would never forget those moments.

  The Dhjinn’s hips thrust harder now, quickly intensifying her already fevered pleasure. A climax spread through her like runaway lightning. All her strength drained and she panted languidly as her hips moved in synchrony to the Dhjinn’s rutting. Yet, it was not the Dhjinn who made her wanton and flushed with adoration—it was the memory of Bruce, which overshadowed even this being’s divine talents.

  He positioned himself on his elbows over her and slowed his thrusts. His breath was sweet cinders, and sweat dripped from his hair over her breasts. Her pussy contracted lazily about his cock as she waited patiently for him to get up and be done with her.

  But he kissed her throat savagely. “No,” he whispered, “it is not done yet, my slave.”

  He turned over on his back. With her hands released, Gillian rolled over onto her side and wondered what he meant by this.

  The answer came only a moment later when he gathered her by her hair, and rising from the bed, pulled her off and onto her feet. His arms swept around her and he kissed her hungrily. Plunging his hand between her thighs, his scorching fingers met her wet pussy.

  “Touch me!” He pressed her hand to his cock. It felt like a silken rod, its base drenched with her juices. He guided her hand to stroke him, and the head of it pulsed against her fingers.

  “Yes,” he whispered, “yes…”

  He turned Gillian around now and told her to bend over and hold onto the mattress. Her buttocks were thrust out, and now he slapped the mouth of her pussy and ran a finger down her spine. To her sweet despair, he clasped her clit between two fingers, and as he stroked it, her passion roused once again. She moaned, for it was all she could do to keep her hips from undulating and disclosing the sensation he rekindled within her.

  He made a satisfied sound that frustrated her further.

  “This is my ravenous little pleasure-mouth,” he spoke and Gillian felt ablaze with both anger and sensation.

  He entered her sore nether mouth with a strong thrust. His hips worked feverishly, driving deep, slapping strokes that punished her needy core. Gillian cried out, the golden coins rattling melodiously against her quaking, hard nipples. When the Dhjinn reached around her hips and stroked her clit, it burst with sensation. She moaned and fell limp over the mattress. The Dhjinn did not stop. Bowing over her, he gathered her hips and raised them, and continued to stroke her quivering orifice.

  She climaxed again, with an intensity that made her every muscle shudder.

  Yet, all Gillian could see was the one she truly loved. And as the Dhjinn E’noch lifted her up to her toes and raised her hands high above her head, his breath fell hot upon her shoulders. She felt his discerning thoughts as clearly as his scalding hard member against her buttocks.

  He spun her around into his rough embrace. He kissed her, his hands possessively roaming over her limbs and breasts.

  “You will love me yet!”

  His hands clamped upon her buttocks, and his cock pressed into her navel. His kiss was almost savage, and when he released her at last, he cupped her shoulders and pushed her to her knees on the floor.

  Gillian was shocked by her own primal desire. Her body ached with mindless passion, her panting mouth moistened. The Dhjinn’s gaze was intent as he stroked her bottom lip with a thumb.

  “Love me with your mouth,” he said, and though her body ached to do just that, the word “love” struck her as a cruel mockery.

  Her lips opened and she drew the unearthly head into her mouth. Its sweat was spicy to her tongue, and as she started to suck, her whole mouth and throat tingled. But his member was huge, impossible to take fully, so she sucked the head and fore-front of the shaft. The effort acted to intensify her desire. Her hips rocked and she moaned, though whether this was for his touch or the desire to release him fully, she wasn’t sure. And it pleased her in a carnal way to see his features tighten, his eyes closed as he enjoyed her. Her vision blurred then, and all she saw was Bruce’s face.

  Yet, he never came, and when several moments later he
withdrew, she felt devastated. She knew it should be a triumph of a kind that he had not climaxed, but then she recalled the earlier spanking, and winced with dread of his disappointment.

  But he only regarded her with an uncertain look that accentuated the physical desire he’d expounded.

  “Up now, my willful, pretty disciple,” he bade, and wrapping her hair about his hand, guided her to her feet.

  He led her out of the bedchamber. As he passed the sofa, Gillian realized he was leading her toward the place with the niche with the metal hook and chained loops dangling from the ceiling. She panicked and whimpered, to which he responded by lifting her about the waist and carrying her into the niche.

  The loops, she saw now, were in fact iron manacles.

  “No,” she whispered, and her eyes flooded with frightened tears.

  “I am patient, Gillian,” he said soberly. He released her hair and grasped her hand instead. His clasp was immobile, she found, and suddenly she almost regretted remembering Bruce…

  “But your willfulness is stronger than I’d imagined. You will spend the night thinking about the consequences of willfulness.”

  Gillian’s body quivered with a burgeoning frenzy that strangely heightened her fear and resigned her to it.

  “You know my men wait outside. Now, you shall either raise your hands, or I shall have them raised for you.”

  As irksome as the vainglorious Dhjinn was, the thought of others coming in to help him bind her and see her helplessness seemed insufferable.

  She frowned darkly but lifted her arms. The Dhjinn inhaled deeply and opened the manacles, one and then the other. He closed one about her left wrist and Gillian’s heart jumped. When she heard the metal snap about her right wrist, her mind reeled and she gasped for air.

  “Please,” she wept. “Oh, please…I will behave, I promise to behave!”

  His grim features lightened a little, and a rueful smile crossed his lips. He smoothed the errant strands of hair from her face.

  “Your misconduct is deep-rooted, my dearest. Far more deeply than you know. But I promise it shall be corrected. Soon, I suspect, your psyche will be cleansed, and you will submit willingly, passionately, as you are expected.”

  Her tears flowed heavily down her cheeks as he stepped back into the sitting room and opened the wardrobe. From it he took a long strap of leather. As he strode back into the niche, Gillian’s eyes widened to see the oblong leather bit attached in the center.

  “Open your mouth, Gillian.”

  She twisted her head this way and that, and heard him sigh.

  “Do it. Either of your own accord, or I shall compel you with that whip on the wall.”

  She saw the canister where the whip was placed. Her pussy quickened and her heart beat harder.

  Her voice trembled, “Please, have mercy…”

  With his fingers the Dhjinn gently pried open her lips. And as the bit entered and stuffed her mouth, immodest warmth flushed through Gillian’s thighs.

  He tied the strap at the back of her head securely. “I am nothing if not merciful.”

  She stomped her feet and pulled at the binding manacles. He regarded her coolly a second or two, then he took the whip from the canister. Gillian’s terrified shout was a muffled noise.

  He cracked the whip against his palm. Gillian jumped; her body shivered hotly.

  “I may whip you in a little while. I may wait to do so in an hour or so,” he said. “It is not for you to know, but to dread and contemplate upon. Such thoughts will help subdue your will and make you more ready to demonstrate acceptable behavior.”

  Gillian glared at him, hating him and this place where he was sovereign. And yet, his cool beauty seemed overpowering in itself. She wept harder, stomping her feet again in protest against all she’d experienced, and more so, for the rampant desire he’d managed to evoke in her.

  But he left her then, taking the whip with him. Gillian turned as much as possible, but the chains would not give enough. All she could see was the stone wall of the niche.

  After a time Gillian was overcome with fatigue. Her head fell upon one shoulder. But the day’s unsettling events were beginning to fade away. Uncertain but tender images filled her mind and all thought of the Dhjinn left her. Even the bothersome weight of her body upon the manacles seemed to belong to a different reality.

  She almost was asleep when the first stinging blow of the crop fell across her buttocks and roused her to a new frustration.

  15

  Life in the Disciplinary had taken on a rhythmic routine for Gillian. Hours of labor on the mill interrupted by whatever arousing torture the guards fancied for the day, followed by more grinding hours at the mill. She fell asleep each night with her backside scalding and her sex wet and pulsating, craving more, wanting the ultimate sensation. Her heart beat with trepidation at sight of the guards. She held no antipathy for them, only respect for their talent to bring her and the others to full arousal without climax. Not once while in their custody had she been truly harmed.

  The other prisoners came and went, and one day Gillian was awakened for breakfast to discover that none of her original Disciplinary mates were still there. Some of the new ones she recognized from the harem. But she never had a chance to speak to any of them, even on the few occasions when the guards removed their gags and herded them in single file to the shower room. Renier, the guard, had masterful eyes that lorded over them while they entered the stall, two at a time. Silent they remained, blushing and wet as they soaped and scrubbed one another.

  At least, Gillian consoled herself, it was not so frustrating or intimidating as when the Mistress had governed her in the shower.

  By morning Gillian was awakened by the guard Dylan telling her that it was time to get up. He was raising the pillory when her eyes opened, and this time he unfastened the gag himself. As he helped her to sit up, Gillian saw the Mistress standing close by. The woman had her back to the pillory as she spoke very quietly with Renier. Gillian’s heart skipped a beat, but she stifled a whimper as Dylan led her to the chamber pot.

  The steady, deep breathing of the other girls revealed that they were still asleep in their pillories. And when Gillian had relieved herself, Dylan took her by the hand and led her to the Mistress.

  It was this Mistress who had taken Gillian to the Disciplinary. Sister of the Dhjinn host, this fiercely beautiful being was lithe and majestic of height, with a perfectly oval face and dusky golden skin. She donned now a sleeveless black dress and leather boots that soared to the thighs of her long legs. Her long-lidded hazel eyes regarded Gillian.

  The Mistress’s smile was almost warm. “Here is my brother’s spoiled betrothed,” she said. “Your time here is over. I trust you have learned a lesson that will not be shortly forgotten?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Gillian quickly answered. Her head bowed as swiftly, as if the gesture had become second nature.

  Gillian was naked as she followed the Mistress through the hall that led to the heart of the harem. It was just as Gillian remembered, even to the weepy faces that peered at her through the spectacle portals down the exterior wall. But once they’d entered the harem chamber, she felt something was different. As she followed the Mistress through the little groups of harem girls, she realized what it was: Martine was gone. Esther was still there, bossing the girls lined up for their morning bouts in the exercise wheel. And in the very back of the room, sitting in a high-backed chair that allowed him to survey all the room at once, sat a man Gillian did not recognize. He appeared to be a man, anyway. But as she followed the Mistress toward him, she realized this being possessed more Dhjinnish features than human. He was slighter, more refined of features, with hair and thick eyebrows of blue-sheened black. But the scales of his face and hands gave him away. On one of his earlobes was clasped a fan-shaped piece of silver filigree, dotted with tiny dark gems. He wore a wondrous clingy robe of black, over which hung a silvery iron latticework cloth. As he rose to meet them, this latticewor
k, Gillian saw, was not actually part of the robe, but hovered close to the fabric.

  The Mistress snapped her fingers toward the floor. Gillian got to her knees in mindless response, and it was then she caught the bitter little dimples at the corners of the creature’s mouth.

  “This is your temporary harem Master, Gillian,” the Mistress said.

  Gillian had an uncomfortable suspicion that Martine was not far away facing her own type of punishment.

  “So it seems,” the Master remarked.

  The Mistress’s eyes narrowed and Gillian could almost feel the antipathy between her and the Master. A bland smile spread across his face, and he reached down and touched the crown of Gillian’s head. His fingers brushed through her hair. His touch was much gentler than his bearing.

  “Very pretty,” he said contemplatively. “Our king chose well.”

  The Mistress said impatiently, “As I said before, have her prepared and ready this evening.”

  “I will not forget.”

  The Mistress replied in a hard, silky tone, “You had best not.” She stepped close beside the master, and whispered something in his ear. Gillian saw her hand flit to his crotch and fondle his scrotum. He tensed, and his head bowed just as Gillian’s own had a little while earlier.

  “I will not forget, Mistress,” he promised again.

  The Mistress turned and walked out, and Gillian felt the master’s arm tremble as he parted her hair over her neck and stroked the nape. He seemed thoughtful as he watched the Mistress depart.

  But then he smiled sardonically. “If she were only male, eh, Gillian?”

  Gillian flushed. She wasn’t sure what he meant, but the words brought back the memories of the Mistress’s imperious manner at the shower. Suddenly Gillian realized she might never be alone again with the dominating woman…and an unexpected heaviness filled her heart.

  “But I will have you clean and lovely for our comely host,” the Master went on absently. “In the meantime, be sure to behave yourself.”