Brokered Submission

by Claire Thompson

  Zoë swallowed, pretty sure from her reading that she knew what it was, but not wanting to hazard a guess. “I’m not exactly sure.”

  “It’s called an anal plug. This is the smallest size, so we’ll start with this one.” He held up two others, each bigger than the last. Zoë stared in horror, and instinctively reached back to cover her bottom with her hands.

  Dylan smiled, though his gold-flecked eyes were hooded. “Don’t cover yourself, Zoë. A trained sub would be punished for that.”

  Zoë forced herself to lower her arms to her sides. Her heart was beating fast. Though she’d had anal sex with a few boyfriends in order to please them, it wasn’t her favorite activity. “What?” Dylan said, cocking his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking as you look at these plugs. Don’t hold back. I want to know exactly what’s going through your mind right now.”

  Zoë stared back, wondering if he really wanted to know the many, many things tumbling through her brain at that moment, nary a submissive thought among them. He regarded her with a somber, intent gaze. Okay, why not? He’d asked for it. So damn it, she would tell him.

  “I’m thinking I most emphatically do not like foreign objects stuck inside me. I’m wondering how you’d like it if I shoved some hard piece of rubber up your ass, especially when you had to pee like a racehorse. I’m curious what kind of power trip you’re on, to think I’ll just go along with this. I’m wondering if this weekend is worth the six million after all.”

  As she spoke, his mouth quirked into a smile, which, by the time she was done, had spread into a broad grin. She knew she had gone too far, but it felt good to just get it out there. After all, he had asked.

  “You done?” he asked, still grinning.

  She lifted her chin. “Yes...Sir,” she finally remembered to add. She stiffened, waiting for the flash of anger, the hard words, the promised punishment.

  Instead, to her surprise, he said in a calm voice, “Thank you, Zoë, for that honest reply.” He placed a comforting hand on her back. “You should know as we move forward, when I ask you to tell me what you’re thinking, I really mean it. And I will never be angry or punish you for sharing your feelings.” How did the guy get into her head like that? It was unnerving.

  He continued, “That said, I understand you’re frightened at the thought of this thing”—he held up the smallest of the plugs once more—”being inserted in your ass. You’re afraid it’s going to hurt. You’re afraid you will lose control. I get it that it’s embarrassing, even humiliating, from your perspective at this moment.”

  “Yes,” Zoë agreed, relieved he understood. Some things were just beyond the realm of reasonable expectation, their agreement notwithstanding. She was glad he got it. She would go pee, and they could move on to whatever diabolical “exercise” was next on his list.

  She started to lift herself on her elbows, but Dylan’s hand stayed firmly on her back. “I didn’t tell you to get up,” he said. “Stay as you are.” He pressed her back down onto the bed.

  Confused, Zoë didn’t resist. Dylan pulled the plastic wrapper from the anal plug and reached for the tube of lubricant. “Wait—what?” she exclaimed, refusing to believe what seemed to be happening. “But I told you—”

  “You expressed your feelings. And that’s a good thing. I listened and took what you said into consideration. Now we move forward. Get up on your hands and knees and stick out that pretty ass. I would advise you to relax as much as possible. It’ll hurt less that way.”

  Chapter 6

  “That’s it. Easy. Try not to tense your muscles. You’re doing great.” Dylan stroked Zoë’s back with one hand as he gently pressed the tip of the smallest plug into her pert, sexy ass. He’d added enough lubricant to accommodate a bowling ball, but she still squealed and jerked forward as he pressed the flared end of the plug into her anal passage.

  “All done,” he informed her. “How does it feel?”

  She twisted her head back to regard him, still in position on her hands and knees. “Full,” she said. “Not as bad as I thought it would be. It only hurt at the last second going in.” She appeared surprised by this. “I think it’s okay now.” She wrinkled her nose, adding, “But I really do have to pee.”

  “I know.” Dylan pressed gently on the flat rubber circle that peeked between her cheeks. “Think of it as erotic discomfort, with emphasis on the erotic aspect. You’re suffering for me because it pleases me. Do you understand that?”

  “Not really...Sir.”

  Dylan smiled. “That’s okay. You will.” He patted her ass. “Now, I’m going to remove this plug and put in a larger one. This next one is a vibrating plug. You might find it more, uh, interesting.”

  Zoë gave an exasperated sigh, grounds for punishment in a properly trained slave, but forgivable in the circumstances. She had already exceeded all his expectations for the weekend, and it was only the first day. Her potential was enormous, and he couldn’t wait to continue their exploration.

  Zoë’s head was still twisted back to regard him as he spoke. “I’m going to take out the smaller plug now,” he said. “Removal is much easier than insertion. Stay relaxed and in position, head facing front.” Her face was a study of mixed emotions, but finally she did as she was told.

  Reaching for the plug, Dylan tugged gently, pulling it carefully from her tightly-muscled anus. Zoë sucked in her breath as it popped out. Dylan laid it carefully on the tray and selected the vibrating plug. He unwrapped the sterile packaging and squeezed a healthy dollop of lubricant over the plug’s tip.

  “Okay, time for the second plug,” he informed his temporary slave girl. His cock was throbbing with some insistence in his shorts, but he forced himself to concentrate on his task. Taking his time, he pressed the hard rubber phallus carefully into Zoë’s ass. This one slipped in much more easily, her anal muscles still relaxed from the first one. Nevertheless, she squealed and flinched when the flared base was pressed home. Dylan stroked her back soothingly. “All done. I told you, you’re a natural.” He depressed the small button at the base of the plug, and heard it whir to life inside her.

  Zoë grunted, her body stiffening. “Flow with the sensation,” Dylan advised. “The experience can be quite pleasurable, if you allow it to be.”

  “It—it tickles. It feels weird.” She wriggled her ass provocatively, and it took every ounce of Dylan’s self-control not to push her down then and there and thrust his rigid cock into her. “I really have to pee, Sir,” she added petulantly. She was twitching and squirming like a little kid.

  “That would be a bit messy,” Dylan replied dryly, allowing himself a smile she couldn’t see from her position. “Hopefully you can hold it a little longer. I have an exercise in mind for you first. Lie down on your back and draw up your legs, feet flat on the mattress, knees spread wide. I’m going to watch you make yourself come. As soon as you do that, you will be permitted to empty your bladder.”

  She stilled. “Wait, what? With this thing still in me?” She twisted back once more to regard him, her eyes flashing with something that bordered on defiance. “You want me to do what?”

  “You didn’t hear me?” Dylan countered, staring back at her. She didn’t move or reply as they locked eyes. He counted slowly to five in his head, and then barked, “I gave you a direct command. Obey it at once!”

  “But,” she began plaintively.

  “I didn’t give you permission to speak,” Dylan interrupted. “Do as you’re told.”

  He continued to stare her down and finally, her face crumpling in defeat, she looked away. With obvious reluctance, she rolled to her side and then onto her back. Her face was rosy with embarrassment as she drew her legs toward her body and let her knees fall open to reveal her smooth, pouting cunt.

  Dylan’s mouth actually watered at the lovely sight and his cock, if it was possible, hardened even more. “Go on,” he said softly. He reached into his shorts to stroke himself into a more comfortable position. “Make yourself come for me.�
��

  “Oh god,” Zoë whispered, more to herself than to him, it seemed. She closed her eyes and lifted her right hand to her lips. She licked her fingers and placed them between her legs. Dylan could hear the muted whirring of the vibrating plug buried in her ass. Zoë began to rub the petals of her silky vulva with hesitant fingers.

  “Open your eyes,” Dylan commanded, his voice hoarse with lust. “Keep them focused on my face while you masturbate.”

  Her fingers stopped their tentative dance. She opened her eyes and fixed them on his. The color on her cheeks deepened and spread to her chest. Her lips were parted, her nipples engorged and erect.

  “Go on,” Dylan urged.

  She began to rub herself again, this time with more conviction, her eyes locked on his. She slid a single finger inside herself and then drew it up over her vulva, slick with her own juices. She was sheer perfection, and Dylan found himself holding his breath as he watched her erotic gyrations. After a while she began to pant, her hips lifting slightly, her knees spread wide. “Oh, oh, oh,” she cried, her eyes fluttering shut, her fingers flying, the scent of her arousal driving him mad with lust.

  “Eyes open,” he reminded her. He reached into his shorts and gripped his throbbing shaft, drawing his thumb over its lubricated tip. “Ask permission when you’re ready to come.”

  She opened her eyes and stared directly into his soul, her pupils fully dilated, her breath rasping in her throat. “Oh, oh, oh,” she moaned again. “Oh god, oh fuck, oh please...” She began to shudder, her fingers twirling over her swollen, glistening sex.

  “Ask,” Dylan reminded.

  “Please!” she gasped. “Let me come. May I come? Permission to come—oh!”

  She was already coming, that much was clear, but he didn’t want to introduce failure into the moment, and so he said quickly, “Yes. Come for me, Zoë. Give me all you have.”

  Her hips lifted from the bed, her head falling back, her body wracked with several powerful spasms. Finally she collapsed back against the mattress. Her skin was flushed and covered in a sheen of perspiration, her hair wild about her face, her chest heaving.

  Dylan lay down next to her on the bed and rolled her gently to her side. “I’m going to take out the plug now. Stay still,” he told her. He turned off the vibrator and tugged gently to remove the plug from her body. After the initial resistance, it slid out easily, and he dropped it on the tray beside the first for later sterilization.

  He curled behind her and pulled her close against him. He held her for a long time, until the thudding of her heart eased, and her breathing slowed. “Are you asleep?” he whispered.

  “No, Sir,” she whispered back. “But I really need to—”

  “I know.” Dylan laughed and pulled away, sitting up. “You really need to pee. I’d say you earned the right. So hop up and let’s go to the bathroom. We’ll use the opportunity to further your submissive training. Have you ever peed standing up in front of someone else?”

  He paused, watching with amusement as a look of horrified incredulity moved over her features. “I take it from your expression that’s a no.” He shrugged. “First time for everything.”

  ~*~

  Zoë wondered if she’d ever blushed as much in her entire life as she had since arriving in the home of Dylan Hart. Her face was once again on fire as she stood in the shower stall, legs planted on either side of the drain, desperately willing her uncooperative body to let go of what felt like a gallon of liquid pressing painfully against her bladder. Dylan watched her with that calm, implacable expression of his, a fire glowing just behind his eyes.

  She was still weak from the powerful orgasm he’d given her, though it was her own hand that had done the work. Never in her life had she been both so controlled and so free—so tightly embraced in the cocoon of another’s domination, and yet so filled with exhilaration and light, as if she might break free of gravity were it not for the comforting tether of Dylan’s steadfast, assured mastery.

  Whatever she’d been expecting this weekend, so far the experience couldn’t be contained in any of the relationship compartments she’d created over the course of her life. Dylan had made her do things she never would have dreamed of doing on her own, yet each step of the way, she’d found herself fully involved and eager to continue, even when it frightened her a little. The man was like no one she’d ever met. While he was masterful, he wasn’t a bully. And while he was tender and loving, there was an underlying quiet confidence and masculine assurance that was deeply appealing to a woman used to running the show.

  “Come on,” Dylan urged, snapping her back to the moment. “You have five more seconds. If you’re not going to pee, we’ll just continue with our next exercise.”

  This implied threat did its job. At last her body gave her a break, and a steady stream of hot urine splashed down between her legs. The relief was immediate and immense, even as she continued to blush. When she was done, Dylan reached for the detachable showerhead and turned on the water. He aimed the spray between her legs.

  “It’s cold!” Zoë yelped, twisting away.

  “Builds character,” Dylan replied with an evil grin. After a moment, he turned off the water. “Step out and assume an at-attention position, arms behind your head. I’ll dry you.”

  Zoë did as ordered, experiencing a curious mix of embarrassment, comfort and erotic thrill as Dylan gently but thoroughly dried her legs, pussy and ass. She couldn’t help but notice the sizable erection bulging in his shorts, and her self-consciousness evaporated as her body responded with a surge of desire.

  Was she experiencing that remarkable thing she’d read of in so many romance novels—love at first sight?

  No, that wasn’t right, because they’d worked together on the financial venture, spending sometimes as much as sixteen hours a day in each other’s presence, and while she’d found the man attractive and charming enough, there had been no longing, no ache of desire as she experienced now.

  So was it, then, just what he offered? This heady mixture of dominance and tenderness, of passion and erotic “suffering” that had somehow captured her complete attention?

  Whatever it was, she wanted Dylan Hart. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted another man. And more to the immediate point, she wanted him inside her. She wanted him to take her, then and there, caveman style, right on the bathroom floor.

  As seemed to have happened over and over since their meeting at the bar the night before, Dylan spoke now as if he had been privy to her secret thoughts. “I want you,” he said in a low, urgent voice, his eyes hooding with an unmistakable look of lust.

  “I want you...Sir,” she replied, her voice breathy with desire.

  Without further preamble, he reached for her and lifted her into his arms. He carried her from the bathroom to the small bed in the corner of the dungeon and laid her with surprising gentleness on the mattress. His eyes fixed on her face, he ripped his shorts from his body, revealing a large, thick cock that pointed toward her like a divining rod, a drop of pre-come balanced on its tip.

  With a primal growl, he fell upon her, his heavy, masculine weight pinning her down as he reached for her wrists. He pulled her arms over her head, pressing them hard against the mattress on either side of her head as he dipped his head to kiss her.

  His mouth was urgent over hers, his lips and tongue sending shivers of pleasure and need through her body as he kissed her with fierce passion. When he pulled away, she instinctively lifted her head, trying to follow his mouth and win it back, but he held her down by the wrists, and she fell back against the pillow.

  His mouth blazed a trail of tingling heat along her throat toward her right breast. His lips closed over her nipple. Teeth and tongue worked in perfect tandem, at once teasing, suckling and biting, the pleasure and pain inextricably woven together in an explosion of sensation.

  He released her wrists as he shifted his body lower, until he was perched between her legs, his breath hot on her skin. With strong
, determined hands, he pressed her thighs apart and lowered his head. His tongue snaked out and stroked a line of wet heat along her labia. Zoë shuddered and moaned, wantonly lifting her hips in a silent plea for more, more, more.

  His fingers were digging into her thighs as his thumbs held back her folds and his lips and tongue moved with exquisite skill over and around her spread cunt. It wasn’t long before she began to shudder and buck against him, teetering precariously on the edge of yet another powerful orgasm. Her mouth was open, and she tried to get her lips to form words. She tried to get her voice to stop its breathy gasping so she could ask permission for the orgasm that was hurtling like a freight train directly toward her.

  “Please,” she finally managed to gasp. “Can I—”

  But before she could get out another word, he was suddenly up and over her, his large hands once again closing around her wrists as he pulled her arms over her head. Lifting himself, he angled his body until the head of his cock was pressing insistently between her legs. Nearly faint with desire, she shifted beneath him so that her wet, aching cunt could receive him.

  He groaned as he thrust himself almost savagely into her. If she hadn’t been sopping wet, he might have hurt her. As it was, her body eagerly, even desperately, grasped for him, her vaginal muscles clamping down hard in spasm against his girth. He groaned again, and she moaned in reply. She lost herself in their lovers’ dance, her busy mind finally shutting down as her body took over, all conscious thought spilling away like water tipped from a bowl.

  When some semblance of coherence returned, Zoë opened her eyes to see Dylan, lifted on one elbow, smiling down at her. “I was about to initiate mouth to mouth, just to get you breathing again,” he said with a smile. “You okay?”