Extreme Submission
Stories of Sex on the Edge
By
Audra Morgan
Extreme Submission: Stories of Sex on the Edge
ISBN # 978-1-105-83037-2
Copyright © 2012 by Audra Morgan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission from the author, except for brief quotations
included in critical reviews.
Audra can be contacted by email at
[email protected]
Table of Contents
Kidnapped
Marked
The Gift
Kidnapped
I stepped out onto the wet street, looking both ways with a sense of uneasy anticipation. It had rained as I browsed the gallery, with its intriguing combination of surrealist artwork and rusted metal sculptures. I had stared at the painting near the rear stairwell until my eyes began to tear up. The image of gnarled demons pulling two screaming men down into the pits of hell lingered in my mind. I found it strangely terrifying, but the colors were so vivid that I couldn't look away.
Although I'd spent over twenty years wandering about the French Quarter, Royal Street seemed almost foreign to me as I slowly stepped from one rain puddle to the next. The sky was deep grey, and thunder echoed softly in the distance. I smiled to myself as a memory arose of being on this same street at fifteen, running through a rainstorm to shop for tarot cards and patchouli incense. The memory seemed foreign to me now too. It was another me, as if I was remembering a movie I'd seen, not something I'd actually experienced. Shaking off those unnerving thoughts, I zipped up my jacket and glanced across the street in search of another interesting shop to peruse.
Before I could take another step, everything went dark. I realized a hood had been pulled over my head, and I felt hands on my shoulders, then on my collarbone, dragging me backwards, shoving me to the left, then tossing me into a vehicle. "Don't move, and don't make a sound." The voice was muffled by the thick cloth pulled tightly over my ears. The car reeked of smoke, and I coughed and tugged at the hood. "I said don't make a sound, Bitch!" Suddenly I was face down on the seat, my hands yanked behind me and my wrists tied together roughly. "Not another sound!" My heart was pounding so hard that I thought I might tumble off the seat and onto the floor. The car bouncing as it sped down the bumpy streets didn't help matters. I tried to breathe, tried to stay calm, and tried like hell not to cough.
After what felt like hours, the car lurched to a stop, and the front door opened and slammed shut again. I heard two male voices, then the back door opened, and I was yanked out by the rope binding my wrists. Two large hands pushed me forward and I stumbled along, trying to keep myself upright. I had no idea where I was or where I was being lead. My mind went momentarily blank as I felt the rain begin to come down again, soaking my hair through the hood and running down my arms and off my fingertips. I attempted to focus on those raindrops instead of on the abject terror creeping up my spine. I tripped over a threshold and realized we had entered a building; it was warm and had a stale aroma, like no one had used it in quite some time. Although I regained my balance and continued walking, the hands kept pushing me forward, as if daring me to fall. I was suddenly yanked back by my shoulder and shoved to the left, and my shoulder banged into what must have been a door frame as we entered another room. The hands pushed me one more time then released me long enough to slam the door shut.
I heard whispers, then I was grabbed violently and pushed face down onto what felt like a roughly upholstered sofa. "Keep your eyes closed, and don't move." The hood was pulled off and quickly replaced with a blindfold. It was tied so tightly it was like a vise on my head, and I began to feel dizzy. Something cold and sharp was suddenly pressed threateningly against my throat. A knife? Scissors? I braced myself and told myself not to scream. I didn't want to be gagged on top of everything else that was happening to me. I held my breath in anticipation of certain torture. To my surprise, no blood was let; the blade sliced through the fabric of my shirt, then was dragged repeatedly through my hoodie...my favorite hoodie...until it must have been reduced to a pile of rags on the floor. I heard one of the men laugh and mutter something under his breath. Did they just high five each other? I tried to stop myself from crying, but tears began to flow.
I sensed another person enter the room. Were there three now? I heard an air conditioner kick on, and as I felt the cool air rush across my exposed flesh, I grew quite upset about the loss of my beloved hoodie. I quickly realized I had more pressing matters at hand when I felt my shoes being yanked off and my pants violently removed. The blade wasn't used this time, but I had a feeling those jeans would never be the same again. It occurred to me I may not be either.
I jumped as I felt a sharp pain course through me, and I realized I'd been struck by a very strong hand. The hand struck me again, and once more, this time even harder. My ass was on fire. I let out a small whimper, but I tried not to cry any more. After the earlier warnings to remain quiet, I had a feeling that being witnessed crying might yield extremely undesirable results. I couldn't have been more wrong.
"Oh, she thinks she's a tough one," one of the men said with a laugh. "I guess we need to teach her a lesson." His hand made violent contact with my ass again and again, in exactly the same spot, until I thought I couldn't possibly bear any more. He stopped, and I heard heavy footsteps as he walked across the room. "Your turn, my hand hurts," he muttered with another laugh. Seconds later, I felt a smaller hand brush across what had to be the biggest welt an ass had ever experienced. The hand felt icy cold, and I had to stifle a sigh at the tiny amount of relief it provided. That relief was regrettably short-lived. The hand began to slap my other ass cheek, far too many times for me to count. He wasn't as strong as his cohort. Be thankful for small mercies, I thought to myself sardonically as my brain began to completely shut down. Nothing hurt any more, and I felt myself almost floating outside my body. It was much better there, where I couldn't feel the stings of that strange, tireless hand.
My mind was propelled back into my body by the sound of whispering across the room. I couldn't make out the words. The hand that had been destroying my ass was suddenly grasping my hair and yanking my head back. I heard the sound of a zipper and then two men laughing. "Open your mouth, Bitch." My head was pulled back even more, and I felt a cock forcing itself against my lips. "Now! Or do you want another beating?" I opened my mouth and instantly gagged as the cock thrust mercilessly against the back of my throat. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried my very hardest not to vomit. The cock slammed into my mouth over and over, with harder and harder thrusts. "That's right. Take it, Whore." I didn't think I could take another second. He finally eased up, and just as I thought I would surely pass out from lack of oxygen, I was able to catch my breath. I heard another zipper unzipping, and two hands yanked my hips up off the sofa. My panties were unceremoniously torn from my body, and a cock pushed roughly against my ass. I jumped as it brushed painfully across the welts. "Keep still. Don't you dare move again.”
The cock shoved its way into my ass, and I made an effort to remain still despite the searing pain. The other man continued to fuck my mouth, and as they plunged into me in unison, I began to leave my body once again. The pain was miraculously transformed from unbearable to almost indiscernible. Everything was suddenly wonderfully numb as the men continued to pound into me for what seemed like an eternity. I was lamentably roused from this nearly blissful state by two hands viciously grasping my ass cheeks, right on the welts. I shrieked loudly, unab
le to obey the repeated warnings to remain silent. Despite my anesthetized state, the pain was worse than anything I had ever imagined. With a cock still in my mouth and another ramming mercilessly into my ass, I passed out.
I awoke, having no idea how much time had gone by. I was still blindfolded, and I realized I had been left on the sofa, but I felt warmer. I was still naked, but I was covered with something. A blanket, perhaps? I felt disoriented, and I trembled beneath the blanket as the pain began to fully hit me once again. I realized my hands were no longer tied, but I was afraid to move, not sure who might be in the room and what was in store for me. I lay there as still as possible until I felt a hand brush across my face, and I instinctively backed away from it. To my surprise, the hand stroked my cheek softly, then grasped the top of the blindfold, slipping it up over my head.
It took me a while to adjust to the light in the room, but I finally made out a face in front of mine. "That was amazing," my boyfriend whispered, reaching out to gently stroke my hair. "Thank you so much for suggesting it."
Marked
Jessica lay silently on her stomach in the posh hotel room Owen had reserved for their anniversary weekend. They'd shared an amazing dinner of crab cakes and blackened redfish, with beignets for dessert. She was full and drowsy, and the ridiculously comfortable mattress was drawing her closer and closer to sleep. As she began to drift off, Owen entered the room with a large black bag. She smiled lazily at him, and he smiled back and tossed the bag onto the bed. "Time to get up, Sleepyhead," he said with a wicked grin, and despite her state of languor, she immediately rose from the bed and stood naked and awaiting further instructions. "Put this on the bed." He handed her a black blanket which was water resistant on one side and silky smooth on the other. Jessica spread it across the bed, making sure the entire surface was covered. Goosebumps formed on her arms as she smoothed the blanket down and pondered what might be in store that required such preparations.
"Come over here and turn around," Owen ordered her gently, and she walked towards him, turning to face away from him as soon as she reached him. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to embrace him and profess her love, but instead she stood silently, her back to him, and waited. Owen placed his hands at the back of her neck, unbuckling the simple leather collar she'd been wearing for so long that it felt odd whenever she didn’t have it on. "I thought you deserved something that suits you a bit better," he said as he removed the collar from her neck. He reached over her head and placed a thick stainless steel collar around her throat. He closed the hinge carefully, making sure not to pinch her, and he sighed in relief as he discovered it was a perfect fit. He took a tiny screw and an allen wrench from the bag and locked the collar shut. "You'll need to ask me to unlock it if you need to take it off. Since you hate traveling by plane, you shouldn't have any reason to remove it." He grasped her shoulders and spun her around to face him, and they both smiled widely at each other.
Jessica's hands rose up to feel the smooth metal band, and she was overcome with joy. It was just a symbol, but it was a powerful one, and she fought the urge to run to the mirror and admire her new collar. They’d been with each other for two years now, and she’d accepted his collar a little over a year ago. She’d worn it with pride, but she was so happy to have this more enduring symbol of their bond. She felt completely on top of the world, and she had never been happier than she was in this moment.
"It's perfect on you. Now sit on the bed, I'm not quite done with our anniversary celebration." Jessica took a seat on the edge of the bed, and Owen slipped a leather blindfold over her head. She smiled, knowing something wonderful always followed when he used the blindfold on her. "I'm not binding your hands or feet this time, but I want you to lie on your stomach and remain totally still. Don't move a muscle." Jessica nodded and scooted up onto the bed, positioning herself face down directly in the center of the mattress. She breathed in the pleasant aroma of the leather blindfold, and she smiled to herself as she reflected on what a wonderful day it has been thus far. She couldn't wait to see what came next.
Jessica heard him walk across the room, and a few moments later she felt him sit down next to her and felt his hands caressing her shoulders, back, and ass. "I'm going to mark you as mine," he whispered as he ran his hands through her thick hair, pulling it to the side to reveal the blank canvas of her back. "Let me know if this is too much for you, but you're such a good girl, I'm pretty sure you can handle it."
Jessica drew in a deep breath as she felt a cold, sharp metal object glide across her shoulder. It almost tickled, then suddenly the tickle became a burning, surprising sensation as the blade penetrated her skin. She felt it cutting into her, and the blade paused, then curved to the left. The pain began to fully register, and she gasped audibly. He stopped briefly, massaging her with his free hand and giving her a chance to protest. When she didn't, he continued. Jessica had wondered for a while what it would feel like to be cut; she'd never had a tattoo, and she was always embarrassed to admit to her kinky friends that she panicked whenever she had to get a shot or have blood drawn. She could handle hours of flogging, but this had always been the one thing that engendered in her a rather equal measure of curiosity and terror. She took another deep breath then relaxed her body until she began to melt into the plush mattress. She was well versed in the art of handling pain, and she knew she could endure this.
Owen set the blade down as he completed the first phase of his design. He sat for a moment and watched the small trickles of blood merge and form a large red mass. He found it intoxicating, and he briefly considered abandoning his project in favor of tasting her blood, rubbing his body against her reddened back, and fucking her in the most animal of ways. He persuaded himself to shake off those urges, at least for a while, and he returned to his task. He picked the scalpel up off the bed and determined the perfect spot to break flesh. Jessica cried out as the blade again pierced her skin. He realized the blade had gone a bit too deep when the blood began to flow a bit too freely, so he eased up and lightened the pressure against her back. He completed the lines almost too quickly, and decided to slow down and savor the rest of his task.
Jessica felt as if every nerve ending in her body had migrated to that one small spot on her back. She felt on fire, and the gliding of the blade created such acute pain that she almost couldn’t fathom taking any more. She continued to breathe, and to think about how pleased Owen must be at her ability to withstand this experience which she'd been so afraid of for so long. He'd spoken often of wanting to pierce her flesh, to feel and taste her blood, to mark her again and again in the same place until the scars became permanent. It was exhilarating and frightening to think this was the first of many such markings.
Owen stopped to dab away the blood with a tissue, then he set back to his task. Penetrating Jessica with the scalpel turned him on beyond his wildest imaginings, and he found himself fighting harder and harder to maintain the self-control he knew he must hang onto. He ran his hand gently across the cuts he'd already made, and he smiled as he felt her shudder beneath him. He could sense her inching closer and closer to bliss, and he knew it would be amazing. He held his hand up to his face and licked the blood from it, then set about completing his work.
Jessica began to breathe more heavily as she felt the blade cutting into her and opening her up. She could tell Owen was growing more confident in his strokes, and they were coming more quickly and consistently. He obviously wanted to make sure the marks lasted a long while, because she could feel that he was retracing over the wounds he'd already inflicted. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced, searing pain consuming already slashed flesh. Her eyes fluttered beneath the blindfold, she let out a long, deep sigh, and everything began to feel soft and beautiful. As she drifted off to her happy place, the mattress felt like a cloud, and the blade's sharp stings became gentle caresses.
Owen felt Jessica's body relax and fully give in beneath him, and he redoubled his efforts to complete his work. He drag
ged the blade carefully over each cut once, then again, no longer stopping to dab away the excess blood. He didn't want to rush, but he knew his desire to penetrate her with more than just a scalpel blade would soon overtake him. He made one last stroke, drawing it out slowly and fully appreciating the lovely way her skin parted and reddened beneath the blade. Satisfied with his handiwork, he set the scalpel down and began to rub Jessica's back and legs. She almost seemed as though she was sleeping, but he knew she was awake, and he knew she'd be roused back to full consciousness soon enough.
Jessica felt Owen's hands caressing her, and she felt a dull throbbing sensation where he'd left his mark. It felt warm and sweet and wet. She smiled and turned her head to the side, as if attempting to look at him through the blindfold. She felt his hands on her grow more urgent, and then the blindfold was torn off, and she could see in his eyes that the self-control he'd so carefully held onto was all but gone.
Owen looked down at the blood pooling on Jessica's back, and he could restrain himself no longer. He lowered his face to her flesh and began to lap up the blood almost ferociously. He let out a bit of a growl as he ran his hands over the blood he’d missed. He grasped her shoulders and pushed her down into the mattress, then sank his teeth into an untouched area of skin, biting into her harder than he'd ever done before. He barely broke the skin, but she let out a loud moan, then a scream. He bit into her again and again, feeling more animal than human, and liking it. It had been so difficult being calm and careful as he wielded the scalpel. Now it was time to go wild.
Jessica screamed out again and again as she felt Owen's teeth tear into her. It felt so different than the careful, sharp sting of the scalpel. This was rough, violent, and amazing. She reached back and dragged her nails down his thighs as he bit into her again. The pain was so intense that she almost couldn't breathe, and her pussy was wetter than it had ever been. With her left hand still on his thigh, she pulled her right hand back and slipped it underneath her. "May I?" she asked between moans. Owen grunted a reply that sounded like consent, so she slid her hand down to her drenched pussy and began to rub her clit feverishly. The combination of pleasure and pain sent her over the edge almost instantly, and she screamed out as she came violently.
Extreme Submission: Stories of Sex on the Edge Page 1
