Serving: Curvy Submissive & Older Dom (Submission Island Book 4)

by Q. Zayne

  Contents

  Teasers

  Serving: Submission Island 4

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Dancing to Him

  In My Mouth

  The Altar's Call

  Blood Offering

  In the Labyrinth

  Sacrifices ~ Submission Island 5

  Preview: Love in Time ~ Short Story Erotica

  Preview: SOLD

  Submission Island Episode List

  About the Author

  Teasers

  Teasers

  I wanted everything Submission Island had to offer. This wasn’t just a diversion for me. It was a rite of passage. I belonged here. Getting up the nerve to follow through meant this is who I am. I like intense stimulation. I like a dominant, sadistic man. I like sex to hurt. I want to get ****ed so hard I cry. I crave it. I need it. There’s nothing like the release of building up all that tension, feeling so controlled and so free—surrendering in that free fall, the electric bliss that burns through, and leaves me empty and clean.

  ~ ~ ~

  Everything he did to me felt like being loved for the first time.

  ~ ~ ~

  He kissed me like I was life to him. His mouth burned mine. He opened my lips, plundered my mouth. I couldn’t think, I could barely breathe as he gave me his all, making my body shake and my mind spread calm as a windless sea.

  Get free books, multi-author deals and giveaway offers! Sign up for my newsletter.

  Serving

  Submission Island 4

  Curvy Submissive & Older Dom

  BDSM

  Marcus & Cleo

  By Q. Zayne

  Copyright

  Do not post any of our stories on any site.

  Copyright ©2017 Hughes Empire. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written permission of the author except for brief excerpts in a review. Cover photo ©Deposit Photos and the photographer, all rights reserved. The use of this photo doesn’t suggest endorsement by the photographer nor the models, nor does it imply anything about the models.

  Electronic book publication: June 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual businesses, entities, creatures or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All people and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. This story is for mature readers 18+.

  Dedication

  To T, for his wisdom, kindness, and generosity,

  and to D, who inspires me with her spirit and discipline.

  A special thank you to the authors and promoters boosting my books.

  And to my readers. I treasure your reviews.

  Dancing to Him

  Author’s Note:

  Many books in Erotica contain immediate and frequent sex scenes with no heart connection. This isn’t that kind of book. If you enjoy BDSM focused on a woman’s pleasure and male dominance in a loving relationship, welcome to Submission Island.

  Cleo struggles with her feelings for her Master as Marcus explores and trains her. The island’s secrets lure her into danger.

  Submission Island is a character-driven erotic romance BDSM serial for readers 18+. It features romantic suspense and ancient secrets. Brief passages concerning past violence and death may be disturbing for some readers. No: Abuse, name-calling, high-risk sex, sharing. Yes: Spanking, Older man romance, Curvy heroine, one-on-one, monogamy, intimacy

  Marcus licked his lips and followed my movements with his dark eyes. He sat back in the armchair, his eyes half-lidded like a cat’s.

  Dropping my hem, I raised my hands over my head and clapped them in a slow, hard rhythm. I roiled my hips like magma in a volcano’s belly.

  I stepped to him, swiveling and raising each hip high as I approached. I sensed his cock deep inside me as I churned. I hungered for him. I could launch myself onto his lap, but I knew he wanted the tease, the sex dance that made me more naked than undressing. He enjoyed witnessing my desire, the core-level burn I felt for him.

  Alright, I’d show him.

  I leaned toward him, rolled my breasts in his reach, and danced away. I savored how much he wanted to touch me. It showed on his face. This dance came easier than the first. I wanted to show him my desire.

  Spinning in an accelerated beat, working imaginary veils, my heat built, shaking my breasts for him. I presented him with my ass, working my hips low and high, alternating fast and slow, keeping the sensation of his big cock inside me. His face became a mask of lust.

  He reached toward me, I danced away. I played my air veils over my face and body, tantalizing him. My feet arched and dropped, my calves and hips tightened. I worked my ass in a figure eight right where his fingertips could graze and arched out of reach before he touched me.

  Ecstatic in my inner music, I spun away. I whirled in place, raising my hands overhead. My hair whipped loose. With careful control, I worked my head side to side in the isolation move I saw him perform. It felt so right to me, giving him a dance from my heritage, a dance of my mother and her mothers before her. Rolling my head, I camel-walked to him and dragged my hair across his body.

  He grabbed my hair. I slid away, letting him pull it. I felt wanton, but not submissive. Bad me.

  I spun in the other direction. The inside of the tent felt heavy with sultry air, so hot and moist it condensed on my skin. My husband held my hand, his face anguished. I was going to die giving birth to our first child. Tears ran down my face. I whipped away. It felt like me, me and Marcus, not a stranger from the island, but us in another time. Was that why I felt I had to have him, he was my beloved from an earlier life?

  Working my shoulders and neck, I performed moves my mother taught me from her favorite Egyptian dances. I isolated my torso, gave him belly roles from low in my spine.

  Marcus tapped his fingers on his thigh to my moves. His pants tented. He devoured me with his eyes.

  He wanted me to learn to come from my hara. I could do that. I could dance from my hara, too. I fluttered my fingers over that power spot below my navel, bringing his focus there. A slow smile spread over his face. He grinned like a wolf.

  I loved him.

  I arched back, deep into a back bend. My blood rushed to my head as I arched like Isis being the sky. I felt stars in my body. Time dropped away. I spun in forever. A man who was my lover, Marcus long ago, fucked me hard, pulling my hair. I didn’t know who or when we were, only the pleasure and force of his fuck. I shook on it, gasping in my dance, shaking, my sex opening for him, fragrant, hungry.

  Marcus inhaled.

  I lowered myself to the floor. I shimmied and rose up, belly and pussy reaching high.

  The altar, stars flickering above it, the great cat’s tail disappearing in the jungle. Marcus kissing—no, not me—Emily. She shuddered in his arms as his mouth claimed her. The air thickened around them. Unknown words filled my mind. They wanted her. They wanted her blood. Marcus brought her to them so she was theirs. She scraped her hip on the altar’s edge. The blood disappeared. I swallowed, feeling ill.

  They took them, the gods who received sacrifices at that altar so long ago took Emily and Amy. Marcus, without knowing, gave them to the underworld lords.

  Shuddering, I pretended it was pleasure. I rose from the floor, shut my eyes and spun in the other direction. I had to come back. I didn’t want to see any more.

  I breathed into my hara, enlivening my core, getting my breath and heat back into my pussy. This dance was for Marcus. I had to be hot fo
r him. I had to turn away from the death of his wife and daughter. It tore me that he was guilty, after all. In some way, he knew he did it. I didn’t think knowing the truth would help him.

  As I swung my hair, I put my smile back. I worked my hips like my life depended on seducing him, serving him. Nothing within my power could make up for his loss, but I could give him something new. New pleasure, new love. I could give him me.

  I swung near. He grabbed my flying hair in his fist and brought me to his face. He growled like a cave man. Oh, yes.

  He pulled me onto his lap.

  “Beautiful, my beautiful Cleo. Feel what you’ve done to me. “

  I felt his magnificent erection under my ass.

  “Marcus. Yes. “ I licked my lips and squirmed. A stab of desire went through me.

  He squeezed me close. I felt his muscles bunching in his arms, his strong chest. I felt loved and safe and desired.

  “What happened?” he whispered near my ear. “What are you keeping from me?” He knew me too well.

  I bit my lip. I didn’t think I could tell him.

  “Kiss me, please.” I slid my hands around him, shy and longing.

  His lips felt hot and hungry. His kiss brought me all the way back. The past fell way. In his arms, I returned to being fully his. The past couldn’t matter any more. I wouldn’t let it. I wouldn’t go near the altar again. It was more dangerous than I’d realized. At least we hadn’t gone there together. If we had, I might be dead, too.

  “You’re from here, aren’t you, your family?” I eyed his strong cheekbones and sensual lips. He reminded me of masterful carvings I’d seen of Maya rulers, except that he had a beard. Perhaps like mine, his line intermarried.

  “Yes, that’s part of why I feel so attached to this island and its sacred sites. How did you know?”

  “I just knew.”

  He slid his hands to my hips and squeezed. He stroked my sides. His eyes glowed. He had the feral beauty of a jaguar. His thumbs stole to my nipples and strummed them. I moaned. I needed him. Everything else could wait.

  I leaned back to get a better look at his face. I settled myself more comfortably on his lap. His muscles delighted me, but they made a hard seat. His erection nudged me as I squirmed.

  Marcus caressed my face. “Stand up, love, offer yourself to me.” He steadied me as I slid off his lap and got my footing. He rose and his strength and height made him massive.

  I stood before him, so close a deep breath would press my breasts to his broad chest.

  “I could employ a paddle, a riding crop, whips... but I relish the feel of your flesh, your full, resilient ass. Will you be disappointed if I don’t use toys today?” His voice had a musing tone, as though he was consulting a menu of all the things we could do in the Spanking room.

  “No, Master.” His eyes were kind, yet his commanding presence made me shake.

  “I want to you learn obedience. Obedience is not saying ‘yes master’ by rote. It’s reaching into yourself and behaving well from your desire to please me. Some people might enjoy resistance and attitude. I don’t. Unless you’re willing to serve me, you have no purpose in this room. I will respect your limits, and you needn’t fear negative fallout for taking care of yourself. That’s a different matter from doing what I tell you to do within a scene. What do you think I mean by that?”

  I swallowed, descending into student mode. I was familiar enough with him now that his shift to formality didn’t shake me. My aim was to serve him, to please him. “You mean that I can use a safe word or tell you if something is wrong for me, and you won’t punish me for that.”

  “Yes, excellent. You don’t give up you to serve me. You go deeper into you. This is where Cleo blossoms. I want to see who you are when you aren’t afraid.”

  I nodded. I wanted to protest that I wasn’t afraid, but he saw too much. He knew I feared him. He sensed my many restrictions. He had tremendous power in his ability to cut through them and make me writhe with lust in defiance of every inhibition I carried. I sensed him waiting for me to respond.

  “Yes, Master.”

  He slid his fingers up the back of my skull. Desire jolted through me.

  “I want you to suck me. This time, blindfolded, and with your hands bound behind your back. Focus all of your senses and attention in your mouth, in your tongue and lips pleasuring my cock.”

  “Yes, Master.” My eagerness came through my voice, and he smiled.

  He reached into a black bag and pulled out padded restraints. He buckled them on each wrist. I smelled the leather, felt its supple grasp on my flesh. My nipples hardened. Holding my arms behind my back, he clipped my wrists together.

  He’d be able to let me loose fast. I took comfort in that. Being naked and unable to shield all my tender parts made me aware of my vulnerability. For all his finesse, and despite all the intimacy Marcus was still an unknown, a kind of stranger. I was putting myself in his power. His face showed intentness and tenderness. I was putting myself in his care. I trusted him—more than I expected to trust any man after Josh.

  I shook my head and banished my ex from the room.

  Marcus grasped my face in both hands and kissed me. His lips brought me all the way back to him.

  He hadn’t had to do anything to me. He didn’t need any specialized kinky toys. It was as though I was waiting for him, all this time, waiting to be his.

  The fantasy of belonging to him, the real longing, blurred reality for me. I didn’t want to feel so much for him.

  I kissed him back, pressing against him, surrendering. This was what he wanted wasn’t it? Not playacting obedience, the real me, so open to him, it hurt.

  “I’m here, Marcus. I want you.”

  “Good Cleo, so good. You’re beautiful, made for this, made to give and receive pleasure.”

  He slid a silk scarf from his pocket and wrapped it around my face. I inhaled his scent. He adjusted it over my eyes and tied it behind my head. I felt his deft fingers taking care not to pull my hair. A master in all things, my Marcus. If only he could be mine. This must be acting. He must be an amazing actor, even saying he couldn’t think of anything but me. I loved hearing it, but couldn’t allow myself to believe it—in that direction, madness lies. And heartbreak.

  The stab of Josh’s betrayal hit me low in the belly. I put it out of my mind for so long. I didn’t want it here with me on Submission Island, and especially not in this sacred room with Marcus. I shut my eyes tight behind the blindfold and banished Josh and his cheater’s panties-trophy from my heart. That was over.

  I inhaled again. Teasing out the scent of Marcus from the blindfold. I couldn’t define it. It reminded me of the woods where I grew up after a rain, fresh, yet with a deep note, earthy and primal.

  I loved him, that was all.

  A whiff of him brought me to attention like a dog happy her human came home. Damn. I had it bad.

  His hand slid down my back from the nape of my neck to my tail bone. His finger nestled between my ass cheeks and slid lower. I froze. I stopped breathing. He wasn’t going to touch me there.

  His finger stopped just short of my asshole.

  “Relax. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  I took another deep breath and rolled my eyes to the ceiling under the blindfold. Why was I having such a hard time with this? I wanted to be here. This was my dream come true.

  His finger slid lower. Oh, no. He was going to—yes. He touched my asshole. His finger stopped there and stayed. I wasn’t breathing. I remembered to, and hitched a hard breath that brought my shoulders up to my ears. I was not relaxed.

  Marcus chuckled, but not in a mean way. He sounded like he was enjoying himself, not as though he was making fun of me.

  By force of will, I unclenched my butt cheeks from his finger.

  “That’s it. Right here, Cleo. Bring your attention right here to the tip of my finger on your ass. Don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck your ass. Not today, anyway.” His low voice resonated in my
belly, in my bones.

  I breathed easier. Without the explicit thought surfacing, ‘Oh no, he’s going to fuck my ass,’ that’s what I tightened against as soon as his finger slid between my cheeks. Was the man an actual mind reader, or was my body so easy to read?

  “Calm, Cleo. Be calm.” He withdrew his finger.

  I heard a whisper of friction and smelled a mild anti-bacterial scent. Thoughtful Master, keeping his hands sanitary. My asshole still felt his warm presence. He guided me closer to him and pressed on my shoulders. His hands slid under my arms to steady me.

  “On your knees, beautiful.”

  I lowered myself to my knees, quivering at the command in his voice. He called me beautiful. Had anyone ever called me beautiful and sounded so sincere? My eyes prickled. This was a happy time. Yes, yes, yes.

  His hands caressed my face. I wouldn’t cry again, I wouldn’t. Why did this man make me feel so much? Who the hell was he to get so deep inside me so fast? I flashed on his cock filling me like no one had before. Damn. A sexual shudder went through me so hard my head rocked back.

  “What was that?” He stroked his beard. His eyes gleamed.

  “I remembered your cock in me, Master,” I whispered, mortified that my desire for him was so intense and apparent.

  “You delight me, Cleo. Sexual response is nothing of which to be ashamed. You’re delicious.” He slid his fingers under my chin, raised my face and pressed his lips to mine, taking me slow, so slow. The hot hard pressure intensified my heart beat. Oh, Marcus.

  Leather creaked. His arms wrapped me close. He’d crouched down to reassure me. What kind of man was he? Like no other I knew. I was going to miss him every day for the rest of my life. One tear slid free. I was grateful to the blindfold for catching it so he wouldn’t see. I was happy to be with him, I was.

  I didn’t know how I’d live without him after I had to leave.