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

by Q. Zayne

  I kissed him back. Right here, right now. This was what I had with Marcus. I’d obey. I’d behave. I’d show him with all of me how much I wanted him, how much I wanted to please him.

  I arched against his body, my mouth surrendering, my hard nipples tender against his supple leather vest, my pussy releasing my heat scent into the room. My body quaked, the deep sexual shudder rising low in my belly to the crown of my head. The kundalini serpent shook me full force.

  The man had me. He had me with his hot lips and broad knowing hands. He didn’t have to take out his cock to shake me with mini-comes. No one ever had such an effect on me.

  He wrapped his hand in my hair and pulled. I jolted from my pussy. I opened my mouth to his tongue.

  He teased me, he fucked me with his tongue, every push zeroing right to my clit. I shuddered out of control. His hard arm pulled me against him.

  I tightened, gave in, swaying on my knees, heady, yet solid in the protection of his body. His arm anchored me to the earth. Dizziness and swirling color engulfed me. He was my tether. The raw sensations he aroused all though me took me to the verge of flight. I was a helium balloon and Marcus held my string.

  His hands caressed my shoulders, slipped down my back and grabbed my ass. He owned my ass, and he knew it. He gripped me so hard I squeaked. He petted my thighs, slipped so slow up my sides I giggled as he caught my tickle place.

  “I’ll remember that,” he whispered.

  Of course he would.

  He gathered my breasts and lifted them. The gesture was so intimate and welcome, I sighed. At last, a man capable of treating my breasts as though they were attached to me, not toys for him to milk in unthinking acts of age-regression. I had no idea how to take it. I cleared my throat as a wave of nervousness warred with pleasure. His thumbs slid across my nipples in a gentle move that went to my clit like a clever tongue. Everything he did to me felt like being loved for the first time.

  Marcus was the man I always needed.

  “You’re ruining me,” I whispered.

  “Am I, my beauty?” His voice was rough, lower than his usual deep tone, a voice that could belong to a devil or an angel.

  He was mine. For right now, he was mine. That’s all that mattered.

  I surrendered. I held onto him and shuddered from the pure sweetness of his thumbs playing my nipples. I became his harp. My cries filled the room.

  “Luscious, luscious, Cleo. This is you. This is the Cleo I sensed. Magic woman, powerful woman. Let it all out. Give me everything.”

  His hands massaged my breasts, taking his time. He caressed my belly, the place I usually wanted most not to be touched. His hands massaged me all over that place where I’d felt so much shame. With his care, I didn’t mind his intimate exploration. He pushed my thighs wider apart, his powerful arm keeping me from tottering as I adjusted.

  He took my pussy, fingers sliding over my slick folds, laying claim. His palm and fingers gathered me and squeezed. I moaned. I wanted him so much.

  “Lick you lips for me, my beauty.”

  “Yes, Master.” I quivered all over.

  In My Mouth

  He filled my mouth with his cock.

  I sucked, greedy, hungry.

  Blindfolded, I tasted Marcus. His slickness filled my mouth with sweetness. I sensed the weight of his cock on my tongue. His mild, slippery precum slid over my taste buds. I moved my lips on him, savoring him. I breathed his musk. My jaw stretched, making room for his thickness as he nudged it deeper into my face. So primal, kneeling, open to him, with his cock becoming my world in the dark.

  He slid the tip back and forth on my tongue, pumping his cock head in and withdrawing to the circle of my lips, ringing his head. I tightened and flicked his frenum. He moaned. Yes, I had him there. I grabbed his ass, greedy for his pleasure, as urgent as though I had a cock myself and an eager mouth to fill with my cum. I wanted everything Marcus had to give me. Overcoming my shyness, I stroked his inner thighs and lifted his balls on my palm. They were big and masterful, like everything about him. In my mind, I envisioned his cock and balls, longing to see them again. His secret skin had a dark cinnamon tinge. I rolled his balls like plums. Tonguing his cock a slow goodbye, I lowered my head and gave his balls slow, wide licks with my tongue. He moaned. I flicked the big veins standing on his shaft and teased the nubs along his corona. I sucked the head of it like a big ice pop.

  His slid his fingertips from the nape of my neck to the crown of my head, enlivening my scalp. He pressed his cock farther, opening my mouth wide.

  I mastered the urge to gag.

  He went slow and easy, guiding my head with his hands, stretching and filling me.

  I strove to breathe with his strokes, stay open. I needed him. I felt an ache from the pit of my being. Staying in tune with him, I opened wider. I wanted to please him. I needed to make him happy.

  He caged my head with his hands, pushing deep. I opened all the way relaxing my throat. He entered my throat, his weight and thickness opening me all the way. He lodged in my throat and stayed. Taking tiny sips of air, I stayed with him as he held still.

  I slid my tongue on him as well as I could. I wanted him to be happy, to stay. I wanted to make it last. I felt heady, needing air. He backed out and let me breathe. Yes. That primal, in the dark, Marcus master of my air. I caressed his balls and caressed them on my palm, marveling at the silky feel of them, the velvety twins to his smooth cock. I flicked the sensitive ring under his cock head, his pleasure breathing guiding me in the dark. He had a thick, defined helmet. Squeezing his shaft, I swirled my tongue around his head, laving it, loving it, worshiping the part of him that gave me such pleasure. He reached so deep inside me. Holding the base, I plunged my mouth down, taking all of him, my throat tightening along his thickness, massaging all his length.

  He moaned low and held my head in place. With short, deep, tormenting strokes, he used me. I felt the pressure of his finger tips, the power of his hips, the throbbing in his shaft. I tasted salt. He shuddered, pushing hard against my lips, giving me all of him. I gagged and fought to stay open, breathing when he backed up, choking as he pushed full-length. He held my head against him and bucked hard. He spurted deep, and I swallowed. I sucked to take all of it. His tangy bitterness filled my mouth and I drank him down, greedy for his essence, happy to be the mouth he filled.

  “Cleo, sweet, sweet, Cleo. Yes. Excellent.”

  He raised me and took me in his arms, the taste and scent of him filled me, the feel of him completed my joy. I’d never relished sucking a cock so much, nor felt so connected to a man while doing it.

  “You drained me, my beauty.

  “I’m glad. I enjoyed it.”

  He gave me a soft kiss, not squeamish of his essence. I loved him more than ever.

  “You are so well suited to me.” His voice rasped. His words seemed reluctant, as though some part of him felt torn that he gave me test that I passed.

  “I think so, too.” I kept my voice light. I believed it, but never knew how to take his wonderful words. He couldn’t be playing a part, not anymore, could he—?

  There’s much he could tell me if he would. I wasn’t sure what to ask, how to start. My blunder in asking about his scar stopped me. Chuck’s face played across my mind, his entreaty that I tell no one but Marcus about the altar. I had to stop thinking about that. No good could come of opening the wounds of his wife and daughter’s deaths. I pressed my face to his chest, grateful for the sound of his heart.

  “You performed your task exquisitely, Cleopatra.”

  “You’re a magnificent master, Marcus. You took me into the dark with expert guidances so that I could fulfill the task you set me. It was wonderful.” I sighed. I felt as fulfilled as if I’d come hard.

  “Only an exceptional student excels at such advanced skills so soon. You are beyond my expectations in every way.” He brushed my hair back from my face. His fingers trembled. “I didn’t expect this Cleo, not you, not any of it.” His hand
rested between my shoulders. I envisioned the wings of Isis. I envisioned him my lover so long ago. I felt the man he was now, the man I’d waited for longer than I knew.

  “You taught me so well. I didn’t need to see you. I didn’t need to speak. I needed only to trust you and do what you asked.” I gathered my thoughts, shy again. “I never wanted to be obedient in this way. You’re changing me. Without having to try, I learned your lesson. I reached a new level where I obeyed out of the desire to do so, without fear, without balking, because it came from my heart.”

  “Yes. I felt you. You moved and experienced me from your hara. It’s rare for anyone to reach that depth without detailed training. Your obedience, your genuine desire to obey, pleases me.” He gave me a soft kiss.

  “I found the desire to obey. It’s what you asked me for before, and I didn’t understand at the time.” I shrugged against a tingle going through me. This was so intimate, but I sensed Marcus wanted my words. “How do you understand true obedience you’ve never seen it? How do you understand swimming until your entire body is buoyed on a body of water that seems endless? Because of you, my master, I know full surrender.”

  His big gentle hands removed the blindfold.

  I swallowed at the sight of his strong, kind face. My general, my husband, my master, my lover.

  We had ages between us, a dance of love that spanned lifetimes.

  A tear slid down my face.

  I couldn’t bear to ever lose him.

  “You won’t.” He took my hand, sheltered it like a sacred wedding dove. “I’m never going to let you go.” He scanned my face, and the lines around his eyes deepened. The movement of his beard revealed a small smile, one that seemed to break through pain to reach me.

  “How did you do that?” It spooked me, his knowing my thought.

  “It comes with the territory.” He chuckled and smoothed my hair. “You’re right that my bloodlines are here on this island. I believe yours are, too.”

  I gaped at him.

  “You feel it too, don’t you?”

  I felt it in the sense that Marcus was so familiar, and that he’d confirmed what I suspected before, he could sense my thoughts. It was eerie, disquieting, wonderful. I’d never have to be alone again. But who were we?”

  “I’ll show you a cave that confirmed what I feel here, but not now. Soon, I promise.”

  Delayed gratification wasn’t my strong suit. I gave him my most pouty look.

  “At least tell me about it. What’s the meaning of the cave? Why is it important?”

  “Caves are sacred to my people. They’re gateways to the underworld. “ His solemn tone fired my imagination.

  “That’s where they live, the lords who demand sacrifice.” I blurted it without thinking.

  “You know more than you’ve been telling me.” His brows rose.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He eyed me, cocking his head like an owl.

  “I’m a tough old bird, try me.”

  I took a breath. It would feel so good to drop all the burdens, share them with Marcus. I flashed on the pain that took over his face when he told me about the accident that took the lives of his wife and daughter. I wouldn’t take him back to that misery for no reason.

  “Hold me, Marcus. I want to float with you outside of time and consequences. For now, there’s us only. I need that.”

  “Cleo, Cleo, Cleo.” He kissed the top of my head.

  He knew I was stalling and accepted it. We both knew he could make me talk if he wanted to do so. I breathed gratitude that he didn’t.

  “Thank you. At the cave, when it’s time to go there, we’ll talk more then.”

  He raised my lips and kissed me with unhurried passion.

  I sensed I was the center of his world. I wanted to believe it. I kissed him back.

  The Altar’s Call

  It was a stupid, stupid idea, but once it formed in my mind, it wouldn’t let go. I had to go back to the altar, and I was going alone.

  I stuck a flashlight, a water bottle, a bag of trail mix, and a bandanna in a shoulder bag. I donned drawstring pants and a shirt, tropical-weight khaki that appealed to the adventurer in me. Hanging the gear bag across myself bandoleer style, I checked my reflection. I wanted a pith helmet in the worst way, but I’d strained my luggage to the max and had to do without one. My sun hat would have to do. It was dark out, but I didn’t want spiders or snakes landing on my head.

  I fastened the shirt cuffs, put on my walking shoes, tucked my pants into my socks to discourage venomous insects, and sprayed on repellent. I didn’t want to contract any mosquito-borne diseases as a souvenir of my Caribbean vacation. The thought that I was going back to my old life horrified me. No way I was leaving here without learning more about this island’s secrets.

  Making a minimum of noise, I let myself out of the room and tiptoed down the staircase. I felt like a movie heroine as I stepped out of the colonial mansion into a spill of moonlight next to the Zeus and Leda fountain. He appeared to be giving it to her hard. I chose to believe she liked it.

  Maybe it was the sultry air that never became cool even when the sun went down, or the novelty of being in a sex-positive place owned by a woman. This club not only permitted unusual sexual desires, it encouraged them. I couldn’t help imagining that if a god chose me to mate with in any form, I’d be willing, and I’d get off on it. Despite the spread of those big wings under the full moon, I’d prefer a different form than a big bird. The minotaur struck me as far more erotic than a swan. Or give me a centaur. If a god wanted to appear as part beast, there were so many options.

  I cut through the garden to get out of sight of the house.

  As far as I knew, exploring alone wasn’t forbidden, but Chuck had been damned close by every time I left the house. Maybe it wasn’t a courtesy. Maybe it was a form of control.

  Too many conspiracy books. It seemed unlikely there was some dread secret here that people were at pains to keep me from discovering. How could I be so important and such a threat? I was a woman with an awesome education and a crap job who applied for a free sex club vacation to get away from said crap-job and my too solitary life. I was nobody to anybody here.

  I blew out my breath. There. I admitted it. I was lonely, damn it. Not that I thought I’d meet someone in a place like this, yet there was always hope. Part of my heart and mind spun a story on the flight that the billionaire who owned the island would be so entranced by me he’d propose, and we’d live kinkily ever after. Those parts of me checked every appealing man for a wedding ring. Still, I kept thinking I couldn’t meet anyone suitable in a place like this.

  I was here. I had to stop judging people. Despite all the sex-negative BS in the U.S., not everyone in the world thought eroticism was bad. Marcus knew we suited each other, but was there any hope he meant beyond the fantasy fulfillment of Submission Island?

  A creature screamed in the night. I stopped, heart pounding. Was it the great cat or prey—dying or escaping with its life? The vivid stars helped me make out the volcano’s outline against the night sky.

  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 was my admitting this is who I am. I like intense stimulation. I like a dominant, sadistic man. I like sex to hurt. I want to get fucked 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 and surrendering in that free fall, the electric bliss that burns through and leaves me empty and clean. I had to have it. Finding it with Marcus was more than I could have hoped for. It was going to hurt like hell to leave.

  At the trail’s fork, I took the path that led deeper into the jungle. Finding my way was going to be tougher than I thought. I couldn’t see the volcano through all the growth, and the volcano was the only landmark I knew.

  I’d get to the altar. All I had to do was stay on the pa
th and keep walking. Right.

  I stepped carefully and pushed resilient branches out of my way. This wasn’t a path intended for guests. I listened. Nothing moved near me. I let out a breath. This was crazy, but I’d be okay.

  The moon was waxing, and I was ready to face the time stream again. I wanted to know everything I could discover in the temple, even if I had to endure being sacrificed again to find out. It was as though a truth I needed hovered close to me, so close, all I had to do was be willing to receive it. I’d offer myself like a sacred vessel, open, ready.

  Women who served in temples in certain cultures, the ones whose role it was to pleasure men, may have found such a state in themselves, such a willingness.

  In many traditions, reaching a new state required a rite of passage. It seemed for mine, I had to die. Not the permanent death, I had to go into the dark through the death of those who could live again through me, who could have their stories known through me. I wanted to serve in that way. I needed to do it. It felt as urgent as when I needed to come, only this wasn’t for momentary release, this would change my life.

  A bird cry sounded like a woman screaming. I pushed vines out of my way, my pulse thudding. The girl I sensed on the altar tugged at my heart. Finding such ecstasy with Marcus made me hurt for her. She probably grew up believing she’d be loved, but she was sacrificed as a virgin, having never known the intense union that made my time here the best of my life.

  Footsteps approaching startled me. I ducked behind a tree. Maybe it was someone I knew, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I was on an island in the middle of nowhere—at a BDSM club. No one knew where I was. It was a great setup for a serial killer.

  I had to stop thinking of the worst things that could happen.

  “Cleo?”

  I stepped out into the moonlight. Good thing help arrived, I was already lost.

  Blood Offering

  If anyone thought the mishap of the previous night would deter me from seeking answers, he was wrong. I’d go again as soon as it was dark. That would be the last thing anyone would expect. Whoever anyone was. One thing I knew: he underestimated me.