by Q. Zayne
My grim thought startled me out of life or death mode. I giggled. Yes, an emergency urge to be dominated. I wanted a spanking. I wanted it desperately because Marcus’ hands gave me fever. I wanted his cock again. I might let him make love to me as tenderly as he intended. Yes, if only I could get out of here fast, I’d let him be gentle if he wanted to be. I made my superstitious promise, aware I wanted to propitiate the gods for guidance.
This wasn’t a matter of national security, it was a matter of lust.
I stared up at the sky. The tall hedge made it impossible to get any kind of bearing. I had no idea where the manor was or where the sun rose. I couldn’t find the volcano. Damn, the beastly labyrinth was well designed. I was as cut off from the island as if I was in the middle of the ocean miles away.
I reached into the hedge to see if I could climb it. The spiky thing clawed me. I withdrew my arm, bleeding from multiple scratches. I dabbed them with my bandanna to save my dress.
Get on with it! I hated making a decision without enough information. It was one of my greatest weaknesses. I slowed to a crawl when I had to do it.
I booted myself to the right. Against the temptation to drag heels, I race walked, counting silently to keep myself sane. After a few minutes, I stuck to my plan and headed back to my hair band.
It wasn’t there.
I couldn’t have missed it. I paced the hedge to be certain, slowing to make sure I’d see it. I couldn’t have gone wrong. I took no turnings. I walked straight away and came straight back.
When you eliminate the possible, what’s left, no matter how improbable—I wasn’t sure how the line went, but I thought I was in Sherlock Holmes territory. Only one explanation fit the facts.
Someone was in the maze with me, someone who didn’t want me to get out.
Was it a game? Were we having a bit of non-consensual torment? Chills shot up my back despite the heat. My nipples went hard, but not in a happy way. I might be trapped in a freaking labyrinth with a maniac. Either that, or I had read too much Stephen King.
I hurried in what I thought was the opposite direction. I was in trouble. It might be bad trouble, far worse than being late for my spanking.
Who was doing this?
I did my best to be light on my feet and resist the urge to pant from the exertion in the heat.
Rushing along the turnings into the tight inner windings of the labyrinth made me dizzy. My head swam. I reached out to steady myself on my putty legs and the maze bit my hand. I brought the thorn prick to my mouth and sucked it. I tasted my blood.
Something large crashed toward me, hidden by the hedge.
Pride by damned. I screamed.
I jumped at the sound of someone coming up behind me.
“My dear, my dear. Calm down. It’s alright.” Isabella put one hard arm around me and steered me through the maze.
I wiped my face and did my best to walk nimbly, taking big strides to keep up with her long legs. She looked as supermodel chic as ever, while my hair stuck to my face and shoulders.
“Thank you. I’m sorry for screaming. I heard something big crashing through, coming after me.”
“That was probably Manuel. He’s the most aggressive gardener, but he’s effective.” Her tone chilled me.
She kept her arm around me until we reached the entrance. The fountain played and dragonflies glittered. The sight of freedom made me sigh. I escaped.
“Marcus mentioned you want to extend your stay. Of course you may. Make yourself at home.” Her arm withdrew and her eyes bored into me. “Be careful with Marcus.” The harshness in her voice slapped me.
Before I dared to say anything, she strode away. Hibiscus blew around her.
“Thank you.” I meant for leading me out of the labyrinth. The tropical wind took my words away. I didn’t think she heard. Her beautifully erect catwalk body disappeared on the jungle path. Our meeting was so brief, I hadn’t had time to admire her couture. The hipbone-clinging gown in powder blue made her eyes cold. Or was that me? Be careful with Marcus.
I hurried back to the relative safety of my assigned rooms, too splattered and disturbed to face Marcus. I was late, anyway. I couldn’t stand being a tardy submissive, I felt bad enough.
A long, stinging shower and good buffing with a fluffy towel restored me. I paced and cursed myself for missing my session. I had so little time here, and I blew this day and my chance to be over my master’s lap. Damn, I needed that spanking.
Replaying my encounter with Isabella did nothing but confuse me. My relief at being rescued from the labyrinth dominated the encounter. I didn’t know whether to take her manner and words as a threat or a warning. The kindness and connection with her I sensed upon arrival were gone.
Perhaps she felt jealous, too. If I had Marcus to myself, I’d do almost anything to keep him.
I stopped. Monkeys went silent. Isabella had to have been nearby to get into the labyrinth so fast when I screamed. Did she manipulate the hedge somehow? She was fabulously wealthy. I’d be a fool to put anything past her. Her presence might be the answer to my missing hair band.
I sighed and padded to the enormous closet. I took out a thin linen dressing gown and slid into it. I might be overreacting to everything. It seemed unlikely she made the sounds of a huge beast crashing through the hedge to get me. Her unmarked skin and perfect gown made the thought preposterous. As always, she looked exquisitely put together with her priceless jewelry and flawless skin. It seemed absurd to think she’d torment me.
Still, something happened in the labyrinth. The noise was real, she even offered the excuse of an aggressive gardener. I smiled. Now that I was safe, that excuse brought up sexy imaginings.
The knock on my suite’s door made me jump. Okay, I didn’t feel completely safe. I empathized with Marcus’ traumatized bride. She couldn’t have felt safe here, either.
“Cleo? Cleo, are you alright? It’s me, Marcus.”
I smoothed my hair and opened the door. The sight of him stopped my breath. The filtered sunlight loved that man as much as I did. The streaks of silver in his hair, his squint lines, his noble face with the broad planes of his cheekbones that reminded me of Maya royalty made me want to read his features with my fingers. The sight of his beard made me blush. My body remembered all the places it brushed me.
“I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sorry I missed our appointment. I got lost in the labyrinth, something was crashing in there, coming after me. I was late, and upset, so I came here.” I stepped back from the door, wanting him to enter, longing to regain the chance of spending time with him.
“It’s alright.” He closed the door behind him and gave me a warm smile. “Everything is alright. You’re safe now. I understand.” He stroked my neck, enfolded me in his arms. He pressed his lips to my throat. “I was concerned, that’s all. I’m not holding the missed appointment against you.” He petted my back. “Take a breath, Cleo. You’re safe.” As though we were dancing, he guided me into the bedroom.
“Thank you. I’m so glad you came.”
“So am I. I’ve been looking forward to being with you.”
“Oh yes, Marcus, so have I. I mean, I’ve been wanting to be with you, too.” Tongue-tied and distracted by his heat, I tripped over my foot.
“Easy, beautiful Cleopatra. Relax. I’m here now.”
He eased me back onto the bed and comforted me with his body. He was the only person I enjoyed hearing say my full name. From him, it sounded like praise.
His reassurances worked magic, making the anxiety of being trapped in the maze and chased by whatever that was drain away. Yes, I was safe.
Isabella wasn’t the only person who could have tormented me and taken my head band.
Where was he while I was in the labyrinth? I banished the thought. I had to trust Marcus. I did trust him. There could be a wild animal crashing around. A bird might have taken my head band. In his arms, it all faded like a nightmare.
“Are you alright, Cleopatra?”
&n
bsp; “Yes, yes, I’m alright Marcus. Now that you’re here, I’m fine.” I rested my hands on his lower back, feeling the strength he used to make love to me.
He held me, stroking my hair, and I calmed down. He murmured against my neck in an unknown tongue. It took me back to being on the altar, the girl about to be sacrificed merging with me. The priest said something as he raised the knife. Did Marcus speak Mayan?
“We’ll go slower this time. I want you to surrender again all the way for me.”
“Yes, oh yes, Marcus.”
Wonder filled me as his hands explored me with gentle reverence. I’d never been touched with such care and patience, with such presence. I sensed all of Marcus focused on me. He wasn’t in a rush for his own fulfillment, he was delighting in caressing me, making me respond to sweet strokes along my collarbone, my shoulders, my hips.
It felt different, being with him in my suite, being dressed as he touched me. His hands were as masterful as when he was in role as The Spanker, but here it seemed we were just us.
His lips pressed my collarbone and grazed my throat, my jaw. He enfolded me in his arms and pressed his mouth to mine with hunger.
I felt dizzy, glad to be on the bed and safe in his arms as he tongued my mouth, bringing me fully alive under him, all of me back in the present, surrendering to his deep, claiming kiss. I felt like I was his. His hands slid along my sides, taking care to miss my tickle spot. He gripped my hips and rocked them, grinning, letting me know without a word that he was thinking about being inside me.
He found erogenous zones behind my knees I didn’t know were there. He slipped under my dress and kissed my inner thighs, his beard brushing me, making my pussy ache. With deliberate slowness, he slid his tongue up my folds from my opening to my clit. He pulled my clit into his mouth and tongued it, vibrating on it so good I grabbed his hair and pushed against his face. He took me right to the edge and pulled back. Licking his lips, he grinned. His face looked so wild and his eyes sparkled. He rose over me, smiling and trailing his fingers up my hips. His cock dripped. He strummed my eager clit with his thumb.
My breathing sped up and I writhed under his expert touch.
His eyes drank me in, following my movements, checking my face as he slid his fingers up my belly and teased my breasts with feathery strokes.
I arched toward him, offering myself, wanting him. A longing without words took me. I begged him with my eyes. My scent surrounded him. I had to have him inside.
Locking my eyes, he unzipped and raised my dress to my waist.
His cock nudged between my thighs. I opened my legs to him and pulled my panties aside. He flicked open a condom coin, slid on the rubber and slipped into me, coming home.
“Yes, Marcus, I need you.”
I moaned as he stretched me to fit him. Frenzied, I grabbed his ass to pull him deep.
In the labyrinth, I promised to let him do it gently.
I surrendered. I held him in my arms and let him ease the rest of the way into me sweet and easy.
He kissed me like he meant it, and I responded with all my heart. His gentle hands on my breasts, his thumbs rousing my nipples, made me moan. Marcus controlled me, consumed me.
I met his desire, arching against him, complete with his cock stretching and filling me. His face was the face I wanted to see every morning for the rest of my life. My eyes stung. I closed them. In the dark, I focused on my hara and on his cock. I was home, for right now. He had me.
He made love to me with great tenderness. He took me high, filling me with pleasure, keeping me brimming, cherishing me.
Tears ran down my face. I held him with my arms and legs, rocking with his moves, letting him love me, loving him back.
He kissed me with such passion I could hardly stand it.
This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be for me. But it was. He couldn’t be faking this.
“I love you, Cleo, let me love you.”
I wanted to call him Jack and break the mood. Stop feeling so much. But I bit my lip and nodded against him.
He reached between us and massaged my clit, going right where I needed him, tonguing my mouth in time. Deep shudders erupted in me, sending me over into a high-burst eruption. I cried out and bit his shoulder. He held me close, helping me through it, keeping me safe in my mini death.
“Cleo, my Cleo.” He moaned low, shooting and throbbing deep inside me.
We were one. I was whole at last.
I felt so safe to let go with him, so protected. It meant so much that he used a condom.
Marcus rolled me to rest on his chest. I pressed my face against his scar, feeling at home.
My conscience tugged at me. Chuck wanted me to tell Marcus what I experienced at the ruins, and it might be best to tell him all of it. If anyone was threatening Marcus, even if it turned out to be pranks, I’d want to know.
I took a breath. In the changing light, Marcus’ face looked calm, as free of care as I’d seen him. The scar from the accident that came close to taking his life pressed against my cheek, the one place on his chest bare of hair.
Reason said to tell him. My heart said, let him sleep.
I sensed if I made the wrong decision, things might get scarier than they were in the labyrinth, but nothing seemed worse than the thought of hurting him.
We didn’t have much longer. Even though Isabella said I could stay, real life wouldn’t let me stay on Submission Island much longer.
I breathed the intimate scent of him. For at least a few minutes, I needed to treasure this peace.
I waited, feeling him, hoping for some inner prompt to tell me the right thing to do.
Thunder roared. The palm trees whipped beyond the balcony. Rain lashed the window. Marcus breathed slow in sleep.
If the storm was a sign, did it tell me to speak?
The End
Cleo’s adventures with Marcus on Submission Island conclude in the next episode, Sacrifice.
Order it in pre-sale this week to receive it as soon as it’s released. The official release date is set farther out than the planned release due to the unpredictable nature of travel.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Serving. I read all my reviews, and your comments influence my publishing choices. This episode is longer than the previous ones because I care about what you want.
I’m grateful to all of you who buy my books, review them, and share about them on social media. Forwarding my newsletters helps, too!
If you like previews, check out the end of this book for samples of my other books. First, a preview of Sacrifice, the final episode of Submission Island. There’s a taste my new, romantic time travel short, Love in Time, set on an ancient ship in the Caribbean near where I’m staying. Dirtiest is a set of my two paranormal novellas set in the Yucatan. I loved using the jaguar baby tale in a contemporary erotic romance.
Here’s the link to Serving on Amazon US, if you’d like to see reactions from other readers: Serving.
Thanks for reading.
Q.
Sacrifices ~ Submission Island 5
Don’t miss the climax of Submission Island! Cleo’s in Danger. Marcus faces his demons. BDSM and peril bring them closer.
Cleo must unravel the island’s mysteries or lose everything—including her life. Her Egyptian dance and the threads of time bind her deeper to her master. The ancient tomb provides a clue. Someone will do anything to keep a secret—even commit murder. The truth about his losses force Marcus to free himself. But unless Cleo and Marcus foil a killer, their love won’t survive.
This is the fifth and concluding episode of Submission Island, no cliffhanger. Although the intimate scenes are hot on their own, for greatest enjoyment, read episodes one through four before devouring this one. All the episodes are live.
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Pr
eview: Love in Time ~ Short Story Erotica
A man that big and that good comes along once in a lifetime—even if it was a long time ago.
A curvy woman who lacks love. A magnetic book with a secret power. A hunk captaining an ancient ship. Amira’s about to get in trouble.
Hot, fast love that bridges worlds and time. Welcome to other-when and quick forever love. This is a standalone short story with no cliffhanger, no cheating.
The characters achieve a deep commitment—and bare pleasure. Imagine Alexa Riley, Cassandra Dee and Penny Wilder at warp speed.
I’m a woman of my time. I’m expected to smile, be sexy, be efficient, juggle every fucking thing and act like it’s easy. Oh, and be competitive, but not too competitive.
All that changed when I called in healthy to work and took a walk across town for the hell of it. I strolled through my favorite park. I took a detour around the playground. The families and children rubbed a wound I didn’t want to name. A tall man kissed a woman my size next to the tennis courts. Her orange hair blew across my face. She looked like a Renaissance lady. He looked like he loved her. I walked faster, putting them behind me. They had a happiness I didn’t want to think about. It had been a long times since I’d imagined having love.
It was a relief to be away from my desk, free of office politics, free of the baby pictures on the nearby desks that made me double sad—first because I was giving up on ever having a family, and second because my coworkers had so little time to spend with their babies. I dreamed of a life where I’d get to hold my babies and watch them grow, be their mom all the time, the way my mom got to be with me. I was old fashioned that way. In my city, few people were stay-at-home parents unless they had their own businesses, and then they put in even more hours than employees. The life I imagined for myself and my future children didn’t exist any more.
