Sexed Into Submission

by Julie Bailes

  “Actually, no. I don’t understand. You see, boss, I don’t take orders from anyone. I’m sorry, but if all it took to get your dick stiff was a whiff of pussy, clearly, you need to get laid more often,” I spit, frustrated by the way he’s affecting me.

  Keeping me pinned against the door, he lets out a deep chuckle. “Oh, you have a lot to learn… and you will learn, amor. This,” he says, thrusting his hardness against me even harder, “will not happen again, not without consequences.” If it weren’t for the rough material of his slacks containing his cock, he would be balls deep inside my ass. Releasing my arms, he spins me around to face him. He captures my face between his strong, large hands, and kisses me greedily. Breaking our kiss, he outlines my lips with his thumb. “Now, get your sexy ass dressed so I can see you to your car,” he orders.

  Consequences? He doesn’t intimidate me. I don’t know who Ryder thinks I am, but I’m not easily frightened, and I refuse to be threatened by him. I may have a pussy, but I won’t be treated like one. For now, I follow his order to get dressed. Not because he wants me to, but I’ll do it because it’s almost four in the morning and I need to douse the raging fire blazing within.

  Two

  Ryder

  It’s five-thirty in the morning when I pull into my garage. Unlocking and opening the door to my home, I go inside and rush upstairs into my bedroom. Wincing, I rummage through unpacked boxes. My dick is towering. My balls are tight and I’m about to do something I haven’t done in a long time. Finally, I find what I’m looking for and head into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Ridding my clothes, I submerge myself into the warm water and pour silky lube into the palm of my hand. Wrapping my hand around my erection, I begin to stroke, grimacing when I slide my hand down to my base of my cock and make contact with my throbbing sac.

  What thirty-four year old man jerks off? Fucking losers, that’s who. The smell of Piper’s delicious fucking pussy has overtaken my senses, and flashbacks of her beautiful tits bouncing as she crawled to me cloud my vision. Thoroughly pissed off, my strokes intensify. Bracing myself against the wall with one hand, my body stiffens, and cum shoots out of my cock like a rocket. As the warmth of my own release coats my hands, all memories of Piper fade. I begin to see red, livid with myself for stooping so low. What am I, sixteen? Jerking off in the shower, envisaging her fuck-worthy breasts bouncing as I pound her from behind? Right now, I don’t deserve the balls between my legs. Shit will not happen again. I guarantee that. Tempt me again and I’ll have her smart-ass pressed against a wall, screaming my name while I fuck her into oblivion.

  Dean warned me about Piper, advised me to stay away. He says she’s a hell-on-heels heartbreaker, who can’t be tamed, and she’s off limits because our dickhead accountant, Sailor, has staked claim over her. He should know better than anyone that I’m addicted to forbidden territory. Tell me I can’t, and I will. See it, lure it and dominate it. That’s what I do. Piper, well, I’ve accomplished two of three. She’s feisty and strong-willed. Dominating her may be difficult but it will be done.

  Drying off, I decide to let my jewels air-dry. Even though I gave them release, they still ache. After brushing my teeth, I go out into my room and see the sun’s beginning to rise. I pick up the thick, black woolen throw lying on my floor, and hang it over the window to block the sun’s rays. Placing my phone on its charger, I climb into bed and fade into an erotic darkness.

  With her arms bound above her head, and her legs thrown over my shoulder, my balls slap against her ass as I plunge into her welcoming heat. Her satisfied moans and bouncing tits are enough to send my cum shooting deep inside her, but I won’t give into my climax. Pulling my desire coated dick from her tight pussy, I flip her over and make her balance herself on her knees. “Lift your ass into the air,” I command. Without dispute, she follows my instructions.

  “Like that?” Rearing my hand back, my hand licks her ass with a fiery sting.

  “Like that,” I whisper, using my tongue to trace the red outline of the handprint I left behind.

  “More,” she whimpers.

  “More what, mi querida?”

  She pushes her glowing rump back, silently asking for another blistering strike. I’ll give it to her, but not unless she asks. Ignoring her wish, I pull back and observe her. Just fucking perfect. Pain is her pleasure. Her folds glisten with want. Dipping down, I lap up her juices. She tastes like fucking heaven: warm, sweet, and refreshing.

  Reaching over Piper, I untie the scarf binding her to my rails. “Roll over on your side.” When she turns to look at me, a mischievous smile forms on her lips. Taking me by surprise, she reaches behind my head, runs her fingers through my hair, and then tugs it tightly.

  “I don’t think so,” she winks. Before I have a chance to comprehend what’s happening, she pulls me down to the mattress by my hair, and pins me to the bed by straddling me. Releasing my hair, she reaches between her legs, steadies my erect shaft, and lowers her aroused pussy down my length.

  Her voluptuous tits rise when she uses both her hands to lift her damp locks. Leaving her hands behind her head, she takes her time riding me. My eyes remain glued to her taut nipples. My tongue twitches, eager to bite, lick, and suck them. Leaning up, I open my mouth to capture one into my mouth. Before the tip of my tongue grazes her nipple, she shoves my shoulder and pushes me down onto my back. “You only touch me when I say you can. Do it again, and you’ll have consequences of your own to deal with,” she warns. Hell no, this isn’t happening. I’m her dom. I call the shots. I should be flipping her over and taking back my authority, but I’m not. As much as I hate to admit it, Piper going all dominatrix on me has my dick dancing.

  Digging her nails into my shoulders, she increases her rhythm. She works my dick like her own personal stripper pole; sliding up and down my girth, twisting her hips as she does it… driving me wild. With her eyes on mine, she lifts her breast to her mouth. Then, she lowers her lips and sucks her nipple. When she pulls her mouth away, she bares her teeth and drags them along her erect bud. My climax is building, causing my abs to contract as it slowly ripples through my entire body.

  Music blares from my phone, waking and preventing me from another encounter with Palmela and her five sisters. Curious as to who’s calling me this early, I reach for my cell a second too late. Swiping my thumb across the screen, I see it’s not as early as I thought. It’s two in the afternoon. Before I check the caller ID, my phone beeps, notifying me of a new voice mail.

  Calling into my mailbox, the voice I despise most hits my ears; my ex-wife, Cassianna. “Ryder, it’s Cassie, but you already know that,” she giggles. “You know, I miss you like crazy. You won’t answer my calls, or my texts. You’ve proved your point, Ryder. Stop playing hard-to-get and come back home.” She pauses to suck in a breath and makes sucking sounds. “Remember how good I taste? Estoy mojada por ti… so fucking wet. Te necesito, Master,” she whines. She needs me? What a joke.

  After all she’s put me through, she has the audacity to call? I wasted five years of my life treating her like a goddamn queen. Unlike her, I remained faithful the entire time. How does she repay me? By fucking around behind my back. I knew taking her from being my submissive and making her my wife would be a mistake, knowing it would be disastrous. Neither one of us were husband or wife material, but Cassianna let her mother fill her head with religious bullshit. She refused to have sex out of wedlock. Of course, I fucking married her, but under certain circumstances. I wouldn’t become the lovey-dovey husband who showered her in roses and chocolates. No. I would remain her master, and her, the submissive. Our new status wouldn’t change a thing.

  Our life was great, until two years ago. Cassianna became too needy, begging for emotions I couldn’t provide her. She became clingy, always needing to know my whereabouts, needing me to cuddle and spoon her while she slept. She became rebellious, defying my every command. One night, I’d had enough. I tossed her over my shoulder, carried downstairs to the torture rack, a
method of last resort. Using rope, I wrapped it around her wrists and hung her hands over her head. I took five grabbling hooks and placed them around her inner thighs and stomach too, immobilizing her. If she moved while I whipped her, the hooks would puncture her flesh and bring her more pain. Three lashes in, she screamed the safe word. She might as well have sliced my dick off. I’ve never felt so betrayed in my life, that is, until Cadence was born. That night, I packed my bags while she lay sleeping.

  When I came back for my last suitcase, Cassianna stood at the door with tears streaming down her face. “That’s it? You’re just going to leave. No goodbye or anything?” she asked.

  Verbally, no. I left her a lengthy letter by the coffee cup, along with keys to our home. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be who you want me to be. I can’t give you what you want. I’ll never be the man you’re looking for, Cassianna.” She dropped to her knees and hung her head. “You can’t go, Ryder… not now,” she choked.

  “Why not, Cassie? Give me a reason why I should stay.”

  “I love you,” she cried.

  “You don’t love me, mi amor. You love the thought of who you hope I’ll turn into.” I helped her off the floor, placed a kiss to her cheek, and then picked my suitcase up and opened the door.

  “Wait,” she called. “Estoy embarazada.” At that moment, my entire world changed. Cassie was pregnant, and I was going to be a father. Change was inevitable. It was then that I decided I would try to be the man Cassianna and our baby needed.

  For the next thirty-eight weeks, I stayed by her side. I battled to keep my inner dom concealed. When I wanted to discipline Cassie, I kissed her instead. Instead of fucking until she passed out from the strength of orgasms I gave her, I made sweet love to her. When she had her crazy cravings in the middle of the night or early hours of the morning, I went out to get whatever her heart desired. When she complained of backache or swollen feet, I massaged her. I became the man she had always dreamt of. Even though I wasn’t happy, it didn’t matter. All I cared about was Cassianna’s and Cadence’s wellbeing. Nothing else mattered.

  Cassie was in labor for fifteen hours, and I held her hand and talked her through her pain the entire time. When Cadence made his appearance, I was on cloud nine. He had a headful of black hair, and the cutest little cry. Unfortunately, when nurses placed him into my arms, I didn’t experience an immediate bond. At first, I thought there something wrong with me. I thought it was just my nerves, a new adjustment. Or maybe I was going to be shit for a father, just as I was a husband. For days, I spent every available moment holding Cadence, trying to find some spark of connection. I studied his features, but didn’t see any of me in him. I brushed it off, thinking most babies don’t look exactly like one parent. It wasn’t until the day we were discharged that the truth came out.

  Over time, Cadence’s complexion went from pale white, to tan, to completely brown. Cassianna and I are both mixed with Puerto Rican and Caucasian. There was no way in hell Cadence should have had a dark complexion. Behind Cassies’s back, I asked the doctors for a paternity test. Since Cassie and I were married, and I signed the birth certificate, I didn’t need her approval or signature to have the test.

  Three days later, we were sitting on the couch feeding Cadence when my cell rang. Realizing it was an unknown number, I stepped outside to take the call. Sure enough, Cadence wasn’t my son. I had never cried in my life, not even at my sister’s funeral. But the day I found out Cadence wasn’t my blood; I fell to my knees and sobbed. For months, that little guy was my only concern. Before he took his first breath, he was my life.

  I hated to walk away from my little man, but he wasn’t my son. When Cadence went down for a nap, I confronted that manipulating, cheating whore, Cassianna. “Terminado,” I hissed.

  Her eyes went wide with shock. “Done? Done with what?” she questioned, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Done with you, living this lie.” I pushed past her and went into our room to pack all my belongings.

  “What lie, Ryder?”

  I decided to take only a few things so I could get the hell away from her before I did something I might have regretted. I’ve never thought about striking a woman out of rage, I only give pain consensually and pleasurable, but her betrayal and playing stupid tempted me.

  “He isn’t mine, Cassianna! Cadence isn’t my son.” Her jaw dropped as reality bitch-smacked her in the face. “Explicame, en este momento! Explain why you led me to believe he was my child you were carrying. What? You didn’t think I would notice he’s ten shades darker than he should be? That he has not a single feature of mine?” She just stood, dumbfounded and lost for words. “I left money in the bank for Cadence, not for you. Every fucking penny spent better be for him, only him. Don’t call me. Don’t reach out to me in any motherfucking way. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the divorce papers and begin the process of taking me off Cadence’s birth certificate.” With that, I picked up my shit and drove away. It’s been eight months since I left, and I haven’t heard a peep out of Cassie, until recently.

  When I called Dean and told him what a conniving bitch Cassianna was, he eagerly offered me to become COO of his company and persuaded me to leave Indiana and come to Miami. Mostly, I’ve been working from home, going over member applications and making sure memberships are being paid. Over the last two weeks, I’ve been in and out of the club evaluating and meeting our girls. Last night, Dean demanded I come in and see his star performer, Piper. He’s gone on about how hypnotizing her moves are, how she brings in more money on her three nights a week than all the other girls combined for one week. After the show she gave me, I know why. She has the body of a goddess, perfectly sculpted. And her eyes, those magnificent fucking eyes, see right through me, baring my dark soul for her to see.

  At first, I planned to watch from a distance, but when I saw the silhouette of her flawless curves, I had to get closer to her. When the lights shined and illuminated her long, blonde hair, and supernatural blue eyes, my dick went from a slight chub to a full hard-on faster than jets fly. Now, I can’t get her out of my damn head. I long to fuck her, and to flog the skin off her glorious ass for turning me on without permission, invading my dreams and taking control, and making me want her so goddamn much. No one has affected me so quickly, fucking nobody.

  Restless and unable to fall back asleep, I dress for the gym and shoot Dean a text, telling him to meet me in twenty minutes. If I have to lift weights all day and tear my muscles to keep Piper from consuming my mind, dammit, that’s what I’ll do. I don’t lose control. I crave no one, and I refuse to let Piper be the exception.

  Three

  Piper

  My alarm sounds too early for my liking. Thanks to that delicious son of a bitch, Ryder, I didn’t sleep a damn wink. All I want to do is pull the covers over my head and smother myself into a deep sleep, but it’s the third Friday of the month so I have to meet Dean and the girls at the spa. Fridays are the busiest nights, and tonight is the most hectic night of the month. One evening out of each month, we perform a solo and in groups, so we must keep our goodies up to par with our profession. Today, along with our manis and pedis, we’re getting Brazilian bikini waxes. Some of the girls bitch and moan about it, but I don’t understand why. Hell, the last thing I want is to be spread eagle before someone’s face, then look down and see Chewbacca’s little sister escaping the sides of my thong. It’s terrible for business. No one likes a bushy pussy.

  However, I wish Dean would schedule our appointments early in the week, not the day we perform. There are too many aftercare steps. No wearing tight panties for twenty-four hours. So, we can’t wear our tight, skimpy bottoms, only mesh. No touching for twenty-four to forty-eight hours to limit infection or irritation. That means we can’t accept money into the front of our thongs, which is our members favorite place to treat us, and keeping our tops on is out of the question. I can’t begin to imagine the riot that would break out if we didn’t flash our headlights. They d
on’t pay us to be modest. Hell, they would see more than that just by visiting South Beach.

  Reluctantly rolling out of bed, I head for the shower to prep for my session. When I finish exfoliating, I dry and put on a strapless, pink cotton dress. Pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I go into my kitchen and pop two Tylenol to help prevent discomfort later. No matter how many times I get waxing, it still hurts.

  Grabbing a bottle of water, I slip on my white wedges and head out to my car. As I make my way to my car, Gavin blocks my path as he lays mulch around the flowers that line my walkway. “Good afternoon, Piper,” he smiles. Gavin is the community landscaper. He’s adoringly handsome, and has a heart of gold, which is why I keep my distance, and try my damnedest not to lead him on. Standing, he removes his mulch-covered gloves and shoves them into the back pockets of his tight, holey jeans.

  His toned chest and abs glisten with sweat from intense heat the sun is radiating. Reaching out to him, I offer him my cold water, and he accepts it with a wink. After chugging down the water, he says, “Thanks, Piper. So, when are you going to take me up on my offer? I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” For over a year, he’s begged me to go out on a date with him. As tempting as it may be, I can’t accept. He’s a great guy, and I don’t want to be the woman who ruins him by breaking his heart.

  Placing my hand onto his shoulder, I flash him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Gavin, but it’s not going to happen.” Giving him a pat on the shoulder, I maneuver around him and walk to my car.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, passing all this up,” he calls, motioning up and down his crotch area.