Dominant Persuasions Anthology: 12 Tales of D/s, Where Mastery Meets Passion

by Anthology

  Blake remained still as she slowly adjusted to the stretch and fullness. He kissed her neck and her shoulders until she relaxed and only then did he begin slowly, thrusting within her.

  “Better now, Sugar?” he asked.

  “Mmm.” Susan nodded as the pleasure began to eliminate the painful burning sensation she always felt upon entry. “Yes, much better. Thank you, Sir.”

  His smooth glides in and out stimulated her nerve endings, the fullness of him seeming to engage her cunt as well, causing it to clench along with her ass. Blake groaned behind her, increasing the pace with each penetration.

  “Who do you belong to, Susan. Who owns you?” His guttural tone vibrating beside her ear.

  Susan moaned as Blake continued to move within her, faster, deeper, powerful strokes. She loved the feel of him inside her. The way he aroused her, the way he made her come. She loved him, why did she have to belong to him? Why did she have to be owned?

  “Say it, who owns you?” He demanded.

  Susan cried out as he began to wildly pound her ass, she could feel herself beginning to come as the fullness and deepness of his penetration worked their magic. He reached forward and nestled one hand between her legs.

  “Who, Susan, tell me?” Blake commanded, his words as forceful as each plunge into her body.

  As his fingers rubbed over her clit, and his cock pumped into her furiously Susan admitted the truth. He had seduced her, fucked her, claimed her, loved her and possessed her in every way. Her body was his, her heart was his, and her soul was his because not once had Blake taken anything from her that she didn’t want him to have. Instead he had given her freedom to be herself, the woman, the submissive, the lover and soon the wife that she was always meant to be.

  “You own me, Blake Daniels. I’m yours and no one else’s. You own me heart and soul.” Susan screamed Blake’s name as she came. Seconds later her name filled the room as Blake followed her with his own forceful release.

  Blake unfastened her from the cross and carried her to the large spa bath. He bathed her lovingly, washed her hair, and sat with her nestled on his lap in the warmth of the bubbling water.

  “You’ve never done this for me before, but I have to say I like it.” Susan repositioned herself to straddle his lap, his renewed erection nudging against her sex.

  “I was waiting for the right moment.” Blake ran his fingers over the collar around her neck.

  “What made tonight the right moment?” Susan nestled her body against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. Blake’s words reverberating through her as he spoke.

  “I finally have all of you. You’re truly mine, Susan Dean, body, heart and soul.”

  The End

  About Jan Graham

  Writing a bio that lets readers know who you are is tricky because I describe myself in so many ways. Like my books, I fall into different genres, all of which depend on my mood and inspiration at the time. I am a writer, a submissive, an orphan, a widow, a sister, an aunt, a friend, and sometimes, a wild child.

  I live in Australia and writing is my passion, although finding the time to do it on a consistent basis is always a challenge for me. Life sends you curve balls when least expected them and I’ve had my fair share over the last few of years.

  My writing currently falls under a variety of genres including BDSM, contemporary romance, and romantic suspense but who knows where my literary future will lead. That’s going to be the next exciting chapter of my life.

  More information about what I'm up to, and general nonsense, is available by checking out the links below.

  @jan_graham

  JanGrahamAuthorpage

  www.jangraham.com.au

  Other books by Jan Graham

  Hot in the City Series

  A Contemporary Erotic Romance Series with M/F romantic pairings.

  The books can be read in order or as stand-alone titles.

  Secret Desire

  Resisting Love

  Sensual Healing

  Wylde Shore Trilogy

  A Contemporary, Erotic, Romantic suspense series with M/F and M/F/M romantic pairings. The series contains mild BDSM elements. It is recommended the titles be read in series order due to storyline and character information carrying over from book to book.

  Finding Angel

  Playing Jax

  Switching Mercedes

  Broken

  Julia Sykes

  Book Description

  Gwen may bartend at Dark Grove Plantation BDSM club, but she sure as hell doesn’t participate in the kinky acts going on around her. Not anymore. She’s been hurt too deeply.

  But everything changes when sexy Dom Damien shows up at Dark Grove and locks his sights on her. He senses her submissive nature and is intrigued when she rebuffs his advances. Determined to take on the challenge, Damien resolves that Gwen will submit to him, no matter what it takes.

  Can she resist the unbending Dom who is determined to help her heal? Or will she remain broken?

  Broken

  Something akin to fear stirred in Gwen’s belly as he approached the bar, shooting her a predatory smile.

  Shit.

  Damien was the last person she wanted to see. Just the few moments anticipating his proximity filled her with dread. He’d made his interest clear ever since he had come to Dark Grove Plantation for the first time three months ago. Despite the presence of dozens of other gorgeous, single submissives who frequented the opulent BDSM club, he had honed in on her, the only one who was definitely unavailable.

  And to make it worse, she was fiercely attracted to him, too. He was undeniably beautiful, his meticulous grooming matching his controlled manner. There was no trace of stubble on his square jaw, and his black hair was always carefully styled. The man was fit, his muscles obvious beneath the suits he always wore. There was power in his every movement, and he dominated the space around him. And his eyes: such a dark brown that they were nearly black. They reminded Gwen of a demon’s eyes. A sexy incubus who would lure her in with no more than a look before devouring her body and her soul…

  The women that he passed by on his way to the bar watched him hungrily. But he ignored them, his eyes locked on Gwen.

  Why me, she wondered, a bit miserably. What could he possibly see in me?

  Gwen had to admit to herself that she liked her wavy blonde hair and light green eyes, but she was short and undeniably curvy. Her large breasts were a bonus, she supposed, but she wouldn’t mind having a little less weight on her hips.

  She sighed, struggling to push back her insecurities and put on a brave face. She plastered on her usual bright smile.

  “Hi, Damien,” she greeted. “What can I get for you?”

  His black eyes bored into her as his sharp smile twisted down into a frown.

  “I would prefer it if you addressed me as Sir,” he replied tersely.

  Now it was Gwen’s turn to frown. “What can I get for you, Damien?” She placed emphasis on his name. No way was she calling him Sir. She was afraid that the word would taste too sweet on her tongue, and she didn’t think she could handle that.

  His expression turned forbidding, and Gwen had to fight back the urge to shrink away.

  “Are you being intentionally rude, sub?” He asked softly. “Because you have to know that I won’t tolerate it. Not from you.”

  Gwen crossed her arms over her chest, trying to convey her annoyance. But instead it felt more like she was protecting herself. Damien’s eyes flicked down to her breasts, which were pressed together wantonly by her stance. Gwen quickly shifted so her hands were on her hips instead. But Damien’s eyes did not shift; they burned her like a hot touch, and her nipples pebbled against the inside of her corset.

  “If you have a problem with me, then you can report it to management,” she snapped to cover her discomfiture. “But I have to warn you that they won’t take it too kindly when I let them know that you’re harassing me.”

  That got his attention. His e
yes returned her defiant stare directly, his gaze steady, challenging. Gwen held it for a few long moments, but it was difficult. She had to fight the urge to drop her eyes submissively in the wake of his hard look. Eventually, his frown curled upward in a small, amused smile, as though she’d impressed him.

  “I do enjoy a challenge, Gwen,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you must know that I always win in the end. I always get what I want. You’ll break eventually.”

  This time Gwen couldn’t suppress a small shiver at the intensity of his words. A part of her wanted that fiercely, wanted him to take her, to bend her to his will. But that wouldn’t happen. Not ever. She knew that he would break her open, would lay her soul bare. She wouldn’t be able to hide anything from him. And that terrified her. She had been hurt too many times before to allow herself that kind of vulnerability.

  “So, what’s your poison?” she asked insistently.

  “Macallan 15. Neat.”

  The man’s drink was as refined as he was. And just as intense, burning as it slid down your throat…

  She was grateful for the excuse to turn away from him as she poured his drink. But the tension was still there, pulsing between them like a palpable thing. And his scent was there: soap and pine.

  Stop that! She told herself firmly. I’m not interested, I’m not interested…

  She set his glass on the bar, and he grasped it quickly, letting his hand touch hers as he took it from her. He lingered for a moment, and Gwen found that she didn’t want to break the contact. His touch sent little tingles of electricity running up her arm and down her spine. Her pussy flared to life, heating and pulsing.

  She jerked her hand away, almost causing the glass to tip over. Damien steadied it quickly, not allowing the golden liquid to slosh over the sides. Gwen peeked up at him to find that he was smiling at her slyly, as though he knew exactly the effect he had had on her. And damn it if he wasn’t right.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled quickly before turning away from him.

  “Wait,” he commanded, grabbing her wrist firmly and stopping her short. “Stay a while.” His eyes danced, triumphant in his small victory over her.

  She wrenched her hand out of his grip, frightened of her reaction to him, that she had given him even a tiny glimpse through her falsely bright exterior to her vulnerable side.

  “I have other customers to serve,” she said, trying for a terse tone.

  She noticed him frown as she turned away from him again, but she was too relieved to escape him to feel bad about it. But he stayed by the bar, watching her. She could feel his eyes on her, raking over her.

  After a while, a pretty brunette sub plucked up the courage to approach him. Gwen watched them out of the corner of her eye. The girl was clearly desperate for him, leaning into him and thrusting out her chest. Damien shot one last look at Gwen before nodding at the submissive, and they left the bar together, the brunette following him out with a slavish look on her face.

  Something that felt suspiciously like jealousy made Gwen’s gut twist.

  No. I am not jealous. God, the man was messing with her head. She busied herself with serving customers, throwing herself into activity in order to drive him from her thoughts.

  But as soon as the club closed and everyone left, he invaded her mind once more.

  “Hey, Gwen,” her co-worker Gerald snapped her out of her reverie. “You think that the bar is clean enough?” He smiled at her, his eyes gently mocking. Gwen jumped and then blushed, realizing that she’d been wiping the same spot for a few minutes too long.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m just tired.”

  “Or your mind is somewhere else,” Gerald said, seeing right through her. “What’s up, Gwen?”

  “Nothing,” she replied, a bit too quickly. “I really am just tired.” No way was she going to admit that she couldn’t get Damien out of her mind. She busied herself with finishing up, desperate to get away from Dark Grove and get home. She thought that she could still smell him, that his scent still pervaded the bar. Or was it just in her mind?

  When they had finished work for the night, Gwen half-ran to her car, relieved to escape. Maybe she would come to her senses if she could just get away from Dark Grove. The place was a constant reminder of him, of their disconcerting encounter. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was in the safety of her car.

  But she could still swear that his scent lingered in the confined space, as though it clung to her, refusing to dissipate.

  * * *

  The next night, Damien still ensnared her thoughts. She tried to shove them away, concentrating on serving drinks at The Lighthouse, the other bar in the heart of Charleston where she worked when she wasn’t at Dark Grove. But Sunday nights weren’t particularly busy, so she didn’t have much of a reprieve from her whirring mind.

  Thankfully, she was working with Connor tonight, and talking to him helped pass the time. He was sweet, a quality reflected in his caramel-colored eyes that matched his mussed golden hair. Gwen had even gone out on a few dates with him. Connor was vanilla, safe. He was easygoing, and he didn’t pry into her soul as Damien did; he allowed her secrets. In fact, she didn’t think he even realized that her bubbly nature was just an act. It had been a long time since she’d truly felt happy, like herself. She had been hurt too deeply. And although she was a natural submissive, she found that being with a vanilla guy was safer; she didn’t feel vulnerable around Connor. Safe was comforting.

  But her distraction over Damien must have been blatantly obvious, because even Connor could spot that something was wrong with her.

  “Here,” came his drawling, Southern-accented voice, interrupting her thoughts. A shot of whiskey appeared on the bar that she was busily wiping down for the night. “You look like you could use it.”

  Gwen glanced up in surprise, and her eyes met his kind gaze. She smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks,” she said with false brightness before downing the shot. It burned her throat, the rich, caramel-colored whiskey reminding her of Damien’s signature drink…

  She couldn’t hold back a small scowl. “Another,” she said. “Vodka this time.”

  Connor grinned brightly. “Sure,” he said, pouring into two shot glasses this time. “Mind if I join you?”

  Gwen returned his smile. “Not at all.” Getting tanked sounded like a great idea. Maybe drunken oblivion would get Damien out of her mind. She clinked glasses with Connor and they slammed back the shots at the same time. Gwen grimaced at the harsh bite of the vodka, but anything was better than whiskey right now. She pulled down the bottle of Jägermeister and started pouring again.

  “Whoa,” Connor said. “You sure you want to be mixing your liquors like that? You’ll have a wicked hangover tomorrow.”

  Gwen forced a sly grin to cover her discomfiture at being questioned. “I can handle my liquor. Can you?” She gave him a challenging stare, daring him to refuse the glass that she offered to him.

  He laughed, a warm, rich sound. “Is that a challenge?” he asked, taking the shot from her. “You’re on.” This time, they maintained eye contact as they tipped the glasses back. As Gwen slammed her empty shot down on the bar, warmth bloomed in her belly. She knew it was from the alcohol, but it felt close enough to the beginnings of arousal that she could almost convince herself that she wanted Connor.

  They sampled most of the alcohol behind the bar, taking shots until Gwen began to feel light-headed. She really should stop. After all, she’d managed to go a whole hour without thinking about Damien…

  Damn it!

  And just like that, he was in her head again. Only now, she became acutely aware of the fact that the alcohol she had consumed was making her horny. At just the thought of the dark-haired Dom, her sex pulsed.

  “Let’s do something a little naughty,” Connor’s voice called her back to where she was, his words making the submissive within her stir to life.

  Something naughty? Oh, Connor, you have no idea. She couldn’t hold back
a wicked grin. Maybe Connor was just what she needed to forget about Damien. If he had just one dominant bone in his body, maybe they could make this work.

  But then her hopes were dashed when he lifted a bottle of their best champagne from the fridge. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said gleefully.

  Oh.

  Gwen struggled to keep her smile firmly in place. “Sounds like a plan,” she replied, forcing brightness into her tone. When he popped the cork, she laughed along with him in false delight.

  Once he had poured, she took the champagne flute from him. She just needed to get tipsier. Already her head buzzed pleasantly. If she could just make the buzzing louder, maybe it would drown out all thoughts of Damien. She tipped her glass back sharply and opened her throat, trying to take the drink down in one swallow. The bubbly wine fizzed over her lips, and the cold liquid spilled down her chin and neck, wetting the front of her shirt. The sudden coolness against her skin made her nipples tighten. She blushed at her clumsiness and looked up at Connor, only to find that he was staring wide-eyed at her chest.

  Gwen glanced down and blushed deeper when she realized that the hardness of her nipples was now evident beneath her wet shirt and bra.

  “Gwen,” Connor said her name roughly, an edge of need in his voice. His warmth pulsed against her as he suddenly entered her personal space. She didn’t back away. Instead, she met his gaze boldly, a silent invitation in her eyes. His head lowered to her neck, and his warm tongue touched the hollow of her throat, sampling the drops of champagne that clung to her skin. He began to kiss his way up her neck until he was tracing her jawline with his tongue. Gwen closed her eyes and tried to focus on the pleasurable sensation of his hot mouth on her.

  Then his lips gently, almost hesitantly, pressed against hers.