Boxed Set: The His Submissive Series Complete Collection (Part One-Part Twelve)

by Claire, Ava

  "This isn't about the house." He gave me a long, guarded look. "Well, it's about a certain room in the house. Where certain things are done."

  Could he be any more cryptic? "I don't get it."

  "I have a room here that is suited to the erotic purposes of our arrangement," he explained, his eyes studying me. "A space where you can submit to me properly."

  "Oh...Oh!" I turned all sorts of red as it dawned on me.

  A space.

  I gulped. "Y-You mean a dungeon?"

  His lips quirked into a smile. "Nothing as extreme as that. But it is equipped with various...instruments."

  Instruments. My stomach tightened as I pictured whips and swings and nipple clamps.

  He still gauged my reactions, probably certain I wasn't going to bolt because he continued. "I'm aware that the last four days have been a whirlwind for you."

  I gave him a slight nod even though a tornado, a monsoon, seemed more appropriate.

  "And I won't mince words. Submitting to me will be ten times more demanding. I will push buttons; take you to your limits and beyond. I will strip you down to the soul. You won't walk out of that room the same woman you were when you walked in." His eyes darkened. “It can be quite terrifying.”

  The things he said should have been enough to shake me from the Cinderella-like dream to the brutal reality of bondage and submission. This was more than rough sex. This would be raw. Psychological.

  Terrified? I was scared shitless.

  But I was also intrigued.

  I was starved. Like a vegetarian who'd sustained themselves on lettuce and celery then had a juicy prime rib put before them. I was tired of sexual experiences where I knew how the story would play out. I wanted to experience this. Experience him in a way so visceral that there were no words to explain it. I wanted to submit.

  “If you’re not ready-”

  "I'm ready for this,” I cut in, standing tall.

  "Are you sure? Because if you aren't ready, we can take this slow." I could tell by the way he gnashed the word 'slow' that was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. And that made me want him even more, knowing that he would exert self-control to make me happy.

  I walked to where he stood. "Take me to the room, Jacob."

  We stepped back into the main hall, the only sound echoing through the grand house our feet against the floor. The vibrant walls and tapestries ran together as he pulled me up the staircase to the second floor. I followed him down the narrow corridor, my arm tethered to his, stopping only at a door at the end.

  When we pushed inside, the sharp lines and neutral colors that I associated with Jacob were alive and well. The walls were painted a non-descript beige and only a few pieces of furniture were spread across the room.

  "Your office," I murmured to myself, glancing around. We had nowhere else to go, but there was no spanking bench or ball gags to be seen.

  He strode to his desk and reached beneath it. I heard a metallic click, and the bookcase groaned and opened a few inches. He moved to the bookcase and pulled it back, revealing a darkened stairwell.

  He cast a devilish look at me. "You still sure about this, Miss Montgomery?"

  I sashayed to the door, giving him a wry smile. "Absolutely."

  As I descended, I was grateful for the fact that it wasn't as dark and foreboding as I first thought. Recessed lighting sent a warm glow to light every step. But it was more than that. The last time I walked down a stairwell with Jacob behind me, I'd ventured into the unknown. And while I had no idea what lied behind the door of his playroom, I knew that I trusted him.

  I stopped at the landing, an unassuming white door in front of me.

  "It's unlocked," he said behind me.

  I twisted the cold, metallic knob and opened the door. Motion detection lighting snapped on as I walked through the doorway and took in the room.

  Gone were the unaffected walls, replaced by a rich navy hue, deepened by stark white crown molding and a pearlescent white mantle framing an oversized fireplace. Once upon a time it might have been the focal point, but with the massive four poster bed and the metal contraption hanging down like a swing on the opposite wall, it was impossible to not be drawn to the piece of furniture like a moth to a flame.

  I spied a St. Andrews cross on the far wall and an oak chest that was probably full of something of interest, but I couldn't take my eyes off that bed. It was black, shining like wood, but when I ran my hand along one of the beams, I felt the icy touch of steel.

  "Wow," I whispered, dropping my other hand to the mattress. Pillow-top. The softest I'd ever felt. The contrast between the pliable touch of that and the metal chains that hung from each of its four corners was jarring.

  "I figured you'd like the bed," he said behind me, his voice warm and enticing. "Darkly elegant." His hand rubbed the small of my back then dropped to more interesting territory, gripping my buttocks. "Well, when the sex swing is detached. But I see no need for pretending this room is anything except what it is."

  His firm hands were kneading, massaging, making parts of me gooey with want. On closer inspection of the swing, I saw that there was a contoured center with a zipper. I fondled it and he let out a chuckle.

  "That's for making things interesting."

  I let out a laugh of my own at that. One of the most powerful men alive was a secret Dominant—and he was about to dominate me. We hadn't even begun and my body was a storm of excitement and nerves. Things had been interesting for a while now...ever since I said yes.

  He roped an arm around my waist, pulling me tight to him. I felt the curve of his erection against me and trembled at the thought of his hands migrating to the heart between my thighs.

  "I didn't expect this to be so..." I felt the word tingling in my throat. "Exhilarating."

  "And you haven't even seen the other treats in the room."

  I shook my head. "I-I don't want to." It came out a lot more stubborn than I meant it to and I felt his hold tighten. "I mean, I would like to try the bed. If that's okay with you."

  He didn't say anything for a long moment, so I turned to him. I saw the same struggle when he told me he'd wait until I was ready. The same conflicting emotions etched in his jaw, his pensive lips, those alluring eyes. I saw the desire to completely ravage my body battling with the desire to protect me.

  He licked his lips. "I don't think you're ready, Leila. You will have no control in the swing. It is designed so you won't even be able to look at me." His eyes glazed and I knew he was imagining me bound. "You would be completely at my mercy. Total submission and trust. It would be like asking a baby to ride a bike."

  God, it was so hard to fight the urge to just tear my clothes off and tell him to just take me. But he made me want to explore. And that's what he needed to hear.

  I brought my hands to the sides of his face. "Do you know how much I want to take your hand and stuff it down my panties and show you how hot the idea of the two of us on that thing makes me? Not just because the idea of being bound and completely yours makes me weak at the knees, but because I see past the mask you show to everyone else. I trust you fully and completely, Jacob."

  I still couldn't tell what way he was swaying. I cast a look at the swing then forced my back to the contraption, turning my attention to the corner where the St Andrews cross perched. As much as I wanted the swing, that wasn't what submission was about. Submission was about trusting him to know what I need.

  I let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping. "But if you say I'm not ready, then I'm not ready."

  He took stock of me, his eyes indiscernible as he crossed his arms against his muscular chest. "Interesting."

  I frowned. I'd just wrangled in the desire to jump his bones on the spot, whether he liked it or not, and all I got was one word. Interesting.

  His face broke into a wide grin. "Leila Montgomery, the spitfire that gives me lip and headache at every turn, is finally giving herself over to me." He breathed in deep and exhaled with a moan that
rippled over me and in that moment, I knew I'd let him strap me to a cross or any other medieval torture device. Anything he wanted.

  "So what's the verdict?" I said, my voice a husky whisper. His hands gripped my waist and my body instantly responded to his.

  His eyes bore into me. "We will use the swing." His voice hardened to stone. "Be careful what you wish for, Miss Montgomery."

  ****

  "It's very important that you listen and understand everything I'm about to say."

  I finished stepping out of my skirt, wringing my hands in excitement as I turned to him. I wanted him to get the full effect of the black lingerie number I'd snagged at the boutique. I knew that one's boobs weren't supposed to practically spill out of the cup, but I felt as sexy as any Victoria's Secret angel. "What do you think?"

  "Take them off." When I opened my mouth, he gave me a look. "You should be naked. Then get down on your knees, hands behind your back. And you will address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Master’.”

  “Yes sir.” Well then. I reached behind and unhooked the bra and tossed it over where my skirt and blouse were bundled, then my panties. I bent my knees to go down to the floor when his voice snapped like a whip.

  "Stop."

  I froze. I'd already screwed up. "S-Stop?"

  He cocked his head to where I'd thrown my clothes. "Fold each piece of clothing then put them on top of the dresser in the corner." He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Then come back and assume the position."

  Embarrassment sent a red blush spreading across my face as I walked over to the tangle of clothing. I felt like I was being scolded, but this was different that the dynamic between a parent and a child. The fact that I was stark naked and felt his eyes watching me bend and stoop turned something simple into an erotic act. My breath quickened, my skin buzzed, my erotic warmth clenched in rhythm with my racing heartbeat.

  What the hell was happening to me? I should have felt objectified, diminished, but having him order me to do this made me quiver.

  I moved to the dresser and placed the folded clothes on top then returned to where he stood and dropped to my knees, drawing my hands behind my back.

  "Good girl," he said huskily, smirking at me with approval. "When we play, things can get kind of intense. Many use a safe word, but I find it's best to use a system most can remember. When I'm balls deep inside you or pushing you to the point you're delirious with pain and pleasure, remembering some obscure color or item can be problematic." He made a slow circuit around me. "The colors we will use are green, yellow, and red. Green means you're good. More, if you will. Yellow means that things are approaching the point of being unbearable. Ease up, rearrange. Less. And red means that you've hit the wall. No more. Stop." He stroked my hair. "You have no need of using green and yellow unless I ask you what your color is intermittently. You will use red whenever you need to. Understood?"

  I nodded.

  The hand locked in my hair tightened. "Verbal communication is key, Leila. Understood?"

  "Yes sir," I replied, the feel of him tugging my hair then releasing making me throb. Green.

  "Are you ready to begin?"

  "Yes sir."

  "Get on your feet and walk to the side of the bed."

  I rose up on wobbly legs and obeyed, walking to the bed and waiting for further instruction.

  "On the bed. Spread eagled."

  I crawled onto the bed, the canvas swing rubbing against my bare skin. I spread out, jolts of pleasure sparking all over me. I heard him move to my left and let out a hiss of longing when his fingers traced up and down my spine.

  "In this room, you belong to me. Understood?" he said sternly.

  "Yes sir." The waiting, the building pressure in me that I couldn't release was all part of submitting wholly to Jacob.

  His hands diverted to the arm closest to him and I shivered as I felt the cool lick of metal then the warm lining of the binds as he clicked a shackle around my wrist. He made a slow circuit around me, securing both legs and the other wrist. I tugged a bit, the rational part of me flaring. Even if I wanted to run now, there'd be no way to free myself.

  He must have picked up on it because his hands returned to my back. I couldn't turn my head far enough to see him, but it lined up with what he said. I had to trust him.

  "What is your color, Leila?"

  Yellow was on my tongue, but I knew it was mostly not being in control. I didn't think he'd hurt me—it was just the unknown. And as his hand drifted down, caressing the curve of my bottom, I knew there was no way in hell I wanted him to stop.

  "Green," I murmured. I gasped as his hand collided against my cheek, sending pain ricocheting across me. Another hit the other cheek. Then a third.

  He just spanked me...but instead of being appalled, it made the place between my thighs clench.

  "Louder, Leila!" he barked. "What is your color?"

  "Green," I said, with more volume. God don't stop now.

  "Next time I have to ask you twice to obey or you forget the rules, you'll get six. Understood?"

  "Yes sir."

  "Good girl."

  It was just two words but there was something about the way he said that made me writhe against the bed like something in heat. The authoritative snap wrapped in the smoky passion that curled around every order.

  His hand was soft as he rounded my bottom, dipping towards the part of me that wept for him.

  "You’re soaking wet for me, aren’t you?" he breathed.

  "Yes," I said, wanting him inside. To feel his fingers plunge into me. But I realized my mistake too late and his hand came down on my backside. The first stung and each one after increased times two. By the time we reached four, I yelled in pain.

  "You're nearly there," he said, bringing his hand down twice more with the same intensity. "When you break the rules, you will be punished." He paused. "Yes what?"

  I felt the tears spilling down my cheeks. "Yes sir."

  "That's right." His hand gently stroked my bottom. "Your color?"

  My bottom stung, but his fingers were venturing toward my secret place. He was fondling, teasing me with fingers and with every pulse, pleasure latched onto the pain, leaving nothing but ecstasy.

  "Green, sir."

  With that he thrust several fingers inside me, my body taking them in and out with thirsty smacks. He ground into me, one hand on my bottom, gripping and stroking, the other fanning the flames of passion inside me. I wanted to buck against him, to take him deeper, but the restraints didn't allow me the luxury. All I could do was moan over and over as my inner muscles squeezed his fingers.

  I knew I couldn't do anything without his permission, but the onslaught of him was making coherent thought near impossible and with that, the ability to keep my climax at bay.

  "Don't you dare come," he commanded. But he must have felt that my body had a mind of its own because he let out a growl and a few choice words as he increased the rhythm. "God you're so beautiful. So beautiful."

  "Oh god," I said hoarsely. "I want to hold on s-sir, but it feels so good."

  He ejected from me immediately, but my body was still shaking, still ready to release it all. I let out a squeak as I felt the swing lift and I was hanging a few feet off the mattress. I was floating, feeling my juices drip and gush. I heard him unbuckling, unzipping and he was behind me.

  "Don't you dare come until I say so, understood?”

  The pressure inside threatened to explode at any moment. “Yes sir!” Please say it soon. Please.

  As soon as I replied, he thrust inside. I was his. All his.

  He jackhammered in and out and both of us cried out together. With abandon. Screaming. Cursing. My body shuddered, vaulting to the precipice of ecstasy.

  "Please sir," I said in between pants. I never talked dirty, but the words fell from my lips as easily as breathing. "Please let me come on your cock. Please."

  He kept slamming in and out of me furiously and I wondered if he heard me. He was like a thing possess
ed, completely unlike the controlled man outside of this room.

  Finally, he let out a roar that reverberated around me. Through me. "Come, Leila. Come now!"

  I didn't think it was possible to climax on command but as soon as he said the words every part of me shook violently. I could do nothing but remain suspended, a slave to him and the dark desires he stoked as passion consumed me. The intimate parts of me squeezed him with rhythmic need and just when I began to come down, the warmth of him finding his release swept me back up in the torrent of ecstasy.

  It was as close to heaven as I would ever be.

  When he released me from the bondage system, I slumped against him, more tired than I had ever been. Physically, parts of me I never even knew existed ached. Mentally, my head spun with my actions.

  I'd given Jacob complete control of me. He decided when I needed to be "disciplined". I still didn't understand the erotic pangs that echoed over me at the very word. He decided when I needed his touch and where; savage and possessed or heartrendingly gentle. He even determined when I could let go and give into the bliss of the things he did to me. And in return I got the most powerful romp....well, ever.

  Curling up beside him, my body still rocked with aftershocks.

  "You did well," he said, his low voice soothing. He brought an arm around me protectively, breathing in and exhaling like this was his heaven. Exactly what he needed. "I've got some cream for your bottom. So you won't bruise from the spanking."

  I perked my head up, grinning from ear to ear. "Jacob Whitmore: dominant and bedside nurse."

  He leaned in, lips grazing mine until he gave me a kiss as soft as a whisper. "Watch it."

  He turned to leave the bed, but I tugged his arm. "Can you hold me for a little while longer?"

  He slid back to me, face to face. There was a look in his eyes that made my temperature rise all over again. Like he could go another round or two and just couldn't get enough. When he opened his mouth I was expecting a question that was along the lines of, "Again?", but he said something else entirely.

  "You asked me a question yesterday." When I scrunched my face in confusion, he elaborated. "About me and Rachel."