Secrets: Curvy Submissive & Older Dom (Submission Island Book 3)

by Q. Zayne

  Contents

  Teaser

  Secrets

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Into the Darkness

  His Scar

  Garden of Secrets

  Time’s Folds

  Else-when

  Submission Island Episode List

  Teaser: Serving ~ Submission Island 4

  About the Author

  Teaser

  He whipped me as I danced. Soft lashes like rain delivered with perfect control.

  “Good, beautiful.” He held the whip at rest, his breathing moving though his powerful body. “Show me with your body if you want more, and where you want it. Speak to me with your flesh, Cleo. Dance for me.”

  I danced, exposing myself, giving him my longing, offering all the tender zones of my being for his whip, his pleasure.

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  Secrets

  Submission Island 3

  Curvy Submissive & Older Dom

  BDSM

  Cleo & Marcus

  by Q. Zayne

  Dedication

  To T, for his wisdom, kindness and generosity,

  and to D, who inspires me with her spirit and discipline.

  A special thank you to the authors and promoters boosting my books. :)

  And to my readers. I treasure your reviews.

  Copyright

  Do not post any of our stories on any site.

  Copyright ©2017 Hughes Empire. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written permission of the author except for brief excerpts in a review. Cover photo ©Deposit Photos and the photographer, all rights reserved. The use of the photo doesn’t suggest endorsement by the photographer nor the models, nor does it imply anything about the models.

  Electronic book publication: May 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to businesses, entities, places, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All people, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. All characters are over 18. This work is for mature readers 18+.

  Into the Darkness

  Dear Reader,

  Please read the book description to make sure this book suits you. I write to entertain, not to upset anyone.

  She wants more than spankings from the hottest man to ever lay hands on her.

  Curvy Cleo faces love's quicksand as her master awakens more of her desires. Marcus fights his past and tests her submission. Cleo's Egyptian blood her bond with an ancient sacrificial victim attract an enemy.

  Secrets includes detailed BDSM and intimate sex scenes. It's for readers who enjoy erotic fiction with characters who have inner lives and a heart connection. It focuses on a 28 year-old half-Egyptian woman's erotic pleasure and growing love with a dominant man. Readers seeking books with non-stop sex or who don't care for introspective heroines won't be happy here. If you're interested in sadomasochism and love based on experience, you've reached the right island.

  The click of my high heels in the cool hallway gave the place a lonely and ominous feeling, even though my nerves thrummed with the anticipation of the magic we made here. I tried not to do it, but when I thought of Marcus, my mind was full of ‘we.’ There was no point in thinking of this as though it was a relationship.

  I hesitated at the door. The sign that first attracted me marked it, though I could have found my way to it blindfolded. The Spanker. Unlike the first time, there was no question I’d enter the room. I was here to see Marcus, to experience him, and yes, us. That was the magnetism of sadomasochism, part of it, the synergy that happened with a partner in those hidden places, when I was naked in my desire and he met me with his. Nothing else moved me this way.

  I opened the door.

  The music surprised me. I hurried in and shut the door, as though trying not to let the sounds out, the way I’d take care to keep the cat in, even though I was relieved not to see the cat again. Its presence at the first session made me jealous.

  I recognized the rhythms, though I couldn’t name the instruments. It was some kind of Middle-Eastern music, the kind belly dancers used. Did he somehow know I took a couple of classes in college? Despite my initial qualms about being big, it was a wonderful experience, one of the best things I did to make friends with my body.

  Marcus sat smiling in the enormous armchair where he gave me such delicious attention. His head and fingers moved in time with the music.

  He was doing neck isolations, and doing them well. I’d had the pleasure of watching troops of male dancers perform Middle Eastern dance. It was exquisite to see the male form executing such erotic dance moves. The precision and sensuality delighted me, coupled with muscularity and strength. Male hula dancers excited me, too. Too many Westerners were so bizarre and rigid about masculinity and femininity. There was nothing unmanly about dance.

  The precise moves of Marcus’ majestic head confirmed his mastery in all the ways he used his body, whether he was spanking me or impaling me. What other skills did he have?

  I gave him a shy smile and headed for the shelf to remove my dress. I felt like a pupil demonstrating she knew this part.

  “No, Cleo. Stop right there.”

  I stopped. I trembled. His deep, commanding voice had that effect.

  “There’s a purpose to the music. You will undress to it. Draw it out like a classic burlesque. No more yanking off your clothes for physical education class.”

  I blushed. He hadn’t said anything at the time, but he’d noted my resentful undressing.

  “Yes, Master.” I stepped out of my heels and slid them to the wall. This was a barefoot dance. I dropped my self-conscious urge to tiptoe and arch my back. Belly dance was a different way of being in my body, one I learned to enjoy. I took a breath, feeling the tile floor.

  “Take your time. Feel the music. Don’t even lift your hem yet. I want you to sway in time. Feel it. Take the music into you. Breathe it in to your body. Move with it in your heart. Feel it low in your belly, in the hara. We’ll be making use of this practice. This will become a foundation for more pleasure. Honor it. Honor yourself. Close your eyes for a moment and cast away all thought. It’s all you and the music now.”

  I obeyed. The enchanting rhythm, the sweet wind sound, the chimes, spoke to me. The music entered me through my pores, all my openings. I invited it, took it in, and guided it to my heart and hara, between my navel and clit. I sensed it in my crown chakra, and between my pussy and ass. I glowed with it. I loosened, breathed, let it sway me. I stayed there, easy on my feet, ankles fluid, joints soft, allowing the sounds to move me like the wind in a palm. My feet tingled, my toes livened. I lifted my foot and it swung like a metronome.

  I didn’t know what I was doing. It was nothing from class. I become a shape for the instruments, a marionette for the dance. I went with it, relaxed with the sense of being possessed. My heart fluttered. My hands rose like butterflies.

  Marcus’ eyes widened. I brought my focus back. Only me and the music. Only Marcus could bring this out of me, draw me to perform as though I was free, as though I never had fear or shame, sadness or rejection about my big body.

  The music rose into my thighs and hips and shook me. I jiggled there. I let it all go and shook like an earthquake, like a pussy quake. I felt the roots of childbirth preparation in the dance.

  I worked my hips like sex. I rocked toward him, feeling Marcus’ cock in me. I danced the way I’d
move on his cock, slipping low, my knees folding, taking me down on him, bobbing in the air, exposed in my desire.

  I gripped my dress and raised it slow, like a curtain.

  Marcus took in his breath. I slid my hem over my lilac panties and dropped it fast. Only a glimpse. I’d make him wait. He wanted it slow, he’d get it slow.

  Sliding my hand across my face, I revealed my wicked smile. I danced my hip in a circle, leading with it, adding a shimmy, my body a hard curve in space, changing the flow of time.

  I went back, back to the origins of dance.

  Honing my body with my sensual rhythms, I made my sex tight and tighter, thinking of Marcus, thinking of his erection and his seed.

  I pulled myself back, into the music, into the backwash of time. In a tent in the desert, I did a back bend all the the way to the carpet. I eased backward, pulling my dress up as I lowered my body. I flattened myself to the floor and came up with my shoulders, my breasts shaking. I arched up to my knees, shimmying and rising, becoming tall, camel walking toward Marcus and away.

  The rhythms grew more insistent. I raised my hem in the back, slinking the dress up and down my thighs. Marcus’ breathing quickened. I bent over, exposing my ass, working everything in time with the music, my cheeks shaking. I slid the dress up and down, revealing my panties sliding into my crack, concealing my ass, teasing him.

  My path created a circle, and flowed into a spiral. Each time I passed his chair, I flirted with my master, hiding and flashing my secret places.

  I pulled up my hem and danced with my dress over my face, holding my arms overhead: veiled and bound, a harem gift for the sheik. The flutter came from low in my belly, jiggling as I gyrated my hips in a cock-gripping slow grind. The flutter rose, shaking my breasts.

  I arched back, going low to the floor, rising again, hips and thighs working all the way, my entire body jiggling. My feet made love to the floor, arching, lifting off and landing, keeping the wonderful rhythms in my walks and turns. Movement became joy. My whole being moved for Marcus from my desire and my heart.

  Within the music, I lived forward and backward in time, no boundaries. I gave birth with my hips toned from all this magic. I pleased my husband, I—. I put my hands over my face. I brought myself back, back, back. I stamped and made myself feel it, right now, no death scenes, no losing the husband I loved back in my desert life. Right now, right now. Dance. Dance for Marcus.

  I danced in a frenzy, whirling and wild. I ripped my dress and cast it from me. I yanked my panties far up my crack and danced with them rubbing my clit. I unhooked my bra and stripteased it super-slow down my overflowing breasts. I eased it off, revealing my erect nipples and swung it over my head like a lasso. Inspired, I sling-shotted it to the shelf.

  With mincing steps, I eased my panties lower, dancing closer to Marcus in an enticing figure eight that brought me within his reach— and then away. No doubt he smelled my arousal. I did. I hooked my thumbs in my panties and teased them over my hips. When my pubes were about to show, I slid them up and danced away, shimmying. With sinuous hip moves, I approached and retreated, sliding my panties lower right in front of Marcus on each pass.

  As I made a slow circle, each step moved through my calves, my thighs, my hips. With my back to him, I slid my panties half way down my ass, shaking it.

  He grabbed me.

  “Vixen. Sorceress. I’ll have those panties off now.” He ripped them off of me.

  They burned as his force whipped them from my skin.

  He turned me and buried his face in my pussy. He inhaled.

  “Mm, delicious. You’ve turned yourself on so much, you’re slick for me. You’re good, so tantalizing. I’ll have you strip for me often. Look what you’ve done.” He gestured at his tented pants.

  Men got erections all the time, yet I felt proud, delighted in him giving me credit. The pleasure in his voice and eyes felt so genuine, so personal.

  Marcus rose from the chair, steadying me and guiding me to step back from him. He reached for something draped over the back of the chair. His body had hidden it. He shook the lashes out into the music-laden air of the room. Leather mingled with my scent.

  A whip. A heavy black leather flogger with a studded handle. Suitable for an SM dungeon or a scene from ancient Rome. I swallowed.

  “I want to whip you, Cleo. With you warmed up and your blood coursing through your skin, it’s an optimum time. This isn’t a punishment. More of a reward. This is an intimate thing. Since you came to this room for a spanking, I want to make sure your want this.” He lashed it through the air.

  The sound of it excited me. My pussy pulsed.

  “I want it. Yes, please, Master. I do want it, Marcus.”

  “You’re going to get it then, Cleo. Dance.”

  He whipped me as I danced. Soft lashes like rain delivered with perfect control.

  “Good, beautiful.” He held the whip at rest, his breathing moving though his powerful body. “Show me with your body if you want more, and where you want it. Speak to me with your flesh, Cleo. Dance for me.”

  I danced, exposing myself, giving him my longing, offering all the tender zones of my being for his whip, his pleasure.

  He lashed my breasts, my belly, my upper arms, my back, my thighs, my hips, my ass, my quim. It felt so good. I kept dancing into the radius of his magic and he took me higher. I felt safe and exquisitely wanted.

  His whip stroked my breasts and slid down my belly, my thighs. I moaned and arched back, offering him my inner thighs, my swollen lips.

  He lashed me there, one slow, lingering stroke. And again. Again. I shuddered, my muscled humming as I kept my body open for him.

  I entered the heart of the Mansion of Desire.

  “Wonderful. Over the chair arm now, ass to me.”

  I assumed the position, arching my ass at him. He slid the tales down my back in a tantalizing caress that slipped along the crack of my ass. He made soft leather rain drops along my shoulders, my wings, my butt. I purred and wriggled my ass, spreading my legs wider. He whipped the insides of my thighs. He caressed my legs with a gentle glide of the whip’s flat tails. With an easy rhythm, he lashed me soft and easy on the insides of my thighs, pulling the strokes upward to tease my pussy.

  I moaned, wanting him, wanting everything he could do to me.

  “Brace yourself.”

  I clung to the chair arm and pressed my cheek to the leather warm from where his arm had rested. I took a deep breath and released it.

  “Ready?” His deep voice reached my core like thunder.

  “Yes, ready.” My fingertips tingled from gripping the chair.

  He stepped back and snapped the tails into the middle of one cheek. I shrieked. He put power behind the next ones. The lashes turned from rain kisses to the sexiest kind of pain.

  “Please, don’t stop.” I wanted to give this to him. I sensed it was special for him. For me, in a sense, it was another test.

  Meeting each stroke, I pushed my ass back farther and higher, offering it, urging him with my body to let loose and take me. This wasn’t a game, it was my life. All my hunger reached out to him, invited him to go as far as he longed to go. I couldn’t make up for his loss, but I’d give him all I had to give.

  “I’ve got you, Cleo. You’re beautiful. Give it up for me. Yes.”

  He beat my offered ass. He beat me. His muscular body and aching heart worked me with each lash.

  His whipping moved from precision to an outpouring. We met each other in passion. I felt a ferocity from him that I craved. The heavy flogger pushed me beyond anything I’d experienced. Colors appeared brighter and swirled as he got me high with the power of his arm. The hot sting turned to deep thuds I felt where I felt his cock as the heavy lashes pounded me. I ached in my pussy, my skin hot, my clit eager.

  I needed him. I needed all the aggression he had. The intensity of it made me gasp. I bit my arm to keep from yelling. He hit my hard, right in the sweet spot low on my cheek. I rose up on my to
es as the force of his blow rebounded through my entire body. I held on, gasping.

  He hit me hard in the other cheek.

  I shook, trembling from deep inside my core. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

  “This is it, Cleo. Stay with me.”

  Marcus let go, whipping my ass in a hot frenzy, letting out his pent-up need.

  I had to take it all for him. I had to be enough for him. Being good for Marcus meant everything. This was the test, to go beyond my limits and ride out what he needed to give me. I panted and rode the strokes beyond the stinging pain place where I would have stopped with anyone else.

  The last stroke made me rise to my toes. The flails slid down my thighs in a caress.

  He approached, giving off a deep, masculine scent of exertion and desire. He pressed against my hot ass, intensifying the burn. I pushed back at him, hungry.

  “Marcus. Master.”

  He raised my hair and kissed the back of my neck. His big hand caressed my hips and sides, squeezed my shoulders.

  “Good, Cleo. So good. You’re taking my whipping beautifully.” Holding me with his entire body pressing against my tender back, he kissed my cheek. His still-clothed erection prodded my heated ass, spread my cheeks.

  I moaned.

  “Marcus, Master.”

  “Can you take more, Cleo?”

  “Yes, Master.” I would do anything for him.

  “Good girl. You’re magnificent, my beauty.”

  He stepped back and delivered a series of burning strokes, the leather abrading my ass.

  I shook all over, out of my mind from it, wanting it to stop, but wanting it to never stop, wanting to spend my life in the eye of his regard. Let me live in your storm, Master, forever.

  He snapped the whip at my sweet spot on each cheek. The burn intensified and glowed.

  I huffed out my breath and collapsed.