Total Submission

by Roxy Sloane

  “Huh, maybe I read it wrong,” Brent shrugs. “I figured, for the right price, maybe I could give her back to you.”

  “Price?” I repeat the word, sickened. But Brent interprets the edge in my voice as interest.

  “See, I knew you were my guy.” Brent smiles smugly. “I want my trust reinstated, and the shares in the company that Keely bitch stole. If you make that happen, if you get me what I’m entitled to, then I’ll give you Isabelle.”

  I decide to play his bluff, see if I can make him show his cards. “And how do I know you’ll deliver on your promise? Isabelle might not agree. In fact, she can be rather stubborn, don’t you think?”

  Brent snorts. “You’ve just got to know how to handle her. Don’t worry, I’ve got leverage like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Like what?” I press him, but Brent chuckles,“What do you think, I’m dumb or something? You’ll get your little whore back, just give me what I want.”

  I swallow back my rage. Breaking his pathetic face in two would be satisfying, but it won’t give me what I need.

  Isabelle, free from his control. Mine again – of her own free will.

  But one day soon… Brent and I will have words. The kind of words that involve my fists pummeling his sniveling face.

  I give him a nod, lying through my teeth. “I’ll see what I can do with the board this week. I’ll let you know if I can meet the terms of your arrangement.”

  Brent grins in victory. “I knew you’d come around. Can’t see what you want her for myself,” he adds, turning to leave. “I mean, she’s used goods by now, right?”

  He strolls out, leaving me with nothing but rage in my blood and a new determination. I’m not leaving Isabelle another night under the same roof as that animal.

  I’ve waited long enough. Isabelle is mine, and it’s time I do what I do best: take control.

  FIVE: ISABELLE

  The last time I started my life over, it took months of adoption paperwork and social worker visits; court dates and interviews before I finally was seated in the back of a limo, driving up to the gates of Ashcroft Manor. And then there were years of social niceties to learn, attitudes to mimic, and a million different ways to appear blasé, to become Isabelle Ashcroft not just in name, but for real.

  This time, all it takes is a few quick phone calls. Just like that, I’ve got a new, secret bank account and a red-eye flight booked to the Caribbean. All I need to do now is to collect my bags and my passport, and head for the airport.

  By the end of the day, Isabelle Ashcroft will be gone forever.

  It should be a relief. An end to all the mess and pain. So why does my heart ache like this, thinking about leaving New York – and Cam – behind for good?

  I push aside the emotion and head back to my apartment to pick up my things. I already checked in at Brent’s favorite sports club, and he’s propping up the bar with his friends. The coast is clear to disappear.

  But when I step into the apartment, all my bags are gone. I left my luggage by the bedroom door, ready to make my escape. Now, they’re nowhere to be seen.

  What the hell! Brent. He must’ve gotten in somehow and taken everything. It’s not just the clothing, I can replace that easily, but the few personal tokens that mean the world to me: photos of me with the Ashcrofts, old diaries, and the only thing I have from my real mother, a broken down old music box that’s the last symbol of who I really am.

  Tears well in my throat. I can’t go without them, but what can I do now?

  Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. I flinch, expecting Brent, but then I remember: he would never knock. I go to answer, wondering why the doorman didn’t buzz me with the arrival.

  Cam’s driver is waiting outside. He shifts, looking awkward.

  “Eddie?” I ask, confused. “What are you doing here?”

  He clears his throat. “Mr. McCullough sent me to collect you. I’ve already taken your belongings to the penthouse.”

  “Collect me?” I echo. “Wait, you took my things?” I’m angry. “How the hell did you get in? What gives you the right?”

  “I’m sorry.” Eddie looks totally uncomfortable. “I’m just following orders, ma’am. If you come with me, you can talk to Mr. McCullough yourself.”

  My heart pounds. See Cam again? I can’t. I remember the last time we met all too well. The way he seduced me in the bathroom at that restaurant, reawakening the desire I thought I’d dampened down for good. His hands on my body, his sexy Scottish accent commanding in my ear. Feeling his fingers inside me took me to the brink in a moment, like only he knows how to do. It was insanely hot, so intense I could have come right there.

  But you didn’t. You got out, and saved yourself the heartache.

  Now, what he’s proposing is madness. The two of us… alone in his apartment…

  I can’t take the risk again. It’s crazy. I have my ticket all booked, I should just slam the door in Eddie’s face and leave for the airport without turning back.

  But something makes me pause.

  I need to get my things, I bargain with myself. I can keep it together that long, surely?

  “The car is waiting downstairs.” Eddie stands aside.

  Reluctantly, I lock up and follow him out.

  * * *

  By the time we pull up outside Cam’s building, my trepidation has turned into blazing anger. What gives Cam the right to summon me like this? To just steal my bags and send his driver to collect me like I’m a piece of property he can demand at will? Our contract is over; I’m not his sub anymore. And I’m sick of being treated like a toy by everybody.

  I charge out of the elevator and through the front door.

  “Cam!” I call, furious. “Where are you? Cameron McCullough, answer me!”

  But he doesn’t. The apartment is silent.

  Confused, I head for the guest bedroom where I slept the last time I stayed. But my things aren’t in here. It’s as tidy and impersonal as a hotel room.

  Where has he put everything?

  I search the apartment, my anger growing. I don’t have time for these games, not with a plane to catch. And even though I hate to admit it, I’m disappointed he’s not here to greet me either. As much as I’m nervous about his effect on me, my heart aches to see him again.

  Finally, I reach his bedroom. It’s his personal sanctuary, off-limits without invitation. Even when I was staying here with him, I was hardly ever allowed to set foot inside, and I feel a rebellious surge as I fling open the door.

  I stop dead.

  My things are here, all of them. Unpacked and arranged with care, like they’ve been here all along. Like they belong in this room.

  My photo album and perfume bottles sit on the dresser, my clothes hanging neatly beside his suits in the huge walk-in dressing room.

  He’s even folded up my favorite throw blanket and laid it across the foot of the bed.

  Suddenly, it’s not Cam’s room anymore. It’s our room.

  Sadness hits me like an anvil.

  This is what it would look like, sharing my life with him. Waking up every morning in this bed – together. Going to sleep in each other’s arms at night.

  My body floods with longing, for the life I’ll never have.

  I sink onto the bed and look around at my things so proudly displayed in Cam’s personal space. For the first time, I wonder what it would be like to stop running away.

  Stop the lies, and the fear, and the pain. Stop turning my back on my problems, and face them head on.

  But how can I? Brent still knows the truth about me, and you can bet he wouldn’t hesitate to use it the minute he finds out I’m with Cam again.

  At least if I run, I’ll be a thousand miles away when the truth comes out.

  I reluctantly get up. Scanning the room one last time, my gaze falls on the polished dresser table. There’s a note there, and a key.

  Come upstairs.

  A shiver runs through me. His playroom on the top floor. He�
�s given me the key. He’s inviting me into his most private retreat.

  I should drop the key and go. Take advantage of my head start, skip town before anyone realizes I’m missing. Because this new life I need? It starts now. All I have to do is turn around, collect my things and walk out that door.

  But I know what this key represents, what the room represents. This means everything to him. How can I refuse?

  In a daze, I go into the hallway and climb the stairs. My hand trembles with excitement as I reach to slide my key into the lock at the top.

  The door swings open, and there he is: sitting in a leather chair by the windows. Waiting for me.

  My body tightens with lust. God, he looks good. His eyes rake over me, and I can feel the gaze like a caress. Immediately, my nipples tighten and heat rushes through my blood.

  “Isabelle,” he says coolly, “welcome back. It’s nice to see you can still follow orders.”

  My anger flares back to life. “I’m not your property to call at will,” I protest. “Our contract is over, remember?”

  He rises to his feet. “But is it?”

  I stop. My heart is in my throat just at the sight of him. God, why does he have this hold over me? I wish I could just walk away.

  I wish it was so easy to tell him ‘no.’

  “I can’t stay,” I whisper, my resolve faltering.

  “You can. And you will.”

  Cam paces closer. I shiver. “What are you playing at?” I ask again.

  He shakes his head. “This isn’t a game to me, Isabelle. I’ve let you down, I realize that now. I never should have let you go back to him.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand, silencing me. “I know that Brent has something over you, and I know that you don’t trust me yet enough to let me in on your secrets. But I’m your Master. It’s my duty to protect you, and I won’t ever forget that again.”

  His words wash over me. Confident. Reassuring. Looking at him here, a king in his own domain, I can’t help but believe everything he says.

  Believe him, and want him too.

  “Don’t run,” he murmurs to me, and it settles over me like an order. “Stay, see this through. I promise, I’ll take care of you. Take care of everything you need.”

  Cam prowls closer, and now I’m helpless in the intensity of his gaze. “Material needs,” he says, reaching me. “And physical needs, too. What does your body tell you? What does your heart want?”

  His touch is electric. I jolt back. “It’s too late.”

  “It’s never too late, Isabelle,” Cam corrects me. “I’m not letting you throw your life away and run.”

  I gasp. “How do you know?”

  “I know because it’s my business to know,” Cam counters, and now he’s so close I can see the determination radiating from him. The clench of his jaw, the coiled power in his body. “You’re my business now, Isabelle. My precious, darling girl. You belong to me. You never stopped being mine.”

  I exhale in a shiver. God, I want him so much. He’s never been so sexy as right now, that fierce light of passion in his eyes. For me. It’s all for me.

  And right then, I feel something shift inside me. My last defenses crumbling to the ground.

  Because the truth is, I want to surrender. I want to submit. I want to trust him, believe him, give myself up and know he’ll make it all OK.

  I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life before.

  Cam stands proudly in front of me, as if he can see the release he’s just unlocked.

  “You know what to do, Isabelle,” he says firmly. “You know what I want from you.”

  Yes.

  Slowly, my heart racing, I sink to my knees.

  Assuming the sub’s position, just the way Cam taught me to.

  My body lightens with relief. His eyes blaze with tenderness. The whole world falls away, until it’s just the two of us.

  This is the answer. This is who I was made to be.

  No more running. No more games. Just the truest thing I’ve ever known.

  I bow my head in blissful surrender.

  “I’m ready, Master.”

  SIX: CAM

  Isabelle awaits my word. Supplicant on her knees, her head bowed in obedience.

  Master.

  Just the sound of the word on her lips is the strongest aphrodisiac I’ve ever known. And this is only the beginning.

  Never again will I question my instincts. Never again will I let what I want walk away. She’s mine now, and that’s all the matters.

  The only thing left is to claim her for good. Show her the true sweetness of surrender, when her body is shattered in release, gasping for my cock. I can’t wait for her thighs to open to me, for her to come screaming my name.

  But first, she deserves a real dom. One who won’t tolerate disobedience, who can give her the structure and rules she so clearly needs.

  I let my emotions get the better of me once. I won’t make that mistake again.

  I pace back and forth before Isabelle, tracing my finger over a leather riding crop that hangs on the wall, a pair of handcuffs, a scarf. I hear her inhale sharply in anticipation, and I have to fight back a smile. Control.

  In the end, I choose none of these tools: I’m teasing her right now, taking pleasure in drawing this out. I turn back towards her and cross my arms.. “You disobeyed me by going back to Brent.”

  “Yes, Master.” Isabelle breathes again. Her chest heaves, and from my vantage point above her, I can see her creamy breasts straining against the simple silk T-shirt hugging her curves.

  I can’t wait to taste her, every inch. Strap her up in leather and tests the limits of her pleasure with clamps and chains. I tilt her chin up, searching those blue eyes for the anger and doubt I saw there just moments ago, but now all I find in her gaze is lust, need, and a willingness to please. She’s perfect.

  “What happens when you disobey me?” I growl.

  Her breath catches. “I get punished.”

  Isabelle’s body quivers with anticipation. I won’t disappoint her this time.

  “Get up. Take off your clothes.”

  She scrambles to her feet. I can see the desire on her face, her cheeks flushed pink. She quickly strips off her T-shirt and jeans, leaving her in just a set of white lace underwear. Isabelle reaches to take off her bra.

  “Stop,” I command her. “I want to look at you.”

  Her hands drop to her sides. Slowly, I prowl in a circle around her, examining every inch of her luscious, taut flesh. The swell of her breasts, the nipples straining pink behind the lace. The curve of her ass, and the tapered muscles of her thighs.

  Fuck, she’s incredible.

  I lean close to murmur in her ear, still not touching her. “Have you missed me?”

  Isabelle shudders. “Yes, oh yes.”

  “Did you lay awake at night, thinking about me?” I continue, letting my breath fall hotly on her skin. She tries to sway back against me, but I stay out of reach. “Did you touch yourself, and imagine my hands on you? My cock thrusting deep inside your slick cunt, your body pushed to breaking point?”

  She moans, and I can smell the desire on her. I know that she’s wet for me, clenching to keep control.

  “Admit it, darling,” I murmur. “Tell me all the wicked, filthy things you did to your sweet body imagining it was me.”

  “Yes,” she gasps. “I touched myself. God, I missed you so much. I went crazy without you.”

  The way she’s talking, it’s all I can do to keep from touching her, so I force myself to pull back. I make my voice tender now, so Isabelle can hear how much I want her, too.

  “You don’t have to suffer anymore. I’m here now, and I promise you, you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  I step back and take a seat on my chair again. “Come here,” I order her. “Bend over my lap.”

  Isabelle’s head lifts. Her eyes flash with excitement. “Are you going to sp
ank me?” she asks, a tremor of excitement in her voice. I remember how hot she got the last time I spanked her, and fuck, blood rushes straight to my cock.

  “Are you questioning me?” I counter.

  Immediately, she flushes. “No, of course not.”

  Isabelle scurries over and arranges herself over my lap. Her stomach presses against the top of my thighs, and her ass juts up, barely covered by a scrap of lace.

  I slowly stroke the delicious curve, dipping back between her legs to nudge at her sodden pussy. She whimpers in response.

  Fuck. It takes all my hard-won control to keep from yanking those panties down and just fucking her right here: driving deep inside her until I’m branding her with my cock from the inside out.

  But that isn’t what she needs from me right now. Now, she needs me to take care of her. She needs to know I’m in complete control.

  “You disobeyed me,” I remind her. “Your punishment is ten slaps. If you move, or make a sound, that will be doubled.”

  I feel her freeze against me.

  “Are you ready?”

  This time, her voice has a tremor of fear. “Yes, Master.”

  “Good.”

  I don’t give her any more warning before I yank down her panties and land a stinging blow on that gorgeous peach of an ass.

  Isabelle jolts against the pain, but she bites back her cry.

  I spank her again, hard, a series of devastatingly accurate blows that leave my palm print branded red on her flesh. With every slap, my heart pounds, steady, until nothing in the world exists but the careful force of my hand, measured just enough to sting and pain but not more than she can take.

  I knot her silky hair in my other hand, holding her in place as the punishment continues.

  “You don’t question me,” I say loudly, moving to spank the back of her thighs. “You don’t protest, and you don’t object. Those are the rules of our contract, my darling, and don’t think for one moment I won’t hold you to account from now on.”

  Isabelle’s body is shaking, as she silently sobs with every strike. But I know that her body is primed now for pleasure, and that when I take her to the edge, it will be even more intense than before.