Complete Submission: (The Submission Series, Books 1-8)

by CD Reiss

  “Get in,” he said.

  I complied. He turned the faucets off before following.

  “Now,” he said, putting his arms around me and pushing me against the wall of the tub. “Put your elbows here.” He placed them on the marble shelf outside the tub, where one might put candles or soap if one wasn’t busy giving up control of one’s body. He moved his hands over my breasts, my stomach, and my thighs. He parted them until my knees were above the water, resting my feet on the ledges at each side of the tub. My hips floated, leaving my pelvis just below the surface.

  Jonathan stroked between my legs, letting his thumbs course the length of my cleft and onto my clit. Then his hands moved over my sides to my breasts again, stroking my nipples with his thumbs, and back down. He repeated his movements up and down my body until I groaned.

  He pressed his middle finger to my ass. “Don’t clench. Easy. Relax.”

  I tried to think accepting thoughts as he stroked me again and slid his thumb in my pussy. I let out an ah. He hooked a finger in my asshole. I didn’t tighten, keeping myself as loose as I could.

  “How does that feel?” he asked.

  “Good.”

  He thrust two fingers in before I’d even finished the word. I cried out. It was good. Very good. He drew them out then thrust them back.

  “You’re ready, and you’re mine.” He took out his fingers. “Flip.”

  His pressure on my body told me what to do. I put my hands on the ledge, and my knees on the benches. My ass and sex hitched up, my nipples touching the cold edge of the tub. The sting of his hand slapping my ass caught me by surprise, and I yipped.

  “Shh. Don’t make me gag you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I felt his mouth on my cheeks, kissing across them. Then his tongue worked its magic on my pussy, my clit. Everything tingled. He put his tongue on my asshole, and I thought I would die of pleasure.

  “You’re clenching.” He picked up a hotel bottle of something I couldn’t identify, because I dared not look around.

  I felt something liquid on my back. His hand spread it over me, between my cheeks, lubricating me. When he slid two fingers in my behind that time, I didn’t clench because the feeling was much different. I was aroused everywhere, and it became a wordless harmony, a counterpoint note, its existence completing the sensations in my clit.

  “Better,” he said. “You’re doing well.”

  “Thank you.”

  He pulled his fingers out and pushed my ass down a little. I felt his dick at my crack, and his thumb dug into one ass cheek, opening me to him.

  “Stay relaxed.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean it. I have you. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

  “I trust you.” I meant it, and as if sensing my sincerity, he put the head of his cock on my ring muscle as I tried very, very hard not to reject it.

  He pushed forward. I tried not to scream as the head went in. I held my voice behind my teeth, letting the rumble fill up and fall down my throat.

  “Easy. Easy.”

  “Okay,” I squeaked.

  “You’re in control for now. Move however you need to. Whatever pace is good. Just stay relaxed. Focus on me. Trust me.” He reached around and stroked my front from neck to clit and back again. I couldn’t move for fear of the pain. “Breathe. Breathe, then move.”

  I didn’t think I’d be able to move again. He put his hands all over me, relaxing me, reminding me he was there. I thought compliant thoughts. I accepted his calm, his patience, his trust, and moved into the pain a little. I was better lubed than I realized, and he slid farther in. It didn’t hurt more, which calmed me. I pushed toward him again, and he went in.

  His hands stopped massaging and pressed open my cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

  “It doesn’t hurt as much as it did.”

  “In a minute, it won’t hurt at all. It’s going to be the complete opposite.” His voice contained nothing but surety and confidence, and that made me feel safe enough to push into him again. He tensed so that he slid all the way in. He pulled out slowly, coating my ass in unexpected pleasure.

  “Ah, that’s good, goddess. Very good.”

  I pushed him back in, and I felt full, open, vulnerable, and cared for all at once. But I did not feel pain. It had gone away and been replaced by something wholly new. A harmony. The note was different, but the song was the same.

  As if sensing that, Jonathan took control, pulling his cock from my ass and pushing it back in again. He waited.

  “Do it,” I said. “Sir. Please. Fuck me in the ass.”

  “Your filthy mouth,” he growled. “I love it.”

  He slapped my ass and took complete control, thrusting against me, holding my cheeks open so he could get all the way in. I grunted. The feeling of being stretched past my limit was overwhelming, as powerful as relinquishing myself to his pace. The water splashed around us, still hot, still soapy. We leaned into it until only my ass was over the surface. He reached under the water, to my pussy, and hooked two fingers in me, using the grip as leverage. The heel of his hand rubbed my clit every time he pounded my ass.

  “You’ve got it, Monica.”

  “Sir, may I come?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Don’t you dare.” He grunted it, no help as his hand kept at my pussy. I tried to think of the feeling on my asshole, the pulling and stretching. The raw sensation and the pleasure of the friction. The feeling of being full with him.

  “Soon,” he groaned.

  I did scales on the marble, pressing the correct fingers to the counter for each note. I crossed over in my head and went back down the scale, choosing a B-flat because it always gave me trouble. Anything not to come.

  “Please,” I cried, “sir, god please.”

  “Three more.”

  He took me three more times and barked a “yes.” I came with him, feeling my asshole pulse and clench around his cock. He filled me, and I felt him throb, emptying himself in a long, powerful groan.

  Still in me, he put his arms around me and held me tight. He pulled me up until he sat on the ledge, and I was on his lap with his dick lodged in my ass. We panted together for a moment before he shifted and slipped out of me. My asshole felt uncomfortable, as if his cock was still hard and huge in me.

  “Ah, that feels weird.”

  “It’s still open. Give it a minute.”

  He held me still, moving my hair off my shoulder, kissing the back of my neck, while gradually I went back to normal. Sore. Fucked in ways I’d never been fucked before, but normal. Functional.

  “You didn’t tie me down,” I said.

  “You seemed too tense. I decided on the tub instead.”

  I twisted to face him. “You’re a good listener.”

  “Thank you. Now, back to bed, no?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes to everything.”

  thirty

  JONATHAN

  I slept five hours.

  When I woke, she was tangled in me. I lay there another forty-five minutes, just pressing my nose to her scalp and filling my head with her scent of canned peaches. As of that very minute, my job was to keep her. Make her happy. I slipped out from under her and packed my things for a trip home, then to Seoul, with her.

  I ordered breakfast, and by the time it came, her eyes were open.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  She put the pillow over her head and turned onto her side. I slowly pulled the sheets off her, revealing her perfect body. I slid my hand between her legs. It was a compulsion. Rolling her on her back, I pulled her legs apart. She grunted under the pillow.

  “I didn’t hear you,” I said.

  “I didn’t brush my teeth yet.”

  “I won’t kiss you then.” My fingers found her cunt. I rubbed the moist skin in the center, and she groaned.

  “You look so clean and together,” she said.

  “How’s your ass feel?”
<
br />   “Fucked.”

  I slapped inside her thigh. The sound was hard and final. “Wider.”

  She looked at me as she obeyed, spreading her legs as commanded. I didn’t have a game plan. I just wanted to see her. I bent to put my face between her legs and licked her lightly. She tasted of sweat, sex, and a little of my orgasm. She whispered my name, and I picked up my head.

  “Take a shower, goddess. Breakfast is here. And no touching.” I gave her clit a cruel flick that made her yelp and made me smile.

  She kissed me quickly before trundling off to the shower. I caught her wrist and pulled her to me, kissing her as hard and deep as she deserved.

  thirty-one

  MONICA

  Darren wasn’t coming back to L.A. with us. His return ticket was good, and he and Adam decided to head back together. I assumed my faux-brother was going home as entangled as I was.

  Jonathan and I decided to leave the hotel late. Breakfast had been picked over as if attacked by a murder of crows. We sat together on the couch. Jonathan was under me, bare feet up on the cushions, and my back was to his bare chest. I still wore the robe I’d left the shower in. I had a hotel notepad on my lap, and he stroked my shoulder to the collar while kissing the back of my neck.

  “If I gagged you,” Jonathan said, “I’d do it in such a way that you could still say your safeword.”

  “Okay, so we’ll put it as a yes?” I wrote down ‘gag.’

  “If you want. There are aspects that aren’t interesting to me.”

  “Then why’s it on the list?”

  “I’ll try anything you want to.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m crossing off things left and right.”

  “I don’t get to cross off soft limits. Hard limits, like sharing, yes. But anything that’s not disgusting to me, I do it if you want to. That’s my job.”

  I tapped the eraser on the pad. “What other aspects of gagging are you talking about? Besides that I can’t talk right.”

  “We can do it if you want.”

  “No, it was just something that wasn’t horrific.”

  He paused to run his fingertip over my shoulder. “There’s an element of humiliation. Not that you can’t talk at all, but you’re reduced to grunts. With a ball gag, it’s more pronounced, and you add drooling. It reduces the sub to her most primal, animalistic self. She relinquishes control over her voice and her spit.”

  It was my turn to pause. “Have you used a ball gag on someone?”

  “Yes. It’s not my favorite thing. I prefer when your silence and submission are a choice. And the humiliation makes me uncomfortable.”

  I bit my lip. “But cloth doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “Put it on the maybe list.”

  I flipped pages until I found the maybe list and put gag with cloth at the bottom of the page. Jonathan looked at his watch. “We’ve been at this two hours.”

  I craned my neck to look at the clock. “Wow.”

  “You’re very thorough. But we can continue this on the plane.” He said it as if he was ready to go, but his hand slipped under my robe.

  “Jonathan, what are you doing?”

  “Adding something to the list.” He undid the robe’s belt. “Spread your legs. If I told you this in words, you’d say no. I want to show it to you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Knees up. Open all the way. You have to trust me.” His fingers reached between my legs, finding my cleft wet from the sex talk and stolen kisses. Gathering moisture from my hole, he ran his fingers to my clit, two fingers circling it.

  “This goes on the yes list.” I arched my back.

  His hand came off me and back down with a solid slap. I cried out at the deep sting of pain, gasping. But like a firework shooting into the sky with a hard streak, the explosion afterward lit up the sky.

  “Do it again,” I groaned. He did, and again the pain was followed by its sister, pleasure. I’d slid all the way down and was fully supine, head in his lap.

  “So this goes on the yes list?”

  “Yes. Again, please.”

  “You’re insatiable.” He cupped my chin and kissed me. “Later. We have to go.”

  “Jonathan?” I closed my legs and shifted to look him in the eyes.

  “Monica.”

  “Did you have anything to do with Kevin getting arrested?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “He’s traveled before, so it was weird he suddenly got on a watch list. And then for him to get picked up now? Those warrants have been out forever.”

  “It had to happen sometime.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But did you have anything to do with it happening now?”

  He stroked my bottom lip pensively. “No.”

  thirty-two

  JONATHAN

  I gave Jacques and Petra the cockpit-door-closed order, which they were more than used to, and I had Monica twice on the plane. The first time, I had her in a seat like a normal person. The next time, on the galley counter because I could.

  We didn’t get much further on the list, but we’d made such good progress already that I wasn’t concerned about it. Her commitment opened her up to communication about what we were doing in a way that hadn’t existed before. She was thoughtful and full of questions. Part of me wished we’d done it sooner, and another part was glad it had taken time.

  I let her have the window as we circled Los Angeles over the miasma of smog. She leaned against me. I had my arm around her and pulled her as close as as the seat belts allowed, putting my nose in her hair.

  “Last night,” I said, “I told you I loved your filthy mouth.”

  She turned to me. “Yes?”

  “I lied.”

  “Really? Should I say ‘have intercourse with me’ when I want it?”

  “No. God no. What I meant was, I love your filthy mouth. And I love your mouth when it sings and jokes. I love your body, and everything it does to me. I love when you come, when you squirm under me, begging for it. I love your hands, and your eyes. I love your honor and integrity. I love your loyalty, your intelligence. I love your honesty, even when it hurts me. I’ve fallen in love with you, Monica. I didn’t think it would happen to me again, but it did. Thank you.”

  She stared at me, big brown eyes wide, mouth parted just a little. I didn’t think I’d scared her but shocked her. If I’d used three words to say the same thing, I might not have faced the same silence, but those three words would have been inadequate.

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  I laughed.

  The intercom buzzed as Santa Monica Airport came into sight. “Sir?” came Jacques’s voice. “Can you come up front?”

  I kissed those parted lips and unbuckled. “Give me a sec.”

  “Way to kill a moment, Drazen.”

  I kissed her again, half standing. She put her hands on my neck so I couldn’t get away and kept them there until I took her wrists and pulled them down. I walked backward to the cockpit door and opened it.

  “Yes, Jacques?”

  He pulled off his headphones. “Sir, I just got a call. The LAPD is waiting on the runway.”

  thirty-three

  MONICA

  When he got back, his contented expression had changed to something more pensive and tense. He sat and buckled without looking at me. When I took his hand, he clasped back as if making a perfunctory gesture.

  “What?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Jonathan. Don’t shut me out.”

  He held my hand tight as the plane dropped down to land. “I get sued all the time. It’s not even anything. I have lots of things people want. So they come after me.” He looked at me finally. “I’m used to it, and I’ve learned to manage it. So I’m not worried about anything. But you… I’m worried about what you’ll think.”

  “Remember the part of the trip where I committed myself to you?”

  He sighed, looking resigned in a way I’d never seen. “I have n
o idea what this is about. But the LAPD is on the tarmac, waiting for me.”

  I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until I had to close it to speak. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But I want you to stay on the plane until I’m gone or until I come and get you. I’ll have Lil make sure you get home. Pack. I’ll call you. We may be off to Korea later then planned, but make sure you’re ready.”

  “No.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is there a good reason you need to exit the plane immediately?”

  “I want to be with you.”

  “Sweet, but no.” He must have seen my determined look. He added, “Please.”

  I sat back as the wheels touched down. We held hands as the plane taxied to the gate. Two black and whites waited, lights flashing. I didn’t like it. I knew plenty about cops. I knew how they stood and how they walked. Sonny Rodriguez had been shot gangland style on my corner. On the other end of my block was a narrow strip called “Ghost Alley” because of all the murders there. Those days were done in the neighborhood, but the cops, the questions, and the tension lived and breathed in my mind.

  The Santa Ana winds whipped around the plane and bent every palm tree in sight. The wind sock on top of the control tower was held still and erect.

  Jacques came back, not his usual polite self, and opened the door with the steps behind it. It fell with a scrape to the concrete. Jonathan stood up, and with a look back to me and a raised finger indicating I should stay put, he walked out.

  I unbuckled and went to the other side of the plane, pressing my face to the window. There was talk, and four officers surrounded him, which didn’t happen unless some sort of violence was involved. Weird. Unless there was a great donut shop by the airport and two extras needed an excuse to come.

  My view was obscured by the wing, but it looked as if they were handcuffing Jonathan.

  No.

  Sorry, but no.

  I don’t know what I expected to do, but I ran out as he was led to the car by the stocky cop on his left. I didn’t call out or demand anything because another cop stepped between us with her hands out.