Her Submission

by Vonna Harper

  “How many—“ She clamped her teeth together. Had she stopped the question in time?

  “How many subjects have I done this to? I don’t remember.”

  That couldn’t be! Could it?

  “I’m going to try something, a bit of a test.”

  The way he’d framed his words, she was certain he intended to force his fingers into her so was unprepared when he abruptly withdrew and stepped back. His bulk blocked her view of the door she couldn’t escape through and her right shoulder pressed against the stair post. The only way she could decrease the pressure around her neck was by leaning toward the post but that would put her off-balance.

  “How responsive are you?” he asked. “Does it take much to turn you on?”

  No. If she told him the truth, he’d use his knowledge against her. Shaking, she struggled to return his gaze.

  “Answer me!” He slapped her cheek, knocking her head to the side. A moment later, he grabbed her shorts’ waistband and yanked them down so they were around her knees. “Unless you want a repeat of that particular lesson, I strongly suggest you tell me the truth.”

  Knowing it was useless, she nevertheless strained to free her arms. “I—I don’t know how to answer.”

  “The hell you don’t.”

  She steeled herself for another slap. Instead, he tightened the chain until she faced the post with her nose touching it. He was behind her.

  Getting ready to what?

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he told her, “because I suspect you won’t come clean about your responsiveness, not the truth anyway. Far better for me to figure it out on my own.”

  His hands settled on her hips. Alarm ratcheted up, compelling her to try to look over her shoulder. Everything was happening too fast. Was too intense.

  “A key element in the training process,” he said, “is demonstrating to a subject that I can and will do whatever I want when I want. There’s nothing she can do to stop me. Think about your current predicament. Your restraints aren’t elaborate. In fact, they’re much simpler than they’ll be down the road, but they do the job. To state the obvious, I have you right where I want you.”

  You don’t have to do this. It isn’t too late to stop. I don’t know where we are, who you are? Just let me go and I’ll never—

  “I know what you’re doing, slave. You’re mentally bargaining with me. Appealing to my civilized nature and compassion.” His fingers dug in. “Save your breath because pleas and promises have no impact on me.”

  Slave. He just called me a slave.

  “All right.” He leaned into her, pulled her top off her shoulder, and lightly bit the just-exposed flesh. She whimpered, not because he’d hurt her but because she couldn’t get away. “Back to the issue at hand which as I recall was my goal of assessing what it takes to turn your body against you.” He straightened. A moment later his fingers again dug into her buttocks. “I care how long it takes me to make that determination. In fact I’m looking forward to the journey. To anything.”

  Was there something wistful about the way he’d said the last? Before she could go in search of an answer, he drew her panties down to her shorts. She’d known he’d eventually strip off her clothes, but it was happening too fast.

  Scaring her too much.

  Taking her a million miles from the erotic scenarios she’d long let run rampant in her mind.

  “Not bad.” He patted her now naked ass cheeks. “Obviously you live an active lifestyle. I’d prefer it if you had an all-over tan but maybe I’ll make that happen.”

  Tans took time. Time she’d have to spend in his presence.

  Alive.

  As his slave.

  “Always before,” he continued, “I made a point of not giving a slave any information about the process as we call it at Carnal, but at present my employer has nothing to do with you and me. Maybe it never will. I can change things up, maybe share some…”

  Try as she did, she couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. Something about Carnal, whatever that was. He’d demonstrated his capacity for delivering pain, but that wasn’t the only reason she felt as if she was drowning. His hands were where no stranger had the right to place them. He’d stripped her—started to anyway.

  And she couldn’t do anything to stop him.

  “The woman’s body is endlessly fascinating.” His nails raked her buttocks, making her jump and gasp. “I know more about the female form than the majority of men and yet I’m always learning something new. Keeps me from getting bored.”

  He’d thrown too much at her, overloaded her mind and nerves. No matter that he’d snugged her tight to the post, she again struggled to see what he was doing.

  Strong, smooth nails dug into the bottom of her buttocks. Gasping, she rose onto her toes but of course he stayed with her. Kept the pressure going. All too soon her calves started trembling. Short moments later, she sank back down again. His nails continued to dig at her. Sharp pain bloomed. She stamped her feet, then started to bend her left knee.

  “No, slave, no! Don’t even think it.”

  A fist pushed into the small of her back and forced her hard against the post. Her breasts were being smashed, her useless hands grinding against wood.

  “I will teach you the meaning of the word pain, but there are things you can do to limit the amount of discomfort I believe it’s necessary to subject you to. I’ll grant you that one option. The last thing you ever want to do is try to inflict damage on me. Believe me you’ll regret it as you’ve never regretted anything in your life. Do you understand me?”

  He expected her to answer?

  “Ah, a bit of defiance.” The pressure against the small of her back increased until it reached her core. “I must say that’s always been the most rewarding thing about working with a new slave.” He nipped the side of her neck. “You’re going to try to escape. I’d be disappointed and surprised if you didn’t.” He again settled his teeth over her neck like some vampire. “I’m curious to see what you do, or rather I should say attempt to do. Carnal—maybe I’ll show you pictures of the various facilities—is designed to keep captives under control. To bring up the obvious, it’s different here. I don’t have any cages.”

  Cages. Cells. No matter how much she tried to hide her fear from him, a whimper slipped past her clenched teeth.

  He sighed. “Taking you was—something I needed to do to keep from losing my mind.” He took a deep breath. “From thinking too much.”

  Her fantasy captor never explained himself. Everything revolved around her needs, her maybe sick desires. She didn’t want to know anything about this flesh and blood man—and yet her survival depended on it.

  “All right, slave-in-training, it’s time I got back to why I’ve restrained you the way I have. Besides—“

  Not for the first time he’d stopped himself from revealing something. Somehow, some way she’d have to get him to tell her more but not now. Not yet.

  When he stopped mashing her against the post, she came too close to thanking him. Not trusting her control, she resisted trying to see what he was doing. The seconds ticked past. She couldn’t stop shaking.

  “Lovely responses.” Warm hands settled over her buttocks. “You have no idea how many men want total control over a woman who lives in fear of him and will do whatever it takes to please him. And to bring herself pleasure. The majority of men never have the opportunity to experience that of course but a few do.” He started kneading her too pliable flesh. “Fortunately enough have the necessary finances to make Carnal Incorporated highly successful.”

  Right now he wasn’t hurting her. That was all she could think about, his potential for gentleness. His quiet words. And the word Carnal.

  “You’re a wild animal,” he whispered. “One I’ve caught in my trap. Fortunately, unlike a creature of the forest, you’re intelligent enough to know not to exhaust yourself fighting what can’t be fought.”

  As the kneading sensation continued, she became aware of
several changes. For one, his fingers were slowly heading down toward her thighs. Number two, the touches were becoming gentler. She was so tired, so out of her element.

  And she wanted—something.

  “Fear isn’t a static emotion,” he continued. “Even in the middle of a life-threatening experience, human beings can’t indefinitely remain on high alert. Nerves can only take so much before they demand a break or start breaking down.”

  His take-charge fingers settled fully over the back of her thighs. She shivered, experienced.

  “So soft. What was I saying? Oh yes, during our period of togetherness, there will be any number of times when you’re convinced you can’t take any more shall we call it stimulation, but I encourage you to face your fears and desires instead of hiding from them. Your unconscious mind and nerves know what needs to be done. Each time you find yourself about to fall off an emotional cliff into madness or absolute surrender, hold on for a few more seconds. You’ll slip into another realm. It’ll get better once you’re there. Marginally.”

  Why was he throwing this nonsense at her? And what did he mean by their period of togetherness? How long would it last?

  His breathing picked up and became deeper. Between trying to anticipate his next move and facing her new reality, she’d already forgotten most of what he’d said.

  “I’m looking forward to this, to blazing my own path instead of following Carnal’s dictates. Who knows. Maybe…”

  She hated it when he fell silent. She felt so damn weak. At the same time strength she couldn’t begin to make use of surged through her in waves.

  “It’s catching up to me,” he said abruptly. “Damn, damn.”

  “What is?”

  “Did I give you permission to speak?” He sounded more disappointed than angry. “One more outburst like that and I’ll gag you again.” Masculine fingers slipped between her thighs. A moment later something, a nail from the feel of it, brushed her clit. Sweat broke out all over. She longed to leave this life and return to one she’d created.

  One safer than this.

  At the same time she’d never been more alive, more aware of her body.

  “Hold still now. No matter what I do, you aren’t to move.”

  She was so tense she half expected her bones to crack, her muscles to shatter. Whatever he intended was taking so damn long. Damn him to hell.

  “The sweet spot. And your undoing.”

  He touched her sex again. Even though she had no doubt what he was going to do, she couldn’t ignore the sweep of masculine fingers along her pussy lips. Teeth clenched, she concentrated on breathing.

  “Listen to your body. Hear what it’s saying to you, slave.”

  Slave? No!

  Maybe yes.

  Yet another light touch of male fingers over private female body parts. Her partly-discarded clothes pressed against her knees. She tried to close her legs.

  “No!” He pulled one hand free, slid it under her top, and raked her back from shoulder to buttocks. “This is my right. You’re my possession.”

  She wasn’t anyone’s possession, hadn’t been under anyone’s control since she turned eighteen. Instead of telling her captor that, she struggled to ride out the stinging sensations along her spine. They’d barely begun to fade when he ran a finger into her sex opening. Alarmed and, insanely, excited, she froze.

  “Do you remember what I called this place?” He wiggled his finger.

  A question, something she needed to answer. “My—sweet spot.”

  “What else?”

  She couldn’t give him what he was demanding, damn him! Sweat ran down her sides. Cracks formed in her mind. She felt—good.

  “Don’t try my patience, slave. I’m not a patient man.”

  Because he hadn’t repeated his question, she desperately held onto this moment, this small victory. He must have known what she was doing—maybe he knew everything about her—because instead of screaming at her, he pushed deeper into her.

  “You’re damp up here, little one. Not as wet as you’re capable of becoming, but it’s a start. Stay with me, experience.”

  This man who’d already done countless things he had no right doing began playing with her. That’s what it was, she repeatedly told herself, teasing and playing. Crude foreplay. He used both hands to spread her as far as the fabric roping her knees allowed. Whistling—whistling!—he dipped one finger after another into her and used what he collected to coat her labial lips.

  No matter how much she hated noting everything he was doing she had no choice. The need to try to stay one half-step ahead of him was that strong. Tension upon tension packed around her and took her down into a dark, hot place.

  He wasn’t hurting her. In fact, nothing in the light brushing of flesh against flesh hinted that he might. In essence he kept after her. His fingers spoke to that primal part of her, slipped past the fragmented defenses she’d tried to throw up between them. Her captor knew to stroke and feather, how deep to climb into her, how long to stay there.

  Anxiety seeped out of her and moment by moment she relaxed. He was working her slow, slow and light, gentle.

  Knowing.

  “That’s better,” he muttered. “No need to think it’s all going to be bad because it isn’t.”

  Something pressed against her channel walls. More curious than alarmed, she concentrated. Two of his fingers were inside her now. Claiming ownership. Giving pleasure.

  “More moisture, my pet.” He pushed up, slid out a little, advanced again. “I’m milking you. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Hmm.” She couldn’t feel anything except this one part of her body.

  “Repeat for me, slave. What am I doing?”

  So good. Knowing and compassionate fingers taking her to a place empty of fear. Maybe—maybe he’d help her climax.

  “You—you’re stimulating me.”

  He wiggled his fingers. “What else?”

  “Oh—I—don’t know what you want me to say?”

  “It sounds as if self-analysis isn’t possible for you right now. All right, go back inside yourself and listen to your cunt.”

  Sweat now ran off her temples. Her forehead hurt from leaning against the post. Pressure against where thigh and pussy joined let her know he’d brought his other hand back into play. Two fingers continued to lay claim to her sex opening, held her open and vulnerable. Filled her. Much as she needed to stomp down on her body’s response, she couldn’t because he’d taken hold of a labial lip and was pulling on it, stretching tender flesh. He’d covered her in her own juices there and had to hold on so tight circulation was being cut off. Burning, heat rising, discomfort mating with pleasure.

  “Hmm, mmm.”

  “Music to my ears, slave. It’s a devil’s dance, isn’t it? Give me more. Fall apart for me.”

  No! You can’t make me—

  He rammed his fingers so deep into her she half believed she could taste them. For a blessed few seconds, he let go of her sex lips. Then before circulation was fully restored, he grabbed hold again. She couldn’t begin to compare this pinching, clamping sensation with what was going on inside her. It was all so much. Overwhelming.

  “Please, oh god, please.”

  “There’s no god here, slave. Never was, never will be.”

  She knew that, but the word had escaped anyway.

  “A little more and then I need to—damn.”

  Was he in pain again? She was the one who was—was what? Her body was beyond her reach or control, drifting between good and bad. Wonderful and hated. Holding her breath, she tried to concentrate on the good. He hadn’t touched her clit lately but she forgave him because his fingers provided what her pussy craved. Her captor had skewered her, invaded that private and fragile place. Maybe, hopefully, his attack would continue until she lost all awareness of her tethered hands, the tight leather around her waist, the collar.

  Her pussy wasn’t selective. Almost any stimulation between her legs would get her off. Le
ft to her own devices, she got down to basics by pressing a vibrator to her clit but—

  Where had she gone? How had she managed to dismiss the punishing fingers clamped around her sex lip for even a second?

  “Shit, mmm, shit.”

  “What’s that, slave? I can’t hear you.”

  More pressure. Her pussy flesh being relentlessly pulled. Desperate to escape, she twisted one way and then the other. It did her no good. He was still there, fingers clinging to her and inside her, his larger body looming behind her.

  “Oh please. Oh shit, please stop!”

  “Begging won’t get you anywhere, slave. Ever. Get used to it.”

  She couldn’t, especially not with two powerful male hands between her thighs. Claiming her sex. Owning her.

  “What do you want? Oh g—what do you want?”

  “Your surrender.”

  No! Never. She kept twisting, fighting what couldn’t be fought. “Damn, damn, damn you.”

  Someone was grunting. At first she thought she was responsible for the harsh sounds then realized they were coming from him. Sensing her sanity and maybe her life might depend on what she did now, she forced herself to stop her useless struggle. Between his grunts and her rapid-fire panting, they sounded like a couple of boxers at the end of a match. Her pussy was on fire, invaded by an overwhelming mix of what was good and bad about her body. Her rock-like nipples pressed against her bra, and she couldn’t close her mouth.

  “Enough,” he hissed. “Shit, enough.”

  His fingers slid out of her. The awful/wonderful sensation on her labia eased and then died. She dimly realized he’d backed away but couldn’t concentrate on him, not until her body mended itself. Found a moment of peace.

  It happened one nerve ending at a time until finally she no longer stood at the edge of a cliff. Sometimes when her directionless life became more than she wanted to think about, she engaged in a long night of self-stimulation. Climaxing over and over again wiped her mind clean and left her tired and satisfied. She felt a little like that now which shouldn’t be since there’d been nothing pleasurable about what her captor had subjected her to. Her reaction had to be, she told herself, a combination of fear and helplessness.