Her Submission

by Vonna Harper

  “You’re my servant, not the other way around,” he informed her. “Get dry.”

  The cuffs still dangled from her right wrist and got in the way as she sat up and started doing as he’d commanded beginning with her face. When she reached her waist, she slid off the bed and rubbed her hips, buttocks, and legs. He noted that she didn’t reach between her legs undoubtedly because she was too sensitive there. Finally she wrapped the towel around her hair. Her hands fluttered over her naked body.

  “Master?”

  “What?”

  She stared at the floor. “May I speak?”

  “It depends on what you say.”

  “I—thank you.”

  He hadn’t expected that. Slaves-in-training went to great lengths trying to hide how deeply climaxing impacted them. Instead of acknowledging how good coming felt they blamed him and the other trainers.

  “For what? Giving you a shower?”

  Her mouth started working, giving rise to the suspicion that she was debating whether to agree with him. He wasn’t she he wanted the communication to continue but he’d lived with silence for so long.

  “Not just that.” Her attention left the floor and slowly moved up his legs. That was something else he seldom saw in a slave. Most times they did everything they could not to acknowledge a trainer’s existence.

  Instead of staring at his cock, her gaze locked on his scarred leg. He half believed she could see through the layers to the metal rods that would be part of him for as long as he lived. How would she react if she knew he’d nearly bled to death?

  “Don’t,” he warned. “That’s none of your concern.”

  “But—“

  “I’m not going to say it again. My scars are my business, not yours. What, slave, were you going to thank me for?”

  #

  Tearing her attention off the still-red proof of several surgeries, Kaci concentrated on Master’s cock. She’d already grown accustomed to being naked while he remained fully clothed so seeing him in the same condition was something new she had to get used to. His nudity might not have made as much as an impact if she hadn’t recently survived the most out-of-control climax of her life. Just thinking of how his hands had commanded her helpless body kicked up her heart rate. If she relived the relentless race to the cliff he’d forced her over, she might find herself there again.

  The damp leather collar he’d locked her into remained in place and it would be too easy for him to refasten the cuffs. Proof of his mastery touched not just her flesh but had seeped deep into her.

  Was changing her.

  “You made me come,” she whispered still focused on his dark erection. “You—you knew how to make—I had no control…”

  “Get used to it.”

  Get used to it. But why would he concentrate on her sexual surrender when his sexual needs hadn’t been met?

  “I don’t know if I can. I never—I’ve had fantasies but they never…” Damn it, what was so hard about expressing gratitude?

  Because this was real. Today wasn’t some crazy example of her imagination gone wild. Because of him, her existence had changed at the most fundamental level.

  “What kind of fantasies?” he demanded.

  “Nothing.” Why had she said anything? “I didn’t mean—“

  “Yes you did. Tell me about them.”

  “It was crazy stuff. Just—I don’t know.”

  “The hell you don’t. You sometimes turned to them to satisfy your sexual needs, the kind of needs I dealt with when I made you climax.”

  Climax. Pleasure in the midst of—no, it hadn’t been a nightmare.

  She might regret using action to express what she didn’t have the words for. Despite the warning voice clawing at her senses, she unwrapped the towel and finger-combed her hair. Standing before him without shrinking away might be the hardest thing she’d ever done. At the same time his body continued to sing its siren song. This man who insisted she call him Master hadn’t simply forced her to climax. He’d introduced her to something wonderful! Exciting. Freeing even.

  Was that it? For a few incredible seconds she’d separated herself from whoever she was and become a new woman. A sexual creature capable of unbelievable pleasure.

  Confusion, physical attraction, and the humming between her legs spun together. Giving into all three, she sank to her knees on the thick carpet and crawled toward him. He’d devoted time and attention to teaching her how to present herself to a master and she used what she’d learned to control her body’s movements. She held her head low and her back so straight his switch wouldn’t have fallen off. At the same time she made her breasts sway and kept her legs apart.

  She couldn’t say how long it took her to reach him. All she knew was the journey had both taken forever and ended too soon. He smelled of clean male. A few droplets clung to his pubic hair. Extending her tongue, she licked. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his fingers knot. The collar clung to her neck while the single cuff served as a reminder of how easy it would be for him to do anything he wanted to her.

  He already had, she reminded herself and again licked. His reasons for sending her hurtling in release didn’t matter. Only acknowledging how much things had changed about her world did.

  Her gratitude.

  Master.

  When she turned her head and brushed her cheek against the side of his cock, he took hold of her hair but didn’t pull her away. The only sound came from their harsh breaths. Saliva flooded her mouth forcing her to swallow repeatedly before she trusted herself to touch her lips to his cock head. The sweet salty taste of pre-cum filled her. Craving another taste, she opened her mouth and took a half inch of him into her.

  “You’re my slave,” he muttered. “Don’t for a moment forget that.”

  “I won’t. I can’t.”

  In another time and in a different world she’d had sex with other men. She’d even performed fellatio. Afterward, she’d asked the men if the act had lived up to their expectations. Their responses had danced around the issue and the relationships hadn’t lasted long enough for her to decide whether she wanted to work on her technique.

  It was different now. More was at stake.

  Closing her eyes, she mentally turned herself over to this man who said he owned her. His accident had been traumatic, different from what being behind bars had been like for her and yet the same in some respects. This man would never admit to being afraid, especially not to her, but surely there’d been moments—maybe more than just moments—when he hadn’t known whether he’d live.

  He had. He deserved to celebrate life.

  With the help of the woman at his feet.

  Overwhelmed by the promise she wasn’t sure she could or wanted to keep, she nevertheless moistened her lips and slid them over his length. Maybe having her eyes closed was what was making her dizzy, but it was safer this way. She could touch and taste him, not have to try to make sense of his expression.

  Or herself.

  His fingers remained locked around her hair and acted as a conduit to his tension, his anticipation. At any moment he might immobilize her head and ram his cock down her throat but this was now. Them. Her gratitude.

  Her dreams of sexual slavery had revolved around her master controlling her every movement and pain, lots of pain. Maybe that’s why she was having such a hard time acknowledging this small mastery over him.

  That was it! Instead of making this act about her thankfulness, she’d fall back on familiar scenarios. Find a moment of safety.

  In her mind he clipped a chain to her collar and pulled her so close to his groin that her nose smashed against his flat belly. He held a whip in his free hand and occasionally lashed her exposed buttocks. Either she please him or he’d punish her.

  Maybe he would anyway.

  Excited, she opened her mouth wide. Now he tasted not just of soap but power. Her body was his to punish and force, her mouth had only one purpose.

  Eyes still resolutely closed, sh
e tightened her lips around his length and started lifting and lowering her head. Master needed stimulation so she’d give it to him, suckle, nibble, and lick. All the while she’d remain in tune with his reactions, judging and anticipating, giving, always giving.

  Filled with purpose, she leaned into him, took him deeper. However, despite her best efforts at self-mastery, she gagged when his tip touched the back of her throat.

  “You’re worthless! If you don’t do any better than that, I’ll make you regret you were born.”

  Anchored by Master’s imagined warning, she swallowed and concentrated on giving his cock complete access. She kept her mouth loose, her mind both open and empty. Survival depended on worshiping Master’s cock, putting its pleasure before breathing even.

  Her throat loosened, relaxed. There was nothing beyond his heat, weight, and length. His cock’s swollen veins and silky head became her everything.

  Delight and surrender grew as she leaned even closer. Deeper and deeper, his hard organ pushing into her throat, closing off her ability to breathe, making her part of him. His hair-hold tightened. A sense of fulfillment flooded her. Because he wanted this so did she. She’d pass out for him, die if that’s what brought him pleasure.

  Her temple started pulsing. Her head felt as if it would burst. With the sensations came a primitive instinct for survival, prompting her to shake her head in an attempt to break free. When he slackened his hold, she relaxed her mouth muscles until he slid out. Then she pulled in air that smelled of him. The instant her mind cleared, her desire to put him first reasserted itself. She opened her eyes and looked up at the man who’d become her world.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Please, let me try again.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “You gave me pleasure. I want to do the same for you.”

  His puzzled look prompted her to replay what she’d just told him. Of course he didn’t believe her? Instead of trying to explain herself, something she wasn’t sure she could do, she moistened her tongue and lathed his length. When he started stroking her hair, she wondered if he really thought of her as his pet.

  It didn’t matter. Even if she didn’t understand the transformation, she was who she was. Instead of taking him back into her, she nibbled and licked. He still controlled her, but she wanted it like that. Needed it.

  A small voice demanded to know if she’d lost her mind. Determined to silence it, she renewed her efforts to please him. She settled her hand over his base and anchored his cock. Touching what was precious to him emboldened her. Keeping her actions slow and measured, she again turned her head and nipped at his length. After several moments of pretending she was about to eat him, she started kissing where her teeth had been. He still held onto her hair.

  This was right, good, Master and slave, pleasure given and taken. The longer she tended to him, the more her own sexual need asserted itself. When she couldn’t hold off any more, she slipped her free hand between her legs and started stroking herself. Had she ever been this wet?

  “Do it. Mouth fuck me.”

  Without taking her fingers from her sex hole, she stretched her mouth wide and guided his hard length back into the heated cave that was her gift to him. She closed her lips around him, began to suckle.

  Groans ripped through him as he released her hair and clamped his fingers around her shoulders. As he began thrusting, she let go of his cock and gripped her breast.

  Master was so strong! No matter how much she tried to grab some of his strength for herself, she weakened. Lost her separate self.

  She became Master’s tool, her mouth an orifice with only one purpose, to bring him pleasure. To take whatever he hurtled at her. He repeatedly rammed into her, his thrusts coming so fast and hard she couldn’t draw breath.

  Please him. Live for him. Be what he needs.

  Master wasn’t some teenage boy pumped full of testosterone so she expected his release to take a few minutes. She was still trying to accustom herself to his fast and powerful rhythm when sweet cum flooded her mouth. He cursed. If anything, his attack intensified.

  Take me with you. Let me feel what you are.

  Something winked out in her. She no longer saw herself as separate from Master. With his discharge sliding down her throat came the belief that they’d become one. She shuddered, gasped. Tears burned. Her pussy muscles spasmed.

  Coming. Feeding off him.

  Winning.

  Losing.

  Chapter thirteen

  “You’re moving fast,” Damek said.

  “It isn’t just me.” Reno kicked back his recliner and looked at the nearby window. It was light out but whether morning or afternoon he wasn’t sure. He had vague memories of ordering the slave to stay on her knees, locking her wrist to the bed leg, handing her a throw, and crawling under the covers for the rest he hadn’t gotten last night because he’d spent it watching her sleep. He had no idea how long he’d napped before getting dressed and coming downstairs for something to eat. “This trainee’s on a fast track.”

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do with her?”

  “No.” He enunciated carefully. “I haven’t. What’s it to you?”

  “Because maybe you’re where I was not long ago.”

  Damek was talking about the woman who’d started out simply being a job but now lived with him. The two traveled together and just last month they’d climbed Mt. Shasta in northern California. She wore his collar, but their relationship was unlike any Reno had ever seen between master and slave. They genuinely cared for each other while maintaining their roles. Damek had cut back on his Carnal work and had been talking about starting his own business working with natural submissives who wanted to live up to their masters’ expectations.

  Not long after Reno started physical therapy Damek had asked him to at least consider joining him. At the time he’d been so wrapped up in getting through one day—and night—at a time that he’d turned Damek down without a moment’s thought.

  Maybe he should do some thinking.

  About a lot of things.

  “What do you know about her?” Damek asked.

  “Not much.” She was still upstairs because he needed a little time apart from her. “From what she said, I’m thinking she was a juvenile delinquent. Apparently she spent a long time locked up.”

  “I’d think the last thing she’d want is to be restrained again.”

  Damek had made a good point. “I don’t have a cage here and I haven’t tried putting her in a closet so I can’t say—“

  “What about basic bondage or whippings? Does she freak out?”

  “No.”

  Damek grunted. “She would unless she wants this.”

  “You’re saying you believe she’s a submissive?”

  “You know her better than I do.”

  I’m trying.

  “Look I’m not going to give you suggestions because you know what you’re doing as well as I do, but if it was me I’d be pushing her limits. Taking her past those limits and see how she reacts.”

  “Breaking her?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Damn Damek for trying to play shrink. “What did you call for? I have better things to do than flap my gums talking to you.”

  “Sure you do.” A sigh reached him across the miles. “I’m just checking up. You want the truth? Ever since your accident it’s been like to trying to talk to a dead man. Sounds as if you’re starting to get over it.”

  Maybe I am. “How are things going at Carnal? Have they set a date for that international auction?”

  “It’s going to take place in a couple of weeks. Thomas asked if you’d said anything about showing up for it.”

  Thomas—everyone knew that wasn’t Carnal Incorporated’s vice president’s real name—had shown up at the hospital a few days after the accident, but Reno didn’t remember much about the visit. Since then their communication had been limited to Thomas explaining that Carnal’s insurance
carrier intended to wait to see how many of his medical bills his motorcycle insurance would cover before stepping up.

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “To fuck off.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “No, but I wanted to. He’ll die a prick. I told him to send you an invitation. I’m trying to decide whether watching the auction will get you off the fence about going back to work.”

  A naked female waited for him upstairs. Not long ago he’d ejaculated for the first time since he’d nearly lost his life. What mattered was seeing if that would happen again—and learning more about the creature who’d made it happen.

  The slave who’d climaxed from making him come.

  “We’ve already discussed this.”

  “Yeah, kind of. You can agree, disagree, or tell me to mind my own damn business. You sound different since you got your hands on her, more alive.”

  He pressed the heel of his hand against his cock. “Maybe I am.”

  A minute later he closed down his cell phone and stared at the stairs. The conversation had worn him out. At the same time he acknowledged that Damek was right. He did feel different—and that unnerved him.

  Knowing he was well on the road to recovery was a hell of a lot better than struggling to get through days framed by physical therapy and nightmares had been. The thing he still couldn’t and didn’t want to wrap his mind around was how much nearly dying had changed him inside.

  Wanting something different from life.

  Enough!

  He stood and headed up to where he’d left her. Every step brought back memories of his struggle to climb the damn stairs right after he’d gotten out of the hospital. He’d been glad he had the cabin to himself so no one could watch him crawl or hear his pain-filled gasps. Some things a man needed to get through on his own.

  Sometimes solitude could be a bitch.

  He opened the bedroom door and looked in at the naked woman on his bed. He wasn’t alone today. Time to learn who and what she was.

  #

  “Thank you, Master,” Kaci whispered. Now that she’d used the toilet and washed her hands, she wasn’t sure what to do. This bathroom was larger than the one downstairs, all silver, white, and black. Expensive. Masculine.