Surrender's Dance

by Vonna Harper

  She was still trying to comprehend the moods when a sound alerted her to the arrival of a third display vehicle. This one held two women. One was so fair that Asia wondered if her skin ever saw the sun, while the other was African-American. They’d been displayed in such a way that the contrast between them was heightened. Bound so their backs were to each other with rope wrapped around their waists and their buttocks touching, they appeared as halves of a whole. A human yin yang. The fairer one had a wide-eyed, startled look, while the other seemed to be all but licking her lips behind her gag. Her generous hips exaggerated the vehicle’s movements.

  Almost as one, the male audience leaned forward. Some applauded while others crudely teased in loud voices about which of them was man enough to master both slaves at once. Although Asia shuddered at the thought of the women’s fate, at least she was no longer the lone center of attention.

  Once she’d been paraded in front of her potential buyers, her driver positioned her so everyone had an unobstructed view of her. The other vehicles parked nearby, the one holding the two in the middle.

  On display.

  A tall, distinguished-looking man, dressed entirely in black complete with a cape and mask, stepped in front of the vehicles. He held a small microphone in one hand. In the other was a long, thin whip.

  “We have quite a selection here today, gentlemen,” he began and the crowd fell silent. Even the groveling women turned their attention to the new captives. A few shivered, probably remembering when they’d been the ones up for sale. Several glared, maybe upset because their standing with their masters was in jeopardy. “We’d hoped to have a larger lot ready for your purchase and amusement, but we can’t always have a bumper crop, can we? These two --” He indicated the mismatched pair. “-- are a true treat and will be sold together. This one --” His whip flicked over the other woman’s large boobs. “-- spent more time in training than we’d hoped because her resistance to her new life took longer than anticipated to break down. Rest assured. Despite her impressive and expensive mammary glands, her surgery didn’t result in lessened responsiveness there.”

  The whip snaked out, expertly landing on both nipples. Shrieking behind her gag, the woman fought her bonds. Several slavers applauded. “She’s inordinately protective of her assets, an attitude her new owner can either use to his advantage or beat it out of her. She’s multi-orgasmic and has been trained to take cock up her ass. She doesn’t like it.”

  That resulted in more applause and several obscene remarks about how much fun forcing her to submit would be. The woman’s eyes became even wider. She shot Asia a pleading look.

  “And then --” The auctioneer spun toward Asia. “-- we have an unknown quantity. This one was assigned to Zemar.”

  Nods and approving muttering followed his announcement.

  “I need say no more, do I, gentlemen? She’s been handled by the best. The decision was made to terminate the training early. Rest assured, there’s nothing defective about the merchandise. The island chose her according to the proven criteria and standards and is highly sexed.” A flick of the wrist landed the whip between Asia’s legs. Grunting, she struggled to close them.

  “What happened?” a man called out. “She bite off Zemar’s balls?”

  “Hell no,” another retorted. “More likely Zemar got her so worn out he couldn’t do anything more with her. That it, slave? Getting speared by his instruments ’bout killed you? Nothing left of you ’cept an empty shell?”

  “What’s the truth?” a third demanded. “There anything left of her?”

  “Ah, you want proof that the merchandise is as advertised, do you? Nothing is simpler.” With that, the auctioneer held aloft the whip base. His gesture resulted in lewd laughter from the men accompanied by demands that he use it for the demonstration.

  Horrified, Asia jerked and twisted in a desperate but futile attempt to escape. She sobbed into her gag when the hooded man stepped onto the platform where she’d been tethered. Although she thrashed from side to side, the bastard clamped his hand over her buttocks with such strength that pain slammed into her. She didn’t recover to resist until it was too late. The smooth, warm whip handle slid into her defenseless opening. Gasping into the gag, she rose onto her toes but couldn’t free herself from the horrible invasion.

  “Give it to her!”

  “Start her twisting.”

  “Off with the gag. We want to hear her scream.”

  The auctioneer manipulated the makeshift dildo so it spun inside her. Even as she lifted herself as high as she could, she looked down at herself. The man’s hand hid what he was doing from her view, but she didn’t need to see to know. If that wasn’t bad enough, he grabbed hold of a breast and cruelly massaged it.

  This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t! And yet, she was responding. Not being able to move, exposed, and violated, mirrored her most powerful fantasies. In the past, her imaginary tormentors had been featureless. Now, however, she saw his face -- Zemar.

  Zemar was doing this to her! He knew her limits and desires, dreams and the depth and breadth of her sexuality. Although being fucked by the whip base came close to being painful, the delicate balance between agony and pleasure mesmerized her. Heat and sexual electricity ran through her, and although she hated her weakness, she began trying to fuck the dildo. Lost, she closed her eyes. Her head lolled to the side, and she ceased to live anywhere but in her cunt.

  Do me, Zemar! Please, turn me into a slut! Force me, force me to come for you.

  Sudden shouts and curses pulled her back into the real world. Opening her eyes, she spotted a tall, powerful figure striding toward her.

  Zemar jumped onto the platform and struck the auctioneer so violently that the man fell off, slamming his head on the ground. Ignoring him, Zemar yanked at the straps holding her gag in place. Only then did he pull the improvised dildo out of her. His fingers lingered at her opening, and she had no doubt that he could feel her juices. If her reaction disgusted him --

  “She’s not for sale,” Zemar announced as the auctioneer struggled to sit up. “Not today and not ever.”

  “Why not?” someone demanded. “You keeping her for yourself?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The door closed behind Zemar. Although the room he’d carried her into intrigued her, Asia didn’t take her eyes off the man. The air smelled of a curious mixture of spring mornings and sex, adding to her agitation. Because he’d released her chains, she absently massaged her wrists. Her mouth ached from what had been shoved into it, but that was nothing compared to the sensations still pounding in her pussy.

  “I should have come earlier.” He gestured toward the comfortable looking recliner to her right, indicating he wanted her to sit. She complied because she didn’t trust her legs to hold her. Because it was Zemar, she’d do whatever he asked. . “But there were things I needed to do first.”

  “I was going to be sold.” She couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. “As if I was some animal. If you hadn’t shown up --” She shuddered. “It was worse than I expected. And yet the idea excited me. After all those years of dreaming about being part of the lifestyle, it felt right.”

  Nodding, he positioned himself in front of her. Although her awareness of her nudity threatened to command what little ability she had to concentrate, she rested her hands on the padded armrest and studied his dusky features. He seemed even larger and more imposing than when he’d kept her bound and helpless. “Was there anything you didn’t like or understand?” Despite his seemingly casual question, his gaze was intense.

  “The way the slaves were forced to act, the chains.”

  “You believe they’re forced?”

  “I don’t know what else to call it. One woman -- her master made her give him head in front of everyone.”

  “And if you touched her cunt, you’d have discovered she was all but flooding herself.”

  Just as I did when the auctioneer mechanically
fucked me.

  “The island is a world unto itself, Asia. Fantasy and fulfillment. No boundaries.”

  Although she kept her attention locked on him, she allowed more memories of the past few minutes to surface. She’d been scared because she hadn’t been able to move and didn’t know what was going to happen to her. At the same time, having years of sexual dreams become reality had been an undeniable turn-on. She’d even enjoyed the crude things the masters had said and being the center of attention -- even now she wished she could see how bidding was going.

  “This was your fantasy,” he prodded. “Something the island identified and tapped into. On the day you lost your job, you made it clear you wanted someone else to take over ownership of your body, someone who understood your secret thoughts and desires. Your deepest needs.”

  He leaned over and rested his hands on her arm rest. Now she smelled only him, was aware only of him. He became everything. “You understand that’s why you were chosen to be brought here, don’t you? Because you belong on Surrender Island.”

  Her heart raced. “But you -- you said it yourself that I didn’t act like any other prisoner you’ve worked with.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t want the lifestyle.” Not taking his gaze off her, he moved to her side and ran a hand between her legs. She started to clamp thighs together, then, sighing, relaxed. “You crave this.” He stroked her, and she felt her response throughout her loose-as-melted-butter-body. When he transferred his hand to her mouth, she shamelessly licked her juices from his fingers. “You’re alone in the world, Asia. Just like me.”

  “I -- I have friends.”

  “Who will go on with their lives just as you will carve out a new one here.”

  She thought about sitting up. She just couldn’t convince her muscles to make the effort, not with his hands now on her shoulder holding her in place -- holding her ready for him.

  “That’s why I was slow getting to the auction site,” he said. “There were things I had to take care of.”

  “What things?”

  “Arranging to have my other slaves sold.”

  “Your -- your other ...”

  Although she tried to straighten, he refused to let her. I’m yours. Yours. “I have two right now, beautiful but simple and highly sexed creatures, who care only about themselves.”

  Jealousy washed over her. Mindful of his position of power on the island, she struggled to contain it.

  Watching her intently, he slid a hand to her throat and closed his powerful fingers around it. “I’m going to collar you. Only I will be able to remove it. It’ll stand as partial proof of my ownership of you.” Both hands moved to her breasts, covering and flattening them under his palms. “And I may have you pierced here.”

  Hot currents arched through her.

  “Slender rings but not so delicate that they’re useless, because I want to be able to easily control you.” Sudden, hard pressure on her nipples drove his message home. “Silver or gold links attached to the rings will keep you wherever I want you, however I want you.”

  As his words fed her imagination, the current took up residence in her pussy. Trembling and excited, she lifted her pelvis toward him. Ignoring her blatant plea, he used his grip on her nipples to bring her to her feet. Instead of releasing her, he forced her onto her toes. Her arms hung useless at her side as she fought the discomfort and her legs threatened to collapse.

  “This is my place. I have another, larger one in the jungle, but when I come to the village, I stay here. I bring my slaves so I can participate in the lifestyle and entertainment. I intend to present you, to demonstrate your submissive nature. When I do, you will conduct yourself as a slave, do you understand?”

  A slave. His slave. “Yes,” she whispered. It took all her self control not to touch his cock. “I understand, Master.”

  “You don’t fully yet.” His fingers continued to cut off the circulation in her nipples. “But you will by the time I’m done training you. You want that, don’t you?”

  Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. He rewarded her by spreading her legs. As she widened her stance, hot juices trailed down the insides of her legs.

  “I smell you. If you’d been able to go into the stands today, you’d smell sex on the slaves. If you looked into their eyes, you’d see a submissiveness that goes into their souls.”

  “I know, Master.” I truly do, now.

  “They live for this.” After releasing her nipples, he began his assault on her sex by sliding his fingers over her mons but quickly reached deeper. She felt his fingertips gliding over her slick and hungry opening and started to lift her pelvis toward him. “Have I given you permission to move?” he demanded and pinched her labia.

  “No, Master. I -- I am sorry.”

  “Pain will bring you pleasure.” He demonstrated with another pinch, which she fought by imagining his fingers, his cock, inside her. “And when I take you naked and restrained to a banquet and command you to kneel at my feet and eat out of my hand, you will love your treatment, won’t you?”

  Images of what he’d just described made her face heat. An even greater heat hugged her cunt. “Yes, Master.”

  He flattened his hand over her pussy and pushed, bringing her back to her toes. “Even if you could leave the island, you wouldn’t, would you?”

  “No, Master.”

  “Because I’m offering you the life you’ve long secretly wanted.”

  “No, Master. At least that’s not all of it.”

  He released her and stepped back so he could regard her, but because he hadn’t given her permission to close her legs, she remained open to him. “Not all?”

  Risking his displeasure, she lifted her head so he could see into her eyes. “It isn’t just being mastered that I want. I used to imagine it was, that being forced to obey, to have everything revolve around the granting or denial of sexual satisfaction would be enough, but it isn’t.”

  “What else do you want?”

  “You, Master. Only you.”

  “Why?”

  “May -- do I have permission to touch you?”

  A short nod supplied her with the answer. Ignoring his straining cock, she stepped behind him and ran her mouth over his scars. When he shuddered, she brought her tongue into play and slowly, gently bathed the old wounds. Someday, hopefully, he would tell her everything, but just as she was learning to trust him, she’d have to earn the same from him.

  Several scars extended to his buttocks. With trembling fingers, she untied his loincloth and let it drop to the ground. She wouldn’t always be able to do this; she understood his ability and right to control every aspect of their relationship. But he needed this acknowledgement of his past and the resultant emotional scars. Kneeling, she tongue-bathed his marred buttocks. And moment by moment he relaxed.

  “No woman has ever done that.”

  Not slave, woman. Understanding what the distinction said about the depths of their relationship, she lovingly traced the scars with her fingertips. “Maybe you didn’t let them?”

  “They didn’t care. Their journey, the change from freedom to slavery, sexual satisfaction -- that’s all that mattered.”

  “They saw you as a Dom, a master, not a human being, a man.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not them, Master.”

  “I know,” he said and turned around.

  Still on her knees, she looked up at her lord, her lover, her future. Her life.

  Not waiting for permission, she lifted his cock and guided it toward her mouth. Inch by slow inch, she brought him into the moist cave of her mouth.

  Now his hands were at his sides and hers on his flanks. Her fingers stroked the silken flesh over muscles made of steel and she comprehended, deeply and completely, how strong and powerful her master was. Her tongue, teeth, throat caressed and teased. Maybe she should have told him she’d never done this before but she suspected he already knew.

  For a long time, she tested and
rewarded, loved and worshipped. As she did, she learned his taste, his width and length, his capacity for self-control. And she learned that putting his pleasure ahead of her own became everything. Even as her pussy trembled and wept, even as her nipples tightened and her cheeks burned and her blood raced, only he mattered.

  And when he began thrusting at her, she took and gave. In her mind, her mouth became her pussy, and she brought him to the brink of climax and beyond. Held his cum in her mouth before letting it slip down her throat.

  And as she did, she came. Long, strong.

  Finally he stood before her, his cock soft and resting. He kept her on her knees with a hand on her head.

  “You belong to me.” He sounded both masterful and in awe.

  “I know, Master.”

  “And I belong to you.”

  I know.

  Vonna Harper

  Mild-mannered, mostly harmless, with out-of-control imagination. Loves mountains, early morning walks, her grandchildren, and "hot" books. Has no marketable skills beyond writing which is no problem because there's nothing else she'd rather do. The product of the ultimate in a rural upbringing, Vonna has no interest in cities or panty-hose, but is passionate about plant nurseries and baseball. She's had over fifty books published, all but one fiction.

  Visit Vonna on the Web at http://www.vonnaharper.com or email her at vonnaharper@charter.net.

  * * * * *

  Read on for a tantalizing glimpse of

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