Surrender: Tales of Submission (15 page)

pumps. Was that the proper garb? She'd never done this

sort of thing. John hadn't told her what to wear.

Apparently he didn't care about clothes, only the body

underneath. To that end, she'd taken a long and thorough bath, full of fragrant emollients. Lots of suds to make her tingle. It had been hard not to masturbate. She was so

excited thinking of what John would do to her.

She wished she could appear before him in some kind

of garment, though, no matter how skimpy. Like most

young women, she was all too aware of the imperfections of her body. Mostly she hid them, and men were generally quite pleased with her. Usually she overcompensated with flirtatiousness and a veil of indifference. But this was different. She cared what John thought, desperately so.

Her stomach roiled.

She found his door unlocked. She entered and looked

about his apartment. The decor was Spartan, elegantly

simple. A black leather couch, a single slate coffee table, a solid steel pole lamp, a single black area rug, thick and soft.

The coffee table...that's where she was supposed to

kneel.

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There was a blindfold on it. Should she put it on?

Her fingers were numb as she undid the zipper on the

back of her dress. She removed it and let it drop to the floor, goose pimples on her clean skin, freshly shaven legs, tight, erect rosebud nipples. She smelled of spring flowers and summer rain...and raw sex.

It was all really true: Steffy was about to put herself in submission to a sexually dominant man.

Her knees gave way in slow motion, of their own

accord. She went down, all the way to the floor. The coffee table was right in front of her. She picked up the blindfold, black silk, form-fitting. Her heart pounded as she put it to her eyes, sliding the elastic over her head.

It was a perfect fit. Her world was enveloped by

artificial darkness. By her own hand, she'd rendered

herself helpless. The fluids of her arousal dripped down her inner thighs. She hungered for a cock; she craved to be pushed to the floor and taken.

Steffy thought about posture. She straightened her

back and pressed her buttocks to her heels...waiting.

The clock ticked on the wall, sleek and modern, with

two faces, no numbers. Its details were etched in her mind, in the memory of her sighted self. Where was John, she

wondered. Would he be here soon?

Even a minute was torture in this state. It would have

been easier and less slavishly humiliating to have been tied down, ankles wide like a wishbone than to be forced into voluntary servitude. After all, what kind of a woman

subjected herself to this kind of treatment, willingly going to a man's apartment to arrange herself like a sex doll?

Never once did she think of turning back, though. She

had come too far. She had to see this through. She'd taken a chance, sure, but so had John. He'd opened his home to her, made himself vulnerable. She could reject him, she could walk out, and he would be left holding the bag of his sexual desires.

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Masters were vulnerable, too...

Anyone was vulnerable whose needs were out of the

ordinary.

The waiting ended as suddenly as it began.

"Place your hands behind your neck, lace your

fingers," came the voice, at once familiar and strangely alien.

"Master," she gasped. Her arms went into place, the action coming as a reflex, as necessary to her survival and well-being as breathing.

"Stomach in, breasts thrust out."

She presented herself for his pleasure, nipples

burning. Where had he come from? Had she missed the

sound of the front door, or had he been in the back of the apartment the whole time?

Steffy could hear his breathing. He was right in front

of her now. She nearly swooned. Oh, God, he was giving

her his cock...

She leaned forward, kissing, licking, ravenous. He

made her work for it, teasing, rubbing it over her cheeks.

She whimpered, wanting to take it fully inside her mouth.

The cock disappeared. A collar was put on her neck,

with a leash. He pushed his hand to her lips. She kissed his knuckles. "Master...I love you, Sir, I missed you..."

Without her eyes, it was all so intense; she was so

incredibly dependent. Her other senses were so intense.

The smell of musk on his skin, the feel of his knuckles.

"I missed you, too," he said. His fist balled in her hair, painful. He fed her his balls. She bathed them in her saliva, worshipping. They were full and tight. He must have been very ready to come.

Still holding her head captive, he twisted his body

around.

He presented his buttocks, lean and hard. She kissed

eagerly; there was no degradation in the act but rather joy, pure and proud.

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"Lick," he ordered.

Stephanie spread her tongue over her master's ass,

smooth skin over taut muscle. She paid him homage,

letting him know she did understand slavery, and she was ready to proceed.

Satisfied, he bent her head back. "Slavery isn't a game," he said. "It's playful, it's fun, and it's consensual.

But it's very real."

"I really do want to be your girl, Master," said Steffy, speaking with a certainty that only grew with each passing second. "I want you to control my body. I want you to use me, punish me and own me."

"There's a lot you don't know," he said, much gentler than last night and without accusation.

"I beg you to teach me, Master."

"I don't know if I'm ready," he said.

The admission touched her deeply. She wished she

could see his face, so she could read the pain and help.

"Master, you don't have to be ready," she said. "You already own me. Just be yourself and that will be enough."

He chuckled. "How did you get to be so wise?"

"You've been helping me grow beyond my years, for a long time now."

"We've barely seen each other in ages, how can that be?"

"Because I've been in love with you since I was a kid, Master."

He pulled her to her feet. His kiss claimed her mouth.

She yielded with a moan as he plundered with his tongue.

Her sex throbbed. She pushed her body forward, seeking

his. He was still dressed. His clothing rubbed her skin, making her feel all the more like his slut and pet.

An impulse rose from within, wickedly indulgent and

self-deprecating.

"May I kiss your feet, Master?"

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John released her, allowing her to sink to the floor. She pressed her lips to the leather, kissing. At once she pressed her lips and then began to run her tongue up and down,

over the surface, cleaning his shoes.

"Lie on your back, girl," he ordered at last.

"Yes, Master." She lowered herself, feeling with her hands. She spread wide, legs far apart as they could go.

"Lift your pussy."

She tensed her buttocks, raising them off the floor.

"I want to whip you," he said.

"Yes, Master." She steeled herself, sensing the importance, not to mention the pain.

"Then I want to fuck you," he declared.

"Yes, Master."

He removed the blindfold from her eyes. "I want your consent. I want to hear the words."

It took just a moment to adjust. The first thing her eyes beheld was him, his steady presence, wanting,

needing...loving?

"Master, please whip me," she said without hesitation.

"Whip my pussy," he clarified.

"Yes...my pussy."

The whip sliced through the air. She could hear the

thin leather; she could practically feel it already.

"You are so beautiful," he marveled. "Stephanie, what are you doing in my life?"

"I'm here to be whipped." She smiled. "And fucked."

The leather slashed down across her pelvis. She cried

out from the pain, collapsing back to the floor.

Adrenaline surged through her, along with a sense of

deep pride in enduring this for him.

"Ass up," he ordered.

She resumed her position, teeth gritted, sweat on her

forehead.

He struck her again. She moaned in pain, a pain

mixed with the sharp, intense pleasure of stimulation

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across her labia. She'd never felt anything like this in her life. "M—master...what are you doing to me?"

"Training you," he said.

"Y—yes, Master."

He whipped her again. "You are mine."

"I'm yours, Master."

"You will obey me in all things sexual."

"I will, Master."

"You will be my sex slave."

"Oh, yes, Master."

"Tell me what you need, beg to be used."

"Master," she groaned. "Use your slave's pussy."

"Cup your breasts now," he ordered. "Squeeze your nipples."

She did so, even as he began to drop his clothes,

draping them over her ankles.

"Yes, Master," she cried in anticipation. "I want it, hot and naked, your body pounding me..."

He fell on top of her, slamming his cock home. He

sank his teeth into her neck. She felt the shock waves, a torrent to ride. Holding on, she wrapped her legs around his ass, locking her ankles.

He took hold of her wrists, pinning them down on

either side of her head. A winch couldn't free her from that kind of grip.

The soft fur beneath cushioned her pliant body. They

were skin to skin, the heat of them communicating

volumes. He lowered his head to her breast, trapping the rubbery nipple between his teeth. She writhed beneath

him, at once trapped and free.

"You will not come without permission."

Steffy whimpered at his glorious cruelty. "Yes,

Master."

"If you do, you will be punished."

"Yes, Master," she breathed. "I will try to obey."

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He grinned, making it impossible with his long thrusts

and his teasing kisses to her neck.

She moaned, vanquished, her body betraying her

shattered will; his plaything, that's all she was.

"M—master," she felt the shock waves overcome her.

"I can't...help it."

"Bad girl," he crooned, sounding quite pleased with himself. "You'll definitely pay for this. Remember what I said? About holding the nickels to the wall, with your nose and breasts?"

Did she remember? How could she ever forget?

An explosion came from so deep. She'd never felt so

helpless. Orgasms within orgasms, a catapulting into air too thin too breathe.

"You like that idea, don't you, my little angel? Maybe I will fuck you from behind at the same time."

"P—please, Master..."

What was she begging for? She didn't even know. Did

she want him to stop or to never stop?

John pulled himself from her pussy, his hard-on

intact.

What hope did she have when a man had that kind of

self-control?

He moved down her body, and she almost screamed

as he put his tongue inside her. No man had ever given her oral pleasure. His hands molded her breasts, every bit of resistance was gone, she'd had a million volts of sexual energy pass through her, and he was intent on delivering a million more.

Death by orgasm; was it possible?

His tongue a little weapon, a devious mini-cock that

knew all the places to go; it owned her; he owned her. She didn't know her body could do this. Had he been given

some manual she'd missed out on?
The Proper Use and
Torment of Stephanie Hayes
?
Enslaving Steffy For Dummies
?

She begged for mercy, beyond tears, beyond pleading.

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SURRENDER

She began to laugh, hysterical.

"It's settled," he declared suddenly, taking her in his arms.

"What's...settled?" She could barely get the words out.

His eyes were fierce and playful, depthless and

infinite as the sea. "I, John Cupid, am officially smitten with you."

Her heart soared. "Is that all, Master?" she asked coquettishly.

"Wench," he growled.

"Yes?" she teased.

"You want to hear the words, don't you?"

"Please, Sir."

"Fine. I love you."

"You don't have to make it sound like a disease."

"Why not? It's going to get me in enough trouble,"

John declared.

"I can handle my brother, if that's what you mean."

"It's not Carl I'm worried about; it's me."

"You?" She giggled. "Big, tough John Cupid afraid of a little slave girl?"

"You're not any little slave girl; you're a she-devil.

Hell, I think I am going to sponsor you for law school; you'd make mincemeat of any opposing attorney."

"I will keep my debate skills sharp with you alone, thank you very much," she countered.

John rose and quickly scooped her to her feet. He took

her straight to his bedroom.

"What about my punishment?" she reminded him.

"That will have to wait."

She could feel his cock, pushing up against her. She

wrapped her arms tighter about his neck. "What for, I wonder?"

"Take a wild guess." He tossed her down on his bed, large and comfortable and very masculine with its black bedspread.

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She promptly crawled away, toward the head board.

"Not tonight, dear, I have a headache.

John pounced, pinning her. "Headache, my ass. You're my sex slave, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." She grinned, reveling in having the sexiest man on the planet on top of her, dominating her. "I forgot."

"This help your memory any?" He sank his cock in with a single stroke.

"Maybe a little."