The Lady Submits (6 page)

“You are monstrous,” she breathed, even though she only
partially believed it. She knew that it was true, that she did want him, not
just now, but the next day, and the day after that. The thought of being his,
and only his, had filled her with joy before she remembered to take offense. It
was only pride that kept her silent, and it was her pride that she would have
to surrender.

“Say it.”

He thrust forward, rubbing her slit with his cock, pushing
against the plug filling her other hole, and she groaned.

“
Say it
.”

He viciously gripped one breast, keeping her spread with his
other hand, and bit the back of her neck. That was the moment Lucrezia gave up
everything.

“I belong to Carlo Castellan!” she cried. “He is my Master!”

Without letting go of her neck, he speared her, burying
himself as far into her flesh as she could take. Her whole body shuddered
around his cock, and she let loose with a wail that spurred him into hard, long
strokes, driving
himself
into her again and again.
Every stroke filled her to bursting, pushing against the plug, stretching her
to her limit.

He let go of her breast and found her hot, pulsing nub,
rubbing it in fast, hard little circles, and it suddenly felt like too much:
whatever had been building in her, whatever had been kept at bay, was
threatening to spill over all at once. She shied away from
it,
suddenly afraid that it was simply too big, too strong, that she might lose
herself in it. But it was no use: she was his, her pleasure was his to command,
she
was tied. And he was relentless. He pushed her
higher, ever higher, plunging into her with such force and friction that every
movement seemed to awaken her to new kind of feeling.

“Come for me,” he said, and he pushed her past fear. She
rushed towards her climax, no longer caring if she were overwhelmed, no longer
caring if she drowned in whatever came next, and it spilled over her: wave
after wave of rolling pleasure raked her from her core to the tips of her
fingers and toes. It was almost violent, and in the eye of it she was sure she
did come apart, just for a moment, that it shook her completely apart, and when
she came back together on the other side she wasn’t quite the same.

She collapsed, no longer able to bear her own weight. Carlo
held her up around her waist, sparing her arms, and growled into the back of
her neck as he finished inside her, filling her with his thick seed, and
sealing his claim on her. With what seemed the last of his energy, he freed her
wrists, and together they collapsed onto the hard floor.

They lay like that for a long time. Lucrezia still soared,
her skin a sensitive surface of pins and needles, her mind hazy and light, and
she was glad for the weight of Carlo on top of her, for she needed something to
keep her grounded in reality.

Carlo Castellan
.

She supposed that maids were as easily bribed as footmen; so
were pretend Lords of Bacchanal Societies. And
Fortrezza
was an obvious play on Castellan. Still, she could hardly believe it. And yet,
when she shifted beneath him, it was his arm that wrapped around her
possessively. It was his hand that rested on the flat of her belly, his cock
that already — already! —
began
to grow
hard against her buttocks.

She was still in a daze when he released her ankles from
their restraints. He rolled her over onto her back, and it was only when he
brought her knees up to her chest that she realized how stiff she was. She was
amazed to feel the pressure building again, each shift of the plug gently
coaxing her desire forth.

Carlo stood over her, looking at her prone body with
satisfaction, and more than a little lust.

“You will wear that plug home,” he grinned at her. “And then
I will have you in that well-used bed of yours until you forget your own name.
And then we will do the same tomorrow.”

Lucrezia gasped, unable to help herself. How this man could
still make her blush was a mystery. “Yes,” she said with uncharacteristic
shyness, “please.”

Quickly he was on top of her, his thumb in her pussy, his fingers
pressing against the plug, his grin positively evil. “Please, what?”

“Please,
sir
.”

The Lady Lucrezia Grimaldi had never before been so happy to
submit.

The End…

If you liked
The Lady
Submits
, you might like
The
Wolf’s Captive
, a full-length BDSM erotic romance set during
Bacchanal. Check out an excerpt, right after a note from the author…

A Note From The Author

Thank you so much for taking a chance on
The Lady Submits
! If you want to know
about my new releases as soon as they come out, you can sign up for my new
releases list

here
.

I discount prices for new works so fans can pick them up for
less, and I only use that email list for new release announcements or when I
give away free books. (I’ll also send you a
Smashwords
coupon for a free copy of my short erotic story Teacher Gets Caught (Spanking
and Discipline) when you sign up, but that’s just because fans are awesome.)

If you liked
The Lady
Submits
, go ahead and share it with whomever you like. And if reviewing is
your thing and you want to help other readers find stories like this, please
consider taking a moment to leave a review of
The Lady Submits
here
. If
you do, shoot me an email to
[email protected]
with a link, and I’ll add you to the list of people who get advanced review
copies of my new books.

Finally…

The Wolf’s Captive
, a full-length
BDSM erotic romance set in the world of J’Amel, is now out! It tells the story
of how the Duke’s heir finds – and claims – his mate. There’s a hot
excerpt included below…

Thanks again! I hope you enjoyed reading
The Lady Submits
as much as I enjoyed
writing it. ;)

An Excerpt From The Wolf’s Captive

The Wolf’s Captive
is a full length
BDSM erotic romance set in the historical fantasy city of J’Amel. I’ve always
loved historical romance, but I couldn’t find a historical period that would
let me invent a crazy free love holiday like Bacchanal, so I had to make it up
– hence the fantasy part. :)

It’s the raunchy, decadent holiday of Bacchanal, and Lucia
Lyselle is just hoping to make it through intact. But then her father is
arrested, and
Lucia is held captive by the brutal Lord Cesare
Lupin
. She’ll have to submit to Lord Cesare’s sexual domination for the
duration of the Bacchanal if she hopes to win her father’s freedom. But she
doesn’t expect to fall in love – and she doesn’t expect that she’ll have
to choose between her family and Lord Cesare...

Lord Cesare Lupin has come back from war afflicted with an
ancient curse. If he can’t find his mate, he’ll turn into a mad,
blood-thirsty
beast, and the city that is his responsibility
will suffer. Just his luck that his mate turns out to be the daughter of a man
accused of treason…

The
Wolf’s Captive

She was the traitor.

The anger came upon him. And it felt good. Familiar.
Comfortable.

No
, he reminded
himself, fists
clenched,
that
is not proved.
Daughter
to a likely traitor, then.
Possible conspirator. And it was her who had
nearly been raped by Paolo Ramora at the Dance of Seasons. Paolo Ramora, whom
he had
ordered
to deliver him the
vintner’s daughter
.

And now a wave of guilt washed over him, and he was almost
grateful for that, too, as it momentarily dampened the fire he felt at the
sight of her. What that must have been like, for her, to be compelled to follow
the Ramora scum. Under what circumstances would she subject herself to that?
How desperate would she have to be?

Desperate…or cunning.
Possibly
both. It was natural for him to be suspicious of the idea that there might
truly be somebody for him, and he hated himself for it. It only made it worse
that he knew he was right to be suspicious.

“Is anybody there?” she called out, her voice catching.

Miserable, he watched her eyes dart to and fro beneath her
mask, her body tight and ready for flight, like a frightened animal. She was
pressing some strange parcel to her belly as though worried someone might try
to snatch it away from her, and he wasn’t entirely surprised when she dashed to
the shadows at the edge of the cavern and stuffed it into a crevice. He knew
she couldn’t see the entire chamber, would only be tormented by the shadows,
and the suggestion of what lurked within. Which was
him
,
mostly, but she also had no idea why she’d been left alone. He watched her
slowly get her bearings, watched her try to calm her heaving chest — he
was ashamed for being distracted by her breasts at that moment — and then
saw her turn to the dinner setting.

He’d thought himself so clever when he planned that. Always
keep a prisoner off balance during an interrogation.
Pain,
and then comfort; enemy, then friend.
Disorient them enough, show them
just a bit of human kindness, and eventually they want to confess. Everyone
wants to confess, in the end. It’s human nature.

He smiled bitterly at that thought.
Human
nature, indeed.
He envied them their confessions. It was a luxury he
would likely never have again.

This interrogation demanded that he be in complete control
of himself, and he knew already that this was not possible. He had to have her.
Over and over again, he had to have her, or he’d lose what was left of his
mind, right here in this cold underground cavern. The one woman he’d ever found
that he genuinely needed, and now he had to discover if she was a traitor who
hoped to kill him. He turned his rage to the stone and raked his hand across
its rough edges, leaving four long marks, a growl rising unbidden in his
throat, and stepped into the torchlight.

She stumbled a few frightened steps backwards.

“Do you recognize me?” he asked, stepping fully into the
light.

He could see her mind working furiously behind those
beautiful green eyes. Of course she recognized him; the entire city knew what
he looked like. She was trying to figure out why he was there.

“I think possibly I’m hallucinating,” she finally said.

“You are not hallucinating.”

“That really seems like the most likely explanation,” she
said. He noticed her breathing had become quite shallow. There was sweat
glistening between her breasts, and the slight smell of sex. He took a deep
breath that he felt all the way to his feet. It did not help.

“Remove the mask,” he ordered.

She did.

“I recognize you, Lucia Lyselle. You refused to tell me your
name.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was so slight. He stepped towards her
and saw how his every motion registered in her body. It wasn’t fear, not of
him. It was confusion, and struggle, and…something else. She danced with him,
even if she didn’t know it. He gripped the back of one chair and felt the wood
give beneath his hands.

She was calling
the
beast
forth.

“Why did you come here tonight?” he asked.

“Paolo Ramora asked me to.”

Lucia’s face darkened at this, her mouth tightened. Someone
less familiar with the act of containment, of self-control, of hiding in plain
sight, might not have noticed. Cesare did.

“The boy from the Dance of Seasons.”

“Yes.”

“The one who —”

“
Yes.
”

It had been a long time since anyone had cut Lord Cesare
Lupin off in conversation, longer still since anyone had used such a tone to do
it. He couldn’t help but marvel at her. So unlike any woman he had ever
met.
 
The sight of her
determination, and the smell, now, the unmistakable smell of desire, was
overpowering. His cock was growing, waking like a hungry animal.

“May I sit down?” she asked, and began to pull out the heavy
chair opposite him. She
asked
. The
suggestion of her obedience to him, wrapped around the steel she so clearly
carried within herself, was irresistible. He gave an order just to see it
obeyed.

“No.”

She froze. He licked his lips.

“I want to see you. Stand where you are, and face me.” Her
chest heaved rapidly up and down, up and down, and a red flush had begun to
spread out from her bosom, but she did as she was told.

“Do not move unless I order it.”

He walked out from behind the chair, and watched as her eyes
fell to his groin. She bit her lip, and the thing inside him howled for a taste
of her. He paused for a moment, knocked back by the image of her on her back,
legs spread, arching those beautiful breasts towards him. It was all he could
do to remember to breathe.

She stood motionless, waiting. Breathing. He could
hear
her breathing.

Slowly he tested one foot, then the other. He was able to
move without giving in. He must remember: she could be a traitor. She might
make a fool of him. She might be tricking him right now. It would be the
tragedy of his life, but it wouldn’t surprise him. It would only fit with
everything he had ever been taught about himself.

He had to find a way to get at the truth. This was always
something he’d been able to do, to play the pliant minds of enemies until they
sang for him, until they willingly gave up their secrets. He could always find
a way in.