Wild Submission (2 page)

My cock stiffens at the thought. I tense,
ready.

But the footsteps slowly retreat. A door
closes. The apartment is still.

I exhale with a growl, reaching to give
myself the release she’s just denied. I pump hard and fast,
imagining her lips sliding around me, those blue eyes gazing up as
I thrust deep into her mouth.

I come with a groan. Fuck, this is what
she’s done to me, driven me so crazy I can’t see straight: jerking
off in the bathroom like some green kid. She needs to be taught a
lesson. She needs to know who’s in control.

I pull myself back together, my resolve
already set.

She wants to be my sub and learn everything
about this dark world of control and desire? I’ll give her what she
wants—but on my terms. No disobedience, no more pushing my buttons
and forcing my hand.

I’ve been holding back, worried about her
emotions and history with Brent. But if she is certain, I won’t
stand in her way.

I take what I want. And I want her.

I wake to the sound of clinking dishes and
the whir of the coffee maker. Stretching out in the luxurious bed,
the super-soft sheets feel like heaven on my warm, naked skin. The
only thing that could make this better was if Cam were here beside
me.

Cam.

I sit up, feeling like a kid on Christmas
morning. He didn’t reject my request completely: he said we’d talk
about it today.

That means the answer might be ‘yes.’

I pull on some yoga pants and a fitted
T-shirt. There’s a weird flutter of excitement in my stomach. I’m
not used to feeling like this: nervous and excited about a man.

You’re not used to feeling much of anything
at all.

I walk through the hallways, into the
kitchen. Cam looks up from behind the counter. “Good morning,” he
says smoothly. His eyes trail over my body, and I feel a flash of
pride. My body is tight and toned after years of diet and workouts,
and the Lycra yoga pants show off every lean curve.

“Good morning,” I reply, smiling. I pour
myself a glass of juice from the fresh-squeezed pitcher on the
table—giving him a view of my ass as I turn away. I smile to
myself. He’s made a show so far of pushing me away, but Cam can’t
hide the desire in his eyes. Or the passion that heated our kisses.
There’s no way that a man who doesn’t want me could make me respond
like that.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks smoothly.

“Fine, thanks.” I perch on a stool and watch
him flip pancakes expertly on the griddle. Everything he does is
with effortless precision, and I can’t wait to feel those hands on
me.

“Any plans for the day?” Cam asks
casually.

He’s still pretending like this is any other
morning, so I play along. “I thought I’d catch an early yoga class,
maybe meet a friend for lunch.”

I take a strawberry from the bowl on the
counter. I bite down on the sweet, juicy fruit and murmur with
pleasure. Something flickers in Cam’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, licking my lips.
“Should I have asked permission first?”

He slides some pancakes onto a plate and
tops them with a few spoonfuls of fresh berries from the bowl.

“Sit down and eat before you go.” His voice
is curt. Clearly, he’s not in a teasing mood.

My confidence wavers. What if I read him
wrong last night, and he doesn’t want to introduce me to his
world?

I take a seat and avoid his gaze as Cam
fills his own plate and sits down across from me. He eats slowly,
slicing his pancakes and spearing each bite. The tension builds,
and I’m dying to say something, but I hold back, waiting until
finally he puts down his fork and catches my eye.

“You want to be a part of my world, and I’m
ready to share it with you,” he says slowly. “But we need to have a
serious talk first.”

I’m ready to jump out of my chair with
anticipation, but I force myself to stay cool. “I’m listening,” I
say, pushing my untouched plate away.

Cam meets my eyes. “What you suggested last
night, being my sub. It’s not something I take lightly.”

“Me either,” I say quickly. He silences me
with a look.

“The relationship between a Dom and his sub
is built on trust. It’s the most powerfully intimate experience two
people can have. And it works because the sub agrees to give up
complete control to the Dom. She knows that she’s giving the gift
of herself to her Master. In turn, her Master agrees to take care
of her, from the littlest detail to the most important decisions.
It’s his job to keep her safe, happy and well cared for. Does that
make sense?”

I pause. I’ve only been focused on the
sexual part of the relationship: wondering if he’ll spank me,
blindfold me, cuff me to his bed, bind my legs open so he can see
my most private part. Will he drip hot wax over my body? Would I
like it if he did? I keep thinking of the upstairs playroom stocked
with toys, the decadent sex club, and Cam towering over me, paddle
in hand. But now I realize, it’s so much more.

I nod.

“If you’re serious about becoming my sub,
then you need to understand the rules.”

“What kind of rules?” I ask.

Cam clears his throat. “One. You submit to
me in all ways by following my commands. Two. You don’t question
me, unless I give you permission to do so. Three. You trust me. We
trust each other. That means you won’t hold back. I’ll ask
everything of you, I expect you to give it freely. Not because I
tell you to, but because you want to.”

Cam leans over the table, his fierce gaze
holding mine.

“You’ll be safe with me. Even if you’re
scared or in pain, you have to know that I’ll never push you past
what you can handle. But you can handle a lot more than you think
you can, and as your Master, I’ll take you and make you mine.”

I stare at him, my heart pounding. This is
getting real fast. “Ok…” I stammer. “I can do that.”

Cam senses my nerves. “Look, Isabelle. This
isn’t just about what we do at the club or in the bedroom. It’s a
full time commitment. The terms of our arrangement are in force
24-7. It doesn’t end just because you don’t feel like doing what I
tell you at a particular moment.”

I swallow.

“Now, eat your breakfast while it’s hot.”
Cam’s request is casual. I shake my head.

“I’m not hungry. I’ll just grab something
later.”

His eyes flare. “You just broke rule number
one. If you disobey me, I have to punish you.”

I gasp. We just went from zero to sixty in
about five seconds flat. For a moment, I think Cam’s just teasing
me, but there’s a predatory animal glint in his gaze that tells me
he’s deadly serious.

“How would you punish me?” I whisper.
Suddenly I realize I don’t know anything about this world that he
inhabits.

“It depends on the severity of your
disobedience,” Cam explains. “Some Doms use spanking, flogging or
restraints.”

I flinch, remembering Brent trying to beat
me back at the club.

Cam continues. “I might deny you pleasure or
release. If you’d committed a major infraction, your punishment
could last days or longer until you’d earned back your
privileges.”

“But you’d hurt me?” I ask, still thinking
about it.

Cam softens. “Not like that. Not like
him.”

I flush. Am I really so transparent?

“We’d work out a list of limits together,”
he continues. “So nothing would be a surprise. It’s all about
trust,” he repeats. “And if you’re not willing to put that trust in
me, we should stop right now.”

Conflicting emotions race through me. I want
this desperately, but at the same time, I’m intimidated. I’ve spent
my life trying to keep control when everything felt like it was
slipping from my power. Giving it up willingly to anyone is really
scary.

Cam has already seen through my glamorous
façade, seen more of me than anyone in the world. What happens when
it all falls away? What happens when he sees the secrets I’ve been
hiding for so long?

“I’ll understand if you change your mind,”
Cam says. “This isn’t for everyone. Especially someone like you,”
he adds.

I tense. He doesn’t think I can handle it.
That I’m just some silly girl who doesn’t know what she wants.

I’m determined to prove him wrong. I meet
Cam’s gaze with fierce determination. “I can handle it. I want
this, Cam.”

He stares back, and something shifts in his
expression. He gets up and goes to his briefcase, pulling some
papers out and setting them on the table in front of me. “Fine.
Read this over and take the day to think about it.”

My frustration builds. More delays?

“What is it?” I ask, pulling the papers
closer.

“A contract. This just outlines the basic
agreement. We’ll fine tune it as you discover what you like, and
what your hard limits are.”

“Sexy,” I mutter, disappointed. I didn’t
expect him to be so clinical about this.

I see a quirk of amusement on his lips, then
Cam gives me a stern look. “There are risks here, for both of us.
Having a contract ensures there’s nothing hidden.”

And no way this can be used against him, I
realize, scanning the pages. There’s a confidentiality clause, and
all kinds of legal jargon too. It means that if this goes wrong,
for whatever reason, then we’re both protected against a
lawsuit.

I can’t imagine what would lead to that
point, but I understand, too. Cam has a reputation in the business
world. If it got out that he enjoyed this kind of thing, it could
ruin his career.

I sign with a scrawl.

“You didn’t read it properly.” Cam looks
angry.

“I trust you,” I say simply. “That’s what
this is about, isn’t it?”

He stares again, and then his lips slowly
stretch in a devastating smile. “You realize what that means, don’t
you?”

I shake my head, my pulse beating faster.
He’s looking at me like I’m a juicy steak he wants to devour.

“You’re mine now.” Suddenly, he pulls me
against him, wrapping a solid arm around my waist. He kisses me
hard, so intense. I feel myself get wet. Is he going to fuck me
now?

Cam releases me, then leans to whisper, low
in my ear. “And tonight, I’ll show you what that means.”

He’s already picking up his briefcase and
walking out, leaving me alone with nothing but my desire and the
contract.

What have I gotten myself into?

The office is already buzzing with activity
when I arrive. Set in a midtown skyscraper, Ashcroft Industries
towers over the city, and has dozens of departments overseeing our
interests here in the States and abroad. Charles Ashcroft and his
partner built the company from nothing to one of the biggest
transportation companies in the country; now that he’s dead, it’s
down to me as acting CEO to guide the company and advise his
daughter, Keely, on operations.

“Good morning, Mr. McCullough.” My
secretary, Jeannie, rises from her desk outside my corner office.
“Everything OK?”

“Yes,” I frown. “Why?”

“You’re late,” Jeannie says, sounding
confused. “Was there a meeting I missed in the book?”

“No,” I reply. “I just… took some time at
the gym.”

“Oh. Well, text me if you plan on changing
your morning schedule,” she says, part scolding. “I had coffee
waiting, but now it’s gone cold.”

“Sorry, Jeannie.” I smile. A sixty-something
woman with four kids all grown, Jeannie has been with the company
for years, and is always trying to mother me with vitamin
supplements and fresh fruit. “It won’t be a regular thing.”

She nods, pulling out her tablet computer.
“You have the new marketing review at ten, foreign financing at
eleven, then a conference call with the LA office at three.”

“And the team—?”

“Is waiting for you in the conference room,”
she finishes efficiently. “Anything else?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks. I promise, I
won’t let this one go cold.”

Jeannie tuts, but she heads for the kitchen
area all the same. I grab some files from my office and head for my
first meeting of the day. With any luck, I’ll be able to put
Isabelle from my thoughts entirely and focus on work.

She’s already occupied too much of my mind.
Running late is out of character for me: a good boss should be the
first in the door in the morning, and the last out at night. It’s
the only way to lead by example; I’ve seen too many Wall Street
jackasses laze around spending shareholder money and expecting
everyone else to pick up the slack.

Ashcroft trusted me with this company, and I
won’t let him down.

The morning passes without incident. I deal
with status reports from my department heads, discuss the quarterly
earnings report, and consult with a team about a potential new
acquisition. By the time the last person leaves my office and I get
a moment of peace, it’s noon.

“Hold my calls,” I tell Jeannie through the
intercom. “Give me ten minutes.”

I walk to the windows and take a deep
breath. The view is magnificent: I can see the city spread out in
front of me, all the way to Central Park and the river.

I’m a long way from home.

I think briefly of the small Scottish
village I grew up in. There were barely five hundred people, living
on the edge of a loch in the Highlands. It’s remote, wild and
rugged, but for a young man, it felt more like a prison. I counted
down the days until I turned sixteen and struck out on my own,
moving to Glasgow and working in the mailroom of a shipping company
while I took night classes and learned everything I could about
business and economics.

My big break came when Ashcroft Industries
bought out the company. Ashcroft himself visited to tour our
operation, and I was assigned to drive him around. I was supposed
to be an errand boy, the lowest on the ladder, but Ashcroft liked
to chat about his plans for the company and future expansion. He
wanted to hear my ideas, he said that the people on the ground
floor knew things that the corporate bosses never even thought
about. When it came time for him to head back to the States, he
offered me a job to come with him, to learn from him and work my
way up.