Single White Submissive

by Madeleine Oh

  She gasped in the silence. Trying to relax and not fight the hard intrusion.

  It was damn difficult, but eventually she managed it. Her tight muscles relaxed around the plug and the strange pleasure of being so invaded eased away her hurt and shock. She smiled into the pillow.

  “Brilliant, Ginny!”

  She positively grinned at his pleasure. She’d done exactly what he wanted and a glance sideways at the timer showed she had eight and a half minutes to go.

  He could come up with a lot in eight and a half minutes, and she bet every single touch was intended to make her cry out. She’d show him!

  Or, to judge by the past few moments, he might show her. Better not disappoint him. She pressed her lips together, just before something soft and warm slid up the inside of her left leg, stroking the soft skin on the inside of her thigh, skimming her cunt and then sliding down her right leg before coming back, brushing her arse and swirling over her back and shoulders. It felt so frightfully wonderful, it took her a few seconds to realize he was using one of her silk scarves. Nothing else was so warm, so soft and so— She had to bite back the sigh as he brushed the scarf along her crack, catching the edge of the plug and moving it just enough to set her nerve endings humming.

  And he knew exactly what it did to her, she bet! Back and forth he pulled it, and steadily she breathed, willing her body not to let her down. Just as it seemed she was relaxed and controlled enough to enjoy the sensation but stay quiet, he whisked the scarf away and she let out a slow, silent shudder. It had been so good and now it was over…until his next tease.

  “Arch your back and put your arse up in the air!”

  Not too hard but entailed a good bit of ungainly wiggling, which he no doubt enjoyed to the full. Once she was up, he pushed a pillow under her belly. Not uncomfortable—maybe even comfortable—once the pillow settled around her body, but talk about exposing her even more!

  “Perfect!” He slapped her gently, right where she was most prominent. “Just how I want you. All around available. I can see your rosy, wet cunt, your lovely arsehole and your delectable thighs.” Her opposite cheek received another gentle slap. The noise echoed in the quiet room, and a warm flush covered her rear. From the slaps or downright embarrassment, or both, who knew—or really cared at this point? Seemed the sensation faded to a wonderful glow that seeped into her bones. Shutting her eyes, she focused on the joy in her body and relaxed in anticipation of whatever Mac planned next.

  “How do you like being helpless?” he asked. “You may speak.”

  She turned her head to his voice and opened her eyes. He was just inches from her, his lips so close she could almost touch them with hers. Almost but not quite.

  “It’s incredible, wonderful and scary all at once. Thank you, Mac.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, we’re nowhere near finished. Any special requests?”

  “To kiss you.”

  “I see.” He angled his head to one side, creasing his forehead as if considering the pros and cons. “I think we can permit that, Ginny, don’t you? A reward for your effort so far.” As he spoke, his face came closer, his hand steadied her neck as she turned her head and his lips touched hers. She opened to accept his kiss, her mind, heart and soul responding to his touch. Helpless, naked, she reveled in the physical contact with Mac, her lover, her Dominant. Nothing else in the world mattered but this room and the pleasure they shared. As he pressed his lips harder, his tongue found hers and her mind zapped. She was past thought or reason, every fiber of her being fixed on the pleasure of his mouth and the comfort of their intimacy.

  She whimpered as he broke the kiss, but quickly stifled it. “Sorry!”

  “You are pardoned, Ginny, but look, we have another four minutes. Now your silence begins again. Understood?”

  She nodded. That had to have been the longest six minutes in history—given a good two of them had been taken up in that kiss.

  She gasped but bit it back in time. He’d pulled out the plug and made not the slightest effort to be gentle, but as her muscles eased back, a sense of emptiness engulfed her.

  “I’ll give it back to you another time,” he promised. “For now, let’s try this for size.” It was his finger, warmer and much softer than the plug. He penetrated her in a gentle, spiral motion that had her biting back groans of delight. If this was how his finger felt, how more fantastic would his cock be? Except it was three times the size!

  His other hand came between her shoulder blades, holding her down so her bottom rose higher and stretched her thigh muscles. She’d be hurting—was hurting—but the wild awareness in her arse overshadowed any possible discomfort in her thigh muscles. Wild sensations built, not only in her tight arse, but deep in her cunt, which mirrored the simulation and magnified the pleasure.

  “Splendid!” Mac said. “Next time, I’ll push into your lovely tight rose with my big cock and watch my prick disappear as I fuck you right deep here!” He poked in and out as he spoke.

  The overwhelming stimulation and the prospect of a buggering were close to too much. She was wound so tightly her hips rocked of their own volition and he immediately withdrew his finger. “Naughty! Naughty! Didn’t I tell you too keep still?” She braced for the slap, but it never came. Nothing did. “Just compose yourself, Ginny, or I might change my mind about spanking you your first time!”

  That threat had her creaming. Again she tasted blood as she bit her lip and every muscle tensed under the effort to keep still. She ached to rock her hips, hump the bedclothes, anything to ease the building need and heat in her cunt and the raging hurt throbbing her clit. This was torture! Bliss! Submission! The fabric of her dreams. Even her breasts ached where they rubbed the sheets. Her belly hurt, her legs were stretched and her stinging cunt begged for release.

  And she had to lie there and wait until Mac chose to take pity on her or…tease her again with the damn silk scarves.

  He was right behind her, leaning over, rubbing her back with the scarf, one little spot at a time and kissing before he moved on up her spine. Reaching her neck, he tossed away the scarf. From the corner of her yes, she watched it flutter to the ground, but before it landed, he raked his nails down her back. Once again, she bit her lip. Somehow, the hurt transferred to her cunt as pleasure built into great roaring waves as Mac held her hips steady and plunged his cock in deep. At last she could move something! Her cunt muscles closed around his hard flesh. It didn’t help much. She wanted—needed—more and more and more, and when he started moving in and out with long, steady strokes, Ginny closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as the buzzer went off.

  Released, she threw back her head and let out a long cry of sheer pleasure. Mac pulled out and drove back deep. At this angle, every sensation intensified. She let out her pleasure in great whoops and groans.

  “God! Ginny, you are incredible!” Mac said, his voice as loud as hers. “Wonderful. Such a fantastic fuck!” Faster he came and faster, pistoning into her with all his male power and strength. Bound and restrained, all she could do was soar on the pleasure he gave her. His hand came down, a finger touched her swollen and burning clit, seeing her face as her climax peaked, he whispered, “Come for me, Ginny, Come!” She obeyed, climaxing with a shout. She’d have collapsed but he didn’t permit it. Holding her steady, he drove on and on. Deeper and faster as her body peaked again and again. With each climax, she screamed, and he still continued. She was dizzy, caught in a great crescendo of ever-growing pleasure until she felt him tense and pause before he came with loud grunts and cries. As his climax eased, she came again, screaming until the room went hazy and quiet. She came to moments later. She was untied, lying on her side with Mac’s arms around her. “All right?” he asked. “I think you fainted a moment. Do you do that often after multiple climaxes?”

  “I’ve no idea. I’ve never had so many climaxes. I think I drowned in them.”

  “I love you, Ginny, don’t ever forget that. Sudden I know, but I’m old enough to know my own
mind and I love you.”

  “I know.” She meant to say something else. She should at least thank him for the best sex of her life. Sex that surpassed her admittedly wild dreams. Her mind was too fogged and sated to shape the right words. She settled for snuggling into him and shutting her eyes—just for a minute.

  Chapter Nine

  She woke to an empty bed, the sheet beside her cold. Ginny rolled over and squinted at the alarm clock. She’d been asleep nearly two hours. Multiple climaxes really did one in. That—and fucking—and being fucked by Mac Brodie. She ached in certain strategic muscles—her cunt and arse still throbbed gently. Her body remembered.

  And was not likely to forget in a hurry.

  Mac had been wonderful—incredible! If she could clone him and bottle him up, there wouldn’t be a discontented or unsatisfied woman in London. No! She did not want to share him with anyone. She found him and she wanted to keep him.

  But keep him in holy matrimony?

  That was another matter entirely. Damn! It was far too soon and far too fast. Yes, Mac was a superlative lover but, heck, marriage meant more than mind-shattering sex, didn’t it? The niggling voice in her brain insisted incredible sex was a good place to start and she wouldn’t argue with that but…

  She sat up, deciding this was not a question to debate lying on her back and noticed her clothes neatly folded in a heap at the foot of the bed. Seemed a lifetime ago Mac had stripped her of her clothes and inhibitions during an afternoon of glorious submission.

  On top of the clothes was a note. I love you, Ginny. Take your time showering and dressing. When you’re ready, we can have dinner and talk about next time.

  So her reluctance to commit hadn’t ruined her chances. The more she thought about Mac, the more he did seem like a dream come true.

  She padded down to the bathroom, clothes and shoes in her arms. He’d left out two lovely thick towels and a bottle of scented shower gel. She helped herself to that and his shampoo, letting the warm water ease the lingering aches in her body.

  She dried her hair, ran her fingers through it to settle the curls and glanced in the mirror.

  The face of a well-satisfied woman beamed back at her. So, this was what was meant by a glow after lovemaking. She rather liked the look.

  “Ginny!” His call from down the corridor interrupted her self-admiration.

  “Coming!” Something she’d done plenty of this afternoon.

  Mac was in the kitchen, wearing a chef’s apron as he put a frying pan on the stove. “Thought we’d have omelets. They’re one of the few things I cook well. Have a seat, Ginny. Your wine’s there.” He nodded to the already poured glass on the countertop. “Tell me, do you want ham, cheese, mushroom or all three?”

  “Mushroom, please.” She sat down and sipped the wine—slowly. Marvelous. She should have guessed he wouldn’t buy plonk! She took a second taste and watched Mac move around the kitchen, beating eggs with a fork and heating butter in a copper-bottomed pan.

  The omelets were ready in minutes. Mac slipped them onto two warm plates. “Here you are, madam,” he said, with a grin and a little bow. “Bon appétit!”

  He sat opposite her at the table and raised his glass. “Will you drink to ‘us’, Ginny?”

  “Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “Not after this afternoon. Coming back next weekend?”

  “Please.”

  “All weekend?”

  Was she ready for that? Only one way to find out. “Yes, Mac. All weekend.”

  He smiled and clinked glasses. “Good. You do realize, don’t you, that I’m going to do all I can to convince you to marry me?”

  She should have expected that. He really was dead-on serious here. Was the prospect so bad? She took a sip of wine, eying him over the rim of her glass. “I might take a lot of convincing,” she said, setting the glass down.

  “I have lots of time, plenty of patience and a whole repertoire of sensual play. Want to play and come again and again and again?”

  “Yes, please!”

  About the Author

  Email: books@madeleineoh.com

  Madeleine welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Ave., Akron, OH 44310.

  Also by Madeleine Oh

  Party Favors anthology

  Power Exchange

  R.S.V.P. anthology

  Tied With a Bow anthology

  Must Love Music

  Jennifer Dunne

  Dedication

  To Sister Jane Theresa Murphy—you taught me how to make my song take flight. Thank you. You’re surrounded by the music of God’s angels now, but I still think of you every time I sing.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Google: Google, Inc.

  Chapter One

  Let me help your spirit to sing. Leather-loving dominant seeks submissive for scene play, potential relationship. Must love music. Reply to voicemail box 665.

  Gayle bought a newspaper along with her customary strawberry cream cheese-covered bagel and grande chai, and unfolded it on the spindly café table to peruse while she cooled down from her morning run. Ignoring the news, she flipped immediately to the classifieds.

  The Thursday paper was the Arts and Entertainment edition. A special supplement listed all of the activities available for the weekend. More importantly, it also listed all of the auditions for the coming week.

  She’d been in this city for a month now, and had yet to form any friendships with the people in the local branch office where she worked. They were all either in sales or management, and had nothing in common with her, their designated technical support person. Oh, they were polite and friendly, in an impersonal way—especially the ones in sales. But it was like she spoke a different language from them, or something.

  So she was turning to her hobbies. She had a good voice, and had enjoyed doing community theatre before her unpredictable work schedule had forced her to give it up. Now that she had a standard work-week again, she could connect with the local theatre scene. She’d be bound to find friends there. Or, at any rate, find out where all the good bars, clubs and other hot spots were in this city.

  She ran her gaze down the column of auditions, looking for musicals. The local opera company was casting bit parts for Faust, with the possibility of joining the company after the production ended.

  Gayle shook her head. She was good, but not that good.

  The high school honors theatre program was staging a production of Grease. Even if she got one of the adult parts, she’d be surrounded by children. Hardly a likely source of friends to go clubbing with.

  The Gilbert and Sullivan operetta was a possibility. A lot of work to spit those patter songs out, but definitely for adults.

  Then she spotted a notice for Sondheim’s Into the Woods. Perfect! A challenging but not impossible score. A large enough cast to get to know a bunch of people. She’d need to bring music to the audition. Next Tuesday at 7:00 p.m.

  She ripped out the audition notice, and tucked it into the zippered pocket of her jogging set’s jacket.

  Just having a plan already improved her spirits. Nibbling at her bagel, she glanced at the section of the paper revealed by the missing audition notice. The personals.

  Smiling, she flipped the page and started to read the ads. There was more than one way to find a friend in a new city. Maybe a new boyfriend was what she should be looking for.

  The first few ads were predictably from losers.

  “‘Discreet afternoon fun’? He’s a married guy, looking for a little on the side. ‘Not interested in head games, players, or women who can’t commit’? That’s a guy who still has issues with his last girlfriend. ‘Single father of three who do not live with him’? Sounds like a guy who can’t be bothered to wear a condom.”

  The rest were similarly
mock-worthy, or sounded as dry and uninteresting as an all-day meeting. Then she came to a new headline.

  “Alternative lifestyle personals? What’s that?”

  Her eyes widened at the first entry. “Skilled master seeks slave for 24/7 D/s lifestyle. I’ll whip and beat you until you cry, then make you beg for more.”

  Gayle shook her head. She’d tried a little bondage with her last boyfriend. It had been fun. Okay, more than fun, it had been a huge turn-on for her. But that guy sounded more like a psychopath than a sexual partner.

  Her breath caught at the next ad.

  “Let me help your spirit to sing. Leather-loving dominant seeks submissive for scene play, potential relationship. Must love music.”

  Heat pooled low in her groin, her panties growing damp as the blood pulsed between her legs. She didn’t know why the words affected her so deeply. But she knew she couldn’t let this opportunity get away from her. Fingers trembling, she tore out the ad.

  * * * * *

  Later that morning, showered and dressed in a neatly professional skirt and blouse, Gayle was still thinking about the ad while working at her computer. She kicked off a database compaction, then leaned back in her desk chair and stretched her arms high above her head. It would be fifteen minutes at least before she could do the next task on her list.

  A smile teased her lips. There was a voicemail box associated with the ad. Fifteen minutes was plenty of time to call and leave a message.

  She dug the ad out of her wallet and nervously dialed the paper’s personals number, then carefully entered the extension at the prompt. The system clicked, transferring her to the voicemail box she’d chosen. And then the man who’d placed the ad spoke.