by Roxy Sloane
Wild Submission
by Roxy Sloane
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Copyright 2014 Roxy Sloane
Cover Design: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
ONE: ISABELLE
TWO: CAM
THREE: ISABELLE
FOUR: CAM
FIVE: ISABELLE
SIX: CAM
SEVEN: ISABELLE
EIGHT: CAM
NINE: ISABELLE
TEN: CAM
ELEVEN: ISABELLE
TWELVE: CAM
THIRTEEN: ISABELLE
FOURTEEN: CAM
PROLOGUE
Submission begins like a seduction. A slow, careful dance to discover what you really need.
Do you hold my gaze or glance away? Will you lean into my touch, or flinch from the connection? Does your mouth fall open in a silent moan when my grip turns rougher; my hands tugging harder in your hair; my whispered demands pushing you to the edge of anything you’ve ever tried before—and beyond?
I see it in your eyes. I can read the secret desire you’ve been hiding. And I know that when I push you back against the wall and slowly force you to your knees, you’ll go willingly, a slave to the passion that’s already making you tremble. Wet. Ready to obey.
Because here with me, you can be free. Free to admit the craving deep inside you, to be controlled. Educated.
Mastered.
Yes, I can tell, you want to submit to my every command. You’ll get on your knees and part those eager lips and please me, every way you can. And in that surrender, I promise, I’ll show you a release like you’ve never felt before.
My control will free us both. It’s the only thing I need in the world, and the one thing that could destroy me. Because now that I’ve tasted a surrender like no other, I can’t go back to how things were before.
Isabelle Ashcroft.
After years of reading women like an open book, she’s the first to confound me. Who is the real Isabelle? The gorgeous ice queen she pretends to be in public? A victim in need of my protection?
Or the temptation I cannot ignore?
Control is everything to me. There’s not a woman in my life I haven’t mastered completely—and she will be no different.
She thinks her submission will be on her terms. Her rules. But she doesn’t know me just yet.
The only rules that matter are mine. My hands caressing her fair skin. My collar around her throat.
My body pushing her to the brink.
She will surrender, and I will keep my precious control. The alternative is unthinkable. Impossible.
Isabelle will be mine.
ONE: ISABELLE
What have I done?
The lights of New York blur outside the windows of Cam’s Maserati as he speeds away from The Underground, his secret club. He hasn’t said a word to me since I walked in and offered myself to him.
Offered to be his sub.
I feel a shiver just remembering how I waited on my knees for him, naked, my head bent and obedient. He had no idea that I followed him there tonight. I can’t believe I was so bold.
Stupid, a voice in my head corrects me, sneering. But I push it away. I’m still clinging to the hope that Cam will take me up on my request. That he’ll introduce me to the world he’s been hiding from me: a world of dark secrets and thrilling possibility.
The world that fills me with fear—and a hot desire.
I meant everything I said to him tonight.
“I want you to show me. What you do here. What you are. Teach me, Cam. How to please you, how to feel pleasure for myself.”
I sneak a look at him. His eyes are fixed to the road, but I can see the tension radiating from under his designer suit. His strong hands grip the steering wheel, his muscular body clenched and angry. It reminds me of the last time he drove me home from the club, the night that started everything. My adopted brother Brent had taken me there with a business friend of his. He’d planned for them to play—with me as their toy. It was only Cam busting into the room that rescued me from Brent’s selfish abuse, and opened my eyes to just how toxic and damaging our relationship had become.
For ten years of my life, Brent had been the center of the world to me. But now I see how he corrupted my childish adoration, manipulated me for his own pleasure and kicks. Since our father disinherited him, he depends on me for his luxury apartment and fancy cars. He thought I was so weak that he could push me around forever, but that night was the end for me.
I’m finally free.
And it’s all thanks to the man beside me in the car; the man ignoring me like I didn’t just offer him everything.
“Cam?” I can’t take the silence anymore. “Are you mad at me?”
“No.” Cam’s reply is short and harsh.
“What did I do wrong?”
Instead of answering, Cam wrenches the wheel, turning into the underground parking garage of his luxury apartment building. The car screeches to a stop in the far corner. Cam shuts off the engine, breathing heavily.
“Cam?” I reach over and touch his arm, but he flinches away.
“I won’t discuss this tonight.” He says.
“But—”
“Isabelle, no!”
When he turns back to me, his jaw is clenched, and warning flashes in his blue eyes. “Don’t push me, that’s an order.”
I catch my breath, feeling the thrill of his command. This is the Cam that scares and arouses me, the man who is totally in control of every situation.
My nipples tighten. I feel wet.
“Yes, Master,” I murmur, testing him.
“Don’t call me that!” Cam growls. He shoves the car door open and gets out. I quickly scramble to follow.
“Why not?” My voice echoes after him in the empty parking garage. He stops, his back turned to me. “It’s what you like, isn’t it?”
Cam slowly turns. His fists are clenched at his sides as his eyes rake over me. Everything about him screams power and precision, and it takes my breath away.
“This isn’t a game, Isabelle. You don’t know what you’re offering me.”
“Maybe I do.” I take a step towards him. “Maybe being your sub is the one thing that makes sense to me right now.”
Cam shakes his head. “You’re still confused about Brent—”
“No!” Now I’m the one to angrily cut him off. “This is about you. You’ve showed me a new side of myself. I never knew until I met you. Until I saw your playroom, and realized… I want this.”
Pleasure and power. Submission and control. They were just words to me until I discovered Cam’s secret life as a Dom. Now, it’s all I can think about.
“This is my choice,” I vow, taking another step toward him. I’m closer now, close enough to see the lust in his eyes, and how close he is to the edge. “This is what I want. I’ve spent my life pleasing other people, and now I want to please myself.”
“Do you even hear what you’re saying?” Cam tries to be dismissive. “You want to please yourself by becoming my sub?”
“Yes.” I stand my ground. “That’s what you told me about the scene, isn’t it? That I would find freedom in surrender. That submitting to you would show me a pleasure I’d never kn
own before.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” Cam scowls. “I meant other women. Women who have experience in this world. Who know the rules.”
“So teach me. Show me. Give me that experience.”
I close the final few paces between us, and stare boldly into his eyes. The old Isabelle would have turned and fled in humiliation by now, having her advance rejected. But I won’t be so easily pushed around.
For once, I’m going to fight for what I want.
Cam inhales a ragged breath. “You aren’t ready.”
“That’s my decision to make,” I counter.
“It’s unprofessional,” he tries to argue. “Your father—”
“Is dead,” I finish. “He was your mentor, but that has nothing to do with what’s happening between us.”
“And what’s that?” Cam asks, still trying to keep the upper hand.
I reach out and place both hands on his chest. I can feel the muscles beneath his crisp shirt. I slide them slowly lower.
“This,” I whisper, not breaking eye contact. “Can’t you feel it?”
Cam stares back. The electricity between us is pulsing, dangerously hot. My fingertips stroke over the ridge of his abs, coming to rest on the tip of his belt.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” I murmur, wetting my lips. He’s close to breaking point, I can feel it. I just need to push him over the edge, and make him see how good this could be. How right. “Tell me what you need, Master.”
I push too far. Cam jerks away at the word, breaking the spell.
“Stop!” he barks angrily. “If this is going to work, you will obey me.” I follow him to the elevator and get in quickly when it appears.
The ride up to the penthouse is tense. He won’t talk to me, won’t even look in my direction.
The doors open. “Go to bed, Isabelle,” he orders me roughly. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“But—”
I stare at the man before me, the one I want to dedicate myself to. The doors slide shut behind me and all I can do is wonder, holding on to a small flicker of hope.
Does this mean he’s considering it?
TWO: CAM
I arrive at my penthouse floor and swiftly head to my master bedroom suite.
The minute I’m alone, I spin around and slam my fist into the mirrored wall of my walk-in closet.
Fuck!
The glass shatters beneath my knuckles, but I don’t feel the pain. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the splintered glass. I’m wild-eyed and furious.
Totally out of control.
The reality shocks me back to myself. I reel back, breathing fast. My hand is bleeding now, glass broken on the floor. I couldn’t even look at her in the elevator; I wanted her so much I didn’t trust myself to even glance in her direction.
I lock the door behind me and go to the bathroom, taking down my first aid kit. I run cold water over the wound, then bandage it tightly, focusing completely on the task to block out the memory of Isabelle back at the club.
Her gorgeous body, naked and waiting for me. Her lips parted in submission, her eyes begging me for the control I long to demand.
She would be the perfect sub.
The thing most men don’t realize is that the best subs aren’t meek, passive women. A girl who agrees with every word and leaps to your command from the start is no challenge at all. Surrender given so freely is no prize to me.
No, the best subs are fighters. Women who cling to their control even as they submit, struggling for the upper hand until the delicious moment that you break them completely: show them the true sweetness of their surrender.
And Isabelle…she would fight me every step of the way. I can see it in her bold proposition, the glint of defiance in her eyes even as she bent her head and called me ‘Master.’
My blood boils, remembering the soft moan of the word on her lips. I want to hear it screamed out loud, begged and whimpered as I school her with my whips, my chains.
My cock.
From down the hallway, I hear the front door close. She’s here. Her footsteps tap lightly on the floor, approaching my bedroom. They pause by the door.
Silence.
I can picture her there, her hand raised to knock. Her body straining at the silk of that sinful dress, her mouth wet and ready to pleasure me.
All I want is her, and I vow: if she asks again, if she knocks, then to hell with everything.
I’ll throw the door open and fuck her right there in the hall. Claim her body, thrust deep between those satiny thighs, pin her wrists to the floor, spreading her legs with my knee, tease and tantalize her until she’s screaming.
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.
THREE: ISABELLE
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 d
oesn’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.