The Lady Submits

by Chloe Cox

  She gasped. So many. Some that she recognized.

  “Is it ready?” She heard her Master say. Earlier in the evening this might have filled Lucrezia with apprehension, but now her vision was blurred, her thinking dulled, and all other concerns paled in comparison to the dire needs of her body.

  She wriggled against him. He playfully slapped her exposed sex, and then strode off in some new direction, bouncing her on his back as he went.

  Lucrezia was capable of thinking only one word: finally.

  ~ ~ ~

  He had taken her to one of the private rooms off the courtyard. Well, perhaps he had taken her even farther than that; Lucrezia’s memory was so vague. It had been dark, like the catacomb tunnels under the city, lit only by an occasional lantern. And there had been stairs, she was certain of that. She had enjoyed the bounce of every step, the jiggle of her breasts, the jostling of the thing inside her, all of it as a reminder of her helplessness in Master Fortrezza’s arms.

  She actually thought she might giggle. She had not had any amberwine in hours, but she felt drunk.

  They had finally come to a stop in a barely lit chamber, flickering with candlelight. He had set her down quite gently, and told her not to move. Lucrezia was certain she could find a way to fly if that was the key to winning her satisfaction, but she quietly did as she was told, staring straight ahead at a rough stone wall that danced with shadows.

  He had busily been doing something behind her. Now, apparently, he was done. She felt his warm breath on the back of her neck as he slowly unbound her hands. When they were free he placed them firmly at her sides, and she was amazed to find she understood exactly what he meant: keep them there.

  She had never felt so…known. Understood. So close to a man whose face she had not yet seen.

  But he knows your face, she reminded herself. The memory of her own name, spoken aloud, even in hushed tones, pierced her haze of pleasure and anticipation, and she started with alarm.

  “How did you —”

  She didn’t even finish her thought before she felt his teeth on the back of her neck. His hand shoved between her legs and gripped her, hard. She went immediately limp, like an animal. It was a purely physical reflex, and one that she hadn’t known she possessed.

  Finally, he let go of her neck, but not her sex. His arm ground against the heel of the thing he made her keep in her anus, and she whimpered with distracted pleasure.

  “You speak when spoken to in here,” he said in her ear. “Do not think you are done.”

  And with that he turned her around and drove her forward, towards an enormous metal ring in the center of the room. Lucrezia had barely a moment to take it in: it was attached by hinges to two metal bars; there were restraints; there were chains. Then he spun her around and pushed her back, under the arch of the ring, and realization began to dawn.

  She opened her mouth, and then remembered: do not speak unless spoken to.

  He raised one of her hands high and secured it in a restraint, then secured the other. Her breasts heaved as her breathing quickened.

  Except for my safeword, she thought. Surely he meant except for my safeword.

  He fastened restraints to her ankles, and tested the length of the chains.

  She bit her lip. He gathered the chains attached to her ankles and began to pull. They rattled as they passed through the attachments on either side of the ring.

  “You will spread your legs,” he said. And she did, until she was spread as far as she could go. Her muscles clenched against the intrusion still inside her, and another kind of pleasure-pain swept through her as she strained against herself.

  He stepped close to her now, so close her breasts practically brushed his ridged abdomen when she breathed. His own skin was slick with sweat and heat, his massive erection still protruding, ignored with some force of will she would never understand. He stroked the length of her body in a gentle, lulling rhythm. “You will answer my questions, Lucrezia, and you will tell the truth, or it will go very hard for you.”

  He trailed his fingers up the length of her belly, watching it roil in his wake, up over her fluttering chest and neck to her covered face and wet lips. She tried to take his finger in her mouth, but he shook his head.

  “Lucrezia. If you do not answer me honestly, you will never have your satisfaction. Do you understand?”

  She wanted to wail in frustration. No, she did not understand; it had become quite obvious that she did not understand the least bit about what had happened this night, or what it meant, or who she really was. But she nodded. She could tell the truth. She had to.

  “Yes,” she said. And then he walked away.

  She shook her stretched arms and rattled the chains that held them, but he only chuckled as he moved somewhere behind her.

  He didn’t speak, preferring to let her mind race as he attended to his preparations. It was a long, tortured time before she thought she heard him approach, and still, he didn’t speak.

  Instead he ran the length of something leather along her back. She exhaled, and was surprised to discover she’d been holding her breath. She held it again when he came around to show her what he’d touched her with.

  It was a flogger. The leather tails were thick, and they had felt soft on her back, but it was still a flogger. Involuntarily she clenched, and was reminded of the thing he’d put inside her. She was quickly spiraling higher, into a dizzy space where she could hardly think.

  “Lucrezia,” he said, “you said that you are mine. Are you really free to give yourself to me?”

  “What?” She didn’t understand.

  Quick as lightning the flogger swung out, and expertly struck her breast. The weight of the tails thudded against her soft flesh, and the impact rippled outward from her stinging nipple to the edges of her body, pulling her back into the moment. She moaned as she tried to remember words.

  “I said,” he growled, “are you really free to give yourself to me?”

  The flogger came down on her other breast.

  “I am yours!”

  “There is no one else?”

  He walked around her, stalking her like a predator on the hunt. His voice had gotten low, his breathing steady, his muscles coiled tight under his skin. She thought of his teeth on the back of her neck, keeping her docile, and her pussy began to throb.

  “Only yours,” she panted, and screamed with pleasure and only a little pain when the flogger connected with her ripe buttocks. “Please…”

  Suddenly she felt him close behind her. His hand caressed her stinging buttock, and found the nub of the plug he’d put inside her. He pressed on it, rolling it under his palm, moving it inside of her, and dragged the tails of the flogger up the length of her leg.

  “Who were you thinking of when you came here tonight?” he hissed in her ear.

  She did not answer. She could not. Immediately the image of Carlo Castellan, holding her wrist tight, looking down at her exposed arousal, had flooded into her mind, and she’d flinched. She could not name him. It could not be… .

  The flogger fell to the ground with a dull thud. He walked around her front, letting his hand trail over her hip, down the crease of her joint, back to the wet hunger between her legs. His fingers slipped once more between her folds, seeking out the most sensitive part of her. He rubbed it softly, and studied her face.

  “I asked you a question, Lady Lucrezia,” he said softly. And then he tore away her mask.

  She felt herself near tears. She had never spent so long hovering in a plateau of pleasure, and she honestly believed that her body could not take much more before it all turned, fermenting into a wretched sort of pain. She had already faced so much, she had already come to terms with so many new things, so many things about herself that she never would have believed to be true, and yet it was not enough.

  He wanted more.

  “Please,” she begged, and offered her hips to him. His hand fell motionless, and she groaned. He was merciless.

&nbs
p; “Tell me his name.”

  His head bent down close to hers, and then she felt his lips on her neck, kissing her, sucking lightly, while he kept the barest contact with her sex.

  “Sir…”

  “I will hear his name,” he said, and pressed his smooth mask into her chest as he took a nipple in his mouth. His fingers swirled ever farther from her center, and the loss had become too much to bear.

  “Castellan!” she shouted, and hung her head low. “It was Carlo Castellan…”

  He pushed two fingers deep into her, curling them around inside her, pressing her thin flesh against the plug he had put in her anus. She bucked against him as much as she could, wanting to take him in further, wanting any part of him to be fully inside her, and then he rose to look at her face and took of his mask.

  It was Carlo Castellan.

  “Oh Gods…” she heard herself moan, but she was fully in his power, restrained and more desperate for his touch than she’d been for anything ever before in her life.

  “You are mine, Lucrezia,” he whispered as he tormented her with his fingers. “I knew you for what you are, even when you did not. You are mine, as I am yours, and you will be mine tomorrow, and you will never again have another man in your bed.”

  She nodded dumbly, thinking only of his cock, knowing the truth of it: she was his, and would do anything he wanted, if only he would fuck her.

  “Please,” she said again, and looked down at his massive, swollen cock. “Please…”

  He smiled, almost grimly, and walked behind her once more. She cried out, this time in rage and frustration, as he took his hand away; she realized she was actually crying, even as she felt the heat of his body on her backside once more.

  She felt his large hands spreading her buttocks, and his hot breath on her neck. Again, she rattled her restraints in frustration.

  “Who is your Master, Lucrezia?” he said into her ear. “I will hear you say my name, and I will hear you pledge your service to me, or you will never know the feel of this.” And he rubbed the hard length of himself along her soaking wet slit.

  “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 chloecoxwrites@gmail.com 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.