Resisting My Submission

by Jenna Jacob

  “Tell me, Samantha,” he demanded. “Does this belong to you?”

  His husky words vibrated over my clit, and I clutched tightly around his fingers.

  “No. My pussy belongs to you, Sir,” I purred and slowly melted beneath his powerful voice.

  “Anything else, pet?” he wheedled with a mischievous smirk.

  His roguish expression pulled me slightly to the surface, at least enough for my brain to partially clear. “No kids, animals, asphyxiation, choking, scat, snuff, golden showers, humiliation, branding, broken bones, permanent marks, or impact play that could hurt the baby.”

  Max’s expression softened. “Thank you for sharing your hard limits with me, Samantha. We can work around those, no problem.”

  He bent and circled his tongue around my tight bud. I knew then all conversation was over, or at least I hoped so. Each lap and lave sent me swirling deeper beneath his assertive spell. I lay before him, legs spread and heart open, offering every particle of my being for him to claim and own.

  I suddenly realized I’d kept my submissive desires locked away, not for fear of losing Sammie or to malign the bond Desmond and I once shared. I’d stolen the chance of this blissful freedom by forcing myself to believe that no other man was powerful enough to tame me.

  Max was more than formidable enough. I had no doubt the man would quench my submissive thirst and drown the abandoned woman I’d become with his spine-bending Dominance and affection.

  As his fingers stroked the heightened nerve endings inside, his tongue lashed my swollen, tingling nub, and I felt myself sailing toward the stars. Stroke after luscious stroke, he nibbled and suckled my clit, turning my blood to liquid fire. I clutched the sheet. Writhing and whimpering, I feared he’d leave me suspended on the brink of blissful oblivion until I lost my mind.

  “Please…” I mewled.

  “Please what, my beautiful, needy slut?”

  “Let me come.”

  “No,” he growled. “You promised to suffer for me, and that’s what you’ll do, pet. Is that clear?”

  I nodded, but inside I was screaming. There was no way I could hold back the brutal orgasm churning inside me for long, but at the same time, the thought of failing Max was crushing. Taking control of what I could, I set my mind toward a different path, far from the epicenter of the pleasure he bestowed. I’d no more begun to focus on what I needed from the grocery store when a sharp slap to my clit shot me straight back to his wicked tongue.

  “Don’t try to cunt-block me again, girl,” Max warned with a feral roar. “You’ll stay here in body and mind, focused on every drag of my fingers or cock and every lick or nibble of my tongue. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir…but I won’t last,” I wailed.

  “I don’t expect you to.” A cunning expression lined his face. “I want to hear you beg for mercy, pet. Beg…loud, long, and hard.”

  Relief flooded my veins. He’d given me a lifeline—or the illusion of one—I could cling to without failing him and ultimately myself. Unfortunately, my reprieve didn’t last long. Max draped my legs over his shoulders and hoisted my hips off the bed before his tongue laid siege to my tiny puckered rim. He alternated thrusting his fingers into the slick fire of my pussy with plunging his wicked tongue into my crinkled backside. Shards of lightning ignited my clit as I rocked against his face and hand.

  Breathless and keening, I tugged at the leather restraints. My limbs tingled and the roar of release thundered in my ears. The lifeline Max had given me, along with my will, disintegrated.

  “Please!” I screamed. “Oh, god. Please. Help me…I can’t—Master!”

  “Come, my sweet slut. Come hard,” Max bellowed.

  His fingers filled me as I clamped down hard around them. Guttural cries of rapture tore from my throat as convulsions racked my body. Before I stopped quaking, I heard the sound of a zipper, and half a heartbeat later, Max was driving his thick, delicious cock through my quivering tunnel. In and out with frenzied thrusts, I rode the waves cresting and ebbing within as I whimpered and mewled. He fucked me hard with exacting stabs of brutal force. My tunnel burned with friction even though I was still saturated with my own release.

  Suddenly, Max pulled from inside me and rolled his shoulders, sending my legs back onto the bed. Grabbing his cock, he fisted himself with a ragged jerking motion. I watched as ruthless pleasure played fiercely across his face. He locked his eyes on me.

  “Mine!” His thunderous decree rolled off his tongue as he showered my stomach and breasts with his hot, milky seed.

  Streaming ropes of silky come continued to splatter my naked flesh. Tears poured from my eyes. I understood the significance of his release.

  Max had claimed me.

  Marked me as his own.

  I was bound to him…his girl, his pet, his sweet slut…his One. He now controlled my submission, my world, my decisions, and my path…all the independence I once possessed now lay safely tucked in his masterful hands.

  Slowly, his eyes refocused. A look of affirmation and satisfaction smoothed his striking features. Max reached down and gathered his spilled seed. Drawing his fingers to my mouth, he watched as I greedily slurped down his offering, gliding my tongue over his digits to clean off every drop.

  He smiled at me.

  It was the proud and fulfilled smile of a Master pleased with his sub.

  “I will claim you fully, Samantha. But we’ll need to work on a bit of anal training first. You’re my pride and joy, my most treasured possession. I won’t hurt you, sweet one.”

  Anticipation fluttered through me, and while I wondered how many years it would take before I could accommodate his massive cock in my ass, I simply sent him a timid nod.

  As if reading my mind, Max laughed. “I’ll make it feel good for you, pet. I promise.”

  “You always do, Sir.”

  “Master. You’ll address me as Master, like you did when you begged to come.”

  I didn’t remember using the term, but then the fear of failure had mixed with the conflagration of demand so violently I could have called him Santa Claus at the time. I found it ironic how easily it had been to slide back into a submissive mindset. Well, once I’d decided to at least give it a try.

  A peaceful sense of balance and harmony, like a gentle flowing stream, settled deep inside me.

  I felt as if I’d spent the last decade lost in a labyrinth and had finally discovered the calm center where I’d once belonged.

  Max stood and tucked his cock into his jeans before striding to the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and a towel. After he sat down on the edge of the bed beside me, he set the items on his lap. Releasing my wrists from the leather belt, he massaged my fingers and palms.

  With a wary expression, he raised the washcloth and extended it toward me.

  Warning bells and buzzers went off in my head. Max was testing me, or rather testing to see how much—if any—of Sammie remained inside me. I knew in my heart, she’d not been vanquished. I honestly didn’t want her to disappear. There were times in my previous submissive life when I needed the kind of strength and perseverance she offered. In a way, I’d always had a bit of Sammie in me. It was only after Desmond died that I needed her to step up and lead me down the road of recovery.

  I stared at the washcloth, then lifted my eyes to Max’s. Without a word, I simply spread my legs and sent him a gentle smile. He sucked in a deep breath. His chest expanded. Max dropped the cloth and sank a hand in my hair. Tiny sparks of painful pleasure skittered over my scalp as he pulled me to his lips.

  “You amaze me, Samantha,” he murmured before claiming my mouth in a brutal, dizzying kiss.

  After cleaning my folds and back passage, he patted me dry and returned to the bathroom. On his way back to the bed, he plucked my robe from the overstuffed chair by the window and held it out for me. I rolled out of bed and slid my arms through the silky fabric. Max tied the sash, then pressed his palm to the small of my back once again and
led me to the kitchen.

  “I want you to make yourself a cup of tea, then grab me a beer and meet me on the couch.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  I knew he wanted to dissect what had transpired, and while it was best to lay a foundation of communication from the start, I wanted a few minutes to gather my thoughts and feelings first.

  That’s why you’re in here making tea…duh.

  There were times I really wanted to slap the lips off my subconscious. Now was one of them. As I heated water in the microwave, and while letting the tea steep, I began aligning the sensations still thrumming within me. Though they had shifted a bit, I still felt my submissive glowing presence.

  I joined Max in the living room to find him sitting at one end of the couch. His legs were crossed at the ankle and resting on the coffee table. He smiled and opened his arms, inviting me to curl up beside him—which I did of course, after handing him the beer.

  We talked for hours, pausing to inhale the pizza Max had phoned in to be delivered. I confessed that surrendering to him was easier than I’d expected. He wasn’t surprised at how seamlessly I’d transitioned into that mindset, but then again, he’d been the one to see the submissive inside me all along.

  “How far do you want to take this…exchange?” A hint of uneasiness snaked through his voice.

  In other words, was I willing to come out of the closet among the members of the club? The thought filled me with angst.

  “I’d like to keep this between us, here in the safety of this house, for a while.”

  “Fair enough, but you will kneel for me at Genesis, Samantha. You know that, right?”

  I bit the inside of my lower lip and gave a not-so-encouraging nod.

  Max strummed his thumb along the inside of my wrist. “Your friends will be happy for you. The rest…” He shrugged dismissively. “They don’t matter. Haters are always going to hate, and dipshits…well, they’ll keep stirring the pot with or without a spoon. You can’t let them bother you, pet.”

  “I know, it’s just…I haven’t had time to totally wrap my head around all this yet.”

  “I know. I’ll give you time, but there will be a limit. When we do finally scene together, if anyone has anything negative to say to you, I damn well want to know about it. That’s my hard rule, Samantha.”

  “I understand.”

  A smile spread over his lips. I shot him a quizzical look.

  “What do you think about Julius Maximus Gunn if it’s a boy?” He grinned.

  I felt my face fall and my mouth gape open. “What? You’re not serious…are you?”

  “Why not?

  “Julius Maximus? No! He’d have to go through life dressed like a damn gladiator.”

  “My Dad’s name is Julius.”

  I wanted to sink into the couch cushions. Instead, I smirked. “Did he grow up wearing gladiator outfits?”

  “No. Overalls,” Max laughed.

  As the night progressed, the conversation moved from lifestyle topics to more general, vanilla ones. Though I truly didn’t suffer from multiple personality disorder, I was acutely aware when Samantha decided to sink into the shadows and allow Sam to rise to the surface.

  Max obviously noticed the change in me, as well. “I don’t want a TPE—total power exchange, where one gives their submission, tangible property, and income to the Master—I simply want us to find a happy medium between Dom and sub, and man and woman. After all, someone will have to cook, take out the trash, empty the dishwasher, do the laundry…and eventually change our baby’s diapers. I want to share those responsibilities with you.”

  “When you put it that way, the prospect of keeping Samantha around isn’t nearly as daunting.” I brought our clasped hands to my lips and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you.”

  Max smiled. “I intend to make sure you’re happy, Sam. That’s why I want you to move in with me.”

  My stomach knotted and my heart rate doubled. I didn’t know if I was ready to give up the roof over my head and my independence to a man I’d known less than a month.

  “Don’t go pressing your luck, mister. I’ve already accepted two major changes in my life—a baby in the spring and rediscovering my submission. I think that’s enough for one day,” I quipped with a crooked smile.

  Laughter twinkled in his eyes. “True. Okay, we’ll tackle the topic of moving in together tomorrow.”

  I feigned a gasp and rolled my eyes.

  “And I thought subs were the only ones who were supposed to be brats,” I mockingly scolded, which only made him laugh.

  Four days later, I squeezed into a corset, a pair of black leather pants, and my signature stilettos as Max sat on the bed watching me.

  My bedroom, like the rest of my house, was in shambles. Boxes, packed to the gills, lined one wall. Others sat empty, scattered haphazardly across the floor, waiting to be filled. Three days ago, I’d made the decision to move in with Max. I wasn’t altogether thrilled about giving up the security my rental home afforded. My emotions were mixed, but Max had vowed long ago that he was in for the duration. The least I could do was promise the same.

  “You don’t have to go back to work so soon, baby.”

  “I know. But I feel fine. Besides, Mika needs me. I know he’s had to persuade the members to fill in for me. I’m sure they’ll be happier scening than working the bar and picking up the slack for me.”

  “I doubt they’ve minded.”

  I shrugged. “It’s still my responsibility, not theirs.” I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. My heart sank. My skin crawled. A frown wrinkled my brow. “Dressing like this makes me feel like a fraud.”

  “Then wear something else.”

  I spun on my spiked heel and shot him a scowl. “You know I can’t.”

  With a sympathetic nod, Max stood and wrapped me in a tight embrace. “You can do anything you want to, Sam. No one…not even me, has the right to act as judge, jury, or executioner when it comes to your happiness. Remember that.”

  “I know,” I mumbled. “But I haven’t even talked to Mika about everything. I respect him too much not to tell him face-to-face.”

  “Are you going to mention the baby, as well?”

  “I have to, but only him…for now.”

  Max nodded. “We can tell him together if you’d like.”

  “No. I’d rather talk to him alone if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Do what you need to. I’ve got your back”—a flicker of something wicked danced in his eyes—“and your front.”

  “You have all of me.” Lifting to my toes, I kissed his luscious lips.

  He gripped the cheeks of my ass with his wide hands and pressed my pussy against his growing erection. I wanted to strip out of my costume and drag him to bed. Unfortunately, it was time to face the music, starting with Mika.

  Max dropped me off at the club before grabbing takeout from Maurizio’s for us to eat before Genesis opened. As I took the stairs up to Mika’s office, butterflies were having a field day in my stomach. At least I’d eaten a protein-packed lunch and wouldn’t pass out on the man again…or I hoped not.

  Lifting my hand, I rapped on his door.

  “Come in,” he called from the other side.

  I peeked in to find him sitting behind at his desk, which was scattered with papers. He lifted his head and sent me a broad smile.

  “Sammie! What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting,” he chided as he rose and gave me a hug.

  “I feel fine.”

  “Good.”

  He led me over to the couch and we both sat down. I was unsure which topic to broach first, the baby or rediscovering my submission.

  “I haven’t seen Max around lately. Has he been taking care of you?”

  In ways you can’t imagine.

  “Yes. He’s been amazing.” I smiled nervously.

  “Spit it out, Sam,” Mika softly coaxed.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  As the wo
rds rolled off my tongue, he reared back. His eyes widened in shock, then ever so slowly, an annoyed expression lined his lips. “Son of a bitch! She was right…again!”

  “Huh? Who was right about what?”

  “Julianna. I told her you’d passed out the other night and the first thing out of her mouth was, ‘Sammie’s pregnant.’ I told her she was crazy…but she nailed it.” Mika shook his head. “She’s never going to let me hear the end of this. Fuck!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Mika pressed a palm to my stomach and grinned.

  “When are you due?”

  “Around the middle of next April.”

  “And Max? Is he good with this?”

  “He’s over the moon.” I beamed.

  “So, is there a wedding date…or are you two going to live in sin, like Julianna and me?”

  “Live in sin, I guess. We haven’t talked about tying the knot, which is good. I’m still trying to wrap my head around being a mom and…”

  “And what?”

  “I’m moving in with him. Max picks up the keys to his house in a couple days…Friday to be exact. We’ve hired some guys and a van to come haul my stuff over on Saturday morning.”

  Of course, moving in with Max wasn’t what I’d intended to tell Mika, but I wasn’t altogether sure how to introduce the topic of becoming Max’s slave, either. I nervously licked my lips and lowered my lashes.

  “Sammie?” Mika’s voice was soft. “Or should I call you Samantha now?”

  He’d always been an observant S.O.B., I thought with an inward scoff.

  I raised my eyes. A weak smile formed on my lips and I nodded. “Samantha.”

  Mika sat back as he continued to stare at me. A lazy grin followed. “I knew it. If anyone was ever going to lead you back into the light, it’d be Max.”