Her Submission

by Vonna Harper

  “Damn, damn, damn,” she muttered.

  He grabbed the collar ring and forced her onto her toes. “What was that?” He slapped one breast and then the other as she stumbled and swayed. “You were cursing me?”

  I don’t know.

  The measured blows continued. She shook, not just from pain but the effort to wrench her wrists free. No matter how hard she tried to be quiet, she kept making pitiful sounds.

  “This is the crux of lesson one,” he said conversationally as he concentrated on her left breast. “I’ll warn you to try not to wear yourself out because it’ll take a while. And for the record, I’ll win.”

  Win what, she wanted to know. And what makes you think I need to be taught something?

  After what like felt forever, the punishment being delivered to her throbbing breast lessened, the time between the blows became longer. Also, he no longer kept her on her toes. Finally, long after she’d forgotten how and why this terrible thing had started, he seized her shoulders and shoved her ass first into the chair where he’d been sitting. If not for her sweat, she might have slipped off the cool leather and onto the floor. Instead she stuck where he’d planted her. She couldn’t think how to straighten so remained slumped with her hands behind her, her breasts burning, and her legs wide apart.

  He took more pictures, most of them of what had to be her wasted face. She could barely see for the hair in her eyes.

  “I bore easily,” he informed her. “Long as I’ve been in this business, it takes some doing to keep me entertained and engaged.” He started to turn away from her only to stop and clamp his hand over his left thigh. “Damn. God damn.”

  He wasn’t as all-powerful as he wanted her to believe. Somehow, some way, she’d take advantage of that. Maybe.

  “All right,” he said at length. “As I was saying, I occasionally change things up for entertainment purposes, my entertainment anyway.”

  She didn’t know what to think when he presented her with his back. Then she realized he was returning to the equipment bag and she sat up straight. Much as she wanted to get to her feet she didn’t because he hadn’t given her permission.

  Permission? Had it come to that?

  “No,” she hissed when she saw he had hold of a long, thin whip. “Oh no.”

  “No what? All right, here’s the deal. I may alter the punishment part of this lesson if you do exactly as I tell you. For the record, I’m a stern taskmaster.” He snapped the whip so it slashed at the air. “I caution you to conduct yourself in such a way that I don’t feel it’s necessary to demonstrate what I’m capable of. You’ll try to do that, won’t you?”

  What kind of insane question was that? “Yes,” she managed.

  “Hmm. That isn’t a complete response. Rest assured, you’ll understand the totality of what’s expected of you by the time we’re finished, if we ever finish. Now—“ He dropped the whip. “Stand up.”

  I don’t know if I can. Much as she longed to throw herself at his mercy, a part of her kept the words locked inside. Maybe they wouldn’t do her any good and she’d have demeaned herself for nothing.

  Another in what seemed like endless waves of self-loathing passed through her as she stood. Her legs had weakened in the short period of time she hadn’t been using them. Whether she kept at least some of her sex hidden or not no longer mattered.

  “Now turn around.”

  She’d no sooner presented him with her back when he shoved her into the chair. She landed on her knees with her face in the seat. Other than being able to turn her head to the side so she could breathe, she was at his disposal, a fact he drummed into her as he untied her wrists. She didn’t know what to think or how to react when he lifted her arms over her head and started massaging her shoulders. Bit by bit the strain of her arms’ long inactivity was replaced by warmth and lethargy. Maybe she’d been wrong to fear the whip. As long as she did what he wanted, he wouldn’t hurt her.

  He might even show her kindness.

  She tensed when he brought her arms back down to her sides then slid into a warm and quiet place as he stroked them.

  “Back to work,” he said and slid two rope strands around her elbows. The rope tightened, forcing her elbows closer together. She groaned and twitched under him as the pressure continued. Her elbows weren’t touching but not much separated them. He knotted the rope and then threaded the loose end through the collar at the nape of her neck.

  When he unfastened the leather around her waist, she took several deep breaths. It still felt as if she was wearing the too-tight belt.

  “That’s what I mean by changing things up for my entertainment.” He remained so close his thigh pressed against hers—his warm thigh. “Take a moment to assess your new predicament. Then we’ll get back to business.”

  Chapter nine

  Reno debated helping his new slave to her feet, but if he did, she might think he felt at least a measure of sympathy for her. Determined not to go down that road until and unless he understood himself better, he entertained himself by running the nails of both hands over her sweet, so-available buttocks. At first she twitched and tried to move out of his reach, but much sooner than he’d anticipated, she dropped her head and let the chair support her. He hadn’t bound her elbows particularly tight. This new-to-her position left her hands free but useless which was the point.

  At least one point, he amended. Reluctantly taking his leave of her soft buttocks, he pressed a practiced finger against her ass crack.

  “Oh,” she gasped and lifted her head.

  When she left it at that, he realized he’d been hoping she’d say more. He wasn’t used to quiet slaves. Most of the time he had to stuff their mouths to keep them from blowing out his eardrums, but even when he’d been slapping this slave-in-training’s breasts, she’d kept things to almost ladylike gurgles.

  “I’ve called you a slave,” he informed her, “but that’s a general term. It’s time for the specifics starting with taking another assessment of your receptiveness.”

  He gave her a few seconds in which to get used to having him at her back door then withdrew the offending digit, reached around her, and touched his forefinger to her mouth.

  “Cover it with spit. It goes without saying that if you try to bite me, you’ll pay for it. Nod if you understand.”

  Her head jerked up and down.

  “That’s a step in the right direction.” He worked his finger past her lips and waited for her to part her teeth. There was a good chance she didn’t grasp the depths of what she was doing when she complied. In her mind, she was probably doing what had to be done in an attempt to escape punishment but willingly giving him access to any part of her body said she’d stopped thinking about herself as existing separate from him.

  He pushed in until a fingertip touched the roof of her mouth. She jerked and gagged but didn’t try to expel him. Patience hadn’t ever been his virtue, but strangely he wasn’t in a hurry. In truth he still wasn’t sure why he’d brought her into his world.

  When she closed her lips around his finger and started coating it, he allowed himself a small truth. He preferred these moments of artificial intensity to what he had planned for next.

  Turning her into something with value in the marketplace via punishment had become a chore.

  “That’s it.” He encouraged her efforts by patting her ass. “Get every inch wet so it’ll go in easier.”

  She stiffened.

  “I can’t have said something you hadn’t already figured out. Damn it, I know you’re smart enough to have put one and one together.”

  A ragged sigh escaped her, and after a telling pause, she went back to bathing his finger. Moments like this with a slave had always been a turn on. He hadn’t concerned himself with the specifics of why seeing a slave surrender to the enviable gave him so much pleasure, just that it did.

  Today he wasn’t so sure.

  Damn it, facing his mortality had really messed him up, kept him from the action so long he
’d lost his edge.

  His passion for the job.

  The hell it had!

  Fighting thoughts that had stalked him since he’d nearly died, he pulled out and repositioned himself in preparation for another kind of invasion. The chair was so low he’d be hard pressed to get the alignment right, but the last thing he’d do was kneel behind her. He was her superior, her master. A man with a bad leg.

  The instant he knocked at her rear door, she bowed her back so her ass dropped a few inches.

  “What the hell are you doing, slave?” He slapped her ass. “Get your bung hole up there.”

  “Why?” she muttered and pressed her forehead to the chair seat. Her buttocks rose as if in invitation. He knew that wasn’t the case, at least not now. If he kept after her, the time would come when she’d beg for things she couldn’t comprehend today.

  That’s what today was for, starting to change her, turning her into a sex hungry slut.

  His.

  “Why?” he parroted. He positioned his slick finger over the puckered opening and pushed in. “Because I can.”

  Her muscles were trying to expel him, but he’d had his finger squeezed enough times that the tightness didn’t surprise him. Eventually, once he’d trained her, he’d fuck her back there, but he saw no reason to risk injury to his cock while she was this raw.

  Besides, truth was the damn accident had put his libido on the back burner.

  Time to reverse that, starting with climbing back on the slave training saddle. No longer asking himself what the hell his life was about or mucking around in the hell-hole that was his past.

  Adding action to anticipation, he continued the invasion. Her legs jumped and twitched and she started breathing as if she was running. He let her turn her head this way and that, figuring she wasn’t getting enough of a look to satisfy her curiosity. Knowing she was trying to keep her ass where he wanted it distracted him from the task at hand. In short her reaction had come to mean more than his.

  “This belongs to me.” He shoved, concentrating on keeping the alignment right as he did. “If want to plug you, you’ll be plugged.” He withdrew a little, pleased by how her anal muscles now struggled to keep him in her. “If I decide to fuck you there, you’ll pull your ass cheeks apart to help accommodate me, got it?”

  He’d just hit her with a particularly demeaning comment so wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond. Curious to see what it would take to break through her emotional barriers, he again changed position and started finger fucking her in earnest. His back protested his position and the harsh movements. More frustrating, his overworked leg howled every time he tried to rest his weight on it.

  So he couldn’t spend much time hammering at this particular part of today’s lesson, at least he’d make the best of the moments he had.

  “This is what it’s going to feel like when you get ass fucked.” He plundered and retreated, dove deep followed by protracted withdrawal. “I’m only using one finger so unless you’ve done this a lot, taking my cock will make you feel as if you’re being ripped apart.”

  “Oh, oh, oh.”

  Beautiful sounds, ones he’d nearly forgotten during the months of hell.

  Relishing in her rapid-fire grunts, he ignored the burning sensations running up his arm. He was strong again, no longer a damn nearly dying weakling. This was what he excelled at, what built him up while at the same time taught his subjects the meaning of surrender.

  When she bent her knees, he figured she was trying to find a more comfortable position. Taking advantage of her distraction, he hooked his finger and lifted. She immediately relocked her legs.

  “That’s what you by damn better do! Keep your ass hole where I can use it.”

  Judging by how much her legs now shook, he had no doubt she was on emotional overload. Perfect timing for kicking things up another notch.

  He pressed his foot against the inside of one ankle and then the other in a silent command for her to spread her legs. Letting loose with something between a grunt and a whimper, she complied. He gave her time to get used to the altered strain before redoubling his attack. His forefinger was going numb, and he guessed his hand would soon cramp. The self-inflicted burn marched up his arm.

  She now grunted with every breath she took and no longer tried to lift her head. Her useless fingers kept curling into fists. He was back in familiar territory, doing what he’d been doing since a man had taken a scared and homeless boy under his wing and into a world of domination and surrender.

  When intuition and experience told him she’d lost all control over her responses, he slipped his free hand between her legs and aimed for her pussy. Sex fluids didn’t quite pour from of her, but she was a long way from dry. He could have pointed her condition out to her but decided to leave that for later in the game. Today he’d simply press his point. Maybe emotionally tear her apart.

  I’m a damn bastard.

  Wishing he could see her expression, he tried to take hold of her labial lips, but the swollen flesh was too slippery. He compensated by ramming two soaked fingers into her sex hole. Bent nearly in half the way he was, his back and leg kicked up their complaints.

  “Get that ass of yours up there, slave.”

  You don’t have to do this.

  She leveraged herself onto her toes and managed to stay in position long enough for him to pump both of her holes. When, sighing, she slumped back onto the balls of her feet, he yanked out of her tight rear passage and whacked her buttocks.

  “What’d I tell you! You were supposed to stay in position.”

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered into the chair.

  Her choked tone made him wonder if he’d taken her too far and reminded him of the danger in losing self-control. The years of anger and need for revenge were behind him, damn it! He was no longer the crazy lost teenager he’d once been.

  Then what am I?

  When he placed the finger that had been in her bung against her left palm, she closed her hand around it giving him proof that the elbows’ tie hadn’t cut off her circulation.

  “What are you sorry about?” It took some doing, but he managed to continue fucking her pussy. “Go on, damn it. Finish what you started to say.”

  “I—I don’t know what you want.”

  There was the strangled tone every Carnal trainer knew and exploited. Her drenched pussy said more than a million words could.

  “Right now what I want isn’t the point.” He switched to a seductive tone. “I’m creating new needs in you. You won’t know what to do with them let alone how to handle them.” When she didn’t respond, he slowed the thrusting action. “You feel as if you’re drowning in sensation, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  That might be the most honest thing she’d said since he’d grabbed her. Curious to see how much more he could get her to reveal, he withdrew and fingered her hard, hot clit. “You need to climax.” He touched her sex trigger again, then abandoned it. “Nothing comes close to being as important as getting off. You’d give up food in exchange for one. Even water has become a poor second.”

  Do I really want to do this?

  She turned her head, giving him a glimpse of her tears. The unexpected sight distracted him, touched a place he didn’t want touched.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  The way her sigh lasted, he knew she was trying to keep her emotions from him. He wasn’t sure whether either of them could. “I don’t understand myself.” Her trembling slowed. “I’m afraid of you and yet you’re familiar. Someone…”

  Taken aback by her comment, he planted both hands on her buttocks. Her sigh ended in a whimper.

  “I wish I hadn’t said—I don’t know why I did.”

  Was she trying to forge a connection between them, giving him a small piece of herself so maybe he’d do the same in turn? Other slaves had tried that tactic but only when he was hurting them, not in moments of relative peace.

  Who are you slave?


  Trying to shake off the unexpected question, he started massaging her shoulders. “Let me take a guess. Your sexual fantasies include men like me, don’t they?”

  Her silence told him more than any words could. His job called for transforming women into what their owners wanted, not tapping into females’ submissive natures. Truth was he never concerned himself with whether a particular slave embraced or fought the loss of self-determination because he knew how to get to the desired end result, discussion over.

  Yesterday he’d taken one look at her and known she was looking for a man capable of making her crawl and loving the act. What he hadn’t figured on was how he’d react.

  “Straighten,” he ordered.

  Watching her strain as she lifted her breasts off the chair distracted him from heavy thoughts so he nearly pushed her back down so he could again focus on the effort but he’d put off the second part of what this lesson was about long enough.

  Time to teach her the depth and width of pain.

  Time to do what he knew how to.

  No longer alone.

  #

  Still on her knees, Kaci tried to make use of her arms. She could move them, after a fashion. They felt as if they belonged to someone else and yet she’d have to get them to obey in order to have a chance at getting free.

  Free? The word was as foreign as the world she now lived in.

  “To state the obvious, they’re pretty useless,” he pointed out as she wiggled her fingers. “I take it that isn’t something you’ve ever experienced.”

  “No, never.” Imagined it a few times but—Why did you—“

  “Come up with that particular restraint? Because sometimes I want to keep a tie as simple as possible. Now stand.”

  Her body hummed with pent up desire as she struggled to do as he’d commanded. No matter how much she’d fought the sexual tide, he’d taken her to a place where a climax was only a breath away. However, instead of giving her what she desperately needed, he’d stopped stimulating her. Not long ago only her restraints had kept her with him. Now she wanted—no, surely not the man!