Submissive (20 page)

“Suck me off now, little Disciple, and do it as well as you seemed to do for those men.”

She smiled voluptuously, and he guided his hard cock to her mouth. Her lips closed about the head and she sucked energetically. His eyes closed, and his pelvis moved forward and back.

As he fucked her taut, obedient mouth, he hoped her lesson had been enough to make a lasting impression on her. For as exciting as it had been to watch her go down on those others, he vowed that never again would she give another man pleasure.

His orgasm was intense. Afterward he held her for a time, lavishing kisses on her and blowing on her belly until she giggled. She was soon pouting, though, and dared to beg him to fuck her.

“Behave yourself,” he whispered.

Rising from the bed, he closed the door behind him as he went into the front room. He lit a cigarette and inhaled slowly, and as he stared out the window, meditated on the words he would soon need. They had to be phrased in the most convincing, frank, unyielding, and yet polite manner he could muster—if he was to stand a rat's chance in Hamelin of securing Madam's consent to keep Gillian.

G
illian had been dismayed and apprehensive when Sir Bruce gave her one of his shirts to wear and told her they were going to the household. Although she sensed he planned more than just delivering her back, his tenseness had played on her imagination. The Leather Wife who met them at the front door had a most annoying look of disapproval on her face. Even Madam's personal guard who escorted them to the door appeared to be sizing Bruce up, as if at any moment he might assault Bruce with his stave. Gillian knew these ideas were probably only nervous fancy, but when at last they were allowed entrance into Madam's room, she was shocked to find the Warden there. The hostility between the two men infused the atmosphere. Worse, Madam was not in a good mood.

She sat in a fan-backed wicker chair, looking almost like a queen, with her hair gathered in tight curls high upon her head. She wore a loose-woven gown of deep red that accentuated her exotic features. Her eyes narrowed upon them as they entered. At once, she snapped her fingers. “Come, Gillian, and bow your head to the floor!”

Gillian obeyed immediately, casting a single look over her shoulder to Sir Bruce. Madam snapped her finger again as she approached and told her to face the chair as she bowed.

Madam sighed as Gillian's brow touched the floor. Sitting up, she lifted the shirt and smacked Gillian's naked bottom. But it was the men Madam addressed, and her tone was thin, exasperated.

“Sir Bruce, our Warden has told me of last night's events—at least from his viewpoint. Of course, he was not party to what happened with Rose and Gina. I would appreciate you explaining to me your version of this conflict, as well as why you kept Disciple Gillian in your home all night.”

“And all morning,” the Warden added in his velvety drawl.

Despite his suave manners and intimidating looks, Gillian felt only a vague fondness for the Warden now. Even though she was flattered that he was challenging Bruce to claim her, she simply wished the man would forget all that had happened between them.

“That's enough,” Madam reprimanded him sharply. “You may wait in the foyer until I call you.”

The Warden lifted an unbelieving eyebrow. “But Madam, I must insist—”

“You charged in on me, dear Warden, without the civility to knock. You have made charges without permitting Sir Bruce the benefit of being here to defend himself. Now you shall wait while I listen privately to his side of the story.”

Gillian was surprised Madam had let the Warden come in at all, but she was not surprised to see the vexed flash of his eyes now. Nevertheless, he apologized and stepped out. It was only when he was gone that Gillian noticed a figure standing very still near the black veil canopy of Madam's bed. It was Domme Camille. She smoked a slender cigarette in a lengthy filter and looked at the floor as if very bored. Yet the true feelings of this hard and beautiful woman had always been difficult to ascertain. Gillian could not help but wonder if her motive for being in the room was to temper the wrath she feared Madam might demonstrate toward Bruce.

Madam's fingers trailed down the length of Gillian's back slowly, and when she reached the end of her spine, she smacked Gillian soundly on the ass. The sound rang crisply against the walls, and though Gillian tensed expectantly, Madam stayed her hand.

“Now, explain yourself, Sir Bruce,” she said.

He told her everything, from the events in the pavilion to his taking Gillian to his chalet in the guards' compound, giving blunt, logical explanations for all of his actions. When he was finished, Madam responded to his logic with a question that rationality could not answer.

“Ah, Sir Bruce, you are infatuated with this Disciple, are you not?”

Gillian could not see his face and the moments seemed to lengthen into hours as she waited to hear his response.

“I knew her on Earth, Madam,” he admitted. “And I wanted her then. Like any coward, I pretended not to understand she wanted me as well. But in Nemi I've grasped the true nature of myself, and as heaven has seen fit to bring us together again, I intend to keep her.”

“Knew her,” Madam repeated softly. “Is this true, Gillian?”

Made nervous by the sudden question, Gillian said faintly, “Yes, Madam.”

“Well. And so you have claimed that you did not know her feelings then. This requires more consideration of the matter. Gillian must be sure before any decision is reached.”

“Sure of what?” Bruce asked and then blurted out, “We love one another. It is enough.”

Madam's face brightened with impatience. “I will not be spoken to in that tone by someone beneath my station, Sir Bruce. It may be that she does love you. All considerations for her declaration and your declaration will be taken into account. For now, she will remain here in the household—confined for a while so she may have time to think, away from both you and the Warden.”

Bruce's voice shook, “You can't do this. She is mine!”

“I can do whatever I deem proper,” Madam retorted. “Now, return to the guards' compound and resume your daily routine. I shall certainly see to it that the Warden does not deal unfairly with you over this.”

Gillian's heart sank. She raised her head defiantly and looked at Bruce. His hands were knotted into fists at his hips and his brow heavily furrowed. She feared he would yell at Madam and lose in a single heated moment all they had rediscovered. Forgetting everything else, Gillian stood and looked Madam directly in her eyes.

Madam's reprimand was low but cautioning. “Gillian!”

Gillian shook her head. “I love Bruce,” she declared. “I do not wish to be anyone's Disciple except his.”

Madam's face was hard, but Gillian saw what looked to be a suppressed smile on her lips. Her eyes were patient. At length she asked, “Do you think you love this man?”

“I know I do!”

Bruce strode to Gillian's side. He took her hand, and she held fast to it and felt the burning tears gush over her cheeks. “I love him! I cannot bear to be away from him. Nor do I care for any pleasure—in this world or any other—except to be his and his alone.”

Madam's eyes closed, and the smile ripened full and sweet on her lips. When she looked at them again, a flash of amber glowed in her eyes. Gillian felt uneasy, as if for a fleeting moment, she was looking not simply at Madam, but someone else she knew but could not place. Power, gentle and subtle, radiated from the woman, tempering the atmosphere with a sweetness as unrefined and unearthly as the Ur'theriems' angelic powers.

“So, Sir Bruce,” she said, “you love Gillian and you say she is yours. What does this exactly mean to you?”

Bruce's brow darkened. “She is mine to love, mine to discipline, mine to cherish. I cannot, will not, let any other man…” His words trailed, but the intensity of his declaration hung in the air.

“You two leave us no choice,” Madam answered. She closed her eyes again and let her head fall back on her shoulders. Her arms raised heavenward. At once, the morning skies outside the windows darkened. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the scenery outside the household vanished before their eyes. A flood of rainbow-colored light waved over the glass panes. Gillian heard a crackling of soft sound and saw the wicks of all the candles in the room kindle to flame. No one had touched them, but the flames glowed full and radiant. It was the last thing Gillian saw before darkness engulfed the room.

She clung to Bruce and felt his steady lips press her brow.

“We're together,” he whispered. “I will not let you go.”

In seconds the darkness began to pale. Shadows fell over them and soft sunlight danced through these across their limbs. When her vision cleared, Gillian saw that they stood together in center of the Temple of Purity. The golden altar had been moved to the north quadrant and before this altar stood Madam and Xaqriel. For a moment, Madam's skin glowed an intense white. When the moment had passed, she now wore a regal gown of purest white, with a high stiff collar that shimmered with tiny garnets and pearls. Gillian saw again the amber glint in her eyes and something told her that time did not exist in this moment and place. Only the inner, true meaning that was Nemi existed, and they all stood now in the nucleus of it.

Xaqriel spoke to Bruce, “You wish this woman to be your sole and beloved Disciple?”

Bruce took a deep, steadying breath. But his voice was undaunted as he answered. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“And you, Gillian, have found the master of your pleasure and heart in this man?”

Gillian's breast beat resolutely. “Oh yes!”

At Xaqriel's nod, Madam turned to the altar. A slim silver box lay there. This she lifted and turning, spoke, “As in the flesh, so in the spirit. Union of one soul with another so they may be as the god and the goddess: One Eternal. As you were drawn from the Beginning, so forever shall you be drawn. Return home and accept this gift and know that you are blessed among men and women through the reciprocal desire that expresses union of the eternal.”

Madam held the box out to Bruce. With a relieved look, he released Gillian's hand and accepted it. At once the light grew dusky pink and a temperate wind buoyed the branches of the trees. Xaqriel's wings appeared, and clasping Madam about the waist, he ascended from the ground. Toward the cloudless sky he sailed with her, winking out of sight in the next second just as suddenly as they had all been whisked from the household.

Gillian turned to Bruce and threw her arms around his neck. His kiss was gentle upon her cheek and he laughed softly.

“For a moment there—after she said return home—I thought she meant Earth.” He set the box down upon the altar and pulled his shirt off Gillian completely. His hands slid down over her hips and skimmed over her bare buttocks. He squeezed them and lifted her from the ground so that she felt his hard cock rub against her pubis.

Gillian gyrated greedily and ran her fingers wildly through his hair. “It doesn't matter. Wherever you are is home for me.”

“Yes,” he said, “but I'd as soon enjoy you in Nemi for as long as possible.”

He kissed her again, and her body felt as if it were melting against the very flame of creation.

“I want you now,” he murmured, “but let's get home and see this gift.”

Frustrated, Gillian wanted to resist. But she did not mind the idea of being alone with him in his chalet. Here, she feared the Ur'theriems might be listening; in the chalet, she could share her vow in privacy and show Bruce how truly she would honor her words. So she nodded and, retrieving the silver box, took his hand. Together they left the Temple and took the path that led home.

 

Once they were alone in the chalet den, Gillian opened the silver box. Inside was a piece of jewelry: a black leather cord sleeved by golden filigree.

“A choker,” Bruce said. He lifted it from the box and held it up to the sunlight coming through the windows. “Or more precisely, a love slave's collar.”

Gillian blushed and he bade her to pull her hair aside. He strung the choker gingerly over her head and pinned the antique clasp at the back of her neck. The filigree tickled her throat slightly, but she liked the snug, cool feel of it. Bruce lifted her hair and let it fall slowly over her shoulders as he admired the choker.

“Naked and properly collared,” he mused. The lusty smile that came to his lips made Gillian tingle. But she wanted to say something very important and the moment seemed perfect. She sank to her knees on the rug they had made love on before and lowered her cheek over his shoe.

“I am your love slave,” she vowed. “I have loved you before I knew you, such a long time! Now it is unbearable to think that we may be separated. I vow to you, Bruce, that I want no other. I shall never seek any other master of my heart. You are my only love and desire.”

The love shining in Gillian's eyes nearly took Bruce's breath away. She was sincere and intelligent, vibrant and adventurous. All the important things he had ever really sought in a woman. No woman had ever looked at him the way she did now—as if life was nothing without him being there to share it. And he wanted the same. So lovely, body and soul. It humbled him. His gratitude was boundless. The realm of Nemi had given him this second chance.

He cupped her face. “You are everything I want, Gillian. My fidelity is only to you. I will spend the rest of my life loving you, enjoying the sound of your voice and your company. Whatever may come, in this world or any other, I will be your champion, friend, and lover.”

Bruce pulled her up and held her close. The feel of her trembling, desirous mouth was the greatest possession a man could enjoy. He massaged her pussy. Her cleft was damp to the touch and as he treasured the silken heat against his fingers, Gillian moaned and her nipples swelled into hard pink nodules against his chest.

“Oh Master!” She touched his hard cock and moaned again. But Bruce smiled and pulled her hand away.

“No, young lady,” he warned. “You may touch me only with permission.”

Her eyes flew open wildly. “Master, please?”

It was wicked delight to have her so frustrated. He turned her about by the waist and inclined her back against his shoulder. He stroked her clit until her pussy was sticky and her tight ass undulated fitfully against his hip. He loved how her upturned cheeks warmed him and how her deepening moan resonated with animal need.