Submissive (21 page)

His own need was growing dire, too. But he wanted so to see her frustrated a little more. So he led her by the hand to one of the leather-seated stools that stood at the bar.

He pulled it back a ways and said, “Lean across this seat and take hold of the legs. And don't you dare let go until you are permitted.”

Gillian obeyed, all the more anxious because she could not see what he was doing. She felt his hands grasp her ass cheeks; he plumped them a little, and then gave her a hard spank. A pang of heat spiraled through her. His strong fingers cupped over her pussy. He stroked her clit until it beat wildly. Her moans were decadent and she could not keep her hips from moving shamelessly.

“Oh Master, fuck me!”

He did not answer, but continued to torment her until she was breathless. His fingers delved into her pussy a time or two, and then he parted her ass cheeks and, bending over, blew on her little anus. It tickled, but then he probed a finger inside. An intrusive sensation bolted through her. It was strangely pleasurable and intimidating at once.

His voice was husky, “This body belongs to me, doesn't it?”

“Yes, sir,” she crooned.

“Yes, sir, indeed. It pleases me to see you so frustrated, Gillian, to feel you so wet and anxious, and to know that you will know no satisfaction until I give it to you.”

She moaned wantonly as he stepped back. Her flesh seared for more of his touch. She heard him undress, and when she tried to look through the stool legs to catch a glimpse, he made a disapproving sound. At once he laid one hand on the small of her back. With the palm of the other, he spanked her thoroughly. She began to cry, though whether from the pain, humiliation, or from raw need, she could not guess. She held tightly to the stool legs and listened with chagrin to the echo of the crisp spanks against the walls. When at last he seemed satisfied, her buttocks were flaming. But she did not try again to peek and kept her eyes dutifully to the floor.

Moments later she felt the head of his warm, hot cock press against her fount. He grasped her hips and lifted them a bit, then drove into her. He was hard and enormous inside her. He fucked her with strong, fast strokes. She moved her hips as much as possible to meet each slapping thrust. Deeper and deeper he seemed to drive into her. Her pleasure intensified and suddenly she climaxed. The power of it was incredible. And still his cock rocked in and out of her, until at last he came with a low groan.

Gillian's nether lips were still shuddering with sensation as he lifted her up from the stool. His mouth moved down her spine as he went to his knees behind her. He imparted several loving kisses across her thighs and the backs of her knees.

“Gillian,” he said, “you've mastered me entirely.”

She was giddy with happiness. Turning in his arms, she bowed and kissed the top of his head.

“Shall I spank you now, Master?” she teased.

His dark eyes flashed. “I see I still have a lot to teach you about suitable behavior,” he said.

He stood up now and smacked her ass lightly. But he was grinning as they embraced. “I suppose you know that I will enjoy every moment of your education, my dear Disciple of Pleasure?”

“Oh yes,” Gillian sighed. She closed her eyes and inhaled his fragrance until her senses felt close to bursting. “And I plan to enjoy every moment just as much, my Master!”

 

It was early morning when Gillian awakened to the delicious sensation of Bruce's lips grazing her throat. He threw back the bedsheet and suckled her nipples, then, unfolding her thighs, rubbed her pussy until she was, very soon, wantonly wet. He watched the emotions on her face as he tantalized her, smiling in that proud, amused way that made her whole body smolder.

“You're mine, all mine,” he whispered.

Gillian's hips strained toward him, and she touched his cock, finding it hard and ready under her caressing fingers. She whimpered earnestly. “Please, Master,” she begged. “Take me, please…!”

Bruce pulled her fiercely into his embrace and kissed her mouth. “You possess me, slave girl!” he sighed. “Mount me now and ride, but slowly. I want to savor the feel of that pussy bouncing up and down on me.”

Gillian got to her knees and straddled him. His huge organ penetrated deeply, and it was all she could do not to ride fast. Slowly she rode, her body awash with sensation, her soul craving his firm hand with her. But his mouth parted ever so slightly, and his hips lifted so that his cock pierced her to her wanting core. He seized her hips and thrust her up and down rapidly. Gillian cried out, and her body flushed as her sensations coalesced into a violent orgasm. Bruce's hips drove against her shuddering sex, and she felt his own climax deep inside her.

Breathless, Gillian gazed down at him in repose. Triumphant. Her heart panged and she swept down to deliver a dozen fevered kisses to his lips. He growled low and pulled her down upon the mattress again. With his fingers he touched her slick pussy and caressed her throbbing clit.

“Oh, Master,” Gillian moaned.

He kissed her tenderly now. “I love you so much, Gillian.”

“I love you, too,” she said. “More than anyone can ever know.”

They snuggled together in the love-dewed sheets, until the first rays of dawn shone through the bedroom windows. Bruce eventually went back to sleep with his face pressed against Gillian's breasts. For a long time she combed her fingers through his short dark hair. But at length she felt a hunger pang and thought she'd go to the kitchen for something to eat.

Kissing his forehead, she slid softly out of bed and found one of his plain white guard's shirts laid across a chair nearby. She slipped this on and touched the collar at her throat. Exquisite it was, a black leather cord sheathed by golden filigree—an honored gift from Madam when a few nights past she and Bruce had avowed their love in the Temple of Purity. Gillian thrilled to remember those sacred moments. Smiling, she silently thanked the Creator for her fortune and padded out of the bedroom and made her way through the chalet den and into the kitchen.

Doughnuts. The other thing she craved. There were several stacked on a plate and covered with a glass dome. Gillian removed the dome and, taking a doughnut, ate it quickly. She was amused at her hunger, which was more ravenous than usual.

“He sure knows how to give a girl an appetite,” she said aloud.

She was sleepy still as she took out a second doughnut and went to stand by the tall narrow window. The view overlooked a fountain pool here in the guards' compound. The water was placid, the surface shimmering with the tangerine and purple reflections of dawn's first light. Gillian nibbled on the doughnut as she gazed at the water and contemplated her present situation. How very fortunate she felt—and how very loved. Gillian had been brought to Nemi by an angel of delight to be a Disciple of Pleasure; and in the end, had found it in the man she'd thought had abandoned her on Earth. Nemi had given her and Bruce a second chance to own up to the mutual desires they'd always hidden, even from each other.

In the end, Bruce had measured up to everything Gillian had hoped for, and more. She was Bruce's personal love slave, and he her beloved master.

Gillian finished the last bite of doughnut and yawned. She was ready to return to bed, and her drowsy mind filled with fantasies about Bruce. She returned the glass dome to the tray and just as she started to go out the kitchen, a movement of light from the window caught her attention.

It seemed that the sky had changed drastically. Curiously, Gillian stepped to the window. Indeed, the sky was different from what she could see, the beautiful prisms of morning muted and the clouds covered over by what appeared to her eyes as heavy yellow smoke that descended over the fountain outside. The water in the pool whipped haphazardly. Whirls of smoke curled over the outside of the pane. Uneasy, Gillian backed away, and then she saw something manifest on the inside: what appeared to be a moist circle cut into the glass. Curls of smoke infiltrated the design and entered the house. It reeked of sulphur, this smoke, and at once Gillian felt a sense of terrible dread at the smell of it.

“Sir Bruce!” she called. As the tendrils of smoke moved toward her face, she felt whipped by them. At once she was afraid, and she tried to run to the door, but her body was overcome by the need to sleep. She felt herself slumping against the wall, and knew she was sinking but there was nothing she could do to stop it. She heard the shattering of glass, and the next moment it seemed the entire tawny sky whipped through the window. Gillian was blinded by a sulfurous haze. She tried to scream, but the sound was soft as a lullaby in her ears. “Sir Bruce!”

Gillian could not see, not even squinting, and the smoke took substance all about her. It gripped her hands, and though she tried to knock it off, it clung all the more. Her nostrils smarted from the smell, but when she coughed, it receded and a perfume like wilting flowers filled her senses.

A voice, raspy and paper-thin, croaked nearby, “Disciple!”

The startled cry that came to her mouth was silenced by an unfamiliar mouth. Its leathered lips pressed into her own, burning them like live coals and filling her throat with a flavor of rotten eggs just beneath the taste of perfume.

She struggled against the force, and as she flailed at this thing, felt substance and shape in the haze. Limbs, torso, a long, muscular back, all encased in leathered skin.

As the arid mouth began to sweep down to her neck, invisible knees forced her thighs apart. She felt large hands open her vulva. Terrified, she screamed and beat against whatever hallucination or dream had taken possession of her. At once, its unseen hands grabbed her arms and pressed them to her sides. The mouth swooped over her left breast and sucked the whole of it into its hollows. A great cock crushed into her vagina, wounding the delicate inside flesh with its sharp, scalding head.

Screaming again, she rocked left and right in the effort to break the hold of the evil hallucination. A spare laugh emitted from the vaporous throat.

“There is no escape, Disciple.”

And as the mouth sucked her next breath, the invisible cock hammered into her.

“No!”

Gillian heard Bruce call her name, and then his footfalls rushing toward the kitchen. The nightmare entity stilled and growled low in its throat. Gillian was able to glance to the door and tried again to shriek. The hateful mouth descended over hers again. It inhaled her breath rapidly, and the haze thickened so she could see nothing but a yellow mist.

Just before she lost consciousness, she heard Bruce run in. But his anxious voice sounded miles away, and his features seemed to dissolve before her eyes. Gillian tried to grasp his hands, but she seemed to be tumbling away from him. Into an oblivion of darkness she tumbled further, into a sleep without dream or desire or even fear.

 

Bruce still couldn't believe what was going on; Gillian was gone, obviously taken by someone. The kitchen had been filled with a yellow mist when he'd come in answer to Gillian's cry. This mist and the shards of broken glass from the window were all he'd found. At once he'd ran outside the house and called on the aid of other guards. As they had searched he had checked the chalet. But neither he nor the others found her, or any trace of who had taken her. Bruce and his neighbor, Sir Wes, had then gone to Madam's household and told the Dommes there what had happened, or what seemed to have happened.

Bruce wasn't accustomed to the feeling of desperation, and it made him surly. If Madam or the Dommes or other guards noticed, however, they didn't comment; their concern, of course, was to find Gillian. Madam's first task was to send the Dommes and guards on a search of the household and its grounds, the woods beyond, and even the Temple of Purity. When neither Gillian nor any evidence of her recently having been in these places were found, Madam withdrew to her chambers to call Xaqriel for a private conference, returning with a frustrated look in her exotic eyes. Nevertheless, she spoke with the same calm and resolution as always as she summoned her private men to bring the Warden to the household. Bruce suspected him already, and when the man arrived his genteel bearing could not hide his lingering resentment toward Bruce. But as Madam questioned the Warden it was evident to Bruce that he was just as stunned as everyone else. He claimed to know nothing about what had happened to the Disciple he was so enamored of.

Bruce asked Madam to send her men to inspect his own quarters. He joined in on the search, but nothing suspect turned up. Sir Peter, Madam's majordomo, then led the search party on an inspection of the prison. The guards here helped in the search, but by late afternoon it was apparent Gillian was not anywhere in the building or on the grounds, and Sir Peter returned with discouraging news. Madam's next course of action was the ordering of a scouting party to go to the residents' village. Sir Wes volunteered to lead this quest, but the village lay some miles from the household, and Bruce knew it would take many hours before any news from there was heard.

Bruce was pacing the household grounds when the first shadow of evening darkened the sky. Domme Camille joined him and suggested he go get something to eat in the kitchen. He could not think of eating, though he did accept the pack of cigarettes and lighter she'd brought.