Wild Submission (6 page)

She’s taken off her clothes, but she’s not
naked yet. She’s wearing lingerie and a pale pink silk slip.
Gorgeous. Her full breasts swell under their lacey cages, her
rounded ass inviting my cock.

I close the door and turn the lock. She
jolts, breathless at the sound.

“Each time you defy my command, you will be
punished,” I tell her sternly, pacing closer. “There’s no room for
fear or disobedience in this relationship. Follow the rules, and
I’ll reward you. Break them, and suffer the consequences. Do you
understand?”

“Yes, Cam,” Isabelle whispers. One sharp
look at her and she immediately corrects herself. “I mean, yes,
Master.”

“Very good. Now, because you have been
childish, I’m going to have to punish you like a child.”

I can see the anticipation on her face, the
nervous mix of excitement and fear. I remind myself that she’s an
innocent: she’s never had someone teach her like this before. Her
only experience with pain was when Brent flogged her at the club,
and that has nothing to do with her needs.

I need to show her the pleasure that can
walk hand in hand with pain; introduce her to the delicious sting
of sensation that only heightens her pleasure.

And remind her who’s boss.

I order her firmly. “Crawl to the bench and
lift up your skirt.”

Isabelle quickly complies, hiking her slip
up over her hips and exposing her creamy buttocks, divided by a
lacy thong.

God, she’s a fucking goddess, every Dom’s
fantasy brought to life. Innocent and stubborn, her body crying out
for my hand.

I stroll over to the carved wooden rack
where I keep my tools. I feel Isabelle’s eyes burning with
curiosity as I stroke along their handles. “What should we use
today?” I muse, knowing the delay will only add to her heightened
state of anticipation. “A flogger? My riding crop? A whip?”

I hear her gasp in shock. I hide my smile. I
would never break in a new sub by going straight for the extreme
tools, but a little fear is healthy to teach her some respect.

“Or maybe not.” I put the toys down and turn
back to her. “I don’t need any extra help to punish you. I’m more
than capable of making you beg with just my own hands.”

Her pupils flare. She wets her lips,
nervous, and the gesture goes straight to my cock. Damn. I want to
own that mouth so badly, thrust into her wet, empty mouth until my
cum is spurting hot down her throat.

Soon.

I stride back to the bench and lean over
her, running one hand through her silky hair and down over her
back. I rest it gently on the swell of her ass.

“Take hold of the bench,” I instruct her.
“And under no circumstances are you to let go.”

She gulps, grabbing on to the
specially-designed handles that extend down by the ground. Her
thighs part, revealing the scrap of pink lace covering her mound.
Now her body is braced and open to me.

I spank her hard and without warning.

Isabelle shrieks, jolting forward against
the bench. Before she can recover, I spank her again, a series of
short, sharp blows. She yelps every time my hand makes impact with
the smooth skin of her ass, but I’m careful to vary where each slap
falls, never hitting the same spot twice as I continue,
relentless.

Two. Three. Four.

I can feel her body bracing against impact
now, feel the tremble in her limbs.

“Please,” she gasps. “Cam!”

Five. Six. Seven.

She lets go of the bench and tries to
scramble away. “No. Stay.” I fist her hair in one hand, yanking her
back in place as I let the final blows rain down with perfect
accuracy.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

I stop.

Isabelle collapses forwards, sobbing on the
bench. I let her weep.

She’s not crying from the pain, just the
shock of it. I was careful: I never apply more pressure than
absolutely necessary, and although her ass is mottled red now from
the impact of my hand, the marks will fade soon.

The lesson won’t.

I see every handprint like a victory mark.
Power courses through me like a drug, but I don’t pause to savor
it. She’s felt the pain of disobedience, only now she can learn the
pleasure of submission.

“Good girl,” I murmur softly. I gently
caress her back and ass, smoothing softly where I just struck hard.
My fingertips whisper over her skin, soothing. “You’ve been such a
good girl.”

Isabelle swallows back her tears. She lifts
her face to me. “That hurt!”

I smirk. “It was supposed to.”

She clenches her jaw stubbornly. “So, was
that it? My punishment?”

I stroke again, this time delving deeper
between her thighs. Isabelle catches her breath. I tease over the
damp silk there, nudging gently.

“What do you think?”

Isabelle pushes back against my hand. “That
feels good,” she whispers.

“That’s because your body is in a heightened
state of awareness,” I explain to her, stroking and smoothing,
delving back to that wet pool of tension. “The pain shocks your
nerve system wide awake, and makes every pleasurable touch feel
that much sweeter.”

I nudge the silk aside, and skim my
fingertip into her slick heat.

Fuck, she’s so wet.

Isabelle lets out a moan. “Please,” she
gasps, clenching around my finger.

“Please what?” I ask, pulling back. I lift
my finger to my lips and slowly lick it clean.

My cock swells, achingly hard. God, this is
so much better than I imagined. Hearing her beg for me. Seeing the
marks of victory branded on her flesh. Tasting her sweetness.

“More.” She wriggles her ass back, wanting
me to touch her again.

“More pleasure, or more pain?” I counter.
“You can’t have one without the other.”

There’s silence. I can feel the indecision
in her body, the tension as she weighs my offer.

“More.” She says it again, and this time,
there’s a note of raw need in her voice. “Please, Master. Whatever
you want.”

She’s learning so fast.

I lean closer and murmur in her ear. “Let
go, my sweet. I want to hear you scream for me. I want to hear you
beg.”

I unleash another set of blows on that
tender ass, and this time, I make them count. Sharp, hard, fast.
Isabelle cries out with every slap, but I can hear her voice
thicken with desire, until she’s gasping, lost in the frenzy of
sensation.

“Cam!” she cries, gripping the bench
tightly. “Oh God, please! Please!”

Her body jolts with impact, her flesh
trembling. With no warning, I suddenly exchange hard for soft,
brutal for sensuous: smoothing over the reddened skin and down
between her thighs to stroke her swollen clit.

Her yelps turn to moans. She thrusts back,
eager against my hand.

“There,” Isabelle gasps, as I circle the
tender nub. “Oh god!”

I feel her body clench with pleasure. She
spreads her thighs further apart, offering me more of her luscious
cunt, grinding on my hand.

Fuck, it’s hot. Every one of her whimpers
fuelling my fire. It’s powerful.

I yank her head back and spank her again,
hard. The moans don’t stop, she’s still hurtling to the edge.

“Say my name,” I growl.

“Cam!” she cries.

“Wrong.” I spank her again and she shrieks
at the impact. “Again!”

“Master!” she screams instead.

“Yes. Louder.”

“Master!” Isabelle cries, coming undone
under my expert hands. The stubborn, headstrong woman is nowhere to
be seen. This girl beneath me is pure need and gasping desire. She
whimpers at my touch, bucking eagerly, taking every blow with new
excitement. “Oh please, yes, yes! I’m close!”

My head is spinning, my cock so hard I can
barely think straight. Fuck, she’s magnificent, begging for more. I
can see the slick wetness of her arousal, feel how close her body
is to the edge. I could shove those thighs apart and slam inside
her with a single stroke, feel her convulse around my cock as I
blow my load into that damp relentless heat.

I could lose control, and love every second
of it.

“No.”

I snatch away from her, leaving her gasping
for breath. I circle to the head of the bench, and place thumb and
forefinger under her chin, forcing her to lift her head. Her eyes
are wild, her body shaking.

“This is your punishment,” I tell her
grimly. “You don’t get to come until I say so. Until you’ve earned
it with your submission, and learned that I’m the one calling the
shots.”

Isabelle gapes at me. “Please, Cam—”

“Pull up your panties,” I order her. “Clean
yourself up. And don’t even think about touching yourself,” I add
sternly. “Your release is mine, and mine alone. Do you
understand?”

She gulps, but nods. There, that’s an
improvement.

“See you at dinner,” I smirk, and walk out
of the room—before she can realize just how far she pushed me, how
close I came to losing control.

She’s not the only one who needs a lesson. I
need to get it together if I have any hope of making this work.

What the hell just happened?

My head spins as I slowly sit up and tug my
slip down. My body feels like a live wire of sensations: the sharp
sting on my ass, and the hot desire burning between my thighs.

What did he do to me?

I take a shaking breath, trying to pull
myself together. I’ve never been so aware of my body—or so
desperate for release. I feel exposed, left alone in this playroom
while Cam goes and does who knows what.

I slowly get up, my legs weak, and head
downstairs to my bedroom, closing the door behind me and collapsing
down on the soft king bed.

God, that was incredible.

I can’t believe Cam bent me over and spanked
me like an errant child. And I can’t believe how much I liked it.
My body feels hyper-aroused, and I stretch out on the bed to cool
down.

My clit throbs, needing Cam’s touch. His
fingers, his tongue. I’m still so close…

My hands slide lower, remembering the shock
of impact as he spanked me—and how the discomfort quickly melted
into something more. A heady mix of pleasure and pain like nothing
I’ve ever felt before.

Once my initial shock faded, I was surprised
to find just how sensual the whole thing was. Cam is clearly an
expert, and although the spanking hurt like hell in the moment, the
pain quickly faded under his masterful hands.

I stroke over my belly and down between my
thighs. I know he told me not to touch myself, but he wouldn’t ever
know.

Right?

Still, something makes me stop. I want to
obey him. I want to please him. I want to trust that he knows what
he’s doing with me.

I roll over and groan into the pillows. I’m
still frustrated as hell, so I go jump in the shower and let the
cold water soothe my throbbing body.

It was tough up there for me. He ordered me
to let go and trust him, but that isn’t easy for me. I’ve spent my
life trying to keep control—and one amazing evening bent over a
bench won’t change that.

However much I want it to.

I quickly dry off, thoughts whirling in my
mind. I’d never admit it to anyone, but already there’s something
in me that’s eager for Cam’s approval. I don’t know what that makes
me, but I want to please him. To hear him murmur, “Good girl,” and
reward me for my obedience. I don’t understand it, but it’s what I
want.

If this is his game, it’s working.

* * *

I dress in some jeans and a silk T-shirt,
and head downstairs. My stomach is already growling, and I can
smell the tempting scent of garlic and orange sauce wafting from
the kitchen.

Cam is unpacking takeout boxes on the table.
“Have you been to the Imperial Garden over on 74th?” he asks
casually. “The shrimp dumplings are killer.” He opens another box
like nothing’s happened. “Grab a plate and help yourself. There’s
plenty.”

I pause. I already broke my diet with that
cupcake at Olivia’s, and the rich sauce on the noodles must have
about a million calories.

“Is there any salad?” I ask, peeking in the
containers in search of something that won’t take three hours on
the treadmill to work off. I come up empty. “It’s OK, Chinese food
isn’t really my thing,” I lie.

Cam gives me a sharp look. “All you do is
eat salad and push food around your plate. Eat a proper dinner for
once. You’ll need the energy,” he adds with a grin.

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, you are,” Cam insists. He fills a
plate with noodles, dumplings, and garlic chicken, then points to a
chair at the table. “Sit. Eat.”

“Is that an order?” I shoot back, my temper
flaring.

“Yes.”

I gape. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Are you questioning me?” Cam’s gaze turns
steely.

Suddenly, I feel exhausted. Too tired to go
six rounds over a plate of takeout. “Just give me a break, OK? Not
everything has to be a fight.”

“I’m not doing this to pick a fight.” Cam’s
tone softens. “It’s my job to take care of you—even when you don’t
want to take care of yourself.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Is he for
real?

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing
with my life?” I demand, my voice rising angrily. “Hours at the gym
every day, counting every last calorie. Blowouts every week,
highlights every month. I do nothing but take care of this body,
and make sure it’s perfect every single second of every fucking
day!”

Cam blinks, speechless for a moment.

I sink down into a chair. “I take care of
myself,” I repeat grimly.

“No, you don’t.” Cam finally speaks. He
gives me a sympathetic look. “You take care of what other people
want from you. Maybe you don’t need to work so hard,” he adds.
“You’d probably be a lot happier if you gave it all up.”

“Wow,” I roll my eyes. “You really don’t get
it, do you? You wouldn’t think I was still so sexy if I started
porking out on Chinese food all the time and totally let myself
go.”