Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission Read online

  “What are you laughing at, girl?” He tickles my side. “What’s so funny?”

  I squirm, wriggle with delight. I feel like a happy little soul. My lover’s fingers are like fireworks. I crackle and sparkle when he touches me. The room glows bright with color.

  “Silly little thing.” He suddenly throws down his belt. He uses his hand instead. Sir’s blows are hard and solid on my bottom. My breathing slows as I suck in big gulps of air. This is the second stage of my arousal. All the noise in my throat stops as I absorb the feel of his hand.

  “You still with me?” he asks, bending his head to look at me. I nod, unable to speak. My voice escaped me a little while ago. My mind moves back in time to a place where everything was warm and snug; sensation was all I knew. My body follows with every breath I take. The secret of time travel is simply my lover’s hand on my skin. Each impact of flesh against flesh pulls me into a sparkling vortex. Adventure lies beyond a curtain of pain.

  I finish chopping vegetables for the stew. Lola covers the speckled bread dough, puts it in a warm place to rise. She pulls me up to her bedroom. “Come help me pick out a dress for tonight.”

  Lola’s wardrobe is like an archive. She never throws anything away. Fashion has a habit of repeating itself every so often, so she always manages to look good. My friend strips down to her bra and knickers. We pick four possible dresses out of a bulging closet.

  “Say you’ll come with me tonight, Jennifer.”

  “I’m busy.” I hold up a purple lace dress.

  Lola scowls. “It’s not healthy, honey. You’re a grown woman, and you spend all your time subjugating yourself to this man. It’s as if feminism never happened for you.”

  “Don’t start on me.”

  “I mean how ancient is that guy you’re seeing?”

  “I’m actually a few years older than he is.” Sir may be young in years, but he is very mature. It’s not an act when we are together. Time travel goes in two directions for us. Where I regress, become little and sweet, my lover grows stern and domineering like nobody’s business.

  Lola pulls on the lace dress. “This might do. I’ve got a hat that will be killer with this.” She turns this way and that, admiring herself in the long mirror fixed to the wardrobe door. But then I see something else reflected. Tommy creeps into the room. He is still stark naked. He pounces on Lola. They both topple to the bed. Lola laughs at the top of her lungs as he holds her down. I am trapped, unable to make a getaway. I don’t want to see this. I squeeze my eyes shut, cover my ears. Behind the red-black of my eyelids I see myself as a child, cowering, trying to hide as my babysitter forced me to watch a porn film. I could not escape. I could not look away. This is an occasion when time travel is unexpected, totally undesired. I don’t always want to journey to the past. It isn’t all sunshine and roses back there.

  Sir directs me to kneel. I feel positively tiny as he sits on a chair. His fingers go to his fly. I listen to the metallic rasp as the zipper slides down. I feel heavy. I feel solid and real. Sir’s cock is pinker than the rest of him. It is smooth and hard as he rubs it against my face. My lips stretch around the salt-sticky tip. Everything goes out of focus as I move my mouth down, down, as far as I can go. I feel the murmur Sir makes as he relaxes inside me. I raise my head a little and watch, entranced, as my saliva shimmers in the light. Sir holds my head, pushes me back down very gently. I go the rest of the way on my own. My hand strokes over his thighs. I feel the texture of his fine linen trousers. This is the third way I respond. Words don’t exist, vision is meaningless. All that is left is taste and touch and sound. It’s as far back as I can go before I disappear into nothingness. My lover’s cock bumps against the back of my throat. His curly pubic hair brushes against my nose. It is the only part of him that is even remotely soft. It feels good that I am able to feel it. I want to swallow him whole. I want to keep him inside me, deep down where he can never leave. My nipples hurt with a good hurt. One of my hands leaves his thighs so I can pinch and play with myself. Sir makes a sighing noise. His cock gets even harder against my tongue.

  “Good girl,” he says. “You’re my good girl.”

  I feel his words instead of hearing them. It is everything I need. The resonance of his voice circles my labia. My clitoris pulses hard. It is enough to make me come. Sir grips my head with his wide, gentle hands. He jerks against me, spurting inside my mouth. Everything bitter tastes wonderful to me. I drink him down, keep him inside me for as long as I can. I rest my head against his knee. There is no question that I love him.

  Tommy pulls the dress right off Lola’s back, ripping the fabric as he moves. I’m frozen in place as he straddles her. My feet refuse to move. I can hardly breathe. Tommy holds his cock, looks over at me with a smirk, and then he shoves inside her. I feel sick. I want to run, but the door seems miles away. Finally my feet move, one slow footstep after the other. Soon I am through the open door. I race to the bathroom, clutching my pocket watch to my chest, but it clatters to the floor. I tumble inside the cold room, gasping. I go to shut the door but a hand stops me.

  Tommy calls out. “Are you okay, Jennifer?”

  My hand falters on the doorknob. Part of me wants to slam the door shut on his fingers, but I can’t do it. The moment’s hesitation is all it takes for the naked man to widen the gap and squeeze inside the bathroom with me.

  “Please put some clothes on.” I turn to face the windows.

  I feel a wave of heat as Tommy moves closer. I can smell my friend’s scent on his skin. He was inside her not two minutes ago.

  “Being naked shouldn’t scare you,” Tommy says as if he’s speaking to a simpleton. “And when you’ve got what I’ve got, why should I keep it to myself?”

  I turn to face him, incredulous. “Get out.”

  Tommy tilts his head. “You’re not shy, are you?” He gestures over his shoulder. “Lola’s not. In fact, she’s quite adventurous. We both want you to come to bed.”

  My eyes dart to the door. “I don’t believe you.”

  Tommy snorts. “Who do you think sent me to fetch you?” He moves even closer. “She set the whole thing up, cross my heart and hope to die.” He grins at me, showing sharp teeth. “Stick a needle in my eye.”

  I back against the washbasin. My fingers touch the porcelain but then they curl around something cold, hard and pointed. A pair of scissors is in my grip before I know it. I hold it up, aware of how my hand shakes.

  Tommy smirks at me. “You ain’t got the nerve. Lola told me how you like to get off playing the innocent little girl.” He leans forward. His breath touches me as a chill. I try not to shiver, but I’m frozen with fear. “You just want a real man to take control, don’t you?”

  I angle the scissors so it points directly at his cock. Tommy swallows, and then he backs out of the room without another word. After a few minutes I creep outside. I spot the glint of my pocket watch on the hallway floor. I almost cry with relief as I pick it up. I storm out of the house, slamming the door behind me. I’m an innocent little girl for Sir alone. Everyone else can fuck right off.

  This is how it always ends. Sir wipes my face with a big white hanky. He pours me a glass of orange juice. Things come back into focus once the sugar hits my system. My lover holds me as I cry a little. I’m never sad at what we do; I’m crying because I can. I’m crying because it is safe to be small with him.

  Time deposits me back to the present day. I am a weary, happy traveler. Sir digs out an ancient videotape of cartoons when I am able to sit up on my own. We sit cross-legged on the floor; share a bowl of popcorn, half sweet, half salty. We both laugh at the silly antics onscreen. I check my pocket watch after a while. I will the seconds to halt, but it doesn’t work for me. I know it is time to leave.

  “Next Saturday?” Sir asks as I pull on my coat.

  “Sounds good.”

  My lover kisses me on the cheek. “Who’s my sweetie?”

  “I am,” I say with a smile. “I love you.”


  I step into my heels, feeling a little strange at my sudden elevation. I walk outside and hail a cab. I journey home across London, checking my email on my futuristic phone. I eat dinner, and then do a little research for Mister Munroe’s remaining debts. I am totally grown up and responsible. I am an adult. But for Sir, the hands of the clock go back at his command. I am forever his good little girl.

  BARED

  Gray Miller

  It is dark. There is no subtle mood lighting, no moonlight, no sharp diagonal streetlight cast on the wall through a slitted shade. It is black in the bedroom, the bed and chair and dresser hidden. Even the usual contrast of their skin—her rich chocolate against his pale cream—remains unseen. Everything is by touch, by sound and by breath, catching, hissing, grunting as they move together.

  Foreplay is not the stroking of gentle fingers along the back, or the kiss of soft lips against neck. Foreplay is the rough dishevelment of clothing almost ripped off, of teeth bared and muscles flexed in the violent pursuit of pleasure. Tonight is rope and sweat, strong hands pulling her body this way and that, twisting her arms behind and tightly strapping her forearms together. Her chest thrusts forward, naked tits swollen and heavy from his hard grasp, nipples taut with longing. He surrounds them with rope, over and under, fingers pinching as they pass over the points, her moans adding a soft melody to the rhythm of their bodies moving with and against each other. Other nights he suckles her breasts almost reverently. This night he feasts on them, drawing as much into his mouth as he can, then pulling back, thickening nipple captured between soft tongue and hard teeth. He bites hard, harder, more than most could take, but she is feral and a growl rises from deep in her throat. It escalates into a throaty cry as her head flies back, teeth flashing as she drinks in the dark joy of the pain made pleasure. This is love, yes, but this is not sweet. They are reaching for the animal, the deep, the primal, extracting the pleasure with violent struggle.

  Strong fingers pull at her waistband, ripping the delicate lace from her hips. He slides them across the slick wetness of her hot and swollen cunt. Two fingers plunge deep with a come-hither motion again and again, causing her hips to buck with longing, sharp breath gasping out a low murmuring, “Yes…” He echoes the word back, intoxicated by the feeling of her strong body under his hands, his mouth. She pushes up, harder, until it seems it is his hand that is captured, enveloped over and over, by the driving urgency of her cunt. His cock presses against her leg as he fingers her, thumb pressing her mons as her hips piston up against the web of his hand. He begins slow circles around her clit, fingers pressing harder, up and forward, up and forward. She rewards him with an “Oh…oh…oh…” song like a triumphant melody of conquest, her body capturing pleasure from him even within the ropes.

  Then his hand is gone, and the triumph becomes a frustrated whimper at the loss. He reaches up, hand still slick with juices, twisting his fingers in the soft, tiny tangles of her hair, pulling face down to cock, to take her mouth. But she is hungry for this, too, drawing him in, sucking and licking. She lets his cock pop out of her mouth for a moment and twists her head down, laving his balls, and now it is his mouth that opens, a wordless “Ahhhh…” escaping into the darkness at the sweet sensation.

  His hand tightens again and he fucks her mouth hard, gagging her, taking her breath, but with every movement she pushes him, wanting more. She is devouring him, ignoring the reflexive rejection of her throat, pushing him deeper, thrusting, swallowing him down.

  Feeling his orgasm already building, he roughly pushes her aside, letting her slump to the floor, hearing her chuckle. She knows how close she got him, and his come is a coup she longs to count. She can’t see his face, but she knows he is grinning as fiercely as she as he grabs another rope and folds her leg in, pushing it double with the weight of his body. For a moment his hand lingers on the taut flexion of muscled ass that is exposed, fingers stroking a prelude to the ultimate goal. Then the rope winds tight across her thigh and shin, bound back again and again. This is not pretty decoration; this is rope for rough pleasure, cinched tight with sure fingers that leave her tightly bound in the dark.

  Another rope, another leg, this one tied as he crouches over her head, pressing his balls into her eager and welcoming mouth. She is bound but far from meek, and her powerful lust manifests in the furious stroke and suck of tongue and lips, drawing his balls full into her mouth, her tongue twisting circles round them.

  Legs bound, he grabs the ropes on her arms, roughly pulling her to a kneeling position. She hisses as her body adjusts to the unfamiliar tension, baring her teeth in delightful and furious effort. The ropes twist and hold her body bent at the waist, and he lifts his cock again to her lips, reveling in the power of his grip in the soft crinkle of her hair matched by the driving intensity of her mouth as she goes down.

  He pulls her up, kissing her violently, loving the taste of himself on her full lips, feeling the hot panting want of her breath close, their growls mingling as teeth nip at each other. He swivels on his knees around her body, a smooth predatory movement. She can feel his cock pressing along her cleft; the shaft feels perfect along the slick crevice. Instinctively, she pushes back against him, and his violent thrusting response burns her knees a few inches forward across the bedroom carpet.

  She’ll have those burns for weeks to come, matching his, but right now there is only the sweet impact of their bodies, feeling so good they both want more, harder, now. He thrusts again, pulling on her hair, her cry a sweet harmony of pain and desire and need. They are near the chair now, a barely seen outline in the dark, and with another sharp pull and thrust she is pressed against the seat, the edge digging into her upper chest with unyielding pressure that will leave her sore for days.

  Not now, though. Now her mind and his are in this moment, filled with the urgencies of flesh and sex. He lets go of her hair, and she lays her head down on the soft cotton cushion. If there had been light, the expression of sweet contentment on her face might have baffled an observer. There is no witness but him, though, and his focus is elsewhere.

  Her ass. Bound in this way, arms pulled hard behind her, legs buckled, he can lift her hips so she perches on her knees, presenting her taut, round cheeks in perfect and total accessibility. For the first time since the light left the room, he pauses, letting his fingertips run across her skin in the dark before rolling the condom down the solid length of his cock. She hums happily, giving a little wiggle of her hips in appreciation and anticipation. His hands grab her hips, bodies slick with sweat and spit and the slick juices of the battle of lust and will. There is a guttural sound coming from his chest as he drives his cock into her ass. There is no surrender here, no softness; while one is bound and one is naked, one thrusting and one penetrated, they are equal opponents and collaborators, his temporary advantage quickly met by the eager press of her asscheeks up to meet every slam of his hips.

  This is primitive sex, and both of them move beyond thought, beyond even sensation, filled with the solid impact of their bodies moving together as he fucks her and she fucks him and it no longer matters, both of them taken by the simple urgency of pleasure taken from each other.

  That is the moment. At some point they will come, or not. At some point they will clean up, open the window, drift into softer sleep with flaccid cock resting comfortably against the soft cotton of her panties. In some future, they will refer to this night again and her eyes will look up and to the left, remembering, and her smile at that moment will be the thing that he thinks of when he thinks of how much he loves her.

  But that is later. More powerful than any of it is the moment, that one point held forever beyond the decay of memory. The moment of thrusting sweat, tight ropes and rough sex, stopping time and shrinking the world to two feral bodies, teeth bared in the dark.

  IN HIS CONTROL

  Jade Melisande

  Juliette knelt at the feet of her lover, her head in his lap, her breathing finally beginning to slow. She curled her spine into t
he caress of his hand, enjoying the feel of his fingers lightly tracing the various welts, tender spots and already-forming bruises he found there.

  “You did well today, Juli,” he said, his voice as much a welcomed caress as his hand had been.

  She smiled softly against his thigh. “Thank you, Sir.” Pushing herself to go farther, to dig deeper into those physical places where fear and pain and euphoria collided and, eventually, intertwined, was a large part of the joy she experienced in what they did. And she had pushed herself hard today, hearing her safeword in her head over and over, but never uttering it. It was a personal challenge, one that she found profoundly satisfying. And she knew that he enjoyed taking her there as well, enjoyed knowing that she found such deep satisfaction in the physical side of what they did.

  Besides, it made them both hot as hell.

  He took her under the arms and lifted her compliant form up into his lap, where he cradled her for a moment before sitting her next to him on the couch. Sometimes their BDSM play culminated in sex, the kind that nearly tore them apart from the inside out with its intensity, sometimes it ended with her in a puddle on his lap. Cupping one hand under her chin, he looked into her eyes. “You did well,” he said again, and stroked her cheek. “But I want more.”

  She blinked. She was exhausted. “More? I’m…I’m pretty well done in, Ian,” she said uncertainly.

  He shook his head. “I’m not talking about what we just did,” he said. “I’m talking about in general. In our relationship.” She tensed, and he paused for a moment, then continued when she stayed silent. “I’ve always wanted more, Juli. You know that. I want more than just your body. I want this.” He tapped her lightly on the temple.