Submissive (15 page)

“Come in, ladies,” she welcomed and closed the door behind them.

The room was spacious, perfumed with the countless flowers and flaming, scented candles set throughout. The reflections of these candles illuminated the polished, dark grain of the floorboards. Through the large windows, Gillian saw the garden area where she had been forced to nurse the feeding bottle. She looked away bashfully, to the great bed, canopied with black veils and its posts garlanded with crimson roses that had been planted in niches cradled on the outside of the bed's wide spindle legs. Beside the bed was a table covered with gold cloth. Items of discipline and pleasure were set here: bottles of oils, feathers and dildos, masks and gags of all sizes. Several crops lay there, too, and the paddle Madam usually carried, as well as a lengthy switch.

She trembled as Domme Camille pressed her shoulders and spoke low, “Always on your knees when you enter here, Disciple.”

Gillian descended quickly, having to stifle the moan that rose to her throat. Madam looked down at her thoughtfully, her face unreadable as she turned and took a seat in a blue overstuffed chair. She raised her feet to the matching ottoman and snapped her fingers over the arm of the chair.

“Come over here, Gillian.”

Without either of the women saying so, Gillian understood that she was expected to crawl. Blushing hotly, she did so, stopping right at Madam's draped hand. As she lowered her face, a strange, engulfing and almost luxurious sense of resignation swept over her.

Madam made a sensual sound and stroked the back of Gillian's neck. Her fingers launched a bolt of cool electricity down Gillian's spine.

“You are fully a Disciple now, Gillian,” she said. “I welcome you and am honored to call you mine.”

Gillian's eyes raised and she caught Madam's sincere smile. Her bearing was as forbidding as ever; and this, Gillian knew, evidenced her sincerity more than any coddling welcome ever could. She knew now, too, that she would not change the lady's strict affections even if she could. Impelled by emotion, Gillian lifted her face and kissed Madam's hand.

This Nemian proprietress had welcomed her for exactly what she was.

“I love you, Madam,” she whispered.

Madam inhaled gracefully and bent forward. She kissed Gillian's brow and hugged her face to her breasts.

“And I love you, my sweet.” Gillian watched as she looked up to Domme Camille. “You were right, Camille. Most of these young women are grateful.”

Domme Camille's face brightened so that the unspoken darkness that had weighted her manner now vanished.

Madam smiled and sat back again.

“Of course, my sweet, you know I have been informed of your liaison at the prison.”

Gillian nodded humbly, but she was now more remorseful than frightened.

“This incident caught poor Camille at a bad time, because of another situation, involving two of her sister Leather Wives. Otherwise, I assure that she would have doled out a suitable punishment straightaway. But here you are now, to answer to both of us.”

The sense of impending doom descended over Gillian again, but she did not even think to plead her cause this time. She had been disobedient and she knew it.

“Camille, go fetch my crop.”

Gillian's heartbeat pulsed in her temples as Domme Camille stepped to the table beside the bed. At her return, Madam sat up straight in her chair and slid the skirt of her lovely silk gown up over her thighs.

She pointed to the ottoman and said, “Up there, Gillian, belly down.”

As Gillian crawled up over the ottoman, Madam told her to keep her legs spread open. Holding Gillian's head between her hands, she directed Gillian's lips between her thighs so that they touched the nest of brown curls at her pubis.

“You will show your devotion to me now, my girl,” she commanded sternly, “while Domme Camille punishes you. And if I determine your efforts are flagging, you shall spend the night bound to the Rapture Pillar, after the Warden is brought here and you suck his cock while wearing the dunce's cap!”

She knows I was with him!
Gillian blushed so hard that her eyes filled with stinging tears.

Madam trailed a fingernail up the nape of her neck. Shyly, Gillian opened the folds of the older woman's musky sex and kissed her clit just as the first strike of the crop bore down across her backside. She shuddered and the crop swooped down again, scoring her flesh with heat. Again and again Domme Camille flogged her. With tears in her eyes, Gillian licked Madam's clit. It burgeoned forth and she sucked it gently and probed two fingers into the fount of Madam's vagina. How hot and succulent the flesh was there. Even as Gillian's buttocks grew raw and her hips winced under the sensual barrage, she pumped Madam steadily.

Madam's clit swelled and throbbed. With a gush of juices, her body tensed and her clit beat wantonly in Gillian's mouth. Domme Camille's strikes fell easier for a moment, long enough to allow Madam to recover from her climax. Then Madam pulled Gillian's head back by her hair. She nodded to Domme Camille, and observed as the Leather Wife now flailed Gillian's backside mercilessly.

Gillian tried to keep still, but when Domme Camille began to lash her thighs with the smarting crop, she squirmed wildly over the ottoman. Madam sucked the cries from her mouth with kisses and lifted a hand.

Gillian heard the crop fall to the floor. Domme Camille pried her legs far apart and knelt between them. She buried her face in to Gillian's pussy. It quivered at the touch of her hot mouth, and Madam kissed her deeply just as the Domme's tongue penetrated her sex. Gillian's clit pulsed indecorously. She cried in shame and anxious need. Domme Camille fucked her madly with her tongue, ignoring the craving beats of her clit until suddenly she lapped it once, twice, and an approaching orgasm tightened Gillian's pussy.

Domme Camille abruptly drew back and spanked her sore bottom with a palm. The annulled climax was maddening. Gillian's hips rose pleadingly toward the Domme and her wanton moan filled Madam's mouth.

“No, oh, no,” Camille purred, continuing to punish her, “you owe me this passion, mischievous girl!”

Gillian's clit hungered as painfully as her buttocks throbbed. When at length the spanking stopped, she panted desperately at Madam's lips.

Madam drew her face away gently. Her bold, knowing eyes deflowered a part of Gillian she had not known existed until that moment.

At last, Madam smiled and said, “I am aware of the creature that spotted and attempted to seduce you from the circle. And so I've called for one of our most diligent guards to watch over you for a time. Sir Vincent is discussing the incident and your particulars with the man as I speak.”

Gillian frowned curiously as Madam continued. “For your own safety, I feel this is warranted. But take comfort in knowing you will be spared the dunce cap tonight. While you are bound to the Rapture Pillar, remember that the unrelieved arousal you feel is a lesson and a passion in itself.”

Gillian's mouth fell open. Why did she have to face the Rapture Pillar when the spanking had been so thorough? It seemed so unfair. Yet through the haze of her self-pity, she knew the answer. If Madam proved lenient tonight, she, Gillian, might be forever lost to brazen whims. For this she was grateful, even as she shivered in terror at the thought of being exposed all night long—utterly vulnerable to the attentions of the night guards.

So she tried to take comfort in the kiss Madam blew and regretted it had not the power or intention to snuff the sexual flame deep between her legs.

 

It had been a long while since Domme Camille had gone back inside the house and left Gillian bound to the Pillar. The guards the Domme had summoned had stripped Gillian utterly and stuffed the dildo part of a submissive's muzzle into her mouth. With it tied firmly in place two of the men lifted her up and pressed her back against the Pillar. The other one had then draped her arms and spread-eagled her legs back so they hugged the Pillar. He tied her wrists and ankles with silk cord. The cords were fastened into the wood with the same kind of metal-toothed clamps used with Alexandra and Lara.

Two of the guards had returned to their usual posts out in the yard, and as the one remaining finally withdrew his probing fingers from Gillian's vagina, she cried silently around the thick dildo filling her mouth. The man had taunted her to the very point of a climax and left her to writhe shamefully against the unyielding Pillar.

When he turned and started walking back, at least the gag helped soften her lingering, pleading moan. His lusty eyes had just begun to caress her again when a sound issued from below the porch. He clenched the handle of his spear and darted to the side and surveyed the hedges below.

“Isn't it a little late for you ladies to be out without escort?”

Gillian raised her humbled eyes. Two women strolled up the steps. By their clothing Gillian assumed at first they were Leather Wives, though the guard's wary look lent some doubt to that impression. They could not have been more dissimilar in appearance; a stout, large-breasted one wearing a short, red dress and black leather jacket. Her leather boots were smudged with dirt and her hair was spiky. The second woman was tall, with dark shiny hair and a lean figure in a sleeveless silver dress. With her dusky complexion, full, swollen lips, and perfect makeup, she could have easily graced any fashion magazine back on Earth, even down to the stock beauty mark flawlessly applied at one corner of her mouth.

The one in red threw an arm about the guard's shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Good evening, Mark!”

He cleared his throat. “You two shouldn't be outside, let alone carousing about the property.”

The tall one laughed curtly. “So what? Who asked you?”

The delight that had been in the guard's tone as he had touched Gillian's body dissipated. “You know what I mean, Gina. Perhaps I should send for Domme Camille.”

The spiky-haired one swatted his backside. He bristled and pushed her arm away. “Go on, now. Stay out of trouble if you'd like to escape Madam's displeasure.”

They both tittered now, as if his threat meant nothing to them.

“Madam wants to be rid of us,” the one named Gina said. She stepped to a window and peered in. “We're not goody-goods anymore, you know, already scheduled to return to Earth, where we may contemplate our failures.”

Gina's eyes bore into Gillian. Scathing, the look went right through Gillian, as if she were nothing but some unsightly bug not worth the woman's time to consider.

“She might have you brought back,” the guard offered hopefully, “when you've proved ready. It has happened before.”

The one in red grunted. “We won't be ready until we're too old and creaky to be of any use for the precious Nemi.”

“You forget, Rose, old age does not exist here,” he argued.

Gina crossed her arms and lifted her chin stiffly. “We'd have to be agreeing. And that, dear Mark, will never happen again.”

The guard shook his shoulders. “What can I say, ladies? Appears you have made your choice and are willing to live with it.”

Gina regarded him, her feline grin a caricature of amused contempt. “Nemi is not inviolable, Mark. Its self-righteous guardians have enemies, formidable enemies.”

“Are you speaking of the Dhjinn-E'noch?”

“No,” she said tartly, “they're just as decadent as the Nemian angels, only without the sanctimony.”

“She's right,” chimed in Rose, “and it won't be long until this stupid outpost will be wiped away forever by powers much stronger than the silly Ur'theriems.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ooh, hit a nerve?” Gina asked. “It's why we're not scared, Mark, not of going back, not of anything. We know how to approach these enemies, and they are willing, oh so willing, to do us this favor, whether we are here or on Earth.”

The guard drew a steady breath, but his impatience with them thickened his voice, “You're insane, Gina, or just as conniving as others say. It's time you two went inside, before I'm forced to call for help to escort you in.”

Rose giggled heartily and hugged his free arm. “You don't know if we're kidding or not, do you?” And as she looked awkwardly at Gina and said pointedly, “It's just that, isn't it, Gina? We wanted to leave him with something to smile about!”

Gina sashayed toward him, and stood close, very close, as she smiled innocently and stroked the muscles of his arms with her long fingernails. Anger registered in Mark's features, and as she raised the skirt of her dress up her thigh, he did not flinch, but neither did he resist as she released his arm from Rose and drew his hand to her bare flesh.

“You really don't want to see me go away, do you, Mark?”

She kissed his mouth, but he pulled his hand away. His voice betrayed his agitation, “You go on now, will you? I have more important things to do besides play with disgraced Dommes.”

Gina's face scrunched angrily and she sauntered over to Gillian again and slapped her thigh hatefully. Gillian growled to herself as Gina said, “Guarding this, you mean? Hell, Mark, I can do better this abject slut any day of the week! And you wouldn't have to tie me up to have me, either!”