Submissive (19 page)

“If there's one thing I have learned from this experience with those two bitches, it is that I loathe the man that I was. So you had best be prepared to accept me back into your life, Gillian. I plan on dealing with you just as I always dreamed—whether we're here in Nemi or beyond that sea-green horizon. What I yearned to do before, believe me, I will do now. With tender discipline I intend to be your sole Master. The Ur'theriems may disapprove, and Madam can be shocked. Damn the consequences, you are mine now.”

Gillian gaped. As the words resounded in her head, he raised her hands from the bench and spun her about. She was crushed in his fierce embrace. His hungered kiss stole her last breath and scattered every vestige of doubt in her heart. She had never known such a moment of sublime rightness. The old fantasies dimmed in comparison to this luxurious hopelessness his restraining arms imparted.

He nuzzled her ear and said in a voice so low no other could ever have overheard, “I adore you, Disciple Gillian, and need you more than you will ever know.”

She shivered and, looking through her misted tears, touched his chin. He pressed his lips to her throat and browsed the flesh there with electrifying little kisses. Her arms laced about his sturdy neck and she met his lips, kissing him heartily, tenderly, hungrily. He pulled the ribbons completely from her hair so that it spilled over her shoulders, and sitting down on the grass, he pulled her atop his lap. Gillian cupped his face and smothered it with kisses. She tugged his vest from his arms, lifted his shirt, and stroked her tongue across his firm chest. She sighed at the feel of his hair there and nuzzled her nose into his navel.

At his soft laugh, she laced her legs about him and unbuttoned his pants. His cock burst forth, enormous and hard as an oak spike.

Gillian tossed her hair over one shoulder. Kneeling, she lifted his shaft. She flicked her tongue over the great head, relishing the taste of the droplets of cum that seeped out. Taking the root of his cock into her hand, she devoured it, sucking deeply, feeling his hands stiffen against her cheeks.

“Wait,” he whispered. He pulled her up and, kissing her again, tore the dress from her shoulders. “Stand,” he said. He slapped one of the bells at her shoes, making it ring sharply, and smiled.

“Those you may keep.” His hands grazed up her thighs and he kneeled in turn to bury his face between them. Kissing the hair at her pubis, he licked open the folds of her vagina.

Gillian's clit throbbed and she sighed wantonly. With another soft laugh, he slapped her chastened ass.

“Bend over that bench again.”

She pouted anxiously but complied. Bruce stood up behind her and massaged her sensitive thighs, then gently inserted his finger into her anus, filling her with delectable discomfort. He lifted her hips upward a bit as the hot head of his cock pressed against her pussy. Gillian moaned and writhed her hips urgently.

“Fuck me, Sir Bruce, please!”

He answered by spanking her upturned ass. A frustrated whimper rose to her mouth, but she suppressed it and tried to keep her hips still. He gathered her dangling breasts and massaged them roughly, pinching her nipples until she moaned again. Her passion was so intense she felt giddy, and when the head of his cock penetrated her, a heated tingle swept up her spine.

Bruce grasped her hair and plunged thoroughly. He fed her pussy with long, deliberately slow thrusts. Her hips strained to meet each tantalizing stroke. When her moans grew louder, he seized her hips and fucked her rapidly. As if he were deflowering her very body and soul, he hammered, lifting her heels off the ground so that the little bells on her shoes chimed discordantly. Her vagina muscles constricted in eager anticipation and at last his cum rocketed into her.

She gasped with the rapturous climax. Before she could even breathe again, he pulled her up by the wrists. He bound her against his chest so that his heartbeat thundered against her back. Her tender behind rubbed his cock as he cupped her breasts and whispered into her ear.

“I love you, Gillian.”

Gillian's elation was unbound. “I love you too, sir…oh, how I love you!”

She moaned and undulated in the hot fetters of his embrace, and tilting her head back, she kissed his waiting mouth. Her will gave itself over utterly to his command. A sensation of consummate liberation swept through her; a sensation she had looked for all her life—and one that was hers to keep and cherish for the rest of her days.

B
ruce was not ready to deliver Gillian back to the household. Instead, he led her to the guards' compound, where, unsurprisingly, he found the Warden standing at the gate. The man was arguing with the compound commander, Sir Karl.

Noticing their approach, Sir Karl gestured toward Bruce.

“There, man, ask him yourself!”

The Warden turned and seeing Gillian, the wrath eased noticeably from his bearing. But when in the next moment he reached for her, Bruce put himself between the two of them. The Warden's face flared and his usual rich tone sounded brittle.

“You have performed well in keeping this girl safe today, Sir Bruce. The disavowed Leather Wives have been put in solitary, and you can now rest assured that your duties tomorrow will not be so demanding. I am assuming custody of the Disciple now and will see to it no harm befalls her.”

Bruce felt Gillian tremble and wound his arm about her instinctively. “No harm will befall her, Warden. She'll be sleeping in my home tonight.”

The Warden's congenial tone went flat. “And by whose orders, Sir Bruce? I am Captain of all Nemian guards, do not forget.”

“My instructions came from Madam,” Bruce answered. “And unless you wish to challenge your superior, you will not contest where I decide she stays tonight.”

The Warden looked at Gillian for several moments and then smiled courteously. “I shall indeed speak with Madam.” As he started to pass by them, he made a low promise, “Whatever her decision, Bruce, this is not done.”

When he was gone, Sir Karl exhaled loudly. “I hope you know what you are doing, Bruce.”

Bruce patted his arm and answered with only a “goodnight.” He would deal with the Warden and any problem with Madam come morning. Soft light strained through the windows of several chalets as he led Gillian through the compound. Music and laughter poured out of the open windows of the taverns. But he had no desire to join his friends tonight. Another time, perhaps, after Gillian had had time to relax from the day's adventures and he had savored her fully.

Alone with her at last in his chalet, he enjoyed the surprise that came to her face at seeing all the modern comforts she had left behind on Earth. He turned on the CD player, finding the last refrains of a haunting ballad lilting through a channel.

Gillian stood bashfully on the plush throw rug on the floor, her hands held tightly in front of her. With her disheveled hair and the youthful dress, he thought she looked like a mischievous girl.

But that's what Disciples are supposed to be, he thought.

He laughed happily and lifted her off the rug. Carrying her to the sofa, he sat her down. He knelt in front of her and kissed her again with more relish this time, slowly stroking every inch of her soft flesh as he disrobed her. He even removed her shoes this time, and kissed her small toes.

His cock stiffened. “Yes, I think you shall stay naked for a while.”

Her lips spread out in a lazy, glorious smile and she kissed him shyly. Laying her down, he parted her thighs and massaged her musky delta until it soaked his fingers. He pulled her down off the sofa into his lap.

“Touch me,” he said, pressing her hand to his cock.

The commanding tone made her eyes widen nervously. But she obeyed, stroking it gently with her fingers, then massaging it firmly with both hands. His need was too great to bear. He clasped her firmly about the waist and raising her up, impaled her upon his eager cock.

“Ride me. Fast and hard!”

Her pert breasts jiggled as she obeyed and he pinched the stone-hard nipples so that she emitted a wanton moan. She was so wet and as incredibly taut as earlier, her face adorably strained by her mounting pleasure. Just as he sensed she was about to climax, he squeezed her clit between his forefinger and thumb. She shuddered violently, and her head fell back, her vagina quivering. He pressed her between the sofa and his thrusting loins. With a remorseless harshness he fucked her, coming with an exhilarating force.

As he lay down breathless on the floor, she licked his balls and penis clean with her tongue.

“Come here,” he whispered. She crawled to him, smiling, and lay down in his arms. Soon she was asleep. As Bruce drifted off as well, he thought of the coming day, and all the new and exciting ways to love her.

 

With the arrival of morning, Bruce threw some bread into the toaster, brewed coffee, and fried up some bacon and eggs while Gillian slept. He took a long shower before waking her. After they had eaten, he watched as she bathed. He even observed while she brushed and ribboned her hair. He had no clean garments to offer her, but that didn't matter. He was proud to show her off, naked but for her braids, as he escorted her outside.

He walked with her through the woodland surrounding the compound for a time, and gave her permission to speak as she wished. They discussed their mutual reasons for coming to Nemi and the strange and often exhilarating things they had experienced. Gillian's eyes softened sadly as he explained how the Saphorian's invitation played on his sense of adventure and gave him hope of finding that fulfillment he feared to pursue on Earth. And as she told him of her encounter with the Ur'theriem, Xaqriel, Bruce had to force away the jealousy that knotted his gut. But as they talked, he did not doubt that she loved him or that she had for a long time. The troubled knit of her brow vanished completely when he told her again how much he loved her. They held hands as they strolled, and even as they returned to the compound, he did not care who saw how he kissed her palms or how he grinned like a smitten schoolboy.

He took her to the café and ordered her a mug of spiced water. He smoked as she sipped it, admiring the firmness of her breasts and the way her bangs sculpted her face. He wanted so to see those breasts dangle and her hair spill wildly. When she related the distasteful encounter—or near encounter—with the soured prisoner in the pavilion the night before, a wonderful idea came to his mind.

As they left, he told her not to speak again until he allowed. At her timid nod, he led her through the pathway past the last of the chalets to the wide common area situated at the back of the compound. Here stood the commodities store, the leather and iron smithies' shops, the weapons shack, and other buildings used for storage. But the area was also used for displaying girls, from a polished rotating oak wheel, cross-beamed and shafted into a sturdy hollow steel pole that had been driven and cemented into the ground.

Two girls had already been set upon the wheel: they were suspended with their bellies down, their arms and legs spread apart and secured at wrists and ankles by leather-padded brass cuffs dangling from chains that draped the wheel. There were wide stools nearby and presently a man sat on one of these. A flail with suede thongs lay across his lap. Seeing them coming, the man rose and shook Bruce's hand. He scowled at Gillian and gave a rehearsed growl. It was believable enough to make her gasp and hide behind Bruce. The gesture made him smile, but nevertheless, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out before the man.

“Your girl needs a little contemplation time, sir?”

“Oh, yes,” Bruce replied. The man nodded and positioned a stool under a free area of the wheel. Bruce ordered Gillian to step up, and together the men lifted her. Her eyes filled with frightened tears, and as they cuffed her, she began to sob openly.

“No, please,” she whimpered.

She looked so deliciously helpless suspended from the wheel. Bruce spanked her breasts roughly, making her moan as she wept. Reaching between her legs, he touched her pussy lips. They were moist and so warm, and as he smacked the exposed little clit, it beat hotly against his fingers.

But her crying grew loud and more agitated. He stood back and regarded her with a deliberate coolness.

“Oh, Sir Bruce! Have mercy, please!”

He grimaced and gestured to the man. He raised the flail and commenced to lash it over her breasts and stomach. The thongs produced only the lightest of pink stripes across her flesh, but Gillian flinched and screamed as if the man was flaying her alive. But when Bruce said it was enough, he saw that the pout on her tear-stained face came more from confusion and humiliation than anything else.

“I am going for a cup of coffee,” he told her firmly, “and leave this man to punish you for the least infraction.”

“Sir Bruce,” she started to wail, but he covered her mouth with his hand.

“This is not punishment. Not yet, anyway. I enjoy seeing you this way and so you should accept it.”

She frowned crossly but at last she nodded, and he left her for a time to think of what he had told her. He hoped she would learn a little obedience from the display, but as he headed back down to the main pathway, he heard her let loose with a vexed wail. She did not stop and he turned, growing angry now, and marched back.

She writhed frantically under the overseer's spanking flail, but her screaming did not stop—not until Bruce assumed the instrument himself and dealt out a volley of heated strokes across her flesh. She gasped again and tried to suppress her crying. He punished her breasts and thighs until they glowed like rose-dust. When he deemed it was enough, he handed the flail back to the overseer. She was panting softly, her falling tears forming a puddle on the ground. Without a word he turned his back and left her to her punishment.

He did not hear her protest once during his leisurely visit to the café.

It was almost midday by the time he finished his coffee and lit a cigarette. He stepped outside again, feeling an urge to get to the household soon. He wanted to talk with Madam about obtaining Gillian for his own house girl. But Gillian's recent behavior made him realize she needed to be humbled further before he approached Madam, in case the proprietress raised any question of his fitness to be the sole possessor of a Disciple.

So, he went back to the common area. The other girls still hung there and he saw their masters looking on from the door of the weapons shack. He helped the overseer unshackle and lower Gillian. Her face beamed with relief at her release, but that relief was short-lived when she saw the disapproval in his face. Saying nothing, he threw her over one shoulder and carried her to the café.

On the outer grounds stood two wooden staves facing the tables set outside, each bolted near their tops with chains that hung midway down the wood. Each chain was tethered with leather cuffs. Bruce set Gillian down between the staves so that she kneeled facing the tables. He buckled a cuff to either of her wrists. Going inside, he got a strip of cloth from the owner. On returning to Gillian, he used it to bind her ankles tautly together.

He stood in front of her, and her eyes lowered as he quietly observed her. Her eyelashes were damp and her breasts still suffused from their recent chastening, but he could spare no mercy.

“It's time to eat,” he said.

She bit her bottom lip nervously, and he continued, “You will beg for your meal, by beseeching each man you see to feed that pretty little mouth of yours.”

She cringed and started to weep again. “Please, no!”

He shook his finger at her. “It's this kind of behavior that brought you here, Gillian. You will be better off to learn quickly that to protest against display or punishment will earn you only the severest of consequences.

“Now, you will call out ‘Feed me, sir, please,' to every man who passes by. If they are generous, you shall, of course, thank them modestly. And if I see you have failed to beseech any one of them, I will use my belt where it does the most good. Do you understand this, Gillian?”

“Y…yes, sir.”

He patted her head and went inside then and ordered a sandwich and a bowl of boiled potatoes to be brought out to a table. Returning outside, he took a seat at one of the tables and watched as Gillian asked her humbling question to the first guard who ventured in from the pathway.

Her voice broke with tears, “Feed me, sir, please?”

The man smiled but shook his head. “Not now, pretty one, maybe another time.”

He walked inside and soon other men were passing in and out. Gillian made her request to them all, and when the serving boy delivered the plate from the kitchen, Bruce relished his meal with a delight unmatched. At length, one guard did show Gillian interest. Bruce watched keenly as he lowered his pants enough to pull his aroused organ out and offer it to her mouth. She accepted it shyly and sucked until he climaxed. She did not forget to give her gratitude, and as he buttoned his pants, he spoke something too softly for Bruce to overhear. The guard continued on into the café and Bruce saw Gillian's eyes dart his way. Her hips undulated ever so slightly, but he pretended to look away, and when again he looked at her, saw she was sulking.

Gillian fed on the cum of five guards before Bruce decided to free her. She smiled shyly as he released her wrists and pulled her to her feet. Immediately, he took her home and gave her water to drink before ordering her to lie across his bed.

A trembling, mischievous angel she was to him. He lifted her so that her head settled on the pillow, and kissed the strands of her blond hair and stroked the crumple from her brow. Then, straddling her shoulders, he smoothed her pink lips with his thumb.