Submissive (9 page)

T
he first rays of daylight appeared over the horizon as Bruce made the walk back from the pavilion grounds to the guards' compound behind the prison. All the night men were making their way to their homes, laughing and talking as they walked by. He was in need of a cigarette, if just to forget something he had seen that night—or thought he had seen. A Disciple, in the company of a prisoner; she'd looked so much like Gillian that he'd gawked at them for some time. Probably nothing more than an illusion caused by the starlight. Yet it had haunted him the rest of his shift and he looked forward to sleeping off the memory.

William shuffled by and offered a cigarette. Bruce readily accepted, as he was on his last pack. But he wasn't worried; Madam had assured the guards that the next shipment for the commodities store would be arriving the next morning. The Saphorians, angels of light and sound, who recruited Earthling guards, were always reliable in their deliveries. Besides, whenever he was in dire need of anything—or at least really wanted anything—fate in Nemi had a strange knack for making the items show up, literally at his door, before he ever got bent out of shape over it. Like the television and the DVD player with all his favorites that had arrived days before. He did not even care that the television had no cord or there was no outlet for it or anything else in his residence. Heck, it was enough that he could tune in to his favorite shows and movies any time he wanted. He was not one to question gifts.

Everything Bruce purchased with his credits in Nemi just simply worked: his razor, the little fridge, the reading lamp by his bed. He knew that not every guard had these things; at least not those who had come to Nemi before electricity had been invented on Earth. Those men did not seem to need those things. Their chalets were furnished with the comforts and luxuries to which they had been accustomed before arriving.

“Someone's waiting for you,” William commented. Bruce followed his eyes to the front of his chalet. It was Gina and Rose, and they waved gleefully when they saw him. A quick smile came to his mouth, and William did not seem to notice the brittleness of it.

He clapped Bruce's shoulder, and telling him to have fun, went on his way.

Bruce grunted wearily. Gina and Rose were the last living souls he wanted to see at this moment.

What the hell do they want at this hour?

He had first met the two Leather Wives on the prison grounds one day shortly after he had come to Nemi. They had arrived to deliver a number of Disciples for their work duties and afterward just hung around. They showed a great interest in the conversation Bruce struck up. Not that talking was what he really wanted to be doing with them at that time. They were cute—well, Rose was cute, with her freckles and her big knockers. Gina was outright gorgeous. Wide lips, fine Italian features, a lingerie model's figure. Before meeting them, he had intended to pursue one of the delicious Disciples at the first chance available. But all his adult life he had been attracted to Italians, and Gina just simply turned every right knob.

Just talking to her that day had given him a boner. He had rambled, trying to engage them as long as possible, unable to think of anything but her pouting lips and the long, shapely leg that peeped through the slit of her black skirt.

In the course of the conversation, the two women had unexpectedly confirmed his deepest hope. “We do everything together!”

So he'd invited them to his chalet that night. They had arrived with a bottle of wine and a case of fine cigars. He knew Leather Wives were not supposed to have access to the commodities store without Madam's express permission. But he would not tell. How they gushed over the furnishings of his room, which was filled with appliances and gadgets they had never seen before or imagined. It was the first time either had even tasted a cold bottle of beer. The young women had coaxed him into telling them everything about his culture. And so, over dinner he indoctrinated them in the computerized, technical twenty-first century.

But they'd been particularly fascinated by credit cards, malls, and the rights of women in the society he had left behind.

Bruce had finally made some strides in other directions when he offered to read their palms. They giggled as he'd sat between them on the sofa, stroking their palms in turn and telling the name of each line. As he revealed what he saw in their respective palms, he had leaned in close to the women, and held their fascinated gaze while he spoke. Neither of them flinched or backed away, and soon enough he swiped a kiss from each. A little while later, they'd asked to use his bathroom and returned in their birthday suits.

It had been a very satisfying night. The two returned from time to time over the following weeks, always providing sex easily. Gina, he was always anxious to see. He told himself that it was better to have a Leather Wife than a Disciple, as these women did not sleep with guards except out of pure choice. His chest ballooned every morning that he could tell the other guards that Gina had come knocking on his door the night before.

But as he became familiar with the girls, he grew to feel used at times for more than sex or company. Gina did not hesitate to ask for this or that from his belongings, and in time she ended up carrying away so much from his place that the compound commander warned him that Madam was beginning to take notice of the growing hoard of gifts collecting in Gina's room at the household. Not seemly, the proprietress claimed, for a Leather Wife to accumulate so many knickknacks and baubles without officially courting a man.

Gina had revealed to him that she was growing discontented in Madam's household and with her life in general. She'd said the other Leather Wives were jealous of her control over certain Disciples, and the trustees showed their disrespect at every turn. She was often angry with Rose, too, though on this subject she was vague. But she was angrier with Madam, for questioning her disciplinary actions, and the guards, whom she complained spoke too familiarly.

The more often Gina visited, the more quickly she demonstrated her anger and the more violently. As she recalled the latest details of her life, she often took her wrath out on Bruce's furniture, throwing cushions, overturning chairs, once even throwing a glass against the wall. She was also turning into a slob. During her last visit, Bruce asked her to put a candy wrapper she tossed on the floor into the trash. Instead, she retorted coldly that he must be looking for a Disciple instead of an equal.

He had apologized and later, when they had sex, he'd attempted to be more tender than ever. He'd asked her about her own experiences and life while on Earth, and showed his interest in everything she revealed. But there, too, she seemed more concerned in gossip or venting. When she left, she'd asked for a pack of cigarettes and the silver candleholder he had recently obtained at the store. He gave her both and received not a word of thanks in exchange.

Rose had showed up the following dawn, just as he was about to go to bed. She'd been furious, accusing him of coming between her and her friendship with Gina. When he told her he had no idea what she was talking about, she threw herself at him, demanding he make love to her like a male Disciple. He'd kissed the crown of her head and laughed. He had not really been laughing at her, but at the presumption that he could ever pretend to be submissive. Rose shook with rage and threw off his comforting arms. Before leaving, she'd claimed that Gina had said his was the sorriest cock she had ever had.

Now, days after that incident, the two of them were smiling like innocent kittens as Bruce stepped under the overhang of the chalet.

“Hello, Bruce,” purred Rose.

“Are you well?” Gina asked.

He was still entranced by her symmetrical beauty, those full lips that seemed incomplete without something to fill them. And Rose was dressed in simple leather pants and a white spaghetti-strap shirt, cut low so her massive cleavage almost swelled out. With the curls of her auburn hair bouncing on her shoulders and her blue eyes flashing, he thought she had never looked prettier.

He unlocked the door hesitantly. “I'm pretty tired, ladies. Why don't you come back later today?”

They made unhappy sounds. “Oh, but we came to apologize,” Rose said. “Let us come in and make up for the rude way we treated you before.”

He regarded her eyes thoughtfully. “Well…”

“Please,” Gina said huskily and stroked his arm. She gazed at him innocuously, her dark, sensuous eyes flashing. “I have missed you and our talks.”

Talks. Well, that was an odd way to put it. She had talked and he had listened. At least Rose had found his jokes funny and listened when he revealed personal information about himself. Gina had only stared off into space.

“Can't you even offer us a beer?” Rose asked.

“Oh, okay.” He ogled her heaving cleavage and sighed. “But I want some sleep soon.”

“You've never thrown us out before,” Gina crooned and settled the weight of her perfect breasts into his arm.

He smiled, and the sense of being used seemed only a trifling thing, given her tempting pout.

“Who said I was going to throw you out?”

The pout turned into a leisurely smile. He unlocked the door and followed them inside.

 

Two beers and a steak later, Bruce joined the girls in his bedroom. They had been whispering in there for some time, chomping on a box of fine chocolates and listening to the radio by his bed. Alternative rock was playing. As he entered, they sat up and asked who the group was.

He undressed to his boxer shorts and considered just letting them have the bed to themselves while he took the sofa. He still was not completely convinced of their regret; they seemed to have forgotten an apology as soon as they had walked into the chalet. Besides, he was used to crashing on his couch back on Earth. Then again, on Earth there had never been two women waiting for him in the bedroom.

They were both fully undressed, and he saw their clothes had been tossed haphazardly throughout the room. Even though they were messy, he could not help but be aroused as they looked at him, their tits bouncing, their hair falling untamed over their shoulders. Bruce sighed. He wanted sleep even more than their bodies right now. If they slept in his bed, he might never be able to reclaim it without creating bad feelings between the three of them. Yet, he suspected that if he complained, they might never be back.

He was still trying to decide on the sleeping arrangements when Gina crossed her legs. He forgot everything then except getting between those long, silken curves. As he stepped toward the bed, he realized he was rubbing his cock in his hand. Both girls' eyes widened and Rose raised her breasts with her hands and licked her huge areolas. He sunk on his knees to the mattress and crawled up between them.

He kissed Gina and then Rose, and grappling her huge tits in his palms, nibbled the voluminous flesh. Gina lay on her side and watched as he lowered Rose down into the mattress and drew her legs apart. She was soaking wet to his fingertips and as his cock entered her pussy, he sucked first on one jiggling breast, then the other. He pounded into her, savoring her moans as much as the jostling flesh before his eyes. She climaxed with a wail and a shudder, and pulling out, he moved over to Gina.

She smiled and touched his face, kissed the dark stubble on his face.

“You know what she said wasn't true, don't you?”

“You mean that comment about my sorry dick?”

“Uh-huh,” Gina whispered and let him suckle her hardened nipples. “You know how to work that tool better than most.”

Gina's hips swayed beneath his caressing hand and her thighs parted easily. Her sex singed his hand, her juices flowed. He looked over to Rose, blew her a kiss, and, lowering himself over Gina, kissed her mouth.

“Let me suck you off,” she whispered.

“All right.” He straddled her chest carefully and lowered his cock to her dusky lips. She brought her hands between his legs and grabbed it, clenching the base, and took the head into her mouth.

It was almost heaven to him, this tight, tight sensation. She sucked him eagerly and his pelvis moved back and forth to meet her mouth.

But as he looked upon Gina's half-closed eyes, he saw suddenly a face chiseled of coldest marble. She wanted him now for this and for whatever else in the future, he could only guess. The sensation of her drawing mouth dwindled until it was just a mild stimulus. He was hard, but not as he had been. And though she worked to get him off, he knew then he would never again come in her mouth.

“Let me at that pussy again,” he murmured and slipped down again between her legs. He rubbed his cock until it was hard as stone again, and then drove into her. Draping himself over her, he fucked her more roughly than he ever had. His thoughts, however, were different this time; he did not see her shapely legs and perfect face. He had no thought but of fucking the orifice presented. Gone was that pride he had known when telling other men that he had screwed the loveliest Leather Wife in Nemi. Only this mindless physical sensation of pounding in her slit.

Just before he came, he withdrew and spewed his cum over her pubic hair and stomach. When the shudder of his orgasm passed, he saw the disappointment creased on her face.

“Indeed, you must be very tired,” she said and pried her pussy lips apart and massaged her clit between two fingers. “Want to watch me get off?”