Submit to Sin
Authors: Nicolette Allain
Submit to Sin
Shades of Sin Book 3
Copyright
©
2013
Dominant Other Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in part or in full, without express written consent from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters depicted are above the age of eighteen, and all sexual acts depicted are consensual.
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The Carpenters were fucking.
Or rather, Earl Carpenter was fucking Beth Carpenter. He was atop her, his weight a comforting burden pressing into her, pinning her to the bed. Her arms crossed behind his neck, her knees bent alongside his hips. It was... nice.
Just like it always was.
They had a routine, of sorts. At least once a week, and sometimes twice, if they both weren't too tired from work or too busy before bed, Earl would take Beth's hand and lead her into the bedroom. They would undress, Earl folding his slacks and placing them across the back of the chair, and she would lay down lengthwise. He would crawl atop her, spread her legs, and after some perfunctory foreplay, enter her. Some nights he'd go down on her, which was nice, and sometimes she'd give him head, but it was always just a prelude to what Earl considered The Big Event.
Fucking.
And it wasn't bad. Earl was a nice size, he fit her well, and he knew what he was doing. He loved her, but Beth just wanted... more. More passion. More variety. It felt nice, it felt good, but Beth found herself lulled into a mildly pleasant boredom, like a warm bath. She spent the time it took him to work himself up to orgasm wondering how to broach the topic of... more.
"You want to hold me down?" she'd ask.
"No, I'm good," he'd reply.
"My butt could use a good spanking," she'd hinted with a wiggle, on all fours on the bed.
"I'm not really into the weird stuff," Earl had said.
The problem was, Beth thought
she
might be into the weird stuff. Or at least, some of it. She read a lot of racy romance novels, and in recent years it seemed like the more daring ones had been all the more enticing to the 30-something woman. The thought of Earl holding her down, or giving her bottom a few hard spanks, or doing something
more
worked her up. Some nights just imagining Earl doing the sorts of things she'd read about was enough to get her off.
She felt Earl stiffen above her, heard him groan, felt his cock swell, and knew that tonight was not going to be one of those nights.
Not right away, anyway.
After Earl muttered a few post-coital nothings, kissed her, rolled over and went to sleep, Beth's hands traveled down her body and between her legs to roam over her crotch. This was how she ended most nights, when she wasn't worked up enough to get off while Earl was fucking her, but not tired enough to pass out next to him. It was a strange twilight zone of arousal between wakefulness and sleep, one that she'd dreamily visited her entire adult life. Images of Earl taking her more forcefully filled these moments of bliss. Sometimes the images weren't of Earl at all, though she usually felt a little guilty after.
Tonight, however, as she lay there, feeling Earl's spent seed leaking out onto the towel she'd slipped under her ass, she thought back to last week's meeting. The Daughters of Lilith were a social club masquerading as a coven of witches, though none of them actually believed in the latter. Not until Saturday's meeting, at any rate. Something had happened then, and after the ritualistic chants, that something had lifted one of their number into the air and fucked her in front of everyone.
Beth had watched with the others, and like the others had felt a strange arousal flowing through her. She'd touched herself then, thinking of Earl, of the forceful version of Earl that she wished he was. She imagined him there, instead of the invisible lust spirit they'd summoned, holding her aloft instead of Mary, fucking her, making her his bitch in front of her entire social circle.
She began to feel very warm indeed, her rhythmic panting turning into a chant, the chant the being had taught them, burned into her memory.
"έλα με γαμήσεις," she moaned, lost in the memory of the event. She thought it might be Greek. It sounded Greek.
"έλα με γαμήσεις."
The warmth spread from her core throughout her body, a strangely slow but intense and indomitable orgasm that suffused her being. She felt it then, a weight not Earl's but belonging to Him, to the Other, to Cernunnos, the Horned God of Lust. She felt His holy phallus enter her fill her, driving the pleasure from her pussy all throughout her body in a white hot phosphorous glow.
You have called. I have answered.
His voice echoed in her head as the pleasure faded to a dull hum.
"I... didn't mean to call," she whispered.
You have called. I have answered. What boon would you have me bestow?
She opened her mouth to protest again, then shut it. He was right. Whether she had intended to call Him or not, she had a desire... had desires that were going unmet. She glanced askance at the silent slumbering form next to her.
"My husband... he isn't very creative. In bed. Or open to trying new things."
And you desire novelty?
"I just want... I just want him to be willing to experiment a little. I want him to try expanding his sexuality beyond, you know, missionary with the lights out."
The air held an anticipatory atmosphere, as if Cernunnos was considering her words.
"I have needs to," she said, mostly to fill the silence.
You desire that your husband's needs grow more complex. Then let his appetite for novelty blossom. Henceforth shall his desires expand, and nevermore shall he be satisfied by simple sexuality.
"Okay," she said, trying to figure out what he meant.
So mote it be.
"So mote it be," she heard herself echo.
His presence abated, and she found herself alone next to her sleeping husband. A wave of drowsiness overcame her excitement, pulling her down, dragging her to sleep.
###
To sleep, perchance to dream.
Beth's dream were those of sensation, without visuals. She felt, first, her lust, growing, mingling with the almost profound awe that Cernunnos had inspired. She felt the unfulfilled lust she'd suffered through her marriage to Earl, the kinks she'd never gotten to try, the games she'd never been able to play, the side of her sexuality she'd never been able to flaunt. He hadn't been her first, but none of the men she'd dated before him had been very sexually adventurous either.
For a long time, the mundane vanilla sex was fine. She got off, they got off, everybody felt closer. But as she aged, her tastes grew nuanced. She needed more, and now Cernunnos had offered it to her.
The thought brought pleasure. At first a general warm buzz, but it soon narrowed and grew defined, localized, centralized in her womanhood. Still half asleep she felt herself writhe, heard herself moan.
Her rambling fingers brushed against the hair on the head of the man between her legs. Her husband's hair.
She rose to consciousness. "Earl?"
He looked up at her from between her legs, clear blue eyes focusing on hers intently, his lips and tongue not pausing in their exploratory caresses.
Surprise at his actions momentarily overrode the pleasure his gentle touches were bringing to her.
"What are you--" She was cut off by her own gasp as he slipped a finger inside her.
In the past Earl had always gone down on her as a matter of preparation for intercourse. While it felt nice, it wasn't really anything too special.
This, though, this was different. This was Earl using his tongue and lips and fingers acting in concert to bring her pleasure. The fact that he'd started on her before she'd woken was an even bigger surprise; he'd never been into morning sex, and she doubted that the idea of performing oral on his sleeping wife had ever crossed her mind.
His tongue-work and fingers drove further thought out of her mind as he brought her to climax, her head falling back to the bed, hips bucking. His firm hands held her to the bed.
"Earl," she managed. "What's gotten into you?"
He grinned up at her. "You should be more concerned with what's going to get into you."
Dirty talk -- no matter how cheesy -- was another thing that Earl Carpenter never did. Until now, apparently. Was this what Cernunnos had promised?
He crawled up her body, chin and lips brushing against her abdomen, her ribs, her chest. He paused to catch her nipple in his mouth, caressing it and holding it with his lips, flicking it with his tongue. He bit it gently, and she gasped.
Earl slid forward until they were face to face. "It occurs to me that you are in dire need of a good hard fucking."
"Am I?" she asked, quirking the corner of her mouth.
"You bet your sweet ass," Earl said, showing his teeth.
She giggled, and he grabbed her by the wrists, pinning them up above her head.
"Hey!" she half-protested.
"You have a problem with that?" he asked, grinding his hard cock against her.
"No." She giggled again.
His smile turned into a sneer. He held both her wrists with one of his hands, the other shooting down between her legs. "No, what? Was that a No Sir I heard?"
Her giggle turned into a gasp as the hand between her legs brushed her already-aroused clit. "Yes sir. No sir, yes sir."
He laughed. "Good enough, girl."
She mock-struggled against his grip, a broad smile across her face. This. This was what she'd been wanting. This was all she'd been wanting.
"You're so fucking wet," he said. "You want this bad, don't you."
"Yes." Her hips writhed as she tried to rub her labia against his hand. "Sir."
"You fucking better," he said.
Earl kissed her as his hand moved from cupping her mound to grab a hold of his cock. He slid its tip along her wet slit, rubbing it against her clit. Her lips parted and she let out a low moan.
"Fuck me."
"You want it?"
"Yes, please, fuck me."
Earl kissed her deeply, tongue running along her lips. "Beg for it."
"Please, please, please fuck me." Being treated like this, teased like this was a huge turn on. She didn't know if she'd ever been so aroused.
"You fucking asked for it," her husband said.
He pressed the thick head of his cock into her. God, he even felt bigger, harder. His broad cock-head stretched her apart, and she strained against his grasp, trying to break free, but he held her fast. She wanted him to fuck her hard, fuck her fast, but the bastard was taking his sweet time, increasing her sweet agony.
Another moan escaped her lips. She closed her eyes, holding her breath.
He slid into her, penetrating her inch by inch until he'd filled her completely. She let her held breath out in a needful whimper.
"Fuck me," she whined.
"Fuck yeah," he answered, pulling his hips back.
Earl withdrew his cock almost all the way before slamming it forward, hard and fast, surprising her with his intensity. She tried to pull her hands free again, but his grip was too tight. He slammed into her, hammering his cock into her pussy, pelvises crashing into one another. Every thrust brought a savage grunt from his lips, echoing her own sharp cries.
He shifted atop her, pulling her arms up by the wrists, his other hand going to cover her lips, stifling her cries. She felt as if they were trapped, being bottled up inside her, adding to the pressure his hard thrusts were building inside. Each bone-rattling thrust seemed to penetrate her to her very soul.