Extreme Submission: Stories of Sex on the Edge

Extreme Submission: Stories of Sex o
n the Edge

ISBN #
978-1-105-83037-2

Copyright © 2012 by
Audra Morgan

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or

reproduced
in any manner whatsoever without written

permission
from the author, except for brief quotations

included
in critical reviews.

Audra can be contacted by email at

[email protected]

Table of Contents

Kidnapped

Marked

The Gift

I stepped out onto the wet street, looking both ways with a sense of uneasy anticipation.  It had rained as I browsed the gallery, with its intriguing combination of surrealist artwork and rusted metal sculptures.  I had stared at the painting near the rear stairwell until my eyes began to tear up.  The image of gnarled demons pulling two screaming men down into the pits of hell lingered in my mind.  I found it strangely terrifying, but the colors were so vivid that I couldn't look away. 

A
lthough I'd spent over twenty years wandering about the French Quarter, Royal Street seemed almost foreign to me as I slowly stepped from one rain puddle to the next.  The sky was deep grey, and thunder echoed softly in the distance.  I smiled to myself as a memory arose of being on this same street at fifteen, running through a rainstorm to shop for tarot cards and patchouli incense.  The memory seemed foreign to me now too.  It was another me, as if I was remembering a movie I'd seen, not something I'd actually experienced.  Shaking off those unnerving thoughts, I zipped up my jacket and glanced across the street in search of another interesting shop to peruse.

Before I
could take another step, everything went dark.  I realized a hood had been pulled over my head, and I felt hands on my shoulders, then on my collarbone, dragging me backwards, shoving me to the left, then tossing me into a vehicle.  "Don't move, and don't make a sound."  The voice was muffled by the thick cloth pulled tightly over my ears.  The car reeked of smoke, and I coughed and tugged at the hood.  "I said don't make a sound, Bitch!"  Suddenly I was face down on the seat, my hands yanked behind me and my wrists tied together roughly.  "Not another sound!"  My heart was pounding so hard that I thought I might tumble off the seat and onto the floor.  The car bouncing as it sped down the bumpy streets didn't help matters.  I tried to breathe, tried to stay calm, and tried like hell not to cough.

A
fter what felt like hours, the car lurched to a stop, and the front door opened and slammed shut again.  I heard two male voices, then the back door opened, and I was yanked out by the rope binding my wrists.  Two large hands pushed me forward and I stumbled along, trying to keep myself upright.  I had no idea where I was or where I was being lead.  My mind went momentarily blank as I felt the rain begin to come down again, soaking my hair through the hood and running down my arms and off my fingertips.  I attempted to focus on those raindrops instead of on the abject terror creeping up my spine.  I tripped over a threshold and realized we had entered a building; it was warm and had a stale aroma, like no one had used it in quite some time.  Although I regained my balance and continued walking, the hands kept pushing me forward, as if daring me to fall.  I was suddenly yanked back by my shoulder and shoved to the left, and my shoulder banged into what must have been a door frame as we entered another room.  The hands pushed me one more time then released me long enough to slam the door shut. 

I heard whispers, then I
was grabbed violently and pushed face down onto what felt like a roughly upholstered sofa.  "Keep your eyes closed, and don't move."  The hood was pulled off and quickly replaced with a blindfold.  It was tied so tightly it was like a vise on my head, and I began to feel dizzy.  Something cold and sharp was suddenly pressed threateningly against my throat.  A knife?  Scissors?  I braced myself and told myself not to scream.  I didn't want to be gagged on top of everything else that was happening to me.  I held my breath in anticipation of certain torture.  To my surprise, no blood was let; the blade sliced through the fabric of my shirt, then was dragged repeatedly through my hoodie...my favorite hoodie...until it must have been reduced to a pile of rags on the floor.   I heard one of the men laugh and mutter something under his breath.  Did they just high five each other?  I tried to stop myself from crying, but tears began to flow.

I
sensed another person enter the room.  Were there three now?  I heard an air conditioner kick on, and as I felt the cool air rush across my exposed flesh, I grew quite upset about the loss of my beloved hoodie.  I quickly realized I had more pressing matters at hand when I felt my shoes being yanked off and my pants violently removed.  The blade wasn't used this time, but I had a feeling those jeans would never be the same again.  It occurred to me I may not be either. 

I
jumped as I felt a sharp pain course through me, and I realized I'd been struck by a very strong hand.  The hand struck me again, and once more, this time even harder.  My ass was on fire.  I let out a small whimper, but I tried not to cry any more.  After the earlier warnings to remain quiet, I had a feeling that being witnessed crying might yield extremely undesirable results.  I couldn't have been more wrong.

"O
h, she thinks she's a tough one," one of the men said with a laugh.  "I guess we need to teach her a lesson."  His hand made violent contact with my ass again and again, in exactly the same spot, until I thought I couldn't possibly bear any more. He stopped, and I heard heavy footsteps as he walked across the room.  "Your turn, my hand hurts," he muttered with another laugh.  Seconds later, I felt a smaller hand brush across what had to be the biggest welt an ass had ever experienced.  The hand felt icy cold, and I had to stifle a sigh at the tiny amount of relief it provided.  That relief was regrettably short-lived.  The hand began to slap my other ass cheek, far too many times for me to count.  He wasn't as strong as his cohort.  Be thankful for small mercies, I thought to myself sardonically as my brain began to completely shut down.  Nothing hurt any more, and I felt myself almost floating outside my body. It was much better there, where I couldn't feel the stings of that strange, tireless hand. 

M
y mind was propelled back into my body by the sound of whispering across the room.  I couldn't make out the words.  The hand that had been destroying my ass was suddenly grasping my hair and yanking my head back.  I heard the sound of a zipper and then two men laughing.  "Open your mouth, Bitch."  My head was pulled back even more, and I felt a cock forcing itself against my lips.  "Now! Or do you want another beating?"  I opened my mouth and instantly gagged as the cock thrust mercilessly against the back of my throat.   Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried my very hardest not to vomit.  The cock slammed into my mouth over and over, with harder and harder thrusts.  "That's right.  Take it, Whore."  I didn't think I could take another second.  He finally eased up, and just as I thought I would surely pass out from lack of oxygen, I was able to catch my breath.  I heard another zipper unzipping, and two hands yanked my hips up off the sofa.  My panties were unceremoniously torn from my body, and a cock pushed roughly against my ass.  I jumped as it brushed painfully across the welts.  "Keep still. Don't you dare move again.”

T
he cock shoved its way into my ass, and I made an effort to remain still despite the searing pain.  The other man continued to fuck my mouth, and as they plunged into me in unison, I began to leave my body once again.  The pain was miraculously transformed from unbearable to almost indiscernible.  Everything was suddenly wonderfully numb as the men continued to pound into me for what seemed like an eternity.  I was lamentably roused from this nearly blissful state by two hands viciously grasping my ass cheeks, right on the welts.  I shrieked loudly, unable to obey the repeated warnings to remain silent.  Despite my anesthetized state, the pain was worse than anything I had ever imagined.  With a cock still in my mouth and another ramming mercilessly into my ass, I passed out.

I awoke
, having no idea how much time had gone by.  I was still blindfolded, and I realized I had been left on the sofa, but I felt warmer.  I was still naked, but I was covered with something.  A blanket, perhaps?  I felt disoriented, and I trembled beneath the blanket as the pain began to fully hit me once again.  I realized my hands were no longer tied, but I was afraid to move, not sure who might be in the room and what was in store for me.  I lay there as still as possible until I felt a hand brush across my face, and I instinctively backed away from it.  To my surprise, the hand stroked my cheek softly, then grasped the top of the blindfold, slipping it up over my head.

I
t took me a while to adjust to the light in the room, but I finally made out a face in front of mine.  "That was amazing," my boyfriend whispered, reaching out to gently stroke my hair.  "Thank you so much for suggesting it."

Jessica lay silently on her stomach in the posh hotel room Owen had reserved for their anniversary weekend.  They'd shared an amazing dinner of crab cakes and blackened redfish, with beignets for dessert.  She was full and drowsy, and the ridiculously comfortable mattress was drawing her closer and closer to sleep.  As she began to drift off, Owen entered the room with a large black bag.  She smiled lazily at him, and he smiled back and tossed the bag onto the bed.  "Time to get up, Sleepyhead," he said with a wicked grin, and despite her state of languor, she immediately rose from the bed and stood naked and awaiting further instructions.  "Put this on the bed."  He handed her a black blanket which was water resistant on one side and silky smooth on the other.  Jessica spread it across the bed, making sure the entire surface was covered.  Goosebumps formed on her arms as she smoothed the blanket down and pondered what might be in store that required such preparations.

"Come over here and turn around,"
Owen ordered her gently, and she walked towards him, turning to face away from him as soon as she reached him.  She wanted to throw her arms around him, to embrace him and profess her love, but instead she stood silently, her back to him, and waited.  Owen placed his hands at the back of her neck, unbuckling the simple leather collar she'd been wearing for so long that it felt odd whenever she didn’t have it on.  "I thought you deserved something that suits you a bit better," he said as he removed the collar from her neck.  He reached over her head and placed a thick stainless steel collar around her throat.  He closed the hinge carefully, making sure not to pinch her, and he sighed in relief as he discovered it was a perfect fit.  He took a tiny screw and an allen wrench from the bag and locked the collar shut.  "You'll need to ask me to unlock it if you need to take it off.  Since you hate traveling by plane, you shouldn't have any reason to remove it."  He grasped her shoulders and spun her around to face him, and they both smiled widely at each other. 

Jessica's hands rose up to feel the smooth metal band, and she was overcome with joy.  It was just a symbol, but it was a powerful one, and she fought the urge to run to the
mirror and admire her new collar.  They’d been with each other for two years now, and she’d accepted his collar a little over a year ago.  She’d worn it with pride, but she was so happy to have this more enduring symbol of their bond.  She felt completely on top of the world, and she had never been happier than she was in this moment.