Perfect Submission (2 page)

Not at her, but Brent. The cops. Every
person who laid a hand on her tonight and brought such fear to her
eyes. I want to tear them all limb from limb.

But most of all, I’m furious at myself.

I’m the one who let her down. When she
confessed her dark secrets, I promised everything would be OK. But
I stood, powerless, as they led her off in handcuffs from the party
tonight: humiliated and exposed in front of everyone. I had to let
that happen; there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for
letting her down.

The city lights speed past the car windows
as my driver takes us back to my place. Isabelle is curled against
me, holding me tight like she’s scared someone will drag her away
again.

It took all my influence and power to get
her released tonight. I followed the cops to the precinct, and
spent hours pacing angrily in the lobby, calling everyone I could
think of. Between Keely, Ash, and myself, we managed to get a judge
out of bed for an emergency bail hearing. They set the bond at $1m,
but I paid it without a second thought.

I’d pay anything to keep her safe.

But I can’t, not from this. She’ll have to
face the world tomorrow: press, the public, and police interviews.
What happened with her foster father’s death was an accident, she
should never have been arrested, but if they’ve charged her with
murder, there’s something more to the story. Some way Brent was
able to dig up the past and bring every horrific memory flooding
back for her.

I hold Isabelle tighter. They’re not going
to take her away from me again. I meant what I promised her-- I’ll
find a way out of this, somehow.

Brent is going to pay.

Back at the apartment, Isabelle follows me
inside, still holding my hand tightly. I take her to the bathroom
and turn on the shower, then help her undress and clean off under
the hot water. I wrap her in soft towels, and lead her out into the
bedroom. She’s still shaking, her eyes darting nervously around as
if she expects the cops to come storming in again.

“You’re safe here,” I reassure her, but she
shakes her head.

“I have to go back, don’t I? To the police
station, to court. They’ll want to interrogate me, and…” she
struggles for air. “I can’t,” she shakes her head, biting her lower
lip. “I can’t do this, Cam! I can’t go to jail for the rest of my
life!”

“You won’t.”

“But you can’t promise me that,” Isabelle
tells me, tears spilling down her cheeks. “If they put me on trial,
if they find me guilty…. And why wouldn’t they? I killed him. It’s
all true! I deserve to suffer for it.”

“Shh,” I wrap my arms around her again.
She’s trembling like a leaf. “You don’t, you know that’s not true.
It was an accident.”

“Was it?” Isabelle pulls away. “What if I
really did kill him, and I just blocked it out or something? It’s
all a blur, it was so long ago, and I was so scared… But I was glad
when I heard he’d died. Only a terrible person would feel
glad!”

Her eyes glisten with tears again.

“You were just a girl,” I try to calm her.
“You were scared, but you wouldn’t have hurt him on purpose,
Isabelle. It’s not in you to cause that kind of pain.”

And anyway, that bastard deserved it.

“No,” Isabelle sobs. “It’s not true, I
can’t… I can’t…” She gasps for air, shaking. She’s having some kind
of panic attack, consumed with fear.

“Isabelle!” I stride over and take her by
the arms. “Listen to me.”

She tries to pull away, bent double now,
wheezing. She’s not listening, she’s too far gone. Sympathy and
understanding won’t work, not with her in this panic. Only one
thing will bring her back, cut through this chaos she’s drowning
in.

Her Master.

“Isabelle.” I drop my voice, low and steely.
“Stop this right now. That’s an order.”

She stills, lifting her head. She’s still
panicky, but there’s a hopeful look in her eyes, waiting for my
next words.

“Good girl.” I take her chin between my
thumb and forefinger, lifting it higher. I stare into her eyes.
“Now breathe for me. In, out. In, out.”

Isabelle gulps a ragged breath, then
another.

“Better.”

I hold her there in that position until her
breathing becomes steadier. Her blue eyes are wide and teary, she’s
hanging on by a thread.

But she’s holding on.

Again, I marvel at her instincts to submit.
Even through her emotions, she wants to please me. She wants to
surrender to my will. No: she needs to.

Her gaze flickers to the bed.

I step backwards. A part of me wants to curl
up with her on the bed and rock her to sleep in my arms, but I have
to stifle that desire. That’s not what she needs from me right
now.

She needs me to master her, to be totally in
control. Strip away her fear, and give her something more to focus
on.

“Take off your robe,” I order her.

Isabelle looks at me, unsure.

“You need to forget about what just
happened,” I state simply. “I promise you, there won’t be room in
that pretty head of yours for fear or doubt when you’re moaning in
ecstasy. I have a hundred ways to make you forget your own name. So
I’ll order you only once more. Take. Off. Your. Robe.”

Relief flashes on Isabelle’s face. Just as I
anticipated, she wants to surrender, to not have to make a single
decision for herself tonight. To be taken care of.

She unbelts her robe and lets it drop to the
floor. Then she throws her shoulders back and lifts her chin, but
like a good sub she knows to keep her eyes down.

Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

Blood rushes to my cock as I slowly take in
the view. Her golden skin is still damp from the shower, each high,
perfect breast tipped with a rapidly-stiffening nipple. Her flat
stomach leads down to the apex of her thighs, and her long, coltish
legs.

I take my time admiring her, knowing that
the anticipation is already pounding through her body, chasing away
the fear and pain. I pace in a slow circle around her, drinking in
every detail as her breath quickens – this time not in panic, but
arousal.

I come to a stop behind her, admiring that
firm peach of an ass. I slide one hand over the curve and then
bring it down in a resolute slap.

Isabelle groans.

“I should give you a good spanking,” I
murmur, leaning closer. I let my lips graze the curve of her neck,
noting the way Isabelle’s breath hitches and her nipples tighten
into stiff peaks. Everything else has faded away. All that matters
is her response to my words and touch: I want to consume her with
this need I feel, overwhelm every sense until she only registers my
voice, my orders, the ache of her own tender flesh.

I wrap my hand in her silken hair and tug it
to one side, exposing the curve of pale flesh.

I lick along her throat. She lets out a
breathy moan.

I move my hands around to her front, not
touching a single part of her body until I pinch her rosy nipple
between my thumb and forefingers.

The moan turns into a whimper.

“I have some clamps I’ve been wanting to
use” I tell her, pinching tighter. Her body shudders in response,
and I see her bare thighs clench.

She’ll be wet by now. Wet and ready for
me.

“Would you like that, my pet? To clamp these
tight nipples in cold, hard steel, make you feel the bliss of their
exquisite pain?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

I pinch harder, rolling the tender flesh
between my fingers until Isabelle yelps. But I don’t stop, I keep
up the pressure, pinching and releasing, over and over until she’s
gasping for air and her legs are unsteady.

“Don’t move,” I warn her sternly. “You stay
still right there until I say, unless you want to face my
punishment.”

Isabelle nods, fighting to keep her balance
until at last, I release her. I turn her around and bend my head,
covering her breast with my mouth and licking her nipple in a soft
frenzy of sensation.

This time, her legs do give way. She sinks
against me in a sigh of pleasure, gripping onto my hair and holding
me to her, moaning loudly as I turn my attention to her other
breast: licking and sucking the buds.

“God, that’s so intense!” she gasps. After
the pain of pressure, the soft licking must be an exquisite
relief.

I pull away. Now her face is glazed with
desire: her pupils dilated, her chest rising and falling in heavy
breaths of arousal. “I’m going to fuck you,” I growl.

Isabelle swallows. “I want you,” she
answers, parting her lips. Damn, a man could slide his cock between
those pink pillows and die happy. But it’s not about me, not
tonight.

“Where?” I demand.

She flushes. “Inside me.”

“Be specific,” I smirk, almost amused at her
good girl manners.

“In my… pussy,” she whispers.

“Are you wet there?” I murmur, watching her.
“Do you ache for me to slide my fingers inside you? Stroke that
tender clit until you’re screaming?”

“Yes,” she moans. “Please, Master,” she
pants. “Please, touch me there.”

“Turn around and move to the edge of the
bed,” I instruct her as I roll up my shirt-sleeves. “Now part your
legs and lean over until your hands are splayed on the edge of the
bed. Good, like that.”

I smile in satisfaction. She makes a pretty
little picture like this: her ass jutting back, her body bent over,
her sweet pussy on display. I move closer and nudge her feet wider
apart. Isabelle twists her head to look back at me, but I gently
push it down so that her cheek is resting against the soft linen
covers.

“Now, my darling. You are ready for me.”

I sink to my knees behind her, part those
sweet ass-cheeks, and bury my tongue in her cleft.

Isabelle lets out a moan of surprise, but I
don’t stop. I drag my tongue along her seam, finding that tight
ring of muscle; swirling and lapping until she’s quivering against
me.

“Oh God,” she gasps. “Cam! What--?”

I probe deeper, nudging the tip of my tongue
just inside. Isabelle wriggles with another moan, but I grip her
hips, keeping them locked in place, powerless to escape my wet
exploration.

Her moans become cries of pleasure. My
tongue flicks and swirls in a fast rhythm designed to drive her
wild. She thrusts back eagerly against my face, all her earlier
blushing innocence forgotten.

This is what pleasure does to us all; makes
slaves of us. Makes us beg for things we never dreamed ourselves
capable.

But I’m no slave here. I’m the one in
control of her ecstasy. I can take her to the brink, or leave her
gasping.

I have the power, and fuck, it feels so
good.

My cock grows harder, blood pounding in my
veins. I want her. Want these moans to echo with every hard plunge
of my dick; want her body to clench around every thick inch of
me.

I spread her cheeks wider and renew my
licks, dipping one finger in the slick wetness of her cunt only
long enough to coat it in her juices.

Then I sink it inside her, all the way to
the knuckle.

Isabelle groans, clenching around me. “Oh my
God!”

I pause, not wanting to push her too far
tonight. I gently slide my finger out of her, but Isabelle lets out
a whimper of protest.

“You like that, my sweet dirty girl?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “More, please. I need… I
need it. I need to
feel
. Please, Master,” she begs, twisting
again to gaze back at me. “Take me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want.
Use
me.”

Lust slams through me. She wants it all. She
craves the exquisite pain of submission, and fuck, I’m going to
give it to her.

“Don’t move,” I growl, striding over to the
bedside table. I pull out a bottle of lube, and return to her
arched body. I strip off my belt and pants, finally freeing my
hard, hungry cock.

I stroke myself with the lube.

“Keep your hands on the bed,” I growl. I
toss the bottle aside, and slide my hands over that perfect ass.
“Grip the sheets if you need, but don’t you dare break
position.”

Isabelle trembles. She lets out a moan of
anticipation as I part her cheeks and take up position between her
legs.

I lightly scratch my nails down the length
of her back, making her arch and moan. Then I find her puckered
hole and nudge my cock against it.

Isabelle tenses.

“You like it, don’t you? You want me to fill
you up, possess every part of you.” I slowly push past her
entrance, using my voice to lull her, distract her from the pain
she craves and flinches from in the same breath. “You were made to
serve me, my pet. Your body exists to pleasure me, to open wide,
and feel the hard drive of my cock invading every inch of you. Do
you feel that?” I growl, clenching my jaw to keep from moving too
fast, but fuck, she’s so good, so goddamn tight.

I press deeper, inch by inch. Isabelle
whimpers, clutching the covers in her hands. Tears are running down
her cheeks, but she’s arching back, gasping for more.

“Please,” she whimpers, over and over,
“Please, Master.”

It takes everything I have not to slam into
her, possess her completely, but I keep control. I thrust gently,
until finally, I’m buried to the hilt in the vice-like grip.

“You belong to me,” I growl, fisting her
hair in one hand. “I’ve taken every part of you now. Your sweet
mouth, your juicy cunt, and this tight ass.”

I land a light slap on the curvy flesh.
Isabelle clenches around me, and fuck, I nearly lose my mind.

“Do you understand?” I demand. “I possess
you. Always, Isabelle. Every fucking inch.”

I pull out a few inches, and am rewarded
with a moan of protest. I can’t hear what she’s saying, it’s
muffled in the covers, so I tug her hair, pulling her head back off
the bed.

“More,” she breathes, “I need it. More.
Harder. Please!”