Southern Submission (Southern Submission (A Southern BDSM erotic romance))

Here’s an excerpt from the story:

I sighed.  I
refused to look at him; refused to let myself be drawn in by whatever
tragically sad look he had on his face.  The situation was just too weird,
but I felt like maybe I’d freaked him out somehow and I should try to make
amends.  “Tad.  Look,” I sighed.  “I was talking to a friend of
mine about you, and I said I wasn’t sure if I wanted to date somebody –”
deep breath! “– as preppy as you are.  And she said that she’d heard
you aren’t as preppy as you look, and that you like it rough.  And that’s
when I agreed to this date.”  I could feel my face heating up.  I’d
just accused my date of being preppy – true or not, them’s fightin’ words
among the people I usually run with – and I’d promptly followed that up
with a roundabout admission that I liked rough sex.  I was mortified.

I heard footsteps
behind me.  “Alex…” he sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I do have a temper,
and I hate all the gossip in this town, and maybe I overreacted.”  A firm
hand on my shoulder directed me to turn around.

I was still blushing,
still staring straight ahead.  When I’d turned, “straight ahead” changed
from a view of the bridge to a view of Tad’s chest.  Then a view of an
arm, as his hand moved from my shoulder to my chin, and for the second time
that night he was lifting my chin.  His thumb brushed against my lower
lip, parting them slightly, as he bent and kissed me again. 

He kissed me like he
wanted to devour me, like a feral animal inhaling a meal.  I wrapped my
arms around his neck, feeling my body spring back to life.  I was dizzy
and aching and my knees were wobbly as he ran his hands down my back to cup my
ass.  Without breaking the kiss, he suddenly grabbed my ass and picked me
up off the ground.  He spun us a quarter turn and then set me down on the
railing of the balcony. 

The ground behind me
was not a sheer rocky cliff, but it was a remarkably steep hill, almost a
hundred feet down to Riverside Drive below.  My stomach fluttered and I
instinctively wrapped my legs around Tad’s waist.  He broke the kiss and
nuzzled my neck, murmuring, “I won’t let you fall, Alex.”  His breath in
my ear sent cold shivers through me, and I groaned and pulled him closer with
my arms and legs.

I could feel his hard
member pulsing between us.  My thin skirt and soaking wet panties were
barely obstacles, not like the bulk of his khaki pants.  I was panting as
I unwrapped an arm from his neck and reached down between us, and I groaned
when one of his hands caught my arm. 

“No, Alex.”  His
other hand came up and caught the back of my head, pressing our foreheads
together.  He groaned and his cock throbbed between us, but his left arm
returned my hand to the back of his neck.  “I need you to do what I say,
ok?”

I tried to get my
scattered brain back together.  It wasn’t like I was going to have sex
with this guy, on what was essentially our first date, in a park downtown,
right?  “Yes,” I panted.  “Yes.  Ok.  Yes.”  I was
talking more to myself than to Tad, but he took it as an answer to his
question.

“Hold on, beautiful,”
he murmured, then his lips closed against mine again.  The hand on my arm
slid down toward me, then over to my throbbing breast.  I gasped and
sucked some of the breath from his lungs as his hand first cupped my breast,
then slowly, relentlessly, started squeezing my nipple. 

I was writhing, moaning
helplessly against his mouth, when his other hand started moving.  The arm
that had been wrapped against my back, keeping me safe from the edge of the
cliff, suddenly trailed down my back and around to the front of my hip. 
He pulled back from me again to say, “Don’t let go of me, Alex, hold on for
me.” 

Then his fingers found
their way under the bunched-up edge of my skirt.  His hand, so hard and
hot, wrapped around my pubic bone and pressed my panties against me.  The
wet cotton was raspy against my sensitive nub, but it felt exquisite.  I
bucked against his hands, against the mingled pain and pleasure from my nipple
and the so-close feeling of his fingers outside of my panties.  “Oh
please, oh please, oh Tad,” I begged.

Southern
Submission

I’d been thinking about
a hot piece of meat all day, but not the kind that walks on two legs.  I
was busy tending the fire for my world championship BBQ team, the Smokin’
Butts. We were one of two all-women teams at the Memphis in May World Championship
Barbecue Cooking Contest that year, and we were definitely the best.  The
Baby’s Got Back girls were strictly partiers, not serious chefs. 

I wasn’t paying much
attention to the group of men who’d just come in.  Lisa, our hostess, was
plying them with beer and a sausage and cheese plate.  I’d opened up the
rib smoker to add more of our top-secret dry rub, and as I turned to grab the
big Tupperware container from the table to my left, I missed.  I don’t
know why; it just wasn’t where my hand seemed to think it should be.  The
rib rub container went skittering for the edge of the table and total
calamity.  I lunged for it, but another hand snapped out and caught it
before gravity could win.

“Holy
crap
, that
was close.  Thank you so much!”  My hand closed over his, a second
after he’d saved the rub. 

“Glad I could help,” a
deep voice rumbled.  I looked up and caught my breath.  Green eyes,
with a hint of hazel in the depths.  Reddish-brown hair flopping down near
his eyebrows, still looking perky in the sweltering tent.  Sharp
cheekbones over a jawline covered with red stubble.  Wow, what a looker!

“Um,” I said. 
What can I say?  I have a silver tongue.

He gave me a lopsided
grin.  “Hi.”

“Hi.”  I reached
out with my other hand, grabbed the side of the spice mix, and pried my fingers
off of his.  The auburn haired man slowly released the container.

 “Are you gonna
tell me your secret spice mix?” he asked.   

“A little sugar, some
herbs, and a lot of hotness.  Anything more than that is top secret,
mister.  You’d have to beat it out of me.”  What had just come out of
my mouth?  It was like my brain had gone offline or something.

The grin widened. 
“We could arrange that if you’d like.”

This conversation
has gone totally off the rails
, I thought, blushing.  “I’m gonna have to check my
schedule and get back to you on that.”  With a mental effort, I turned and
went back to work before all the heat escaped from the rib smoker.

Lisa cornered me after
they’d wandered off.  “Oh mah gawd, do you know who you were talking
to?  That was Tad Marshall!”

“Who?”

“Just the son of the
biggest developer in Shelby County!”  Lisa was not a barbecue chef. 
In fact, she could barely microwave a frozen dinner. That didn’t mean that she
wasn’t an integral part of our team – she handled all our “people
interactions.” 

The Memphis in May
World Championship Barbecue Contest is a hotly contested and very serious
barbecue cooking competition, but it’s also the biggest social event of the
year in Memphis.  We’d formed the team two years ago to win the
competition, but also to make sure we had the right kind of exposure to the
right kind of people.  The five cooks on the team were terrible at
schmoozing, but Lisa lived for it.  She was taller than me at 5’4”, but
she weighed at least twenty pounds less than me.  Her tasteful blonde hair
always looked perfect, and her makeup never smeared.  She would have been
totally insufferable if she wasn’t such a genuinely nice person too. 

On the other hand, I
was short, curvy, and cursed by a mane of unruly black curls that always wanted
to frizz in our abundant humidity.  I stuck to the lightest possible
amount of makeup – a 55 gallon barbecue smoker will defeat any
manufacturer’s claims.  I filled out our team tee-shirts nicely, but the
constant smudges and splashes defeated the purpose.

“Oh, so I should talk
to him?  Maybe he wants to open a restaurant, needs a head chef?”  I
was playing dumb, but I didn’t think it was working. 

Lisa smirked at
me.  “I don’t think he wanted to talk business with you, sugar. 
Wouldn’t he be a nice change from your usual broke bartenders?” 

I blushed again. 
“Whatever!” 

“Just keep it in mind
when he comes back!  Cause he’s gonna come back, mark my words!”

***

Sure enough, he was
back the next day.  I’d actually managed to get away from the riverside
park where the festival is held long enough to shower and change clothes, but
my fresh and clean appearance fell apart in the time it took me to get from my air-conditioned
car back to our tent. 

We’d done quite well in
the rib judging, earning our first top ten finish, and we had high hopes for
the shoulder judging.  By the time the judges left at 2 pm, we were all
exhausted emotionally and physically.  All six of us were slumped at the
big table in our tent, nursing beers, when Tad appeared again.

He stuck his head in
the tent and grinned when he saw me.  “Mind if I come in, ladies?”

Lisa and I jumped to
our feet.  She introduced him to the rest of the girls while I grabbed
another beer from the cooler.  As I returned, she finished by saying, “And
I think you’ve met Alex, right?  Alexa Arnott, this is Tad Marshall.”

Tad’s eyes sparkled as
he grinned at me.  “Sure have.  I was hoping to get an introduction
this time.  Thanks, Lisa!” 

I passed the tall man
the beer with my left hand and shook his right.  “Nice to meet you,
Tad.  You enjoying the festival?”

“Enjoying it more once
I met you!  How did the judging go?”

“Well, we moved up with
our ribs this year and got seventh, but I think they didn’t like what we did
with the shoulder.  Might’ve had a little too much bark and the meat was a
tad bit dry, but we’re constantly learning.”  I sighed and took a long
pull on my beer.  “I’m always excited to compete in these things, but by
the end I’m just glad it’s over!” 

Tad hooked a plastic
chair with his foot and dragged it near mine and we sat down.  “I can only
imagine.  So you’re not a barbecue chef for your day job?” 

“No, I’m a pizza cook
in Midtown.  We’re all in food service, but none of us are ‘cue
pros.  It’s kind of a strength, but it’s a weakness too.  Personally,
I think if I did this seven days a week, I’d lose my fresh approach. 
Cooking every couple of months for a competition gives me a little distance to
think about things.” 

The conversation flowed
easily for the rest of the night, and before I knew it, we’d made tentative
plans to “stay in touch.”  But I’ve heard that before, and honestly, I’ve
changed my mind about pursuing a guy, too.  I tried to put Tad’s lean good
looks out of my mind as I started my normal work week.  He was way too
preppy, way too
normal
for me.  I dated long-haired tattooed
bartenders and scruffy underemployed musicians, not rich East Memphis
developers’ sons!

***

We were just beginning
to put the kitchen back together after the Friday night rush when John, the
gangly teenager who ran the register, stuck his head back in the kitchen. 
“Hey Alex.  Some dude here to see you.”

I was carrying a stack
of empty pizza sauce lexans back to the sinks.  I called out, “Be up in a
minute!”

I carefully balanced my
load on the mountain of dirty dishes, washed my hands, and wondered who it
was.  Not Tad, surely?  He was so not my type, and I hadn’t heard
from him all week.  Just in case, I ducked in the manager’s office and
snagged a clean Pizza Perfecto! shirt from the box under the desk.  They
were supposed to be for new hires, but the one I was wearing looked like one of
those ink-blot psych tests, except done in pizza sauce.