Submission (8 page)

She was his captive. There was no
disputing it. She did as she was told, feeling again the cool leather of the
seats against her legs and butt. She was in the seat behind the driver’s seat,
the bench seat that faced backward.

She heard him get into the car,
smelled the heat of his presence, tingled.

She felt the Master lean over her.
She felt the stubble of his whiskers, the heat of his skin, the unexpected
brush of his body against hers. He locked his hands around her waist and bodily
lifted her back into the rear seat. He squeezed her waist slightly, possessive,
then brushed his mouth across hers lightly.

She felt her lips part in yearning
for more.

If she hadn’t been blindfolded,
she would have closed her eyes. She might have swooned. Her entire body was on
fire, desire simmering beneath her skin.

What did he look like? She
desperately wanted to know.

The Master ran his hands over her
body as if appreciating her, pausing to tease her nipples, before fastening the
seatbelt again around her hips. He tightened it more than the Countess had,
binding her to the seat. She opened her mouth to ask or protest, but his finger
landed solidly against her mouth.

Leather against her lips.

His lips against her ear.

She was melting with lust for him,
and she didn’t know anything about him.

“Don’t make me gag you before I’m
ready,” he whispered, a dark threat in his words.

Joanna gasped, which obviously
amused him.

He licked her ear quickly, blew on
the dampness and made her shiver. He chuckled and she heard him take the
opposite seat. She felt his gaze upon her and wished she knew what to do.

“Ankles together, always,” he
commanded.

Joanna put her ankles together.

“Knees apart.”

She spread her knees wide, knowing
he’d have to see the wet heat of her, the slick invitation that showed his
effect upon her. She was glad to be shaved then, glad he could see every
glistening fold.

She heard him catch his breath.

He moved to the seat beside her in
one quick fluid move. She was sure he must move like a great cat, all power and
elegance. Strength held in check. She was sure his eyes must simmer with
sensual heat, that he was muscled and strong, and so sexy that women stopped in
the street to salivate at the sight of him.

Like she was now.

Maybe he looked just like Mike.

His fingertip touched her lips
again. “Lips always parted,” he murmured and she opened her mouth a little. He
ran that leather clad finger across her bottom lip. “Not gaping. Welcoming.”

She couldn’t resist. She had to
say something. “Yes, Master.”

“Naughty again,” he said, but
there was that thread of amusement in his voice. Joanna sensed that she could
break the rules, so long as she did it in a way that amused him. She heard the
sound of Rafael returning, realized the door of the car must still be open.

In the next moment, she realized
she was wrong about the rules.

“Thank you, Rafael,” the Master
said. He returned to the opposite seat, his heat fading from her side. Joanna
had an instant to fear that he was leaving her, then she heard the click of a
camera shutter.

And saw the illumination of a
flash.

He was doing it! She cried out in
dismay, but the Master had anticipated her.

“Bad girl,” he said sternly and
leather slapped across her breast. She gasped at the sting, knew it must have
been one of his gloves, then felt him slide into the seat beside her once more.

He clapped one gloved hand over
her mouth, condemning her to silence as he pressed her head back against the
headrest. She struggled but he had a grip like iron.

“Very bad,” he whispered and
Joanna trembled deep down inside. “I think our little journalist has had her
fill of our games.”

Joanna struggled, wanting to prove
him wrong, realizing that her choice was precisely wrong. She let herself go
limp, unable to argue her case when he had his hand locked over her mouth, and
tried to be a good submissive slave.

“No, Joanna,” he whispered softly
into her ear. “I’m not fooled.”

He cleared his throat then, and
when he continued his tone was conversational. “Rafael, why don’t you eat her?”

“My pleasure, sir.”

Joanna was incredulous, but she
heard the sound of a hat hitting the opposite seat. She felt the other man get
into the car. She tried to kick but he grabbed both of her knees, spreading her
knees wide and holding her down. Joanna struggled against the seatbelt, against
three strong male hands, went wild when she saw the camera flash through her
blindfold.

There was nothing she could do to
free herself.

“Helpless to desire,” the Master
murmured. “That’s what happens when you really submit to the Plume.”

Joanna felt the heat of Rafael’s
breath on her thighs, the resolute grip of his hands on her knees. She bared
her teeth and tried to cry out as Rafael’s tongue flicked against her clitoris.
He ate her with gentle persistence, using his tongue and his teeth and
eventually, his fingers. She was trapped, helpless to his touch.

Being photographed at it.

Something snapped in her mind
then, an acknowledgement that she was not in control, that there was nothing
she could do to change her situation, that she was completely at the Master’s
mercy. Joanna shuddered, the tremor running through her body from head to toe.
She was defeated. She was claimed.

And it felt good. Shock flooded
through her mind, then sensation took over completely. Her skin tingled, her
blood was pumping, her sex was vibrating. Rafael’s tongue was dangerous and
potent, his touch driving her absolutely wild.

Joanna could smell the leather of
the Master’s glove, feel his power and his tenderness. She felt as if she would
explode. She squirmed but Rafael held fast – and so did the Master.

“What if we did share you?” the
Master murmured. “What if he ate you while I took you from behind?”

The idea astonished her so
completely that Joanna froze.

She tried to make a cry of
protest, but failed. The Master moved his hand, cupping the back of her neck
again, and kissed her once again. His mouth locked over hers, silencing her as
effectively as his gloved hand. His tongue danced with hers, his kiss both
punishing and demanding.

There was nothing she could
control, nothing she could do to stop the pleasure was surging through her body
with new power. Joanna surrendered. She sighed and softened, and abandoned her
need to control her fate.

She was the Master’s possession,
for better or for worse. The Master’s kiss awakened a secret desire deep inside
her, one she hadn’t known she had. She’d felt it resonating since meeting the
Countess and only now – helpless to the Master’s demands – did she
succumb to it.

Heat flooded through her. Her skin
tingled and her desire roared. She’d never felt so alive and so potent. She
found her back arching and heard surprise rumble in the Master’s chest. She
felt her hips buck, felt the seatbelt hold her as securely ad Rafael and the
Master. The Master’s hand closed over her breast, teasing the nipple to a peak,
making her squirm with pleasure.

Meanwhile, Rafael ate her. Her
clitoris was full and hard, swollen and more wet than ever before. Rafael
braced one shoulder against her knee and massaged her thighs. She thought she
had a reprieve, then his fingers slipped inside of her. He was wearing those
leather gloves, his touch strong and sure. She hadn’t lied about her affection
for leather, after all. The smooth feel of it was driving her crazy.

The Master deepened his kiss,
sucking on her tongue, insisting that she meet his passion halfway. He cupped
her face in his massive leather-clad palm, holding her helpless, just the way
she was realizing she liked it. Joanna pressed herself against him, grinding
herself against the seat, wanting him to take her over and over again.

She was lost in the sensation of
pleasure, bound and possessed.

And she was loving it.

Rafael bit her clitoris, sliding
his teeth against it with gentle power, in the same moment that the Master
pinched her nipple. Joanna exploded with a shout, her orgasm so powerful that
she was left shaking and panting. She felt Rafael move away. Joanna was glad to
be bound, glad she didn’t have to stand up or say anything coherent. She shook
in the wake of her release.

She wondered what the Master would
do to her next.

She couldn’t wait to find out.

“Bad Joanna,” the Master chided,
his voice dangerous and silky. “I didn’t give you permission to come.”

He unfastened her seatbelt, dumped
her over his knee and spanked her hard. His other hand bracketed her waist,
holding her firmly against his powerful thighs. Joanna squirmed with outrage,
crying out at the smack of leather against her bare buttocks. It didn’t hurt
but it was humiliating, not the attention she wanted from him. She wasn’t a
little girl. She was a woman and she wanted him to take her like one.

But no.

“She will be silent, by choice or
not,” the Master said.

It must have been Rafael who
jammed a roll of cloth into her mouth. Joanna struggled to spit it out, but
failed. She screamed but made only a faint sound.

Rafael growled in appreciation.

The Master spanked her again and
again and again, her butt heating with the impact of the leather. Rafael
hovered in close proximity. Joanna’s tears flowed and she struggled against the
Master’s hold, even knowing it was futile.

She was silenced.

Claimed.

His.

He stopped when he was satisfied
and not one moment before.

He rolled her easily back to her
seat, flung her down and locked her in with the seatbelt again. Her buttocks
stung with the impact against the seat but she didn’t dare complain. Tears were
running down her face, tears of humiliation, slipping from beneath the
blindfold and domino. Her chest was heaving in agitation and embarrassment.

She realized then that the
Countess had returned, because she smelled the woman’s perfume.

“Had your fun?” the Countess
asked, laughter lurking under her words. Joanna heard the rustle of taffeta,
felt those skirts brush her knees as the Countess moved to sit beside her.

And the Master moved away.

“Take her back where she came
from,” the Master said, his voice hard. “We don’t need her kind at the Plume.”
He leaned closer to whisper in Joanna’s ear. “Displease me and the world will
see my pictures of you.” He snapped another, because she heard the click of the
shutter and saw the glow of the flash.

Then she knew he was gone.

Rafael plucked out the gag, then
the door to the car slammed. Joanna started to protest, but the Countess leaned
closer. “Shut up, bitch,” she whispered. “This is all the story you’ll get from
us.”

Rafael slammed the driver’s door
and started the engine, and the car pulled away with enough speed that Joanna
was tipped off balance.

She was back in her apartment, in
her raincoat, with her keys in her hand and the domino mask in her pocket, in
record time. The return trip had been the exact inverse of the outgoing trip,
although the silence had been charged.

Rafael – was that even his
name? – had grinned at her when he ushered her out the door, then ran his
tongue over his front teeth.

Joanna stood like a statue in her
apartment, keys still in her hand, dissatisfied. Her butt was burning. Her
nipples were aching. Her skin was tingling and her sex was itching. There were
tears on her cheeks and a new crevasse cracked wide inside of her.

She hadn’t been in control.

And she had reveled in it.

What had happened to her?

Joanna wished she could have seen
the Master. She wished she wasn’t being banished from his sphere. She yearned
for what he might have given her and made her feel.

The truly incredible thing was
that she knew no more about the Plume than she’d known two hours before –
and she didn’t care.

What had the Master done to her? A
woman with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes looked back at Joanna from the
mirror, a woman with an adventurous glint in her eye and her lips swollen from
fierce kisses.

A woman who wasn’t going to fall
asleep anytime soon. No, she felt too alive, too aware of every increment of
her body to sleep. She opened her raincoat and ran and hand over herself,
echoing the gesture of the Master, and felt a thrill of recollection.

This couldn’t end here.

***

“It’s pathetic,” Athena
complained, pointing at the email messages on her screen. She and Rex were in
the back office of the Plume on Monday morning. “Look at how she’s begging for
you. Honestly, a person would think you’d invented sex.”

“I thought I did,” Rex said, by
rote, and Athena swatted him, by rote. He leaned over the screen, reading
Joanna’s requests for readmission to the Plume with more interest than he knew
they deserved.

She hadn’t meant any of it.

She just wanted the story.

He still wanted her.

“They all fall in love with you,”
Athena continued. “Every single one you train. Doesn’t matter what age or
gender.” She flung out her hands. “It’s just sad.”

“I think your trainees are pretty
taken with you.” Rex had reviewed those pictures of Joanna more times than he
knew was healthy. He wondered whether he’d ever tire of them.

“Well?” Athena prompted.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“It’s not the same and you know
it.” She spun in the chair to face him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and
smiling. “So, why don’t you train me? Fight in your own class for a change.”

Rex chose to make a joke of what
he knew wasn’t a joke. “Because it would ruin everything and you know it,” he
said lightly.