Surrender (2 page)

“Take off your clothes and let me have a look at you.” I felt my eyes widen, but as his dark brows descended, I looked down and began to fumble nervously with the buttons of my blouse. He watched me keenly while I stripped, unnerving me more. By the time I’d stripped down to my bra and panties my face was flashing like a neon sign and the red went all the way down to my breasts. I looked up at him a little hopefully when I’d gotten to that point—hopeful that was as far as I would be expected to go.

SURRENDER Kimberly Zant 7

No such luck.

“The rest,” he said implacably.

Dragging in a shuddering breath, I complied, resisting the urge to try to cover myself with my hands and completely unable to figure out what to do with them when it dawned on me that I shouldn’t try to cover myself. I flinched in spite of all I could do when he reached for my breasts but gritted my teeth and held perfectly still while he examined them, letting out a shaky breath when he released them after a moment and walked around me, looking me over with a slow attention to detail that I felt sure missed no flaw.

His eyes were dark and smoldering with heat when he faced me again. Reaching down, he dragged his fingers through the curls at the apex of my thighs, making me jump. “Au natural,” he said speculatively. “Appealing, and yet I like to be able to see my pretty thing.”

I felt my face heat again as he withdrew his gaze from my mound and met mine.

As if that settled something in his mind, he moved away, striding toward a door I hadn’t noticed before. Opening it, he turned to look at me expectantly. “Come along, Anna.

First a bath and then I’ll trim that.”

Trim that? My hair
there
?

Submissive! I reminded myself and moved toward him jerkily, standing dumbstruck while he adjusted the water in the huge tub that looked as if it could easily accommodate a half a dozen people at one time—three or four anyway.

Indicating with a nod that I was to get in, I did so, settling almost with a sense of relief because me legs had felt as if they would give way and dump me in the floor at any moment.

Taking up a position near the door, he watched me bathe. I wasn’t sure if that was because he wanted to make certain I was thorough, or if he merely wanted to watch, but I reminded myself, again, that I had, to all intents and purposes, contracted to be his sex slave for the duration and that meant he did whatever he pleased and I submitted to whatever he pleased—as long as it didn’t violate the rules I’d agreed to.

And it occurred to me rather forcefully as I mentally reviewed those rules that I’d agreed to pretty much anything so long as it didn’t entail injury to me.

Either the hot water or just plain old weariness began to dissipate the tension as I bathed, slowly, not because I was trying to give him a show but because I felt awkward at being watched. I wasn’t even
almost
relaxed, but the edge wore off.

It felt strange to be watched, made me conscious of every moment of my hands in a way I never had been before. On the other hand, despite my nervousness, there was no doubt in my mind that his gaze was appreciative, and it warmed me in a purely sensual way.

I would’ve been willing to sit in the tub until my skin pruned since being watched wasn’t nearly as unnerving as some of the thoughts rambling through my chaotic brain, but he moved away from the door after a few minutes and picked up a thick towel.

Instead of handing it to me, he settled it on the top step of the two that led up to the tub and indicated that I was to get out of the tub and sit on it. My belly instantly knotted up, but I complied, sitting on the towel uneasily and placing my feet on the step below me.

Crouching in front of me, he grasped first one ankle and then the other, moving them wide apart, and then pushing my thighs wide when I kept my knees together. The SURRENDER Kimberly Zant 8

instinct to snap them back together the moment he let go was strong, but one look at his face was enough to convince me not to try.

He combed his fingers through the hair on my mound and then placed his thumbs on my nether lips, pushing them apart and studying me. My color fluctuated two or three times during the process. My belly clenched and unclenched frantically, but warmth flooded my sex in spite of that, and I wondered uncomfortably if he would be able to see he made me wet just looking at me.

After studying my pussy for a handful of seconds, he grasped my hips and slid me forward until my buttocks were resting on the edge of the step and I had to put my arms behind me to keep my balance. I watched him as he got up and collected a razor and shaving cream. When he returned, kneeling between my thighs, he grasped my knees and spread my legs as wide as they would go.

The shaving cream was cold, but it was the stroke of his fingers as he applied it that made me jump, that sent shockwaves of anticipation through me and stole my breath.

He flicked a glance at me as he smoothed the shaving cream between my thighs, all the way back to my rectum.

I hadn’t even realized I had any hair back there. It embarrassed me to learn that I did. I tried to focus my gaze elsewhere as he began to shave me, but I couldn’t help it.

My gaze kept wandering back to his face.

His expression was one of concentration. It accentuated the almost harsh plains and angles of his face. His hair, somewhat longer than was currently fashionable, was very dark but not ethnic black. Rather, it was a deep, almost black, brown with just a hint of russet highlights. His brows were thick and virtually straight. His eyes would have made any woman envious. His lashes were thick, black, long, and curling, shielding eyes that were somewhere between gray and green, a pale combination of the two colors.

His nose was exceptional, too, a hawkish sort of blade but far more appealing for the sharp definition of bridge and nostrils than a fleshy blob, even though the cut of his nostrils was perilously close to a perpetual sneer. I thought it made him look extraordinarily aristocratic.

Next to his eyes, his mouth was his best feature. Wide, but not overly so, his lips were as well defined as his nose, neither too thin nor too full, and looked firm and hard like the rest of him. My belly fluttered as I stared at that mouth, and images flooded my mind of what it would feel like.

He was clean shaven, but dark hair shadowed his lean cheeks, strong jaw, and forceful chin. High testosterone, I mused, realizing that was probably a good part of my nervousness. I’d read somewhere that it actually oozed from their pores and women, even though they weren’t aware they could smell it, in fact could, and it effected their libido.

As he shaved me, his brows slowly inched together in a frown of concentration and a thick lock of hair fell across his brow. He used the fingers of his free hand to stretch the fleshy outer lips of my sex taut while he shaved. It seemed impersonal, and yet I noticed after a few moments that his hand wasn’t quite as steady as it had been when he’d begun.

When he flicked a glance at my face again, the green irises had virtually disappeared for the darkness of his dilated pupils.

Rising, he rinsed the razor and returned, stroking his fingers along the area he’d SURRENDER Kimberly Zant 9

shaved to test his thoroughness. Apparently satisfied, he studied the wedge of hair on my belly above my cleft and trimmed it down to a small wedge that made me wonder why he’d left anything at all. I’d been denuded of hair from the beginning of my cleft all the way back and the hair on my mound trimmed until it hid nothing at all.

Leaning back slightly, he studied the effect and finally nodded. “Rinse and dry off.”

He left the room while I was drying.

Wondering if we were done for now, or if he was waiting in the bedroom for my first sexual performance, I followed him uneasily after several moments and discovered that he was selecting—
something
from the armoire. My suitcase had disappeared. I felt my stomach take a freefall as I studied the garments I was, apparently, expected to wear.

Dropping them onto the bed, he summoned me to stand before a full length mirror. “This is the way I expect you to groom yourself for the duration,” he said in a deep voice that sounded more than a little husky as he stood behind me and stroked a hand over my denuded pussy.

A jolt went through me at his first touch for I discovered the skin that had been covered with my pubic hair was far more sensitive than I’d ever noticed before—as if it wasn’t shocking enough to
see
so clearly what had been veiled by hair before!

As I’d suspected, the little ‘moustache’ he left didn’t cover anything. It was almost more like an exclamation point to draw attention to my pussy than anything else.

The outer lips that hid my sex looked plumper than I’d thought they were and actually pretty obscene to me, but I was still relieved because my nether lips felt swollen and pouty from his focus on them, and I was glad that
that
part wasn’t visible.

“The correct response is ‘yes, sir’.”

I struggled to find my voice and dutifully repeated the words.

“Wait

here.”

I watched his reflection in the mirror as he moved briskly toward the garments he’d selected. He picked up a bustier and returned. When he’d fitted the black leather piece around my waist and told me to hold it while he fastened the back, I saw that the piece only covered me from just beneath the breasts to a little more than mid-way down my hips, stopping just above my new exclamation point patch of hair. When he’d fastened it, he moved around in front of me and adjusted my breasts which were half in and half out of the thing. Scooping them from the restricting garment, he almost seemed to be ‘fluffing’ them. After staring at them a moment, he caught a nipple between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and plucked at them until my nipples were standing at attention and the rest of me was quivering weakly.

I saw when he moved away at last that the top of the bustier formed more of a shelf for a display than a cup, lifting my breasts as if in offering but covering nothing.

He stood behind me for several moments, studying my reflection and finally summoned me to follow him back to the bed.

He caught my chin in one hand when we stopped there, tipping my face up so that I had to meet him eye to eye. “Have you ever engaged in anal sex?” My eyes widened. I’d been asked that as part of the interview, but I’d, conveniently, closed my mind to that. I shook my head.

He studied my face for several moments, as if he could read my mind, and finally nodded as if it was the answer he’d expected. “Turn around and lean over the bed.” SURRENDER Kimberly Zant 10

I gulped, my stomach clenching harder, but oddly enough I discovered my sex was damper than before, when, by rights, the comment and all it entailed should have been enough to dry up all my juices with anxiety. Dragging in a shaky breath, I turned and did as I was told, spreading my legs wide for him and turning my head to watch as he moved to the small cabinet beside the bed, taking something from a drawer.

I’d never seen anything like the thing he pulled out. It looked strikingly similar to a dildo except that it was tapered to a narrow tip at one end and it looked as if it was made of a far softer material than dildos generally were. He squeezed lubricant out of a tube and spread it over the thing thickly. I caught my breath as he moved behind me again and pushed the cheeks of my ass wide with the fingers of one hand.

“Relax. As I insert this, you need to bear down with your stomach muscles to open the rectum.”

My heart was in my throat, but as I felt him begin to push, I did as I’d been told, panting as I felt the thing penetrating me. Discomfort went through me as it penetrated, a sense of fullness followed as he pushed it slowly inside until it could go no further, but, thankfully, it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I’d expected.

“Now clench and hold for me and stand upright.” Disconcerted that he obviously meant to leave it, more embarrassed than uncomfortable, I pushed myself up from the bed as he returned to the nightstand. The sense of fullness increased as I straightened. It wasn’t comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but I was relieved that it wasn’t painful.

I was still focused on that strange sensation of having something up my ass when he moved up behind me again. I felt a tug along the back edge of the bustier, as if he was attaching something. Catching my shoulders, he turned me to face him and knelt down. I merely stared at him when he pushed one hand between my legs. He looked up at me, his dark brows rising and nudged at my legs with his hand until I shifted them apart.

Reaching between my thighs, he caught hold of whatever it was he’d attached to the back of the bustier and pulled it between my legs—into the cleft of my ass. I frowned, thinking it was just something that would be adjusted. I discovered otherwise.

It tightened as he pulled on it, pressing against my rectum and pushing the thing he’d inserted deeper. Trying not to wiggle, I stared down at the top of his dark head and his hands, unable to see what he was doing. I felt the thing cinched upward, though, felt it compress one side of the outer lips of my sex. He drew it up and fastened it to the front of the bustier, cinching it uncomfortably tight. I reached down instinctively to adjust myself, but he slapped my hand—not hard, but in rebuke.

I snatched my hand back, feeling mildly embarrassed and rather like a child that had been chastised. He delved between my legs again and pulled up another strap catching the other lip my sex as he had the first and making it obvious that it had been no accident. As he fastened the strap to the other edge of the front, cinching it as he had the first, I felt his hot breath waft over the very delicate and sensitive inner lips of my sex.

My clit swelled instantly to a hard, throbbing knot and felt about twice its normal size.

He flicked a glance up at my face when he’d finished fastening the ‘binding’ then returned his attention to his handiwork, making minor adjustments with his fingers that made my knees feel like jelly.