Dom/sub Read online

  DOM/sub

  B. D. Dark & Roxy Harte

  ®

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

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  This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

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  DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id® publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id® nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Dom/sub

  B. D. Dark & Roxy Harte

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  “Dominance,” Copyright © September 2007 by B. D. Dark

  “Submissive,” Copyright © September 2007 by Roxy Harte

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59632-550-0

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editors: Barbara Marshall & Irene D. Williams

  Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter

  DOMINANCE

  B. D. Dark

  Prologue

  How did it get this far? I ran my hand down her white, trembling leg and clasped her foot. The nude female form spread open before me on the X-shaped cross like an offering to the gods was intoxicating. I examined every angle and curve of Kim’s delicate body, the shadow beneath each jutting breast, the lines of ligaments in her straining arms and legs, the dark dip of her navel in her flat stomach. But most of all, I gazed at her wide eyes and the growing excitement in them as she watched my hands.

  I caressed the blade of the sharp knife with a careful finger, conscious of putting on a show for her. My cock rose hard and full in my pants as I lifted the knife and pressed the tip very lightly into the bottom of her breast, not breaking flesh.

  Kim’s body jerked in reaction, but there was no way for her to shy away from the weapon. She was bound and helpless. She gazed at the knife and said something into the ball-gag stretching her mouth. Her breast twitched against the knife’s pressure, and the movement drove her tit more firmly against the point of the blade so it broke skin.

  I pulled the knife away. A tiny bead of blood appeared at the piercing. I watched, fascinated as it swelled to a bigger droplet. The swelling of my dick matched it. I ached with overwhelming arousal at the sight of the woman on the cross and the small red nick in her pristine white breast.

  Lifting the knife again, I placed it just under her breast. The blade drifted down her torso from tit to pelvis, leaving a thin, red trail as shallow as a paper cut. It barely cleaved her skin.

  Kim was motionless, not screaming into her gag or twisting to get free. She tilted her head forward, curious to see the line I’d made on her smooth body.

  I put my hand between her widespread legs, dipping my fingers into her steamy entrance. The heat and moisture of her tight pussy seared my skin. Drawing my slick fingers up to her clit, I rotated little circles until Kim’s eyes fell shut in rapture and moans welled from behind the gag. Before she could come, I stopped the circular motion and stroked her smooth pubic mound like a favored pet.

  Standing back, I gazed at the shallow cut I’d made down her body, then carefully sliced a delicate, parallel line leading from her other breast to her pelvic bone. Two thin lines marked her torso. Resting my hand on her belly, I felt it twitch beneath my palm before sliding it slowly up to her chest, following the trail I’d carved. I kneaded one firm breast and the other, then pinched and twisted her engorged nipples until she moaned.

  I pulled one nipple as far out from her chest as I could. Her body attempted to follow the movement of her breast. Her upper back arched away from the cross as far as it could. Lifting my knife, I placed it at the base of her distended areole and looked up at Kim for her reaction.

  A sheen of sweat slicked her forehead; pale wheat-blonde hair clung to it. She stared at the knife poised at her vulnerable tit, then lifted her gaze and met mine for a long moment. Complete trust shone in her hazel eyes. She knew I wouldn’t hurt her beyond what she could endure. Bracing her body against the cross, she closed her eyes and waited for me to do whatever I pleased with her. That expression of complete faith was an aphrodisiac to me that made my cock swell even harder.

  I paused with the knife at her breast. How did we come to this? How did I let it get this far?

  Chapter One

  “The vessel receives whatever is poured in it. It doesn’t complain that the contents are too hot or too cold, but accepts what is given without question. The vessel then holds the liquid until the provider chooses to empty it again.”

  As I read the words of the ancient text, I felt I’d found the perfect explanation of a submissive nature. This was what Dominance and submission was all about, a provider and a willing vessel, and I knew on which side of the equation my inclination laid.

  My dream of owning a willing slave ‑‑ a live-in companion rather than a weekend playmate ‑‑ had begun to infiltrate every moment of my life. Daydreams distracted me during my workday or after hours. Erotic fantasies filled my dreams at night.

  It was no longer enough to look at pictures of bound and gagged women or watch web cam performances of torture and subjugation. I wanted to join the scene, but I didn’t want to simply experiment with the lifestyle at clubs or on play dates. I wanted to be completely immersed in a relationship, live with a woman who was as invested in her role as I was in mine.

  At a club I knew I’d stick out as a newbie wannabe, so I bided my time and researched and read everything I could about the BDSM lifestyle. I chatted with people online and cruised Internet want ads, reading the profiles of Dominants seeking submissives or slaves seeking Masters.

  Just reading the descriptions made me hard. I stroked my cock while I read, “Married couple seeks well hung stud. She is in need of cock 24/7 and he is a voyeur that enjoys photographing and filming her enjoying all she can get. Gangbangs are a favorite.”

  The wife had added, “My Ideal Person: Men that have no inhibition about using me as hubby watches and captures the pleasure on film.”

  I studied another file of a voluptuous, smiling woman with huge tits. Her message read, “im very interested in finding a man who is not afraid to take me over his knee and spank my ass red. i crave a strong hand to keep me in line.”

  A woman wearing a conservativ
e white blouse and skirt said, “Am totally focused on the needs of my Dom. My own satisfaction is supplied by the pleasure i provide. I need harsh training.”

  A petite girl in strappy leather fetish wear with an open crotch explained, “i enjoy wearing outfits that keep me available at all times should my Master require access to His property. i know my place and happily accept my role.”

  I wondered if all of the listings were for real, or if some of the women were just playing around and would disappear like smoke if someone actually tried to contact them.

  I idly stroked my erection, slow and easy to make it last, and continued to read.

  In the listing of submissives seeking partners was a want ad placed by a self-styled “slave trainer.” “Check out my latest slut/slave trainee. I’ve worked hard with her and she is almost ready for a new Master. Browse the photo gallery to see if this well-trained sub will suit your needs.”

  I couldn’t resist the invitation and clicked on the photo file. I was instantly treated to a montage of pictures of “little cocksucker,” as she was called, in various stages of training. The girl looked young, although her trainer had verified she was of legal age. In most photos her hair was pulled into two high pigtails on either side of her head to enhance her barely legal look. The gallery was extensive, the array of poses and practices mind-boggling.

  Little cocksucker could be seen naked, face-down, tied spread-eagle on a bed with a large dildo inserted in her upthrust ass. In another shot, she hung suspended from her wrists, toes barely touching the ground. A gag filled her mouth, and a black-masked man whipped her small, conical tits with a flail.

  There was a close-up photo of a man’s cock, presumably the trainer’s, shooting come across the girl’s face. The picture caught the ribbons of white landing on her cheek and chin. The girl’s eyes were half-closed in pleasure, her mouth open and her pink tongue stretched to receive his spunk like it was a delectable treat.

  There were other photos where little cocksucker was posed in costumes; leather bondage gear, dog collar and leash, lacy lingerie and high heels. There were pictures of her flaming red ass after her trainer had paddled her for a transgression. She was shown in extreme bondage, tied so intricately she couldn’t move a muscle.

  I stroked my dick faster and harder as I examined one erotic image after another. The sight of the girl’s complete domination by her trainer was exhilarating. I wanted that for myself so badly I could taste it. I needed to possess a woman who would willingly give herself into my control.

  The tension in my groin grew exponentially with each picture I viewed ‑‑ and even more from reading the suggestive, intoxicating words. I pumped my rigid cock with my fist, hard and rough, until ecstasy seized and shuddered through me. My balls tightened, and come spurted from the angry purple head of my cock, landing on my computer keyboard and dribbling onto my fist. I closed my eyes, panting and cursing as waves of exhilaration shook me. My breath rasped in and out, and I sat for a moment, shaken by the force of the orgasm.

  “Shit!” I cursed when I opened my eyes and beheld the sticky mess on the keyboard. I wiped up the evidence of my desperate need as best I could with the tail of my shirt, then returned to the main page of little cocksucker’s profile. Her Dom had this to say about her: “She loves being told what to do and will do anything. The other night I told her to pull her skirt up and masturbate while I watched. No big deal, right? We were in a dimly lit booth at the back of a restaurant. Customers were nearby but the slut didn’t hesitate to splay her legs wide and flash her pussy at me. She rubbed her clit and finger-fucked herself until she came right there in the restaurant. She’s an obedient little bitch, hoping the right might Master will come and claim her. Don’t miss your chance to own her.”

  I wondered if the story was true and was tempted to contact this guy, just to sound him out and see if he was for real. I wouldn’t mind seeing little cocksucker in person, even if nothing came of it, and maybe my initiation into the lifestyle should be with a previously trained sub. But I knew it wasn’t what I really craved. I wanted to meet someone special and learn along with her. I wanted to train my partner and to have a relationship based on a real connection…which just happened to include Dominance and submission as part of the package.

  If this was going to be a voyage of discovery, it should be a cruise for two. Both my sub and I would grow together, becoming something new, something outside the norm. We would be challenged as we never had been before. I would learn to be her Master, and she my slave. But where and how could I find a novice like myself ‑‑ the perfect candidate?

  Chapter Two

  I joined a few online communities, talked to a lot of experienced people in the lifestyle, and learned some of the terminology so I didn’t sound like a complete greenhorn. Most importantly, I learned the watchwords of the BDSM lifestyle, safe, sane, consensual, from a man who called himself Mad Master. Boundaries and safe words must be set, agreements made. This was not a pact to be entered into lightly.

  My mentor, Mad, invited me to his house for a party where I could wet my feet among more experienced players. “If you have a girl in mind, bring her along so she can check out the scene, too. If you don’t, that’s cool. There’ll be plenty of subs to play with, and we’re a sharing community.”

  The night of the party, I drove almost two hours to reach the city where my new mentor lived. My stomach was jumpy, my palms sweaty, and my pulse raced as if I’d taken speed. Adrenaline burned in my veins, and my cock was rigid the whole drive just from the anticipation of what I was about to experience.

  Finally, I pulled the car up in front of a ranch house on a nondescript street. I hadn’t been expecting a Bavarian castle in the middle of suburbia, but somehow the neat brick ranch with its carefully mowed lawn and trimmed hedges didn’t fulfill my expectations. I hoped it wasn’t an indicator of the rest of the evening.

  I walked up the path and rang the bell. A few minutes passed before a guy with a goatee, whom I identified from his profile photo as Mad Master, a.k.a. Derrick, opened the door. “Hi. You must be Steve.”

  “Yeah. Hi.” I stuck out my hand and shook the dungeon master’s hand, feeling like an idiot.

  He grinned and ushered me into the front hall. “While we’re in play mode we refer to each other by our chosen names. So for tonight, you’re Cock Wielder, your online handle. Care for a drink?”

  “Absolutely.” I blew out a long breath. Code names? I hadn’t known we were using names. It seemed pretentious, silly, like grown-up kids inventing a secret club, which, I supposed, was what it was.

  “Little nervous, huh?”

  “More than a little,” I admitted.

  “Daphne, bring our guest a drink.” Mad turned and called to a woman who was walking from the kitchen with a tray full of drinks.

  In the living room beyond the foyer were a number of people sitting and talking. Some wore fetish wear, strappy leather outfits or sheer, diaphanous fabrics, others common street clothes. There were various degrees of nudity.

  My attention was caught and held by a naked woman of indeterminate age crouched on hands and knees, serving as a coffee table for some of the guests. Her head was down, and long hanks of hair hid her face from view. There were glasses and small plates of hors d’oeuvres resting on her flat back and perched precariously on her round ass. My cock stiffened even harder at the blatant display of servitude. I wondered how much of the play was for show at parties and how much of it infiltrated couples’ daily lives. All I knew was I was entranced with the woman’s submissive posture.

  Mad led me to the living room and introduced me to some of the guests, refilling my glass several times as I downed each whiskey with barely a pause. The heat of the alcohol settled in my stomach, glowing warmly, suffusing me with well-being and relaxing the nervous knot inside me. I talked to some people who’d come to the party as couples, others as singles. We chatted about our “vanilla” lives a bit, jobs, sports, politics, the weather. But
there was really only one thing we all had in common, and we all knew why we were really here. I, for one, was anxious for the real party to begin.

  I sat and talked with one man whose favorite kink was breast torture. He told me stories about things he’d done to willing victims that I doubted were true, but that kept me on the edge of my seat with my dick rock-hard in my pants.

  Feeling more relaxed after meeting a few people, I was ready to find out what went on down in the “dungeon,” Mad and Daphne’s lavish basement. Before the party moved downstairs, Mad introduced me to another guest, a late arrival at the party. She had come along with a couple.

  “This is Kim, a friend of Doug and Brenda’s ‑‑ uh, that is, Maximus and Fontana. They have a little Roman thing going. Kim’s new here, too.”

  “Hi, pleased to meet you.” The woman had pale, silvery-blonde hair and wide hazel eyes. A light sprinkling of freckles graced her uptilted nose and high cheekbones. She was ethereal and elegant, a real beauty. Her thin wrists and long, slender neck gave an impression of vulnerability, but the light in her clear eyes spoke of a strong will.

  “Hi. I’m Steve.”

  “Cock Wielder,” Mad corrected, grinning. He slapped me on the shoulder and wandered away to refresh his drink.

  “Steve, really,” I said to Kim. “The nickname thing is a little much, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever gets you into the role, I guess. They all seem to be having fun with it.”

  “All right then, Kim. What would you choose for your sub name?” I teased. “Baby doll? Sugar buns? Cum whore?”

  “No,” she said with a grin. “I wouldn’t choose a name at all. My Master would have to do it. That’s the whole point for a sub, isn’t it, deferring to someone else’s judgment? That’s what first intrigued me about giving up control. I have to deal with shit all day at my office. I think it’d be the most relaxing thing in the world to drop all that when I walk in the door at night.” She laughed. “Not to mention that the idea of being tied up and flogged is hot as hell.”