Page 39 of The Billionaire Submissive
The crop rubbed against his scrotum and higher, sliding into the crease of his ass with a deliberate bend of her wrist to angle it just so. She used enough pressure to force him up on his toes, to make him fully aware of exactly where she touched him. Leather slid and rubbed deeper, driving him insane. Nerve endings burned at the newfound stimulation. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined to last. Determined to stand up against the torment. To take it.
Like a man.
The thought dragged a choked sound from him, half laugh, half sob.
Her free arm came around his waist and she rubbed her face against his stomach. She had enough pity for him that she was careful not to touch his cock, but her cheek and mouth against his stomach was almost as bad. Her hand kneaded his ass cheek again. He couldn’t recall a woman squeezing and stroking his ass. Ever. Let alone as diligently as Mistress L. Her fingers were so strong and confident, sure she had full and complete license to touch him in any way she wanted. He’d signed his body over to her, willingly and completely.
In this, I’m her willing and eager slave.
The thought rocked him back on his heels and he sagged again, almost falling against her. Her fingers pulled on his buttock, separating his cheeks more fully for the wicked gliding crop. He’d known the anus was full of nerve endings, but pride, again, had kept him from ever allowing exploration. He wasn’t gay, so he’d stupidly kept the area off limits, but even more grievously ignorant, he’d markedpossible interestinstead ofnoneon the questionnaire. He hadn’t given Mistress L enough credit at the time to understand she would take him no holds barred. No hesitation. Nothing was too dirty for her if either one of them would find pleasure in it.
With the crop pressing against him and his body throbbing with new sensation, he knew all too well what pleasure she could find there.
“Have you ever had anything in your ass, Donovan?”
He jerked against her, helpless and unable—unwilling—to defend himself. His shoulders ached with strain. His thighs quivered as if he’d swum laps around the lake instead of cruising in his boat. “No, Mistress.” His voice shook as badly as his legs but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
I could tell her my safeword.
But I won’t.
And she knows it.
A sudden peace washed over him, a calm he’d never known. Whatever happened was out of his hands. He’d signed his name on her dotted line. He’d given himself over to her. She could do as she willed to him. Nothing would stop her from taking exactly what she wanted, even if that meant she pulled out a monstrously large strap-on dildo from the black bag and started fucking him with it.
His knees buckled and he fell before her, trembling.
“There you go, sweet boy. That’s what I wanted to see.” Her arms remained around him, her hands rubbing over his back and ass to soothe and comfort him, gentle and loving and kind. Not punishing. Not cruel. “There’s the utter and complete submission I wanted you to give me.”
She stood, urging him to turn and give her room. To give her access to whatever she wanted. He knew what she wanted. She’d already told him. So he bent forward, pressed his face to the padded deck, and lifted his ass high in the air.
The crop came down in the hardest blow she’d given him, his immediate reward for obeying her, even if it’d taken him agony to get there. He groaned out a harsh, desperate cry, arching his back, his body begging for another blow, even though he knew it was too late. She’d promised only six blows. And that was the sixth.
He’d fought and wrestled with his pride so long that now a release felt like a distant, receding door, and he was trapped in a nightmare hallway that only grew longer the harder he tried to escape. The words were there. The words he’d sworn he wouldn’t give any woman. Pleas and cries, desperation burning in every overused muscle until he couldn’t stand it. His pride was shattered, broken down into a thousand shards, slicing his throat and keeping the words locked inside.
Luckily for him, she must have decided he’d given enough, at least for this scene.
“You gave me what I wanted, Donovan. So I’m going to give you exactly what you need.”
The crop came down again and again, a steady rhythm, one cheek and then the other. He’d never been able to last so long. Other Mistresses had spanked him and he’d been humiliated at how quickly he’d exploded. He’d sworn he’d seen a knowing smirk in their eyes. Now he knew why he’d been unable to control himself and also why he hadn’t gone back to any of those other women.
They hadn’t been able to control him either. They hadn’t taken the time to figure out how his brain worked, to learn what he needed so desperately. Pain alone wasn’t enough, not completely. He needed to be conquered.
He needed to surrender. Like this. Beyond his pride, beyond any sense of humiliation and shame. He needed to find a Mistress who could bring him to this place and keep him hovering on the edge of release, unable to come.
Until she allowed it.
She pressed against the backs of his thighs, straddling his feet on her knees to get close. Her hands kneaded his swollen ass and she pressed her hips against his hamstrings, rocking him, a reverse doggie style that had never entered his mind with a woman.
She could take me like this. I’d be completely under her control.
His arms were pinned in the small of his back. His face to the floor. His ass on fire and completely vulnerable. And his cock was so hard and swollen it didn’t even feel like his any longer. Like his brain didn’t even connect to it, nerves and muscle severed by her will alone.
She wrapped her palm around it in a hard, firm squeeze that made him buck helplessly beneath her. “Come, Donovan. Come for me.”
It was like her words plugged his cock back into his brain and ten thousand bolts of live electricity arced through his body. He convulsed, shaking, unable to stop. And yeah, by the way his ears rang and his throat ached, he must have yelled as loudly as she threatened before he was done.
Curled up on his side, he fought not to cry like a baby while she unbuckled his wrists and then wrapped around his back. “I’m sweaty and gross,” he finally managed to say despite his raw throat. “Don’t—”
