Stories Of Submission Novels & Stories

] while she laid there, her mind far-away. She'd been with dominant and submissive men, and men that were closeted gays who wanted to fuck her asshole and make her wear a beanie to cover up her hair and not say a word so they could pretend she was their male lover. She'd been in threesomes where the two men had paid more attention to themselves than they'd pay her. She had eventually lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling and letting them do their own thing.

But before she could rise, he was there—straddling her hips, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand, his thigh between hers. “You give everything away,” he said, voice like gravel. “Every intention. Every desire.” “I gave you nothing,” she hissed. “Except your body, your breath... and the way your thighs just opened for me.” She bared her teeth. He bent lower, their mouths a whisper apart. “Submission is not surrender. It’s control... given. Not taken.” His hand slid from her wrist to her throat... not choking, just holding. A quiet threat. A promise.

Several scenes played out in different areas, a woman blindfolded and kneeling before a seated man, a man bound to a wooden cross while a woman in leather circled him, a couple engaged in what appeared to be an elaborate power exchange involving whispered commands and immediate compliance. Sir led her to an unoccupied area with a large leather chair and a padded bench. "Kneel," he said, pointing to a spot before the chair. Honey hesitated only briefly before sinking to her knees. Sir sat in the chair, leaning forward so their faces were close. "Look around you, Red. See how these people surrender, how they find freedom in submission." His voice was low, meant only for her. "This is what you

I was so close to experiencing my orgasm, but they stopped abruptly, leaving me frustrated and confused. “You don’t get to reach your orgasm until we allow it,” Allison explained, her voice firm but calm. “That’s the power of submission. Your Master’s pleasure comes before yours. You need to ask for permission before you climax.” I stared at them, my mind racing. Why would I need to ask for permission to enjoy sex? Wasn’t sex supposed to be mutual, something both parties could enjoy freely? “Submit, Phoebe, don’t be too shy to beg,” Sherry chimed in. “Begging will show Antonio that you’ve surrendered control, that you need him to grant you pleasure.”

"I don't think I've ever cum so hard." I could believe it. She had liquid all over her upper thighs. Lisa and Rhonda started to clean Master. His cum was everywhere. "We cum like that all the time. That's our normal state; cum hungry slaves eager to fuck. The act of submission makes us horny all the time, yet we remain under our Dominant's control, under their will, unable to cum until they say so. It's one of the reasons we surrender so much power to our Master." "It makes more sense to me now."

He was doing this on purpose. My moans turned desperate and broken. “I'll sign”, I gasped in a hoarse voice, finally. “Just let me come—please—”. He slowed, grinding deep while he continued rubbing lazy circles on my clit now. “Say it clearly”. He said in a low and dark voice. “I'll sign the contract”, I repeated, tears pricking my eyes from the denied release. “I'll be your submissive for six months”. He rewarded me by rubbing my clit again, harder and faster, until the orgasm crashed through me so violently my knees buckled.

Two people fighting for both domination and submission. The lyrics have never really appealed to me until right in this very minute. Isn't submission an outlet? A way of forgetting your worries? Your fears? Your responsibilities? Your everyday life? Would being submissive help me move on from my hell? Could I be submissive? Was I ever a submissive woman? "I love the way you look at me, I love the way you smack my ass, I love the dirty things you do, I have control of you.." Butterflies swarm my belly as I sing the words..

“Why don’t you ask us some questions? It might put your mind at ease.” “Yeah, okay.” Jade took a sip of her drink. “Why are you naked?” “Because master Brady requires me to be.” She replied. “So he forces you to be?” “Dear God, no!” Joanne laughed. “My master never forces me to do anything. I give him my service to make him happy. If he requires me naked, then I am naked for him.” “Being a submissive is about giving yourself to someone.” Destiny added in. “We do everything we can to please our dominant. But if it is something we are unwilling to do, they respect that.”

She already knew that would be expected. Damon’s bedroom was even larger than hers. The massive king-sized bed dominated the room, covered in black silk sheets. Damon stood by the windows wearing only a pair of dark gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, revealing the deep V of his sculpted abs and the outline of his heavy cock. “Close the door,” he ordered. Ara obeyed. “So today’s scene,” he said, “is about a submissive woman meeting her ex one last time before her wedding. She knows it’s wrong. She knows she shouldn’t. But she can’t resist him. She lets him ruin her for her future husband. That’s the energy I want.”