Stories Of Submission の小説・ストーリー

Sloane kissed back with equal force, hands grabbing at clothes. Tatum took full control this time. She pushed Sloane down onto the bed and grabbed a resistance band from her bag. “Hands up,” she ordered. Sloane hesitated but obeyed, her heart pounding with a mix of defiance and need. Tatum tied her wrists together above her head, securing them to the headboard. The band dug into her skin just enough to send sparks through her body. Tatum stripped Sloane slowly, exposing her toned body. “Look at you. So ready to break for me.”

- Each time we are in the red room, you will no longer have a name; you will be called number 1, because you are the first submissive to come to my floor. Here is a submission contract that is known only to us and my lawyers. In addition to the contract, there is a questionnaire that you must answer as honestly as possible, your preferences, what you hate the most; based on your answers, I will know how to conduct the sessions. - What are these sessions? - They are sessions where you will have a lot of pleasure. You are my submissive, my slave in the red room. But outside the room, you are my personal assistant in the eyes of everyone. I have two mistresses, four girlfriends in different cit

Doctor Jacobs said. "There is a song, and the artist says quote we want a lady on the street, and a freak in the bed, end quotation. I believe it's possible to teach part of the first, grace and poise, ballet to us, and the second part would be easy for the motivated candidate." "So we teach them to revel in the submission, grace, humility, and what was it you said?" Dominique flipped through the proposal. "Oh yes, here it is. The absolute loving worship of their dominant."

I hold my fingers perfectly still inside her, letting her tight walls stretch around my hand. "Is the temperature too hot, Anor?" She says absolutely nothing, her chest heaving as her breasts engorge into full, round curves, and her nipples straining against the heavy metal. "Anor. Answer me." "No... No, Master. I'll use my safeword if I need to... please don't stop." Her voice isn't just speaking; she is literally pleading with me, the desperate tone of her submission vibrating straight down to my cock, making it pulse heavily against my trousers.

Angel snarls a menacing snarl before power, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before pushes out of her. “I think it’s time you learned what it means to go against a Guardian,” she growls and as I watch, the warriors all drop to their knees, their necks exposed. I’ve seen this in the pack. This is called submission, when a stronger wolf forces the weaker ones to their will. Only, I’ve never seen anyone, not even Alpha Alaric or Alpha Alec, force this many wolves to submit at once. When I look back, even Alpha Alaric is fighting to stay on his feet. I feel another wave of power and he drops to his knees in front of her, his neck forced into a submissive position.

She was so responsive, allowing me to have my wicked way with her like a true submissive. I wanted to make her exactly that. My submissive. Willing to take my cock. Willing to give me pleasure. Her body was perfect for it. So supple and curvy and damn that ass. That perfectly peach-shaped ass. I couldn't wait to sink between them. I wanted to see the look on her face when I did. "Lay down," I ordered, watching as she swiftly obeyed. Her tits bounced lightly. They looked like round-shaped cakes with her red nipples serving as the cherry on top.

My mate. Summoning the last reserves of my energy, I ran but I was no match for him. He tackled me roughly from behind. My breath whooshed out of my lungs as I fell to the ground. He pinned me to the ground with one hand. The other hand was at my throat, choking. "You thought you could get away, huh?" he growled. I struggled beneath him but he held on, not even seeming to exert himself. "I am your mate. You must submit to me," he ordered.

I thought of the Master of Elysium dropping to his knees on this very rug to yield a piece of his sovereignty to me. Myth Number Two: Submission is the loss of power. The words flowed from my mind like water from a broken dam. We are conditioned to believe that yielding is a failure. But within the walls of a consensual power exchange, submission is not something that is stolen from you. It is a sovereign, calculated gift. It requires infinitely more courage to bare your throat than it does to hold the blade. When a submissive kneels, they do so knowing they hold the ultimate authority in the room—the safeword. Their surrender is the catalyst that allows the entire dynamic to exist. They do

it’s about presence, confidence, and the ability to read your body like a book and rewrite it in the way they want. On the other hand, a submissive, or sub, is the one who gives in, willingly. They surrender their control and trust their Dom to take them to places they can't go on their own. It’s not about being weak. It’s about craving the freedom that comes from not having to lead, just to feel, respond, obey, and be consumed. Well…I’ve been both. And both sides awakened different parts of me. But nothing compares to what it felt like when my husband decided to test the limits of what I used to be… and remind me who I still am beneath it all.

I knew I was, she knew I was, and if I was right about anything in this life or the next, it's that she knew I was stuck down here, and the chains of the void were nothing compared to my will to be by her side. I had multiple people in my life before I died that called me weak, simply because I am a submissive, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Submission is a gift to one's better, and while she was my better, she knew that my love for her knew no ends and I wouldn't stop fighting until I had her by my side. She was my master, my place in this world, and I knew nothing if not her.