Submissive Stories Novels & Stories

I ask her. She nods. “Say it honey, I need you to say it with your mouth” I tell her. “Yes, Mistress,” she says firmly. “I'm here to be your submissive.” “And what is a submissive??” I drawl. “A submissive is an owned girl, property of a dominant,” she replies. “Good girl,” I smirk. “Now, what does a submissive do?” “To serve their masters or mistress,” she replies with no hesitation. “Good girl!” Then I touch her ass softly, causing her to inhale sharply as my nails scratch her skin.

I cried out He climbed on top of me as he kissed me forcefully "Get off me you moron!! I yelled biting his lips A sharp pain ran down my body as I realized he had forced himself on me That's all he know! Raping a woman! "Plead with me mistress and I will spare you" he says smirking as he increases his pace I closed my eyes as I tried to think of my past life! My once happy life How did I ended up as a mistress to the beast? *You just have to SUBMISS to him,,Anyway its really unbelievable you were the first one he weds to, you parents must have owned him a lot"* I recalled those words as tears flow down freely

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************

He can't know anything. Aiden snorts, cold. “Please. I’d have to fuck a girl to feel anything for her. Danika listens. She’s structured. She fits into my schedule at Velmorian.” “You’d take her there?” “Yes,” Aiden replies. “They don’t have submissives. I need one who follows orders.” Miller chuckles darkly. “No man wants a girl with brains, Mr. Abbott. You’ll rot her. A good submissive needs nothing but a body and an empty head. Something to fuck and fill with obedience. You’ll ruin her with books and agency.”

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.”

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.

Eve spent the entire trip fondling her servant while casually chatting with the driver about road conditions and possible hurricanes. By the time they got home, Trish was aroused and desperate for sex. Eve ordered her to put her hands against the wall and remain in that position, no matter what. Trish would get her orgasm, but she'd have to remain in that submissive posture for her Mistress to oblige her.

“You’re not learning. Who’s in charge here?” “But I need it,” she whines. I step closer, pressing my body against her heated skin, my hand sliding between her thighs to feel how soaked she already is. “What you need and what you think you deserve are two different things. You come here chasing pain because it gets you off, but you never actually submit. You want the high without the surrender.” Her hips rock against my fingers despite her words. “I submit when it’s worth it.” I pinch her clit lightly, making her jolt. “You’re disrespectful, sub. What do you call me?”

“Damn, okay, I see why she keeps rejecting my offer, but there are couple activities, you know, there is the claiming ritual.” “Claiming?” “Oh right, you asked me a question before, ‘subs’, was it? Subs are submissives, people who like to give up control to someone else. Sometimes, it's sexual; sometimes, it's not; this time, however, it is most definitely sexual. Anyway, claiming is where a ‘dom’, in this case, dominant, a submissive’s master, claims a submissive as her own in a room full of their most favoured sex partners or exes. This is for locals, though, because most locals know who dates who; I don’t know if you’d make the cut as Lizzy’s submissive, but-”

“The desk. Now.” Trembling, a confusing cocktail of terror and desperate excitement coursing through her veins, she let him maneuver her. He turned her around, his hands on her hips, and bent her forward over the polished oak surface. Her palms flattened against cool wood, her textbooks and his pen holder nudging her elbows. She was completely exposed to him, the position deeply submissive, her round backside presented to him through the fragile lace of her panties.