Submissive Women Novels & Stories

“Between a submissive and a slave?” “A submissive retains some control,” Vixen explained. She placed a glass of clear liquid in front of him and dropped a slice of lime into it. Water he presumed, and wished it were a beer. “They negotiate as to what is right for them with their Dom or Domme. A slave has surrendered the right to negotiate with their Dom or Domme. A slave is a submissive, but a submissive is not necessarily a slave.” She took Shadow by the collar, lifting him up until his face was on her level. “Give me a drink, Shadow,” she told him brushing her lips over his.

Trigger Warning: This story contains graphic content, intense power dynamics, explicit sex between women, and themes of submission that may be triggering for some readers. Reader discretion is advised. The room was hot now. Not just from the air. From them. From cum, sweat, heat, tongues, nails, spit, control. All three women were naked. Their dresses discarded. Heels still strapped to their feet. Nipple rings, bruises, bite marks…they wore their submission like status. But tonight? They weren’t submissive.

Jennifer nodded against the older woman's neck, as she moaned out, "Yes, ma'am." Linda tightened her hold on the tiny girl's body and added more speed to her thrusting hips, as she continued, "Being my submissive pussy girl turns you on, doesn't it, you little slut?" Jennifer was already on the verge of her next orgasm and could only moan affirmatively against the blonde mother's neck. Linda smirked at her surrogate daughter's reply and reaction to her dirty talk, as she continued, "I bet being dominated by an older woman makes your tight little cunt dripping wet. Or are you turned on that it's me that's making you into my lesbian sex slave? I bet you're more turned on because I'm like a mot

“The men can't stop discussing your beauty, and honestly, I see why. It’s just unfortunate that you’re a submissive wolf.” Before I could formulate a response, another woman, her eyes not even flickering in my direction, plunged forward. “Isn’t that actually a good thing? At least we don’t have to worry about her flaunting a slutty attitude toward our men like she did back in the Wind Ridge Pack.” “Rebecca! Susan!” Hannah chided them with a bright smile. “Let's not be mean. You know how these submissive wolves are always eager to elevate their status? We can't blame them, can we?”

They showed a qualitative exploration of dominant/submissive roles and relationships, explaining what they are and how they work. The search described dominants as empathic and nurturing, desiring and able to take control, attentive and responsible… a perfect definition of what Damon stood for. While submissives were characterized as willing to give up control and having a desire to please. The girl couldn't help but feel like she was reading her own biography as her eyes continued to scan down the words on the bright screen.

My thumb scrolled down again, this time, my spirit tugged me towards a section labelled; correction. My breath hitched. ‘The submissive is expected to obey the dominant in all things without question. She is to procure the services of a gynaecologist of the Dominant’s choice every three months for contraceptives. The submissive shall be punished with any or more of these things once the dominant sees her actions as requiring such treatment…. Does the submissive consent to the use of;

There’s one with two teenage girls on their knees, their hands bound as they suck a cock from a glory hole. The eroticism makes my breath falter. They spark the fires of my need, and I can feel my pussy leaking love juices. “I’m definitely going to apply to be drawn like this next year.” I hear one woman saying as she faces the drawing of a dominatrix bouncing on one of the cocks of her submissive while stroking the other submissive’s cock. The lady beside her chuckles. “Then I’m going to buy that drawing during next year’s exhibition.” The first woman gasps. “Why would you want to have my drawing hanging somewhere in your house, Ana!?” There’s a quiet laugh in her voice.

The word throbbed on his lips, full of laughter and hunger. “No,” she replied, holding him in a steady gaze. "I want to submit. But not on your terms. I do not submit out of fear of hellfire or contract violation. I submit because I want to feel your mastery. I want to be pleasing you because it is my own desire to do so. The power dynamic remains. You are the Master. I am the willing submissive. But the foundation changes from coercion to consent."

She just nodded, her eyes never leaving mine, surrendering completely to the moment. "Okay, so get ready..." I said, my voice barely audible. I pushed her gently, guiding her backwards until her knees hit the hard floor of the restroom. She stumbled slightly, but I caught her arm, steadying her. When she looked up at me, she was kneeling on the floor, her posture submissive, her eyes upturned in a way that made my cock throb with anticipation. She looked like a puppy waiting to be fed, eager and hungry for what I was about to give her.

And I was going to find out why the fuck this woman was so goddamn quiet. Her panicked eyes shot up to mine. I forced myself to slow my movements, my eyes never leaving hers. Women like her – they understood sex because they lost themselves in the act of it. And submissives? They left their torment behind by letting someone else control them for a little while.