Submissive Women 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.

It was about hers. She had me kneel, had me wait, had me obey. And every time I did, I felt something inside me shift. Something deep. Something primal. It was like she had unlocked a part of me I hadn’t even known was there. When she undressed in front of me, every ounce of my willpower screamed at me to move, to take her. But I stayed frozen. I remained where she had ordered me to stay. And for the first time in my life, I realized that this was true power. Not in taking. Not in being the alpha. But in letting go. In submitting.

After Luna Cruz's remark, Alex Quinn began to drift into his fantasies. He fantasized about Luna Cruz tearing his shirt open, revealing the exposed male maid outfit underneath, with his nipples perking up involuntarily. He imagined her forcing him to admit his secret kink, taunting him for acting so prim and proper all day, and perhaps even calling other employees to witness his embarrassment. And then what? And then, everyone would know that he was a submissive. Someone who craved being insulted, whipped, and trampled underfoot by women.

I look at the time on my watch, and realize how late it is; a quarter to seven. "Yes, yes, of course, you can always leave at your usual time," I explain, closing the laptop. He nods and leaves the place, and I stare at how incredible life is: the manager is a woman raised in an orphanage, a woman who was raised by nuns, and it's not that this is something out of this world, but that she exudes sexuality, sex, desire, and I can even swear that she's not a virgin. What if it is? Most of these women don't have sex, or they're lesbians. I shake my head, and get ready to grab my things. First time in my life that I stay so late in the office, and more to check the data of an unknown person, but

Our girl likes to be degraded. It was a bit crazy as she reacted the same way to the submissive being praised. I couldn't believe that she was once against dominance and submission. She reacted so well that I was certain she was moist already. I couldn't wait to see her reaction to the scene Matteo and I wanted her to watch. It was a scene that featured two men and a woman. We wanted her to see how it would feel to be dominated by two men, and more importantly, how it would work.

“Well then, you’re going to have them with me. Every single day with me as your dominant and you…. As my submissive… “ He told her. She was now trapped with him and now, she is his submissive and him… her dominant. THIS BOOK CONTAINS HIGHLY SEXUAL CONTENT AND ABUSE. IF YOU CAN'T STAND ANY MENTION ABOVE, THEN KINDLY PASS.

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.

The same voice guided through the auction. It was already terrible to watch her lying so weak and unconscious in that cage. But my limits were tested when she woke up and I saw the brand on her chest. I had never seen Carys that helpless and terrified before. She clearly struggled to fight the brand’s control on herself, but failed every time. “Submissive women are no more fun. The real fun’s now in bringing dominant ones on their knees and under you like little whores and sluts.” “I am getting this one on my bed tonight…”

"Women like Belladonna are whores, and they deserve to be fucked like one." Isabella gasped softly at his raw, vulgar words. "Being with someone like Belladonna, or Francesca from the casino, means my interest in other women are not limited." He continued. "I can be with both of them, and a third can catch my attention. But when I choose a Submissive, I am limited to only her. I do not take another woman while I am with her. Does that answer your question?" "Yes. I have another question, though." Isabella shot a glance at him and quickly looked away. "Am I... am I your first Submissive?"

The women are covered in sweat and come, their voices hoarse, their bodies used to the limit, but still they beg. “Another! I need another!” “Fill me up! Please!” The power of it roars through my veins. This is my doing. This is my pack, unified, strong, taking what is ours. The women are not victims. They are celebrating. Their submission is a gift, and the pack is devouring it. I walk through the throng, my hand brushing over a heaving back, a trembling thigh. I own this. I own every sound, every shiver.