Surrender's Dance Read online

  Pressure against her pussy served as a reminder of how little protection the hot-red panties provided.

  Before he’d hoisted her over his shoulder and they’d taken off, he’d informed her that, for now, he wouldn’t bother gagging her because if she cried out, no one on Surrender Island would pay attention. No one would come to her help. In addition, he’d finished, his decision to allow her to breathe freely and speak would change if she did anything to displease him.

  What did he mean by “displease”?

  The further they went, the more helpless she felt. Nothing that had happened since she’d been spirited away from the park was within the realm of her comprehension. Obviously her captor was using her ignorance to his advantage, but she had to have answers if she ever hoped to get back to where she belonged -- wherever that was.

  Her condo was being sold ... Someone was boxing up her clothing, toiletries, bed and other furniture. Crude and barely literate men might be laughing, even now, when they came across her treasured supply of sex toys.

  And, oh god, what about her bondage picture collection? Was that how he’d found her? Was her captor a pervert with a nose or an eye for women with healthy libidos and limited opportunity for getting certain itches scratched? So far, like the man who’d caught her in her fantasy, he’d run her down, removed a few articles of clothing, and tied her up. As they say, the ball was in his court. Hell, she was in his court!

  You want this. You’ve always wanted this.

  Where had the insane thought come from? If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve sworn that the island itself had spoken.

  She had no way of gauging how far they’d come when he stopped and stood her up. The blood that had pooled in her head during her upside-down journey meant she looked out at a blurred world tinged in red. She felt dizzy and weak. Helpless. Waiting.

  “Arms getting sore, aren’t they.” He made it a statement.

  “Yes. You don’t need to -- I can’t get away.”

  “What will you do in exchange for me taking off a rope?”

  “Do?”

  He slapped her right breast. Slapped it! She tried to step back, lost her balance, and fell, landing on her buttocks. Thank goodness for a carpet of weeds and grasses. He positioned himself so he straddled her outstretched legs and shook his head. “Think before you move. You don’t need to make things worse than they’re going to be.”

  “Please let me go. I -- I have some money, a severance package. You can have it all.” Though she bargained for her freedom, the shock of the slap had worn off, leaving a hot awareness, an erotic stinging, in its place.

  Eyes all-knowing, but not unkind, he stared down at her. “I don’t need money here.”

  If he took another step closer, she’d be able to see up his loincloth, not that she needed to because she’d have to be blind not to realize he had an erection. And his cock was large, huge even. Lordy, lordy! “You -- you can leave.”

  “I don’t want to. As long as I’m on the island, I’m supplied with what I’ve been prepared for, specifically subs like you.”

  “You mean a submissive? No! This is all wrong! I’d never want --”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “How can you say --”

  He silenced her by placing a foot against her crotch and applying just enough pressure to grab her full attention. Although she warned herself not to, she couldn’t stop herself from trying to scoot away. He let her slide out from under him, but just as she rolled onto her side in preparation for trying to get to her feet, he leaned down and forced her onto her belly.

  “Don’t!” she protested. “God damn you, stop it!”

  Ignoring her, he removed the rope from her shoulders and the one connecting her elbows to it. Instead of freeing her elbows, though, he grabbed her hair and pulled. When her face was off the ground, he forced rope between her teeth and looped the length around her head twice, gagging her with it. Then he secured the gag behind her head.

  “It’s time for you to think about everything I can and will be doing to you -- time to start acknowledging what you are beneath the surface. I know more about your sexual nature than you do -- as does the island. It’s my job to introduce you to the truth about yourself.”

  She whimpered into the gag as he tied her wrists and finally freed her elbows. Although she still couldn’t use her arms, at least she no longer felt as if she was in danger of having her shoulders dislocated. Thank you, thank you. Next he did something to her ankle restraints that made it possible for her to separate them by several precious inches. She might even be able to walk, although running was out of the question. But did she want to?

  When he brought her upright and turned her to face him, she thanked him with her eyes. “This is only the beginning, slave. From now until I decide different, you don’t have a name. I’ll call you whatever I want, do whatever I want, and you’ll accept it. You have no choice. You’ll come to crave my mastery of you. By the end, you’ll fully understand what it is to be a submissive.” He patted her cheek. “To embrace what you’ve always wanted.”

  No, she wanted to scream. But she had fantasized about becoming a sex slave. And he knew.

  She was still trying to come to grips with her new reality, when he pulled a knife from the leather tie holding his loincloth in place. Her eyes widened, but this time she didn’t make the mistake of trying to avoid his reach. He fingered her skirt, which had remained bunched around her waist. “You aren’t going to need this any more.” He began cutting. All too soon he’d split the fabric from hem to waist. He pulled it off her, slow and deliberate. Hot humid air stroked her now naked middle. As for her bra and top --

  “Anticipation’s part of the game. I could get rid of these, right now --” He slid a finger under the hip-hugging panties. “But I’d rather have you think about the when and how. No suspense about the blouse, though.”

  The flimsy silk garment had set her back close to a hundred dollars, but he handled it as if it was a rag when he pressed the knife blade against it. Not long ago, she’d have charged him with destruction of personal property. Now she accepted that was beyond her control. He started at the neckline and slowly worked his way down. Once he’d fully opened it, he slid what remained down her arms until the fabric rested against her wrist bonds.

  “For the foreseeable future, you’re going to be naked. Eventually I’ll allow you to wear something, but you have to earn the privilege. And the timing has to be right.”

  Something about the way he said timing made her tremble even more. He distracted her by yanking up on her bra and exposing her breasts. He made no move to remove the garment but left it to press down on her mounds. He didn’t touch her breasts, but she had no doubt it was only a matter of time -- his time -- before he did. When he stepped back to study her, she gathered her courage and glanced down at what his loincloth covered.

  He was still aroused. And what bulged under what seemed to be soft leather hinted at every red blooded woman’s fantasy. Would he let her touch his cock? Hold it? Suck it?

  He cupped a hand under his cock but left it covered. “You’ll get a feel of it in due time, a feel and a taste, but it isn’t going to happen until you’re in heat.”

  In heat? Was that a threat, or a promise?

  He patted her arm. “I’m not going to rape you, slave. It won’t be necessary because you’re going to want it. Want to fuck and be fucked as you’ve never wanted anything before.”

  Never!

  But even as she silently protested, she fought the urge to thrust her pelvis at him.

  He’d nearly stripped her naked. Eventually he’d finish what he’d begun and touch her everywhere, claim every inch. Her cunt belonged to him. Her legs and breasts. He could tie her in endless ways, slide a dildo into her pussy and a plug up her ass and secure them. Control them. Force a climax out of her or deny her if he wanted.

  Hadn’t she cruised the Internet for pictures of women with tight ropes circling and distorting
their breasts and more bonds pressing against their pussies? Hadn’t she printed out some of those images and studied them while masturbating because the pictures heightened her self-pleasure? Because she wanted to feel what those women had?

  He’s seen them. This time, she was sure of it.

  Chapter Five

  Asia plodded as rapidly as her ankle ties allowed through dense trees that kept them in deep shadows and turned her captor into more specter than reality. He’d loosely tied a rope around her neck and used the extra length as a leash. She had no choice but to follow like some obedient dog. She tried to study the man so he’d become more human, but concentrating was nearly impossible.

  The need to focus on her footing gave her scant opportunity for it, or to think about where they were going. But in those rare moments when she wasn’t struggling to remain upright, she questioned what lay ahead. What had he meant by saying the island was a force? He’d been trying to scare her, that’s all.

  Was he taking her to a dungeon? Maybe he had a hut or cabin somewhere. It was possible they were going where there’d be other people who’d take pity on her or let her pay them for her release, people who knew him for the demented Tarzan-like beast he surely was. That was it! He was crazy. He had to be.

  Would he be locked up? To her shock, she realized she didn’t want that.

  What had he called this place, Surrender Island? Did that mean she wasn’t the only captive here? Oh god, what if he took her to some prison? Would there be bars and locks on the doors, handcuffs and metal collars, chains securing her to rings cemented in stone walls?

  She too easily imagined herself being thrown into some cold, damp cell. She’d huddle naked in a corner while forced to listen to unseen women beg and cry and scream. Faceless men would haul her and her fellow sex slaves out of their cells and drag them into large, dark rooms where masters and Doms waited. Driven to their knees with chains dragging on the cement flooring, they’d be whipped as they groveled at their owners’ feet. They’d know to always be available and ready for sex and willingly take any number of cocks in their pussies, asses, and mouths.

  Not long ago she’d headed a creative group and had developed the art and skill of leadership. Surely she could put those talents to use in engineering a mass slave break for freedom -- but what if he kept her in isolation?

  What if, as he’d hinted, he knew how to make her so horny she couldn’t think of anything else? Already she responded to him. He might know how to make her a slave to her need for a climax -- to willingly do whatever he demanded in hope of release -- to grovel before him while she begged him to fuck her -- no, anything but begging! Nothing he could do would ever reduce her to that again.

  An impatient jerk on her leash forced her to pick up her pace. When she’d accomplished that, she went back to studying what she could see of the man. She had to, because her survival and sanity depended on understanding as much as she could about him. Because of the shadows, she couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if someone had decorated his back with strange and random symbols, lines really, but even so in another time and place and situation, she’d definitely be attracted to him.

  If she spotted him at a bar, her cheeks would flush, and she’d feel more than a bit tongue-tied. She’d send out an unspoken message designed to let him know she was interested.

  A look, a smile, a wink maybe and he’d get up and walk toward her. There’d be no stupid “Where have I seen you before?” No inane “What’s a nice girl like you doing here alone?” Instead, he’d simply say, “Do you want this to go anywhere?”

  “Yes,” she’d answer. Yes.

  He’d ask her to dance. She’d put down her glass of wine, slide her hand in his and follow him through the minefield of bodies. He’d put his arms around her and hold her close and she’d smell soap and denim.

  “I’m not going to ask anything else,” he’d say. “Unless you walk away, right now, I’m taking you to my place. You’ll stay there until I say you can leave. I’ll do what I want to you when I want, and you’ll beg me for more. My terms.”

  “I understand. I want.”

  “I know you do.”

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re doing it now. With me.”

  “What -- will you do to me?”

  Silent, he’d grip her wrists and position her hands behind her. Then he’d lean over her, forcing her off balance. She’d widen her stance to keep from falling. He’d slide his legs within hers and thrust. His insistent cock would prod, demand, promise.

  So far she hadn’t met anyone she could imagine taking command like that, but she’d fantasized about letting a man, the right man in on her secret desire to be tied up and have a climax forced out of her. To actually come out and tell someone that, however, she’d need to know him well enough to trust him with her deepest secret.

  Now she was under the control of a man who knew that secret, who’d already demonstrated his domination of her body. A man bent on turning her into a sex slave, a slut, a whore, a submissive. Just the thought of becoming those things heated her.

  Give it up. Surrender. Let the surrender you crave happen.

  But if I do, will there be anything left of me?

  There’s only one way to find out.

  I’m scared.

  “We’re almost home,” he announced. “You’re curious about where you’ll be staying, but you’ll have to wait. Wait for a lot of things.”

  She forced herself to stand motionless as he cut what remained of her blouse off her. And when he fashioned a blindfold out of it and robbed her of sight, she shuddered but managed not to struggle. Nothing, not the world, not even the island, existed anymore. There was only him. When he tugged on her leash, she fought her instinct for self-preservation. As he led her down what her feet told her was a sanded path, she bit into the ropes in her mouth and tried not to think about how thirsty she was or contemplate where he was taking her.

  She belonged to him. Unless he released her, she would remain his.

  No! Not going to happen!

  What choice do you have?

  I’m scared.

  Deal with it. Embrace it.

  When he abruptly stopped she strained to see but remained locked within her world of thought and reaction and instinct. Something sleek and sharp touched her throat. His knife. “Feel it, slave. Feel and accept.”

  She trembled as he slid the blade down her body. He didn’t break her skin, but she knew how easily he could make her bleed.

  He lowered himself to his knees, then untied her ankles. Because she didn’t know where she was or what was around her, she didn’t move. Couldn’t. Standing, he again kissed her throat with the blade. What would his mouth feel like? What would she do if he touched her there with his tongue instead of his weapon?

  “Take off your panties.”

  How, she wanted to ask, but of course she couldn’t speak. Fighting her helplessness and deep-rooted focus on his every word -- and her reactions to him, she squared her shoulders. She imagined herself as he surely saw her, a gagged and blindfolded woman with her hands tied behind her, naked except for her underpants, trapped in his world. Alone. Completely vulnerable and dependent. Scared and excited and desperately trying not to let him know.

  “The panties. Now!”

  Propelled by the sharp command, she gnawed at the ropes in her mouth. Heat coiled low in her belly and flickered throughout her pussy.

  An object. A piece of meat. His to do as he wanted with. His gift to himself.

  Although the reality of her situation washed over her in heated waves, she managed to push the scant fabric over her buttocks. Then she leaned to the side and guided the panties down, down, exposing her crotch. A warm breeze feathered over her recently-shaved flesh. When the sleek fabric reached her knees, she straightened and twisted from side to side until it slithered to her ankles. Caught in the erotic symbolism of the gesture, she stepped out of what little had stood between
her and his plans for her. She was all but wrapped up in a neat gift bow for him, scared shitless and barely able to stand the wait for whatever he had in mind.

  “That’s a good little slave.”

  Don’t call me that, please. I don’t know how to handle it.

  “I’m going to release your hands so you can remove your bra,” he said. “You don’t want to make the mistake of reaching for your blindfold, do you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good. Maybe you aren’t going to be as hard to train as I’d been led to believe.”

  Who had told him about her? Was this some cruel joke on the part of her former employers? But no, she hadn’t been abducted off the street or kidnapped from her condo. Instead, she’d been sucked out of her world and deposited into whatever this was. What was it he’d said, that the island itself had chosen her?

  Sensing he’d stepped behind her, she waited breathlessly for him to free her arms. Instead, he surprised her by lightly stroking them. The longer he ran his fingers over her skin, the more she relaxed. He was deliberately disarming her and undermining her defenses, but, in an elemental way, it pleased her. When was the last time she’d been treated like something precious and desirable and malleable?

  Had she ever?

  When he slid his arm around her neck and pulled her against him, she sighed and let him support her. She imagined her body arched toward him, full breasts jutting out, toned legs spread to help her balance. He tightened an arm around her shoulders and easily held her in place. With the other, he began circling her exposed breasts. Fingertips and palm laid claim to her, the unending contact soft as the silk he’d cut off her. This is mine, the touches proclaimed. You are mine.

  Her head fell back and rested against his chest. This man was so strong, so powerful. He could and would turn her into whatever he wanted her to be. By the time he’d finished with her, he’d have remolded her, fundamentally changed her. She almost believed she could hear his heart beating, but maybe she was responsible for the sound.