Submit and Surrender

chapter 9


Adra’s skin grew hot as Ford approached. Slow. He was so slow. So deliberate. His eyes pinning her where she stood, the weight of him somehow overbearing even from a distance, making it difficult to breathe.

She felt like she was buzzing around the edges, like on the surface she was over-stimulated and on the verge of shorting out, but the core of her was…calm.

No? not calm. Just certain. It was like the whole world had shifted slightly and everything had clicked into place.

He’d made her admit it. He’d made her beg. And everything had fallen into place.

How was it possible? They hadn’t played together. How could he know how to dominate her most effectively? How could he know what she was like as a sub?

But, oh God, somehow he did. Just the way he was looking at her…

Like she was entirely his.

She shivered.

He saw. He smiled. Then he reached up and tore open her blouse.

Adra gasped as she heard the buttons skitter across the floor. The air felt cool on the tops of her breasts and she knew without looking that her nipples were already hard. Ford held her eyes and slipped his hand into her open shirt, his hand big and warm and kind of rough, smoothing his thumb along her ribs, taking his damn time.

Making her crazy.

Unhurried, he moved his hand over her breast, and Adra’s breath hitched. Ford smiled slightly. Then he squeezed, hard.

Adra’s knees buckled.

Ford caught her, held her up. Popped her breasts out of the top of her bra just so he could play with her nipples, all the while watching her, that calm expression of cool superiority on his face.

It suddenly dawned her what she was in for, and she was instantly wet. Well, wetter.

Oh holy shit.

Ford stripped off her shirt, unhooked her bra, left her bare above the waist, and pinched her nipples until she stifled a moan.

The corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Go bend over the desk,” he said. “Arms flat, cheek down.”

Adra did her best to keep herself steady. Four-inch heels were normally second nature for her, but now her ankles wobbled all over the place. Still, she kept her head high.

He’d make her bow it soon. That was part of the fun.

Slowly she bent over at the waist, lowering her torso onto the polished wood. It was cold, and a small thrill raced through her as her naked breasts pressed into the coolness. It was also the perfect height—in her heels, she was bent just past a ninety-degree angle, her head a bit lower than her waist so that her ass was angled up for him.

He must have known.

And he must have known that morning, when he just…dominated her, re-enacting that scene. Must know now that she’d think about that. About what it had felt like, about what she’d been thinking, about what she’d wanted…

The rush of embarrassment was totally unexpected. Adra felt her cheeks grow warm and her fingers dig into the unyielding wooden desk at the memory of that morning’s scene coaching. Ford had so quickly and effortlessly turned her into a pile of jelly, it was almost obscene. Had everyone else known? Had it been completely obvious that she’d been in his thrall, halfway to subspace, willing and eager to do whatever he wanted?

Had they all watched and known?

Adra felt Ford’s hand on her leg, her thigh, pushing her skirt up over her ass. She tried to regulate her breathing while he pushed the material up to her waist, but it was no use. She couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d had her like this before, how he’d dominated her so thoroughly that he’d controlled her very desires…

Then he ran two fingers the length of her sex, teasing her outside of her underwear, and she moaned.

“You were wet this morning,” Ford said behind her.

Adra closed her eyes.

“Yes,” she said.

“Just like you are now,” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“You wanted me to spank you,” he said. “Right then and there.”

“Yes,” she panted.

His hand cupped her sex from behind, the touch making her arc upwards toward his hand, breasts pressed further into the desk, balanced on her toes in freaking four-inch heels, just wanting him to…

She moaned again. Ford chuckled.

“Tell me why,” he said.

“Oh f*ck,” she said. She couldn’t keep her ass from wiggling, trying to get anything from him, having trouble thinking of anything other than the need to have him inside her right that f*cking second.

“Tell me why, Adra, or I won’t let you come,” he said, squeezing her briefly, making her groan, and then releasing the pressure. God, she just wanted more pressure, and he already knew the damn answer.


“Adra,” he said, his voice a warning.

He took his hand away and pulled her panties down to her thighs.

“You know why!” she said.

Ford laughed, and then came the smack of his open palm on her left cheek, the sting blossoming into pleasure almost immediately.

“You know that’s not good enough,” he said.

She managed a groan.

Smack. This time the right cheek, hard enough to jostle her into the desk, to make her flesh shake. She knew she wasn’t going to be coherent enough to answer for very long.

“Because,” she said, “I wanted…”

Smack.

“What I couldn’t…”

Smack.

“Have.”

“Almost right,” Ford said, smoothing his hand over her now tender flesh. All she could think about was how she was bare, exposed, so close, and he still wasn’t inside her. Her p-ssy ached.

Damn Dom.

And then she heard the unmistakable sound of a buckle. He was taking off his belt.

“Oh God,” she murmured.

“Hands,” he said.

It took her a second. Already her brain wasn’t working so well. But then he took her wrists and brought them behind her back and she understood—he was binding her with his belt. He was binding her wrists to the skirt he’d hiked up to her waist, looping the belt through the bunched up material.

He knew what bondage did to her.

Just the knowledge that, being bound, she couldn’t do anything, couldn’t move, couldn’t resist—that alone could nearly send her over the edge. She felt a low, constant moan rise in her throat, almost a wail, and tried to hide it.

Then her underwear fell around her ankles, and he told her to step out of them, his hands on her hips for balance while she did so.

Oh God, she was about to lose her mind.

“Spread,” he ordered, his foot pushing between her own. “A warning, Adra. Do not come until I tell you to or I will redden that perfect ass—do you understand?”

Adra closed her eyes and smiled into the desk. That did not make it easier for her to resist an orgasm. Just as he knew it wouldn’t.

“Yes, sir,” she breathed.

There was a beat. She almost had herself under control. Years of subbing hadn’t been for nothing.

And then he spanked her bare p-ssy.

She yelped.

Strained against the belt at her wrists.

Tried to remember desperately: Do not come.

Do not.

“Now tell me why,” he said.

Adra knew perfectly well what he wanted her to admit, knew he’d given her the answer already, knew that he’d done it on purpose. Worse, she knew that it was true. She had been fighting it for so, so long, and this, right here, right in this moment, was the last vestige of that resistance, and for the life of her she couldn’t find a reason to hold on. She’d been so afraid that if she gave in it would mean everything, but he’d just told her it wouldn’t, it didn’t have to. And he’d let her get away with fighting the inevitable for so long, but now he wasn’t having it anymore.

He spanked her again, this time dipping a finger into her, making her cry out.

“Adra,” he barked. “Tell me.”

“Because I’m yours,” she panted.

He thrust another finger into her.

“You’re my what?”

He pulled out, and she groaned.

“I’m your sub, sir,” she said.

He grabbed her again, this time with enough force to lift her on to her toes, spreading her legs further on the way down. His big hands rested on either side of her ass, his thumbs brushing close to her sex.

“And?” he said.

When Adra spoke, she could barely hear herself.

“And I always have been,” she said.

And then she felt his thumbs part her and his cock enter her in one sure stroke, his girth stretching her almost to he point of pain, her eyes and mouth flying open in surprise until he was fully seated inside her. Her body adjusted around him and her eyes lost focus, her pulse starting a heavy beat in her core, her every nerve begging him to move.

“Don’t come, Adra,” he warned as he pulled out of her slowly, the head of his cock dragging along her g-spot. “Don’t you f*cking come.”

“F*ck,” she groaned, trying to dig her fingers into the hard, polished wood. Nothing would give, not the desk, not Ford.

She heard him chuckle again.

And then he grabbed hold of the belt binding her wrists to the skirt around her waist and pulled her back as he thrust forward, impaling her to the hilt. She screamed, felt her legs shake, her back arch. He kept ahold of her as he drove into her again and again, riding her, bringing her so close, too close, too close for her to…

“You can come now,” he growled. “Once.”

She did immediately.

She came so violently that her legs spasmed and he caught her by the hips, not stopping at all, still f*cking her until her body stopped convulsing and she stopped crying out his name. And then only stopping long enough to pull out, pull her up, turn her around, and push her back on the desk, her arms behind her supporting her back and butt, propping her up to him.

She looked at him wildly, not entirely able to focus, and saw that animal look on his face, that feral ferocity as he lifted her legs where he wanted them.

“I want to see your face while I f*ck you,” he growled and plunged into her again, sending her head back in a silent scream.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but take him. He owned her so completely, so thoroughly, it was like her body didn’t even belong to her anymore. It only responded to his commands, coming whenever he demanded, until she lost track, lost all sense of time and place, any sense of impossibility. She hadn’t really believed her body could actually do that. Having that many orgasms was like some kind of athletic feat; she might have been in training her whole life, but she never expected to get to the freaking Olympics.

By the time Ford was done she was a complete mess. She couldn’t speak properly, couldn’t stand, couldn’t do much of anything. It was Ford who wiped her down, Ford who carefully unbound her wrists, gently massaging the skin as he did so, Ford who took off the rest of her wrecked clothing—just a skirt and heels at this point—and then carried her, naked, to the couch he had in the back of his office, a tiny little snug alcove, where he sat with Adra in his lap and covered her with a blanket.

She was enveloped in him. In warmth. She found herself wishing he was naked, too, but it didn’t take away from the feeling of utter safety. Of comfort.

She came down from her subspace high onto a cloud, in his arms. She came to with his fingertips stroking her hair and the bare skin of her arms, his heartbeat in her ears, his lips leaving light kisses on her forehead.

And then, when her brain was in full working order, she got nervous.

No, not just nervous. Freaked the hell out.

Because this? This was bliss. This was tender. This was…

This was everything she couldn’t want.

Adra shot out of Ford’s arms, taking the blanket with her, and took several safe steps away.

Ford watched her.

“What happened?” Ford said.

“We didn’t set ground rules,” Adra said, wrapping the blanket around her with as much dignity as she could muster. “I think, given last time, we should set ground rules.”

Ford leaned back, his long arms resting on the back of the couch. “Agreed,” he said.

“So, like, this…” Adra began. She paused. Screw it—she had to say it. “I mean, this was really nice, afterwards, but I worry that it shouldn’t get too nice, you know?”

“I’m not compromising on aftercare,” Ford said, leaning forward. The intensity in his blue eyes was startling. “You’re going to get the aftercare you need, and so am I.”

“No, of course,” Adra said, wishing she could tear her eyes away and look somewhere, anywhere else. “I mean, yes, that makes sense. But after that.”

Ford smiled.

“You mean cuddling?”

“Maybe there should just be, like, a time limit?” she said.

“You’re putting a time limit on cuddling,” Ford said. Now he was smiling.

“Yes, I am rationing cuddling,” Adra said, trying to keep from smiling too. This was serious. “There should be a cuddle quota.”

Ford stood and tucked his shirt back into his slacks, his eyes dancing while Adra thought again about how well she’d just been f*cked by this god of a Dom. She was surprised she could even form sentences.

“So what’s a friendly amount of cuddling?” he said.

Adra tried to look stern. He was making fun of her. “Five minutes?” she said.

Ford just looked at her.

“Ten?” she said.

“Ten,” he said, shaking his head. “It is well known that after ten minutes cuddles turn from friendly to sinister.”

“Take this seriously!” Adra said. She wished she were wearing more than a blanket as she said it.

Ford looked her up and down, not bothering to hide his amusement. But when he got to Adra’s face, his expression changed—he was serious. Solemn, even.

“I’ve never taken anything more seriously, Adra,” he said. “If you think I’m going to risk losing you again, you’ve lost your damn mind.”

For a moment, Adra couldn’t breathe, all over again.


“But if you think I’m going to let something like the cuddle quota go by without teasing you mercilessly for it,” he said, striding toward her. He paused standing over her, then smiled. “Well, then you’ve also lost your damn mind. Stop losing your mind, Adra. It brings up worrisome issues of consent.”

When she could breathe again, Adra stuck her tongue out. That was the only possible response.

Ford raised an eyebrow. “You keep sticking that tongue out, I’ll put it to work.”

Something in her belly lurched, and her body came alive again as if she hadn’t just been f*cked into a total stupor. She actually really wouldn’t mind giving her tongue a work out…

Someone walked by Ford’s office, footsteps heavy on the wooden floor, and Adra flinched.

“What?” he said.

“We’re in your office,” Adra said, suddenly feeling naked despite the blanket. It was ridiculous. She’d been naked in many places, and this was the room it felt suddenly weird in? It was Volare, for crying out loud.

But…Ford’s office.

Ford held her steady. “And we’ll stay here until it’s sorted out,” he said.

The implication was clear. This was real. They were both going to have to navigate it.

Somehow Ford’s insistence was comforting. His hand on her arm, steadying, guiding. At least she wasn’t going to be figuring this emotional quagmire out on her own. There was some solace in that.

Then he touched her face. He was looking at her with such heat and such tenderness, it was stunning.

And then she realized: They hadn’t even kissed yet. Not since that night.

“Oh God, Ford,” she said, her eyes searching his. “What about... I mean, I’m not making a big deal about it, and it’s ok if you don’t want it, I understand, because maybe it is weird? It’s just…I haven’t even kissed you since—”

Suddenly Ford’s arm swept around her waist and pulled her in close so he could shut her up with a kiss. He kissed her hard, he kissed her thoroughly, and he kissed her well, until she was melting into him all over again, supple and willing to bend whatever way he wanted. It was a claiming kind of kiss. The kind that showed utter dominance. Even ownership.

“I won’t compromise on that, either,” Ford said gruffly when he was done. Adra looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and tried to nod.

“Ok,” she said.

“There’s a shower through there,” he said. “And I’ll send someone for your clothes. We have dinner in an hour.”

“What?” she said, still not thinking clearly. Was he asking her out?

Ford smiled. “We have dinner plans. Roman, Lola, Olivia, Derrick. Roman set it up.”

Adra stared at him, horrified. She was supposed to sit through dinner after what they’d just done? She could barely remember her own name, let alone small talk. Oh God, small talk with her ex. And she wouldn’t be able to think about anything else; they’d all know!

Ford only laughed and grabbed hold of one end of the blanket. “You better get moving,” he said. “Because the blanket is coming with me.”