Spirit of Submission Read online

  She thought back to Sean, the marine she'd done a long weekend with two years back. He was still the best she'd ever had, by far. It wasn't that he kept it up forever, though he did manage lengthy erections, it was more that he did her like a fucking animal, just fucking well DID her, HARD! Oh wow it had been a wild time! It was like being used by a wild bull or something. He was so strong and so powerful. He had just fucking well POUNDED her!

  Everyone before and since had seemed delicate and even girlish compared to him. But he was on the other side of the world now probably fucking the brains out of some Arab bitch.

  A small, slender finger slid down between her legs and sank between the moistening lips of her sex to stroke lightly up and down. Which was better, she wondered, to get your brains fucked out, or to blow them out with drugs?

  Well, really, the question didn't need to be asked. But at the moment, only one option was available.

  She felt her clitoris swelling as her finger began to stroke faster, and she let her legs drift further apart, eyes looking up at the sky, breath quickening.

  * * *

  Carey Harper gaped as her binoculars slid along the side of the house and spotted her brother's strange new girlfriend. She was an avid bird watcher, and, from her large, bay window had excellent views all across the back of the house. She blushed involuntarily and jerked the binoculars away from her eyes, but only for a moment before guiltily drawing them up again to watch.

  Her parents money had made for a very sheltered life for her, and she was not naturally inclined towards rebellion or disagreement in any event. She was an enthusiastic reader and loved math and science, and tended to think the best of most people. She knew the rest of her family didn't like the girl, but she herself had seen nothing particularly wrong with her. She thought her makeup was slathered on too heavily, of course, and found her attitude just a trifle menacing to her gentle thinking.

  But all in all she didn't dislike the woman. So she felt terribly guilty as she continued to watch, as the dark haired girl drew her knees wider and wider apart, up and back, and now began to thrust what looked like half her hand into her narrow, hairless opening.

  Carey gulped rather breathlessly, having been rarely exposed to any sort of sexuality in her sheltered life. Her parents had been all the more careful with her after their experiences with Davie, after all, and tightly monitored everywhere she went and who she went with.

  She was eighteen and everyone told her she was a lovely girl, but she'd never had a boyfriend. This did not displease her father, nor, to be entirely truthful, Carey either. She thought most boys were crude and overbearing, and their interest in her body was frankly embarrassing and perverse.

  Wasn't there anything else in their lives to think about!? Perhaps when they got older they'd be more mature, and be more interesting to talk with. No doubt some of the older boys at university would be quite charming when she went this fall.

  The girl's body seemed to glisten in the sun as she rolled her hips up against her fingers, and Carey found a part of herself quite studiously examining her style and method. She herself masturbated in a very soft, quite way, usually on her side, in bed, eyes closed, sort of grinding her fingers against herself there.

  This girl was so – open, and energetic! Carey herself rarely penetrated herself, but this girl seemed fit to thrust half her hand into her pussy! She was writhing and rolling her head, her body undulating in very evident excitement, and Carey found it to be both an exotic and erotic sight.

  She felt a wistful thought intrude, on whether it would be exciting to see things like this, perhaps on her computer. She knew there was a lot of it out there, but all her computers, at home and at school had always been heavily filtered by a variety of parental lockout software she had never really been inspired to challenge. Who wanted to see porn anyway? Certainly not she! At least, not before now.

  The girl was so brazen! Imagine if her mother saw, or her sister, or worse, her father!? It wasn't like the balcony couldn't be seen from any of the other second floor windows. The house was such an oddly shaped, rambling affair there were at least half a dozen on the second and third floors which could look down on it in whole or part. What a slut! Yet the thought was more admiring than disdainful.

  Chapter Two

  Davie's suite came with just about anything you'd need except a kitchen, and you could order up food and drinks anyway, except after ten in the evening. By that time, Spirit thought, his dull family were probably long in bed anyway.

  Not her, though. In fact, usually, at this time, she'd be out clubbing. Her body wasn't fit because she exercised, after all, but because she was a wild lover of dance, especially thrash metal, headbanging stuff that had her swirling and jumping and moving to the music in hot, sweaty dance clubs three or four nights a week.

  Having access to Davie's ready supply of grass was cool, and the giant screen in the theater room were neat. But she felt like she'd been cooped up all day and needed to do something – energetic.

  She'd tried to get Davie to do a little coke. That usually gave him energy, but he was only into the hash tonight, and that just made him sleepy.

  She wandered down to the exercise room and shook her head in contempt for the pink rug. The machines glistened, though, and after examining a few, she discovered how to turn on the treadmill and started to run. She'd never actually used a treadmill before, so quite enjoyed the novelty at first. But running when she was wearing nothing but a thin black bra and t-shirt had her breasts bouncing too much.

  After a moment, she stopped and slid off the machine, then rolled her t-shirt up and tied it off tight under her breasts. That gave her added support. Then she slid the thin black rope belt out of the hoops of her black shorts and, looking around, slid it around her chest and cinched it tight just above her breasts, kind of squeezing them down. That, of course, made her breasts squeeze out very firmly indeed, but it would also stop them bouncing when she ran.

  She climbed back onto the machine, pleased she was right, running faster and faster as she turned the machine up higher. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to just run flat out, and extended her stride, panting as she ran. Her breasts were still quivering and shaking, but not to the extent they hurt. They were, however, throbbing, her nipples tingling from being squeezed the way they were.

  She stopped, gasping for breath. The run had worked off some excess energy but she still felt like doing something. She just wasn't sure what. She was thirsty, though, and untied the belt from her chest as she stepped out into the hall. She went back to their room, found the TV still on, and Davie now barely conscious as he slumped back across it. She did a little strip tease for him, but he just smiled so she made a face and wandered out onto the darkened balcony naked.

  She gasped as soon as the outside air hit her. It was hot and humid outside. She hadn't even realized after being inside all day. And she was still a bit hot from her run. She now eyed the pool below in the darkness with considerable interest. No one was around, after all. It should be possible to go and have a quick skinny dip. The idea was appealing on a number of different levels.

  She snatched up the shirt she used as a nightie. It was Davie's shirt and so covered her to mid-thigh. She pulled it on, did up a few buttons, then, eyes bright with excitement, eased out into the hall. She looked up and down, feeling deliciously disobedient, and then strolled to the nearest set of stairs, and down them to emerge just next to the solarium. The downstairs was largely unlit as she walked through the room, opened the rear doors, and slipped out onto the broad back portico.

  There wasn't much moon out as she unbuttoned the shirt, then, turning to glance a little warily at the darkened face of the house, she slipped the shirt off and then slid almost noiselessly into the water.

  It was exhilarating to be gliding naked through the water. And more than a little arousing, too, for some reason.

  * * *

  The phone woke David Rutherford and he rolled
over and snatched it out of the cradle with some irritation. The clock on the nightstand said it was nearly midnight. What idiot dared to call him at this hour?

  “Mr. Rutherford? This is Dawson Security. Sir, we have an alarm signal from the solarium door. Would you like us to send someone?”

  “What? Who? Oh...” David's mind spun quickly, even though he'd just been asleep. “No, we have guests. Wait a moment.”

  He threw back the covers and went to the back window, then pulled back the drapes. Sure enough, he could see someone in the pool, and shook his head in irritation.

  “No, it's all right.”

  He gave the alarm code, then considered. He couldn't see a lot, just someone in the pool. It was probably the girl, but who knew. He and his wife slept in separate rooms now, and had for the last ten years. They both preferred it that way as it allowed them to sleep properly, or stay up later to read or watch TV as they preferred. It wasn't like that affected their sex life anyway since they didn't really have one.

  He opened a drawer and drew out a pistol. It was a long barreled revolver, and always kept unloaded. He pulled open the revolving chamber to make sure, then snapped it closed and put on his dressing gown, anticipating scaring the crap out of the little brat.

  He went downstairs to the solarium, then slipped through the door which the silly little twit had left ajar and out into the darkness of the back yard. The porch roof overhead left him in shadows as he watched the pool, and then hesitated, unsure of his next move.

  The girl helped him there. She climbed out of the pool, and he sucked in a breath of air as the moonlight glistened off her pale, nude form. His cock pulsed under his thick robe, and he licked his lips as she started towards him. Well, he'd give her a scare at any rate.

  * * *

  Spirit was sliding her fingers through her wet hair, squeezing the water out when a gruff male voice sounded from the shadows in front of her.

  “You ever consider that you could get shot as a burglar?” it demanded.

  She gasped in surprise, jerking her body around to hide the front of her.

  “You come out here to peep at me?” she demanded nastily, recognizing his voice.

  She turned around again, an arm casually across her breasts, squeezing them in and together, a small hand covering her groin as she walked impudently towards him. It wouldn't do to show embarrassment, to demonstrate that he'd startled her, that she cared that he'd caught her naked.

  It wouldn't do to show – emotions. And she never did if she could avoid it. Showing fear, embarrassment, anger, care, all that was a sign of weakness, a sign you'd let the other person get to you.

  She was embarrassed, of course, but hopefully her blush was hidden in the near darkness, and she was a little breathless with the sudden shock of his voice. But she kept hers level, kept her entire attitude insouciant as she strolled towards him.

  He pulled a gun out and she stopped a moment and blinked in surprise.

  “The alarm company called and woke me up,” he said. “You set off the alarm when you opened the door.”

  She cursed herself for a moron. They'd told her there was an alarm on the doors at night. Jesus, was she brain dead already? But she never let any of that show on her face. Her eyes were caught by the gun. It was a big one, maybe a 357 magnum with a long barrel. Guns excited her, and here she was naked and more than a little sexually frustrated – and suddenly feeling cocky and flirty.

  “My, what a big one you have,” she said. “Such a long, hard… barrel.”

  She felt a wild flash of dark thrilling heat as she daringly drew her arms up and back and away from her body, exposing herself to his eyes. It was dark, but not that dark as she raised her hands above her head in mock surrender. He was in shadow, and she couldn't make out his expression, but he was apparently at a loss for words, and she felt a deep sense of amusement and satisfaction at jarring him.

  “I surrender,” she said meekly. “Are you going to… handcuff me now?”

  He was silent, and she couldn't keep the smirk off her face as she sauntered forward, hands still in the air, body thrumming with excitement as she stepped into the shadows and came up before him. He was not a tall man, though he had broad shoulders. The gun was pointed off to one side, and she brought her hands down.

  “Big barrels make me hot,” she said, not because it was honest but because she knew it would irritate him.

  She laid her finger on the barrel, and then, feeling another hot, dark sense of thrilling excitement, turned it to point towards her, but pointed upwards. She leaned in and licked slowly up along the underside of the barrel as he gaped at her, and then, more daring still, she guided the barrel down a little and slipped her lips over it, rolling her eyes up at him tauntingly.

  She expected him to jump back, curse, and flee, leaving her victorious. Oh what a wild tale that would make, too when she told her friends! How they would admire her shameless daring!

  Men were so fucking easy, after all, so predictable.

  Except – he wasn't.

  Instead of pulling the gun free and running, he reached up and grabbed her by the throat, then spun her and shoved her back against one of the six inch wide wooden columns which held the upper balcony in place. Her head rang a bit as it hit, but then the gun was being shoved harder into her mouth, and for a moment Spirit actually knew fear as the man glowered at her.

  “You think you're smart, you little slut!?” he hissed.

  Yes, in fact, she had. But now, with the barrel shoved almost into her throat didn't seem like the time to say so.

  He jammed the gun harder and she gurgled in pain, forced up onto her toes and back against the post.

  “You think I'm going to put up with your sluttish behavior and mockery in my own house?” he growled in a low, menacing voice. “Do you know what it takes to own a place like this? Do you think I'm some spineless weakling like my son to be taunted and teased?”

  He pulled the gun back and she gasped in relief as he let go of her throat. She'd been trying to pry his fingers loose since he'd slammed her back, and been singularly unsuccessful. He was, she'd discovered, a lot stronger than her.

  Released, she grabbed her aching throat, stumbling as he pulled back.

  “You learn to mind your manners around here,” he growled as he started to pull back.

  “Fuck you!” she spat, stung by being so quickly and easily manhandled. “I bet that barrel is twice the size of your tiny, wrinkled little cock!”

  And again he defied her predictions. Instead of stepping back he was on her again, and she felt another surge of fear, however temporary, as he thrust her back against the post, the gun up under her chin forcing her head back, forcing her up onto the balls of her feet.

  Fear gave way to something else, though, a wild dark sense of heat and excitement. She felt an almost instinctive recognition that this was a man - not a man like Davie, not a man like those pathetic wretches she’d always been able to turn to putty with a look or a touch, but a hard, strong man who was dangerous to provoke.

  And she loved danger!

  “Go ahead!” she panted. “Do it!”

  “You think you've done it all in this life?” he sneered.

  She reached up and gripped the gun, eyes boring into his, then instead of trying to push the barrel away she drew it downwards, down until the barrel was pressed into her chest between her breasts, directly over her chest.

  “Pull the trigger!” she said breathlessly. “Go ahead! Dirty old man! Old pervert! Old uhggh!”

  His big hand came up against her throat again, jamming her back against the post, squeezing so she could hardly breath. She gasped weakly, frightened and aroused together.

  She didn't try to fight him, didn't grab at his hands. Instead she pushed the barrel downwards, down into her belly, then, despite the difficulty of breathing, she forced a smirk as she pushed it lower, the barrel sliding down until it as pressed against her sex.

  “Go ahead!” she gasped w
eakly. “You know you want to do it to me! If you had a real cock you'd use it!”

  “You little bitch!” he hissed.

  She laughed weakly.

  The gun disappeared, and instead his hand jerked open his robe. Fear and excitement spiraled wildly out of control in her. God! Was he going to do her!? What would she do if he tried!?

  He pulled the belt of his robe free, and then again surprised her by releasing her throat and wrapping the thing rapidly around her wrist.

  “What the fuck – ”

  He jerked her wrists up and back together against the post, then shockingly quickly she found herself tied there. Heat flared up between her legs, and then his hand was there, thrust in between her thighs, cupping and squeezing her painfully hard. She couldn't hide a reaction as she cried out in pain and surprise, her hips twisting, one leg rising, but then his hand was at her throat, silencing her.

  “Fucking whore!” he growled. “Do you think you're the first little bitch to think she can flaunt herself and get her way in everything all her life? Do you think it even started with your generation? Do you think men haven't been dealing with sluts like you for the last thousand years!?”

  It hurt! But after his first thrusting squeeze, his fingers were more gentle, more knowing, and when she tried to jerk her thighs back together he released her throat and gripped her wet hair with his other hand, forcing her head up and back. “Open your legs, slut!”

  She obeyed, whimpering, overcome, and his fingers stroked her even as he forced his lips down onto hers. She moaned and struggled weakly, pulling against the belt binding her back, but a wild spiraling wave of dark excitement was spilling over her mind. His fingers were doing shocking things to her down there, and she quickly abandoned efforts to close her legs, fighting instead not to grind herself against him, fighting and losing.

  She felt her juices flowing and then his finger pushed up into the mouth of her sex and slid inside as his tongue thrust into her mouth. Helplessly, she moaned into his mouth as his finger was joined by a second, and she felt a steady, rapid stroking against her clit. The heat flared higher and she shuddered, eyes fluttering as a third finger pushed up inside her.