Enchanted Submission - An erotic bdsm fantasy novella (3 page)

She didn’t.

‘Where I go, you go,’ he said, ‘And everyone in there,’ he jerked his head towards Cinderella and Tate heading through The Basement door, ‘will know you belong to me.’

He kept the lead held high and walked behind her. She felt his rough knuckles run over the soft skin of her bare buttocks, first one, then the other, right down to the under-crease and onto her thighs. He then swept sideways from one cheek to the other, his calloused palms rested over the crack as he sent a long finger right in the slit where the thong disappeared entirely. Her skin tingled at his touch; like a stroke of fire, the trail of heat he left behind had her yearning for more.

He switched the lead to the other hand, stopped his exploration of her rear and appeared over her right shoulder. ‘Good choice of outfit, but I can’t remember saying anything about knickers, even teeny tiny, hardly worth wearing ones.’

Rapunzel opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again.

He laughed at her enforced muteness, a deep rumble of a sound that vibrated up from his chest. ‘But I’ll let you off, since this is clearly your first time on the other end of the lead.’ His wide hand slid into the valley of her waist, paused, and then brushed over the front of the lacy thong just catching her mound with a hint of pressure from his big fingertips. Rapunzel squeezed her thighs together. He pressed again, just the pad of one finger, right at the juncture where her sex lips began. That was what she needed, so much more of that, right there, no, perhaps a little lower, and with movement, rotation, perhaps some penetration. Her knees buckled, her fists clenched and her hips tilted towards him, greedy for his touch.

‘Buzzing for it, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Shame you’ll have to wait until I decide you can have it.’ He lifted his teasing finger, turned and flipped the lead over his shoulder so it trailed down his back before looping up to her neck. He walked forward and she had no choice but to totter on her towering heels until she got into a rhythm, two paces to his one.

She stared up at his dark, unruly curls licking over his collar onto his shoulders. With a shiver absorbed his impossibly wide shoulders and powerful back rippling even through his jacket. She studied his butt, just able to make out the neat, roundness of his cheeks below his jacket hem; what she wouldn’t do to touch that arse the way he’d just felt up hers, run her hand into every dip and crevice, no place off limits, kiss it, lick it, spread her naked body over it. She unclenched her hands and smoothed her palms together, frustration running like treacle through her veins and making her most private places pulse with anticipation.

Beast pushed through The Basement door and, without hesitating, tugged her past the small circular bar on the left. The way he’d slung the lead over his shoulder made Rapunzel feel so owned by him, so possessed, and as their figures were highlighted by the bright bar lights it seemed as if every head swivelled toward them at the same moment. Rapunzel submitting was a sight to behold for every Turret Club patron and the entire room suspended in time as people paused conversations.

With her generous flesh draped over the top of her corset, her breasts jiggled uncontrollably with each hurried step she took behind Beast. Her nipples were still hard and upturned, jutting into the warm, smoky air. Her hair flowed behind her offering no coverage to her nakedness as it skimmed the floor, and her towering heels sank into the carpet like she was walking in deep snow. She nibbled her lip and, although the collar wasn’t tight, it felt heavy, dragging, like a banner to the world that she was a possession who could be treated in any manner her owner, Beast, chose.

Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness, those few seconds of not knowing who was staring at her near nakedness, who was enjoying seeing her trussed up like an animal, was part social agony, part wonderful exhibitionism.

A sudden cackle of laughter shrilled over from her right. She turned, heart hammering, and saw Snow White lolling on a chaise longue dressed in a skimpy red number and drawing on a bubbling pot of blue liquid through a curly straw. But Snow White wasn’t laughing at Rapunzel, she was laughing at Pinocchio who sat at the end of the chaise rubbing her bare foot against his cheek. He had an expression of utter rapture on his boyish face and his eyes were glazed and fixed. His nose was small, tiny, so Rapunzel knew he hadn’t lied to get Snow White to allow him to indulge in his foot fetish – his shoemaker father, Giuseppe, had long since disowned him because of it – so the pair must have set up a deal. Snow White had a list as long as her arm of unusual conquests and it was probably Pinocchio’s erect nose that she wanted to add to that list.

Beast stopped suddenly and Rapunzel halted right up close behind him with her face pressed into the middle of his back. She pulled in the scent of his jacket; the wild outdoors infiltrated with a heavy maleness, and watched as Pinocchio took Snow White’s big toe into his open mouth. He sucked it in as far as it would go, pulling in his cheeks and shutting his eyes. He began to stroke the whole length of her calf as if drawing her energy downwards, into her toes and subsequently into him. Snow White took barely any notice of this movement and lazily gestured to Sneezy who was wandering past with a tray of cockles. She took a few morsels, popped them into her mouth and then set her head back on the chaise, no doubt dreaming up ways in which to best use a long rod of wood with an eager to please little tongue at the base.

Rapunzel felt the collar tug at her nape and realised she was once again required to move forward.

There was no beating music in The Basement, instead there was small band set in a corner consisting of several elderly wizards, all of whom were blind and wore enormous black glasses. They played a lazy type of jazz, nothing intrusive, nothing to counter conversation. They just tinkled away on a polished grand piano, huffed on a brass trombone and strummed a sedate acoustic guitar. Rapunzel never recognised any of the tunes they played, and it was no different; it was a gentle rolling melody, like a hypnotic chant that flowed from one chord to the next seamlessly.

Beast led Rapunzel past an unusually busy table. Eight people, several of which she recognised from previous visits to The Turret Club, turned their way. A few eyebrows rose when they saw her submitting, and lifted even further when they realised it was with one of her best friends’ exes. But no comments were passed, at least not while Rapunzel was within earshot, though she was certain there would be plenty said about her and Beast’s union in hushed, gossipy voices tonight.

Beast strode, unconcerned, towards a low stage where three impossibly beautiful girls danced naked in slow swaying movements to the wizards’ music. They intertwined with each other, their bodies melting and tangling, their chests pressing flat together and their faces nuzzling into one another’s necks as they embraced. They had dreamy expressions on their faces, light smiles tickled their lips and occasionally they would curl their fingers at members of the audience in invitation. As Beast and Rapunzel drew level with the stage, the tallest one, a thin brunette, lay on the floor, spread her legs wide to the audience and began to trail her hand over her body. She smoothed up to her small breasts to tweak at her own nipples and then back down to her pussy as though savouring her own golden flesh. She arched her back and neck to the wooden stage floor and began to masturbate in a slow, indulgent way, as if for all the world she was completely alone in her bedroom and several dozen eyes hadn’t drifted her way to gaze at her hairless sex becoming stimulated, swollen and moist.

Beast continued his walk. Not even pausing to glance at the erotic show, he navigated to the end of the stage and headed to the corner where Tate and Cinderella had settled. Rapunzel stumbled forward as a lusty-looking Jack dashed past them to the stage with two gold coins clutched in his fist. She reckoned the horny showgirl would be seeing quite a lot of Jack’s rather wild beanstalk very soon, and so probably, would everyone else in the audience.

Four deep bucket seats were positioned around a small round table which glowed red from an overhead spotlight. Three of the seats were empty since Cinderella had chosen to sit on Tate’s knee and was listening intently as he spoke into her ear. Rapunzel went to sit next to Beast, hoping her lead would stretch the short gap between the two chairs.

‘No,’ Beast snapped turning his face to hers for the first time since they’d entered The Basement. ‘Not there.’

Rapunzel froze, opened her mouth and then clamped it shut again remembering the threat of the gag. But where else could she sit while attached to him?

‘On the floor,’ he said, tugging the lead downwards. ‘Sit at my feet and keep the hell still. I can’t bear wrigglers.’

Rapunzel swallowed around the collar and glanced at Cinderella looking at her with a surprised expression on her face. Beast continued the insistent downward pressure until Rapunzel had no choice but to sink to her knees which were stiff in their tight leather encasement. After a struggle, she folded onto the floor and averted her eyes from Cinderella, hoping with all her heart her friend would keep her promise and not interfere.

Beast sank into the chair, dropped his knees apart and wound the lead around his fist. He made it short, real short and Rapunzel was forced to shuffle right in between his legs until her head came level with his crotch. She knew people were watching her, guessed some of the princes in the room were wondering what the hell she was up to, but what could she do about it? She was under Beast’s control; she couldn’t even speak to explain or turn her head to look at them. In a weird way, it was freeing to have surrendered responsibility for all her actions.

She shuffled further on the soft carpet and felt his hard inner thighs pressing on her shoulders. His long, strong legs, each one at least as thick as both of hers, encased her and her bare arms sensed the heat blazing from his body as she became surrounded by him, encompassed by him. Being so close to the object of her obsession was a tease, a carrot dangling on a string and she soon forgot about who might be looking. She wanted so much more than just sitting at his feet, she wanted to touch him, taste him, she wanted him to carry out his promises. Her stomach was clenching with want. She needed him to fuck her until she was begging for mercy, then she wanted him to turn her over, upside down and do it all over again. If she was dominating tonight she would have given a little titbit by now, something to satisfy her sub; all she’d had were a few light touches, and each part of her he’d stroked still felt about to explode with need. It hadn’t been in the least bit satisfying, in fact, it had made her breasts and her clit ache with an almost painful physical longing. She shifted position and her nipples caught on the seam of his trousers, the material was smooth but the marble muscles beneath gave a degree of friction. She shuddered and pressed in some more, gleaning what pleasure she could from the tiny movement and then, sneakily, inched one hand down to press on the gusset of her thong.

Beast sprung forward and captured her cheek in his huge palm. His eyes flashed and he pressed his lips to her ear. ‘I said sit fucking still,’ he growled, his hot breath swirled around her neck and over her scalp. ‘Put your hands up here where I can see them. You’ll only receive pleasure when I want you to.’

Rapunzel gave a small, barely perceptible nod and dragged her hands up to his thighs. She could get away with nothing; he was too sharp, too in tune with her desires.

‘Would you like a drink, sir?’ One of the dwarves asked from behind Rapunzel.

‘Whisky,’ Beast said. ‘Make it a double, plenty of ice.’

‘Yeah, I’ll have the same,’ said Tate. ‘And two draughts of your best Vervain for the ladies.’

Beast let out a snort of amusement and sank back in his chair, releasing Rapunzel’s cheek and flicking her lead over his wrist in a more casual manner. ‘Excellent choice, Tate, excellent choice.’

Worry leapt in Rapunzel’s temple. Vervain was a herb which increased desire as well as heightening satisfaction. It wasn’t a drug; no stronger than drinking raspberry leaf tea, but even so Cinderella didn’t appear to need any more desire the way she was tucking her hand into Tate’s shirt, tweaking his chest hair and pouting her lips. And Rapunzel knew full well if her own lust level went any higher she’d explode with frustration. She was getting fraught for stimulation, desperate for action. Vervain was the very last thing on her agenda, the very last thing she needed.

Within seconds, Doc delivered the drinks on a silver tray and placed them on the table. Cinderella sipped her steaming liquid and exclaimed how wonderfully delicious this new drink was before downing the lot. Tate grinned with a distinctly predatory glint in his eyes, circled his arms around her waist and held her all the tighter into his lap.

Beast lifted the other cup to Rapunzel’s mouth and tipped until the warm, sweet liquid hit her top lip. ‘Drink,’ he said holding the lead taut so she couldn’t pull away from the rim of the cup.

She took a small sip and went to twist her head away.

‘More,’ he angled the cup up further and tugged the lead. A dribble slipped down her chin and onto her naked breasts; she felt it tickle through her cleavage to the rim of the corset. He tilted the cup further and she was forced to take several deep gulps in order to stop it spilling completely.

‘Good,’ he said, leant over her and placed it down. He settled back in the chair and glanced with vague interest at a new show coming on stage. Rapunzel couldn’t see the show, her back was to the stage but she could hear the swish of layers of clothing and the hum of vibrators. She reckoned it was Hansel and Gretel who did a great novelty act with sweets and fruity sauce, combining it with vibrators of all shapes and sizes which journeyed into any available orifice on themselves and willing victims from the audience.

She looked up at Beast’s shadowed face tipping back as he took another slug of his iced drink, the dark stubble coating his cheeks and chin combined with his heavy hair made him look all the more brooding and dangerous.