Submissive (2 page)

She knew what she wanted: a man who could make her entire body come alive with desire. Someone who possessed her soul completely, so that it knew no comfort without a tantalizing and persistent physical hunger. Brute strength. Sexual heat. Uncompromising masculinity.

From the parking lot Gillian looked over the edge of the stone safety wall and down on the distant sprawling campus. Not many students ventured up the steep drive to the restaurant anymore.

Gillian closed her eyes, sick of the real world. Being a student sucked. Everything sucked. Her lurid dreams seemed far more real to her than this. It had been crazy to whisper of them to Bruce, hoping to pull him into her fantasies.

She massaged the back of her neck and wound her ponytail about her fingers as she contemplated the aching lust that had gripped her for days. Standing in the shadows, Gillian peeked around, and, confident she was alone in the parking lot, let her hand stray to the hem of the orange dress. She raised it and stroked her sensitive thighs. They were slick with the moisture from the crotch of her panties. As she slipped her fingers under her panties, tracing her vulva, her clit quickened. She plunged two fingers into the wet slit, pounding it and rolling her thumb over her clit as she thought of Bruce. She imagined him massaging her breasts roughly as she bent over a chair, his cock driving in and out of her wet, straining pussy intensely. Gillian's need was animalistic, and an orgasm jolted through her. She was not satisfied, no, but relieved somewhat as she pulled her hand from her panties. Only then did she notice the cigarette had fallen from her right hand.

Her mind snapped awake, and with a pout of distaste, she stooped to retrieve the still-lit butt from the pavement. She would have to smoke it quick and go back on in because the hired help weren't allowed a moment longer than ten minutes for their breaks. Just as Gillian retrieved the butt, she heard the back door sigh open and saw a feminine silhouette slip out into the night air. Gillian was certain it was the ever-bitchy manager, and flinching, dropped the cig again.

With a sigh, she stood and crushed it out completely with the sole of her shoe, only then realizing it was not the manager who was walking toward her. The cool, finely boned face was familiar, but she was sure it was not one of the new waitresses—not in that unusual skirt and those stilettos. Squinting in the moonlight, she tried to remember the face.

“Have one to spare?” the woman asked, with a glance to the crushed butt. Gillian recognized the husky voice. The Goth queen, she thought to herself, recalling the unkind title her coworkers had privately given this customer. This woman had become a Saturday night regular shortly after Gillian started working. Not a true Goth, for her makeup was always perfect, but in her dark designer clothes and expensive jewelry, she was as close to Goth as most of the local farm girls-turned-waitresses had ever seen. Gillian had a feeling that she came here with the hopeful expectations of meeting someone.

She pulled the cigarette pack from her apron pocket and the woman accepted one. As Gillian offered her lighter, the woman lifted her auburn hair gracefully to the side of her pale, slender neck.

“You have worked here for a while,” the woman said with an uncertain smile as she exhaled.

Gillian felt suddenly uncomfortable, wondering what this woman was doing in the staff parking lot. But it was not really her concern, and besides, her laid-back demeanor was welcoming.

Before Gillian could answer, she sidled close and brushed Gillian's wrist with her fingertips. Gillian smiled awkwardly, hoping this woman would not feel her discomfort.

“Gillian,” she murmured huskily, “how would you like to be done with this establishment and this provincial town?”

Gillian cleared her throat. She wondered suddenly if the woman was one of the escort-service proprietors from the nearby city. They were known for cruising out here now and then in order to size up prospective employees from the college.

“Well,” Gillian said slowly, “who wouldn't? But I have another year to finish before getting my bachelor's.”

“Yes, an art major,” the woman said and licked her crimson lips. “But I sense your wellsource of wisdom yet calls to be dipped.”

Now Gillian felt a chill. She had shared none of her life's ambitions with this woman. Why, she had been too daunted by her to ever start a conversation except to take an order.

“Excuse me, ma'am, my break is over.” Gillian gave a congenial nod and started to stroll back toward the door when the woman's hand grasped her forearm, bringing Gillian to a clumsy halt. Gillian jerked about, terrified, angry, and found herself mesmerized by the sensuality in the bold gray eyes that met her. The woman's fingers clamped over Gillian's chin and she drew her mouth close to her face. Much too close.

“I am not interested in a whore,” the woman said, “I want the hungering lust of your soul. Your pussy must be starved.”

Gillian shrieked and pulled her arm away. She turned and lunged toward the restaurant. As she threw the door open, she saw the kitchen just as she had left it minutes before: the assembly of young men and women in their stained, ugly uniforms and net-pinned hair. The manager was too preoccupied to see her, ranting at one of the other waitresses from over the saloon doors at the front, demanding the tea be watered down before it was served. Gillian's panic turned in a new and sickening direction. Gillian backed out, and let the door swing back on its hinges. No one had seen her.

She wondered if she had gone insane as she turned and looked at the Goth queen. Why did this woman's words affect her? It was ridiculous, but she was seized with the most urgent desire to flee here altogether, say good-bye to her job and college, too.

The woman's heels clicked across the pavement as she sauntered up to Gillian and clasped her hands like a delighted little girl greeting her best friend.

But her voice was all charming crispness. “You will come with me, Gillian? Depart this place and discover your true self?”

Be careful what you wish for.
It seemed she'd gotten it.

Gillian blinked and glanced at the delicious white cleavage peeping over the front of the woman's dress, the tiny hard nipples poking through the silk. How she wanted to tear the fabric away, nurse those breasts, and suckle the woman's firm, smooth mouth.

And when the next moment the woman reached for her skirt and lifted it, Gillian's clit sprang to life and her nipples hardened.

“What are you doing?” she said softly.

“Come here,” the Goth queen whispered and gathered Gillian's ponytail in one hand and with it drew her close. The woman's lips brushed over Gillian's, parting them, and her tongue pressed deeply into Gillian's mouth. A shiver quaked through Gillian's breasts and her fingertips glided over the woman's lean, firm arms. She accepted the probing kiss, and when the woman's mouth grazed down over her throat, she moaned and her pussy grew even moister. Never had she known such mindless desire for another human being.

She felt the band yanked from her hair so that the breeze whipped blond tresses over her shoulders and arms. The woman unbuttoned every last button on the front of Gillian's uniform. Anyone looking from the doorway would see her standing there, half naked under the funky blue-green glow of the security lights. Though there was no one, fear only increased the heat between Gillian's thighs. The woman stooped and yanked Gillian's panties down over her hips and down her legs to her knees. Gillian moved her hips pleadingly, oblivious to everything but the red lips kissing the insides of her thighs.

She curled the ends of the woman's hair with trembling fingers. “Oh, yes,” she crooned deeply, “devour me with your mouth!”

The Goth queen threw her a quick, thoughtful smile. “We have need of women like you, Gillian. If I give you the satisfaction you crave, you must join with us. Your pledge will be more binding than blood.”

Gillian blinked, trying to concentrate on the strange words. “Women like me? What does that mean?”

“I am Madame Nevja, a recruiter of Disciples of Pleasure,” the woman answered and her tongue flicked out to rub the hood of Gillian's clit.

Gillian echoed the reply. “Disciples of Pleasure.” One or both of them had to be insane. Yet she did not care, except for the pleasure Nevja's actions promised, and she laughed wantonly. “Sure. Whatever.”

“It is no joke,” Nevja said.

Gillian touched the soft skin of her temple. “Sure, I'll be your recruit, you have my word. Now, please, just fuck me, fuck me now with your mouth!”

At once the woman parted Gillian's pubic hair and then her glistening wet nether lips. Her mouth smothered Gillian's pulsing clit and with her tongue she strummed it until it was swollen. Over and over again the wicked tongue waved across the pulsating organ, and then down to enter the sodden nether lips to plunge inside Gillian's drenched pussy. Again and again her stiff tongue fucked Gillian. She parted Gillian's buttocks, and with her forefinger, fucked her virgin anus. Gillian's sensitive inner walls shuddered intensely. Her clit suddenly seemed to explode, and her sex and anus were filled with an orgasm that blew away the last refrains of her unsatisfying act of masturbation.

She was panting, when through half-lidded eyes she saw that she was still holding the woman's hair around her fingers. The Goth queen was all cool poise again as she smiled and lowered Gillian's hands. Nevja drew something from one of the scalloped cups of her bra. She parted Gillian's buttocks again and plunged something long and slender into her ass. It was soft and warm, like beeswaxed ginger, and the embarrassing sensation it imparted inside Gillian was a nameless ambrosia.

“You have been recruited,” Nevja said, and the heavy toll of the words drowned even Cynthia's voice coming from the restaurant door. Gillian paid no heed. She wanted to escape…wanted to go beyond every limit.

Drunk with satisfaction and feeling light-headed, Gillian gave no resistance as the woman pulled her panties back up and led her by the hand across the pavement to a long limo with tinted passenger windows parked at the remote end of the lot.

The woman tapped on the driver's window. The door opened and out stepped a tall youth with a sandy ponytail that hung from the back of his starched blue chauffeur's cap. This he tipped to Gillian and opened the passenger door.

Gillian felt a single twinge of reluctance and looked back.
I am a fool
, she thought desperately.

“Get in, Gillian,” Nevja ordered.

Gillian gave in, distracted by the sight of the front of Nevja's dress poked by enticing nipples and then by her long, perfectly manicured indigo nails. They were intimidating, those sharp nails, and Gillian was sobered a little by the sudden instinct to flee. Before she could, however, Nevja shoved her inside the vehicle. Gillian pushed up angrily from the plush seat and turned around, hitting at Nevja's knee, which was rising to enter.

“Let me out of here!”

Nevja bowed and looked at Gillian complacently. “You have made a vow, Gillian, and there is no turning back. Now be silent and stay on that seat or I shall have Tepcha restrain you.”

Gillian panicked and screamed. With hands and knees sunk firmly into the seat, she rammed her head into Nevja's belly with all her weight. The woman fell back into the driver's arms. At once Gillian bolted from the vehicle and ran toward the entry doors of the restaurant. She ignored the heaviness she felt, the sense of unconsciousness approaching; she did not care if her dress was flapping open or what her coworkers or anyone else might think when she came flying through the doors. All that mattered was returning to the comforting dullness of ordinary things.

The Goth queen hissed something and Gillian heard Tepcha's feet pounding the pavement behind her. Just before she reached the green and white striped awning of the entryway, he snatched the ends of her flying hair and yanked her back hard against his chest. He heaved Gillian up with his free arm so that her kicking feet swung above the ground and hauled her back to the limo and threw her roughly over the seat. This time the door was shut before Gillian could clamber to her hands and knees. She spun about toward it and at that instant heard the driver's door open. To her dismay, she saw there was no handle with which to open the door. An electronic lock. Hearing both passenger doors lock, she beat the dark window desperately with her fists.

“I take it back!” she screamed, angrier, more frightened than she had been in her life. “I take it back, you bitch!”

Then from above her head she heard Nevja's frosty voice. “Soon, Gillian, you shall learn the value of a pledge…and much more.”

Gillian's vision grew darker than the tinted windows, and as she pounded on the door she heard both doors up front slam shut.

“No,” she said, but her voice was only a faint murmur in her ears. Her head sank into the upholstered seat. She dimly saw an oval aluminum intercom staring down at her from the ceiling. Just before she drifted to sleep she overheard Nevja issue a cool, incomprehensible order to the driver.

Be careful what you
…This was Gillian's last thought.
So careful…