Acts of Submission

Snow stood outside Marcus' apartment door, the chill of the hallway seeping through her thin jacket, but it did nothing to cool the heat simmering beneath her skin. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that matched the anticipation vibrating through her limbs. This was it. The night they had been talking about for weeks, the night that pushed past the usual roughhousing and degradation into something entirely new. She raised a hand to knock, her knuckles rapping against the wood sharply. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he had been standing right there waiting for her. Marcus filled the frame, his dark eyes fixing on her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. He wore nothing but a pair of loose black sweatpants that hung low on his hips, accentuating the definition of his abs and the trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband. He looked predatory, dangerous, and Snow felt a familiar thrill of submission spark in her stomach. “You’re late,” he growled, stepping aside to let her in, though his tone wasn't angry. It was expectant. “Only by two minutes,” she countered, stepping into the warmth of his apartment. The air smelled like sandalwood and him, a scent that instantly made her feel lightheaded. Marcus closed the door and turned the deadbolt, the heavy click echoing in the sudden silence of the entryway. He didn't give her a chance to respond. He moved into her space, crowding her until her back hit the wall. He towered over her, one hand placing beside her head, trapping her. He leaned down, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck, inhaling her scent deeply. “I don’t like to be kept waiting, Snow,” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her chest. “You know the rules.” Snow shivered, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, not to push him away but to anchor herself. “I know, Marcus. I’m sorry.” He bit down on the curve of her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to break the skin, a possessive brand that made her gasp. “You will be. Tonight, we’re pushing boundaries. You remember what we discussed?” “Y-yes,” she stammered, her pulse racing. “The… anal.” Marcus pulled back to look her in the eye, a dark, arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “That’s right. I’m going to ruin that tight little ass of yours. But first, you need to earn it. I want you stripped. Now.” He stepped back, giving her space but not leaving the room. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving hers, watching her every move like a hawk. Snow’s hands trembled slightly as she reached for the zipper of her jacket, sliding it down slowly. She knew better than to rush. Marcus liked a show. She let the jacket fall to the floor, followed by her tank top. The air in the room was cool against her heated skin, raising goosebumps along her arms. Next came her jeans, shimmying them down her legs and stepping out of them, kicking them aside. She stood before him in just her lace bra and panties, feeling exposed under his hungry gaze. “All of it,” he commanded, his voice dropping an octave. Snow reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms. She tossed it to the pile of growing clothes. Her n*****s peaked instantly in the open air, hard and aching. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down, kicking them away. Now she was completely bare, vulnerable and on display. Marcus' eyes raked over her body, taking in every inch of her, from the swell of her breasts to the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips. He hummed in approval, a sound that made her wetter than she already was. “Good girl,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “But you’re forgetting the other part of your instructions. Your n*****s. Pinch them. Show me how much you want this.” Snow hesitated for a fraction of a second, her modesty warring with her desire to please him. Her desire won. She brought her hands up to her breasts, cupping the heavy weight of them before taking her n*****s between her thumb and forefingers. She pinched hard, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips as pain mixed with pleasure. “Harder,” Marcus ordered, taking a step closer. She obeyed, twisting and pulling on the sensitive buds until they were throbbing and red. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, silently begging for his touch, but he remained just out of reach, watching her torment herself. “Look at you,” he sneered, his voice dripping with degradation. “Such a desperate little slut. You’ll do anything I tell you to, won’t you? You love this.” “Yes,” she breathed, the word barely a whisper. “I love it. I love it when you talk to me like that.” Marcus reached out, gripping her chin firmly and forcing her to look up at him. “Turn around,” he commanded. “Bend over. I want to see that ass.” Snow turned, facing the closed front door. She bent at the waist, resting her hands on the wood for support. The position left her completely exposed, her most private parts on display for him. She felt vulnerable, filthy, and incredibly turned on. “Spread it,” Marcus said from behind her. Snow reached back with both hands, gripping her ass cheeks and pulling them apart, exposing her tight puckered hole to his gaze. She felt his breath hot against her skin a moment before she felt the wet, obscene glide of his spit landing directly on her asshole. She gasped at the sensation, the heat of it shocking her. “f**k, that’s pretty,” he muttered. She felt his finger probe against the tight ring of muscle, circling it slowly, coating it with his saliva. He wasn't pushing in yet, just teasing her, testing the limits of her flexibility. His finger was rough, calloused, and the contrast against the soft skin of her ass made her shiver. “Please,” she whimpered, her forehead resting against the cool wood of the door. “Please what?” he asked, his finger pressing just slightly harder, threatening to breach the entrance. “Please… touch me. Put it in.” “Not yet,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “You have to be prepared. And you have to earn your reward.” He grabbed her hair, wrapping it around his fist, and pulled her upright. Snow gasped at the sharp tug on her scalp, but she followed his movement, turning to face him again. He pushed down on her shoulders, and she sank to her knees on the hardwood floor, the surface hard against her skin. “Open your mouth,” he ordered. Snow looked up at him, her eyes wide and obedient, and parted her lips. Marcus stood over her, his dominance absolute. He reached down, stroking her cheek almost tenderly before his expression hardened once more. “Tonight is about marking you, Snow. Inside and out,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I’m going to fill you up. But first, I need to empty myself.”