Acts of Submission

Chapter 2

Get on your knees, the voice commanded. Right now. On your knees where you belong.

Snow didn't hesitate. She pushed her chair back and sank to the hardwood floor, the cold wood biting into her skin. She knelt in front of her laptop, the screen illuminating her bowed head. She felt ridiculous, kneeling for a computer screen, but the rush of submission was instant and overwhelming. Her p***y throbbed, a fresh wave of wetness coating her thighs.

Good girl. The voice continued. Now listen closely. I'm going to tell you exactly how to touch that desperate cunt of yours, and youre going to follow my instructions. If you rush, you fail. If you come before I say you can, you fail. And you dont want to fail me, do you? The voice asked her as if he's talking to her.

Snow shooked her head. "No," she whispered aloud, her voice trembling. "I don’t want to fail."

Good that you already know your place, slut. Now , put your hands behind your back, the voice continued. Clasp them together. Keep them there. You are not allowed to touch yourself . Not without my permission. Not yet. And youre a good Sub so you will follow your Master.

Snow clasped her hands behind her back, arching her spine slightly. Her breasts thrust forward, her n*****s hard and aching in the cool air. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and incredibly aroused.

Im standing right in front of you now, slut. Imagine me standing right in front of you. Imagine, Im looking down at you with disgust and hunger. Im wearing a suit, immaculate and expensive, while your naked on the floor like a cheap w***e. A b***h in heat. I can see the need dripping down your legs. Its pathetic. Youre pathetic. But youre useful.

Snow closed her eyes, conjuring the image. She could almost smell the scent of expensive cologne, could almost feel the heat of a dominant presence towering over her. The degradation in the words hit her like a physical blow, but instead of hurting, it soothed the ragged edges of her frustration.

You want to be touched, dont you? You want my hands on you? Too bad. You dont deserve it yet. You have to show me how kuch you want it. Rock your hips. The voice commanded. Grind your p***y against the air. Against nothing. Show me how empty you feel.

Snow obeyed, rocking her hips back and forth. It was a humiliating motion, dry humping the empty air in her bedroom, but the friction of her thighs rubbing together, the visual of herself debasing herself for a stranger—it was intoxicating. She let out a low moan, her head falling back.

Thats it. The voice murmured then groaned. As if its also painful for him. Beg for a c**k that isnt there. Beg for me to ruin you.

"Please," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "Please, I need it. I need to be used. I’m so empty, please fill me up."

She didn't know who she was begging for—the anonymous stranger, or a man she hadn't even met yet, a man who existed only in the periphery of her desires. But the words felt real. They felt true.

You sound like a w***e, the text taunted. A desperate, needy w***e. I like that. Now, you have permission to touch. But not with your fingers. You’re going to crawl to your bed. You’re going to get that pillow you’ve been sleeping on, the one that smells like your loneliness and your sweat, and you’re going to hump it like the animal you are.

Snow’s eyes flew open. The instruction was filthy, degrading in a way she had never experienced before. It stripped away the last of her dignity. And she loved it. She scrambled across the floor on her hands and knees, not standing up, staying low like the animal he described. She reached the bed and grabbed her pillow, dragging it down to the floor.

She mounted it, straddling the soft fabric, and lowered her wet center onto it. The cotton was cool against her heated flesh, but she quickly warmed it up. She began to move, grinding her c**t against the pillow, mimicking the act of s*x. It wasn't precise enough to get her off quickly; it was a teasing, maddening friction that forced her to work for it.

Faster, the voice commanded. Ride it. Imagine its my thigh. Because you dont deserve my c**k yet. Not even my fingers. Use that pillow. Make a mess of it.

Snow gripped the edges of the pillow, her knuckles white. She moved her hips with frantic urgency, the friction building a slow, burning heat in her core. She could feel the wetness soaking through the pillowcase, marking it, claiming it. The shame of the act mixed with the dark praise of the words, creating a cocktail of arousal that made her head spin.

You look so good like that, the voice continued. Flushed and sweating, working so hard for a little bit of pleasure. It’s amusing to watch. But you’re close, aren’t you? I can tell. Your movements are getting erratic. You’re losing control.

Snow was close. The tension was coiling tight in her belly, ready to snap. She slowed down, trying to prolong the sensation, terrified of disobeying the order not to come yet.

"Please let me come", she pleaded aloud. " Please, Sir, Im so close."

Not yet. The voice replied. You dont dictate the terms here. I do. Stop.

Snow let out a cry of frustration, but she forced her hips to still. She was trembling, her body screaming for release. She hovered over the pillow, her p***y hovering just inches above the damp fabric, pulsing with need.

Good girl. Control. Thats what seperates a slut from a Sub. A slut takes what she wants. A sub wauts to be given what she needs. You are learning youre place. Now, stand up. Go back to your chair. Sit down.

Snow crawled back to the desk and pulled herself into the chair. Her legs were weak, her breath coming in short gasps. She stared at the screen, waiting for the next command.

I want you to repeat what I said. I want you to hear the words coming out from your own mouth. Aloud. I want you to acknowledge. Accept who you truly are. Say it. Im a dirty girl. Im a hole to be used. I exist to serve my Master. I come only when commanded.

Snow took a deep breath, her voice shaking as she r

repeat the words aloud. "I am a dirty girl. I am a hole to be used. I exist to serve my Master. I come only when commanded."

Saying it made it real. It cemented the dynamic in her mind. She felt a shift inside her, a surrender that went deeper than just physical arousal. She was giving herself over to this online dom, letting him rewrite her reality, if only for tonight.

Very good, the voice replied. You sound convincing. Now Im going to let you come. But youre going to do it my way. I want you to pinch your n*****s. Hard Twist them until it hurts. I want you to close your eyes and imagine my hand around your throat. Squeezing. Cutting off your air just enough to make you dizzy. Youre not safe. Youre possesed. And youre going to scream my name.

Snow didn't know his name. She didn't even know his face. But she knew his voice—cold, demanding, arrogant. It was the voice she had been waiting for all night.

She brought her hands up to her breasts, her fingers finding her sensitive n*****s. She pinched them, hard, just as he had instructed. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her, mixing with the pleasure pooling in her belly, turning it into something darker, heavier.

She closed her eyes, imagining the hand around her throat. She could almost feel the pressure, the possessive grip that claimed her life as well as her body. She felt small, helpless, and completely owned.

Now, the voice continued. Come for me. Collapsed. Ruined. Mine.