SUBMISSION AT THE TOWER
BY FELICITY BRANDON
Contemporary BDSM Romance, Spanking Romance. – c. 64, 000 words.
#BDSMRomance #SpankingRomance #EroticRomance
“This is not a love story. This is the story of the hunger inside of me which must be fed before it consumes me entirely…”
After a chance encounter with a handsome stranger introduces her to The Tower, an institution that trains women in submission, Janie McClusky is irresistibly drawn to the place. But admittance comes at a price, and soon enough Janie is utterly bare and fully on display, blushing crimson as the men at The Tower thoroughly explore her body, bringing her pain, pleasure, and shame as they see fit.
As Janie’s training begins, there is one man among the group who seems to know her own needs better than she does, and before long she finds herself yearning and even begging for his touch. But if she relinquishes control completely to this captivating stranger and allows him to break down her remaining defences, will there be any coming back at all?
Publisher’s Note: Submission at The Tower is an erotic novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes, extensive BDSM content, exhibitionism, anal play, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Amazon #1 international best-seller of the salacious, erotic & romantic.
Golden Flogger Finalist 2016, Spanking Romance Reviews runner-up.
#BDSM, #spanking, #submission.
Wicked Pen Writer with Mr. Blackthorne.
18+ My books contain explicit material and scenes of intense D/s sex.
A thunderous round of applause fills the air. The sound is so loud that it almost deafens me and a bizarre moment of panic collects in my throat. Now I want out – out of this wooden contraption and away from this public scene. I pull futilely on my trapped limbs and try to get Shaw’s attention over the growing din in the hall.
I try to shout, but even to my own ears my voice doesn’t travel far enough for him to hear me. Being at this angle means that I am effectively shouting down to the floor. Fear and frustration fill me. Where is Shaw? What if he’s wandered off into the crowd and has left me here? Knowing I can’t shift my arms and head, I try my legs instead and begin stamping my feet as hard as I can. I am desperate for his attention and desperate to be out of here! In the midst of my perturbed anxiety, there is only one word left that I can think to shout:
Within an instant Shaw’s legs are there – right in front of me – and he is back crouching down at my face. I don’t wait for him to speak.
“Sir, please,” I beg him. “Please get me out of here now!”
“Of course, little one,” he soothes, “don’t panic, Janie. Breathe… I’ll have you out in just a moment.”
He rises again and those long legs disappear to my right. I soon feel the weight of the wood rising above my head. It’s literally like a substantial burden is lifted from me and yet for some reason I am reluctant to move. It seems ridiculous but it’s as though the stocks have become something of a safety net around me and now – without their support – I feel doubly exposed and humiliated.
Shaw’s body presses into my legs from behind me. His taut body leans in close and spoons me as he reaches up and slides an arm over each of my own. I wince audibly at the sudden hurt I feel as his body presses into my sore behind, but am so enriched by the close contact that I push the pain away. Then his hot breath is on the back of my neck and I hear him. This time his words are like nourishment to my starving body.
“It’s okay, Janie, I’m here… I’m right here.”
He kisses the back of my shoulder and my eyes close reflexively. Such a tender interlude is utterly unexpected at this moment.
“I need you to lift yourself out of the stocks now, little one. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, sir,” I murmur, although the words do not seem to come out.
I brace myself and using whatever will I have remaining, I raise my head from the wooden block. The movement is tentative at first and then surreal. My head feels so heavy and the ache in the neck is once again overwhelming. As I rise I feel Shaw removing my wrists from their prisons and drawing my arms gently back into my body. Then he wraps himself around me like a warm cocoon and holds me. For a long moment there is nothing further. I exist only in this instant, wrapped up in Shaw’s enticing scent and body heat.
“Well done, little one,” he whispers into my right ear as he caresses the length of my shin with his hand. “You were splendid in those stocks.”
I close my eyes and feel his soft kisses on my neck. I have become a bubble of contentment in his arms and genuinely nothing else matters to me at this moment. My life before this day feels like something I read once in a novel. I remember the plot, but the details are sketchy. I rest my aching neck back against him. Shaw shifts his weight backwards and manoeuvres my body so that his left arm slips underneath my knees and his right one supports my back.
I’m aware that he is lifting me from the floor. I know I am safe in his arms and on some level I couldn’t care less where he is taking me, so long as we’re together. Still the movement is unnerving, so I open my eyes a little to see what is happening. We are already down from the platform and Shaw is stalking across the hall. From this vantage I finally get to absorb the stunning décor of the place. So long the focus of the room, I am amazed to see the grandiose furnishings around us. Magnificent looking golden drapes hang from the floor length windows just ahead of us, framing a number of gold and burgundy chaise-lounges. Most are occupied with suited men and nude, kneeling women. The sumptuousness reminds me of something you might see in a palace. I try not to look around me, but instead keep my eyes in the direction Shaw is taking us. I snuggle into his heat and take deep breaths into his shirt, inhaling him as though Shaw himself has become the oxygen I need to live.
I love that scene! Thanks for sharing today, Felicity.