Sweetheart Submission Part Two

Here is the conclusion of "Sweetheart Submission":



Lanie stood there in her lavender, hot-pants romper and stared. How could Vito do this to her? Every glitter-lidded eye in the crowded club trained on her, and everyone expected her to join him on the stage.

But her feet seemed stuck to the floor, like a rat in a glue trap. If she could just gnaw off her feet... She couldn’t say no to Vito, though, and she finally forced herself to approach the stage.

The air turned to gelatin as she walked. She used everything she had in her to move through the thickness. After what seemed like many long, syrupy-thick hours, she stood just in front of the stage. Why am I so nervous? I’ve scened with him all the time. Spanking, St. Andrew’s cross, flogging... She’d done everything, but she never felt dread like this before.

Vito reached down to her, and she took his hand. He pulled her onto the stage and turned her around for the crowd. Lanie felt her cheeks burn as hoots and whistles sounded from the club.

The lights dimmed, and Vito positioned Lanie to stand facing the audience.

“For those of you that don’t know,” Vito said, ”This is Lanie. She’s been my special little slave around here for some time now. Isn’t she pretty?” Vito skimmed a hand down her arm and then let it rest on her hip. Lanie felt the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of her romper.

“Kneel.” Vito’s tone left no room for discussion, and Lanie fell to her knees as if he controlled her by remote and he’d hit the Down button. Her body -- possessing muscle memory like any athlete -- immediately folded into a perfect slave posture. She dropped her head, and then the whole world around her melted away. She focused only on the man standing in front of her. Or -- more to the point -- his feet.

He reached down and placed on her upturned palm one large candy heart. She looked down at it. This was clearly some kind of custom confection. Larger than the standard box sweets, the pink sugar surface was embossed with vibrant purple icing, carefully scrolled out to say, “Marry me.”

Lanie swallowed but didn’t look up. She began to shake. She dared to glance up at Vito, and dangling from his finger was a collar, white leather with a captured ring. Only...

She squinted up at it. The ring wasn’t the standard stainless O, but a platinum solitaire, a huge pink diamond glinting in the stage lights.

He told her, “It comes apart, so you can wear the ring in vanilla company and the collar...in not vanilla.”

She had never in a million years anticipated this. When she was at the club, she only played with Vito, but she didn’t know -- or even worry about -- whether he played with other girls on the nights she wasn’t there. She’d never bothered to ask. She didn’t care, really. She thought she’d had no claim on him, but...

She knew him, didn’t she? Knew everything about him: his drink, where he liked to eat, even where he’d gone to school and the birthstone his mother had. Vito was no mystery. She understood him better than any man she’d ever known.

She lifted the candy heart to her mouth, placed it on her tongue, and savored the sweetness of it. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. She may have never expected this, but she couldn’t deny how right it felt.

Vito leaned down and fastened the collar around her neck. Then he knelt in front of her, pulled her over one of his knees, and delivered three quick swats to her ass.

Lanie squeaked despite herself.

“That’s for taking so long,” he said.

He set her up on her feet, took her by the hand, and led her off stage. The club erupted in applause and cheers. They headed toward the private rooms, down a mirrored hallway with hidden doors lining either side. The mirrors could become clear or opaque depending on the wishes of those inside the variously themed chambers.

Tonight, the mirrors only reflected the hallway back at Lanie. Whether that was because the rooms weren’t in use or because tonight people wanted privacy, she didn’t know.

Vito opened the hidden door to the last room on the left and pulled Lanie inside. He shut it behind them.

Lanie had scened in a few of the private rooms with Vito, but never this one. The over-the-top, princess fantasy room, complete with canopy bed, white French Provincial furniture, and plenty of hairbrushes for spanking. All satin and lace, it fit the theme of the evening perfectly, and even standing in it made Lanie feel shy and virginal again, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Silken chords hung at the four posters to keep back the drapes of the canopy, but Lanie had an idea that they would get used for something else tonight, especially since they looked far too long to be simply decorative.

Vito came up behind her and with his big, warm hands, he pushed her romper down her body until she stood there naked. Immediately, her nipples peeked and hardened, not because the air was too cold, but because of the feeling of his hands on her body again.

He walked around to her front, brushed her hair away from her neck, and kissed her, just above the leather of her collar, right below the ear, and Lanie melted. Her knees turned to water as she wrapped his arms around her and took her wait.

He lifted her and set her on the bed, and then tied her wrists and ankles to the posts of the canopy bed.

Lanie’s heart beat hard. This would be the sweetest, most wonderful Valentine’s Day ever.

Vito undressed and without another word, sheathed himself in her hot, wet pussy. She realized she’d been ready for him since that afternoon in the bathroom at her work. Her entire day had been foreplay as she thought about what he’d have planned for her.

She couldn’t hold him, couldn’t move. He drove into her, hard and fast, filling her to overflowing and causing her to writhe and buck against him, trying to find release. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, holding her against him, grinding her against him.

She gasped and sobbed as he thrust, pushing her closer and closer to orgasm, his onslaught relentless.

He released the grip on one of her hips and reached to tweak a nipple. That final jolt of pain was all she needed.

She screamed her release as she came. Vito stilled for a moment, letting her ride the waves of release, but then he resumed his pounding rhythm. Moments later, he came, and Lanie felt him jetting and twitching inside her.

He untied her, everything except one wrist, just to remind her who she belonged to. Then he pulled her against him and brought the covers up over them.

When she turned, completely content in the arms of her master and future husband, the heat of him against her back, Lanie couldn’t help but notice the large, pink silk pillow in the shape of a heart, the word embroidered on it: 4ever.

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