Weekend Submissive 3

By Erika Masten

From Bestselling Erotic Romance and Erotica Author Erika Masten
Part 3 of the Much Anticipated 3-Part Erotica Novelette Series

Weekend Submissive 3
An Erotica Novelette

In the final novelette in the Weekend Submissive erotica series, girl next door Brisa Martin’s experiment living as the willing sex slave for boy next door Dom Wayne Fulton draws to a close that suspends her on an emotional and sensual knife edge. The handsome, hulking Dominant alternately denies and demands her sexual climax, requiring the devoted, unwavering obedience of her body as well as her mind. The only question that remains is whether the submissive’s heart will resist or relent.

Weekend Submissive 3 is a 16,400+ word novelette, the final title in the 3-Part Weekend Submissive Series of domination and submission erotics shorts.

Bonus Material: Includes excerpts from domination erotica shorts Valentine’s Dom and His Submissive: Body Worship (first in the bestselling Body Worship Series) by Erika Masten.

Warning: Strong sexual content and themes of domination and submission. Intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erika Masten
• Release date: Oct 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301891818

Erika Masten

I'm the girl next door with an unexpected wicked streak (and an addiction to sexy high heels). I love turning forbidden desires and secret fantasies into erotic tales with literary flare and a dirty mouth. Let me tell you a naughty story...

Book preview

WEEKEND SUBMISSIVE 3

by

Erika Masten

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2013 Erika Masten

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Erika Masten

Contact: [e-mail]

Website: http://erikamasten.com

Blog: http://erikamasten.blogspot.com

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Published by Sticky Sweet Books. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons or events are purely coincidental.

Warning: Explicit content. Intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted herein are 18 years or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature.

This is a work of erotic fantasy. In real life, please protect yourself and your lover by always practicing safe sex.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Weekend Submissive 3

Excerpt From

Valentine’s Dom

Excerpt From

His Submissive: Body Worship

WEEKEND SUBMISSIVE 3

SUNDAY

The constant sense of impending panic that is simmering along my spine and my sweat-dampened scalp, before bubbling up along the back of my mind, thrums inside my every nerve with one imperative. Get away from Wayne Fulton.

That’s the last thing I could actually do, and not just because the towering 6’4" Dom has me held tight with his fist clenched in the tangled brown waves at the nape of my neck… in counterpoint to his warm, rigid cock piercing my sex from behind me while I kneel on all fours on his bed. And not just because I am bound with a buff leather and burnished metal collar and chained to his bed like the sexual submissive I am, at least for the next few hours.

Downy silver and cinnamon brown bed linens coil, sometimes tight and restricting and sometimes weak and limp as though from exhaustion, around my shaky limbs in the pre-dawn glow highlighting the outline of the simple, masculine bedroom furnishings—all dark wood and right angles. When I collapse forward from my arms down to my shoulders, my face and my flushed breasts rub against the sheets smelling so strongly of our sexual musk but also lingeringly of Wayne’s mint soap.

I can turn my head just enough to see his shadowy outline in the gloom. The impossibly muscular former Marine turned police lieutenant—my soft-spoken, flirtatious neighbor turned commanding Dom lover—is a wall of tensed, driving flesh at my back. His thick, corded thighs press flush to my own sore legs, and his full, engorged balls slap against my bare ass at the deepest point of each thrust as he works himself ruthlessly into me. As he has done over and over, all night.

Stay with me, baby girl, he huffs out in a low, frayed growl. For the last hour, I’ve been too spent, too sated, too helpless against the tide of sensations submerging me to speak or even moan.

With sleepy, glassy eyes, I see the first signs of fatigue finally softening the determined set of that wide granite jaw. Wayne’s massive shoulders round and drop slightly as he shudders through the tremors preceding another orgasm. His naked chest pumps hard as he breathes through the violent ripples of pleasure that would have had their way with a lesser man. His head, darkened at the crown by cropped brown hair, lolls back as he draws his full lips up along his clenched teeth and pants raggedly through the most grueling, bone-shaking, rapturous fucking of my life.

I am raw, inside and out. Not just my lightly chaffed wrists from the Dominant having tied me most of the long, hot, sweat-soaked, sex-filled night with the cotton sash from my discarded dress. Not just my reddened, sensitive, twitching thighs and buttocks where he has flogged and spanked and kneaded my bare flesh until it practically glows with the heat of my blood pulsing beneath the skin. Not just my pussy, the throbbing walls of my sex slick with my own juices and the silky wetness of his cum, my core still burning with arousal that never subsides.

I am raw down to the nerves and the bone. If I had the energy after being ridden all night, I’d be squirming and keening for more, and I don’t even know what more than this is. Or at least I’m not sure. In the bottom of my stomach, I feel it vaguely, sense it, but I refuse to focus on the suspicion that it leads back to the pronounced ache in my chest.

Brisa. Fuck, yes, Brisa. Wayne mutters my name several times in that voice that is rough around the edges but all melted honey on the inside, an endearment under his breath. And then again, as a curse of self-reproach when his climax finally takes him and his release begins to spill into me for…. I