Seduced: Curvy Submissive & Older Dom

By Q. Zayne

Curvy, half-Egyptian Cleo needs another spanking. Marcus, the commanding man who spanks so well, wants more from her than he's ready to dare. Voices from the ancient past exert a dangerous influence.
Please note: The Submission Island serial is for discerning women and men over 18. It's suited only to readers who want to enter a world of BDSM focused on a woman's pleasure and male dominance.There are many books catering to those who prefer non-stop sex performed by characters with no inner lives and no heart connection. This isn’t one of them. If a character-driven erotic adventure appeals to you, you've reached the right island.
Paradise has teeth
Curvy Cleo's second day on Submission Island offers a chance to explore. But despite the allure of ancient ruins, mysteries, and a choice of kinky pleasures, her body and mind remain preoccupied with Marcus.
He said she could ask for him, but she isn’t sure she should. She wanted a no-risk, no-entanglements vacation. But she’s entangled already—with a hot man who probably wouldn't look at her twice anywhere else in the world.

His big hand grasped my shoulder and turned me to face him. His lips grazed my forehead. “Cleo.” I heard his heart in his voice. Mine stuttered. He enfolded me in his arms. “Cleo.”
I felt so vulnerable, naked against his clothed body. He smelled so good, and he felt strong and protective, like he’d stand against the world for me.

This is the second episode of Submission Island. It features Cleo, a curvy twenty-eight year-old submissive, and Marcus, a wealthy, older dom. It's a complete episode with resolution of the immediate events, and the story continues.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Q. Zayne
• Release date: Mar 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370037032

Q. Zayne

Q. Zayne often appears on top 100 author lists. Q. minored in Classical Archaeology and has an MFA in Creative Writing from SFSU. After teaching at the university, working as an editor, and freelancing, the author embarked on a wild digital publishing adventure. Thanks to fabulous readers, super promoters, and unflagging supporters, Q. writes fiction for a living from the Yucatan, Central America, and the California coast.Check out the Quin Zayne books for dirty, high-heat romance, and Q. Zayne for Erotica and naughty fairy tales.

Book preview

Dedication

To T, for his wisdom, kindness and generosity,

and to D, who inspires me with her spirit and discipline.

And to my readers. I treasure your reviews.

The Island’s Heart

THERE ARE MANY BOOKS catering to those who prefer non-stop sex performed by characters with no inner lives and no heart connection. This isn’t one of those. This is a journey, and quite a personal one. To my treasured readers, thank you for taking this trip with me.

STARTING MY DAY IN a luxurious, Colonial suite of rooms gave me an indescribable rush. I stretched on sumptuous Egyptian cotton sheets. I curled my toes in the soft fabric, smiling so much I didn’t recognize the feel of my face. I rose from the lovely canopied bed, the sort of bed for a fairytale princess I longed for and never got. The cool tile greeted my bare feet. I padded into the bathroom. It had been renovated to provide every convenience, from a sunflower-sized massaging shower head to a bidet.

I took my time under the throbbing water, letting it relax my shoulders and ease my hips, sore from so many things. Sensuous rushes went through me. I felt as though a phantom of Marcus’ cock pushed into me, renewing the tenderness inside from his masterful thrusts. I needed him again. I touched myself, longing for his touch.

I patted dry with sumptuous, thirsty towels. Fragrant lotion, the light scent of an unknown tropical flower a bare hint away from sex, completed my toilette.

Even though the effect never lasted in the humidity, I took time with brushing and arranging my hair, piling it up loosely for a sexy, mussed look. I smoothed on sunscreen and spayed myself with insect repellent. At least I’d found an environmentally-friendly one that smelled alright.

I put on one of my light linen dresses and jeweled high-heeled sandals. There. Dangling malachite earrings set off my eyes. I was ready for my next adventure on Submission Island.

When I’d awakened from my nap in the Mansion of Desire, I found a red rose in a bud vase. A card propped next to the vase said Until next time, Marcus, in a looped, masculine scrawl. My heart raced. I picked up the card. Marcus. It had his phone numbers, but no last name. I couldn’t use a search engine to check on him, and I couldn’t call him either. The island’s lack of Internet and cell service seemed like part of the exclusive BDSM club ambiance at first. Now, it was an annoyance. If I could learn his full name and find out who he was.... But part of the point of this place was anonymity and freedom from scrutiny. I had no doubt Marcus was wealthy. He had such a polished look, and he exuded a sense of power that shook me. That wasn’t why I couldn’t get him out of my mind, though. It was his hands, his attention, the sense that he knew me, and that he cared. Even at his most intense, I sensed a kindness in him like nothing I’d known before.

What was Marcus doing? I hoped I’d see him, even in passing. It seemed too soon to ask for him. I turned my head to each side, making sure my hair looked symmetrical. Messy but perfect. Such details mattered too much to me, but I couldn’t help it. I tucked up a loose strand.

What if he was leaving soon? There might not be much