Free The Big Book of Submission by Rachel Kramer Bussel

thing she asks of me. I relinquish all power, all responsibility. It is wonderfully freeing. It is sublimely beautiful. Just like her.
    â€œKneel,” she barked. I did it. I dropped to my knees before her perfect form. Part of me wanted to look up, to drink in the sight of her standing there, hands on her hips, her body encased in shiny black leather. I knew I wouldn’t lift my gaze, though. I couldn’t. I have the utmost respect for my Mistress and never want to do anything to displease her. Especially since my Mistress is also my wife.
    Ever since I got back from Afghanistan and met her in a restaurant, she’s been testing me. Then, it was teasing my cock under the table while she was wearing sharpstilettos, bringing me to the very edge of climax, right there in the restaurant. Now, she occasionally takes over the role of my ex-commanding officer and treats me like some kind of new recruit.
    â€œNow drop and give me twenty. No, scratch that. Make it forty.”
    It was clichéd, totally unoriginal, but it got me harder than I’d ever been in my life. After so long taking orders without question, it was impossible to change that aspect of my personality, which is why I’m so grateful that Cassie came into my life—permanently—when she did. She took over the role of the Army, directing me here, there and everywhere, helping me to move forward, to adjust to civilian life. Together, we took baby steps, and when I felt able to cope, she scaled back her bossiness and reserved it strictly for the bedroom. Or, you know, anywhere else we had sex. Which was everywhere.
    It worked perfectly. Day-to-day life was mine to control, to live. But as soon as we slipped into a scene, I was completely submissive—just the way I liked it. I closed my eyes as the sight of the carpet coming closer, then moving farther away, was in danger of making me feel queasy. I obviously wasn’t working hard enough, because a spike-heeled boot settled into the small of my back and pressed down, hard. I hesitated for a millisecond, gathering all the strength I had, and continued with the push-ups. It was more difficult, of course, but it was also much more rewarding. Not to mention arousing. The shards of pain generated by the boot’sheel sliced through my body, making my blood pump faster, harder, twisting my pleasure dial up to eleven. Thankfully my boxer shorts were tight enough to keep my cock under control, otherwise it would have gotten in the way as I lowered myself to the carpet.
    I concentrated hard on keeping track of how many push-ups I’d done. If I fucked up and miscounted, I would be punished. And as much as I loved the punishments, I loved my Mistress and her delectable body more, and the sooner I satisfied her whims, the sooner she’d let me loose to play with her, pleasure her. Make her come.
    â€œVery good,” she eventually said, placing her foot back on the carpet. “You’re getting so good at these impromptu fitness tests, Holden. I’ll have to think of something different. More challenging.” She fixed me with a stern gaze.
    â€œYes, Mistress. Whatever you say.”
    â€œOf course you’ll do whatever I fucking say!” Like lightning, her hand left her side and slapped my face, hard. The heat and the humiliation zipped immediately to my groin.
    â€œPlease,” I murmured. Then louder. “Please!”
    â€œPlease what?” she said, putting a finger beneath my chin and yanking my head up. Her eyes flashed. My cock throbbed.
    â€œPlease can I…touch you, Mistress?”
    Clearly as aroused as I was, her expression softened just a little, and she gave a curt nod. “You may, slave,but only because you’ve been so good. Don’t expect me to let you off this easily all the time.”
    â€œI won’t, Mistress, I promise.”
    â€œFine. Take off your clothes, then lie on your back. I want to see that stiff cock of