Read Online Submissive by Anya Howard - Free Book Online Page A

illuminated inside by the soft glow of colorful glass lanterns affixed to the crossbeams of the supporting poles. A long, low table stood in the center, decked with plates of fine china, glassware, and dishes and bowls filled with food. There were forks and spoons laid out at every plate, but strikingly, no knives. On cushioned benches at either side of the table sat men of all ages and bearing, dressed in uniforms of light cotton. Gillian guessed these men to be the prisoners, as other guards passed through the sidelines.
    These guards were more heavily armed than the men at Madam’s house; some carried spears and others carried sabers sheathed in scabbards. They watched vigilantly as her roommates approached and took seats between some of the prisoners. There were several other Disciples present as well at the table, and two more, dressed in belly-dancer ensembles. A band of musicians sat on wide wood stools positioned beyond the table. They were not prisoners, Gillian thought, for they wore colorful shirts and fine suede pants. The music they played accompanied the dancers’ sensual undulations with a rich, Arabic melody.
    Gillian had no idea what she was supposed to do, and Sir Leonard did not offer a suggestion. When another guard passed through the entryway, she saw Sir Douglas standing just outside, getting a light for his cigarette from another guard. It was not until that moment that she realized she had not once craved a cigarette in all the hours spent in Nemi. Not that magical moment of the first draw; not the soothing feel of the slender form between her first two fingers. Oddly, she knew no envy in watching Sir Douglas enjoy his—instead, she saw a fleeting vision of herself kneeling between his bare legs and inhaling his hard cock into her mouth.
    She gasped at herself.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with me?” she said aloud, not even knowing she had uttered the words until Sir Leonard spoke brusquely.
    â€œIndeed. Why are you gazing outside? Go take a place at the table!”
    Gillian flinched. Before she could even hope to ask where it was he wanted her, his palm swooped down smartly across her backside. It was not a hard enough spank to hurt, but it sent her scurrying to the table. She looked about timidly, not even able to guess what was expected, when the bearded prisoner sitting to her right looked up. The baleful disgust in his black eyes washed like icy tar over her skin.
    â€œA new whore,” he muttered and turned his face rigidly straight ahead.
    â€œGillian.”
    The gentler voice brought her grateful attention to the man across the table. Unlike the hateful one, he had a generous smile, and his large dark eyes were sparkling, fascinated by the scene.
    â€œYou are Gillian? I am Clive. Pearl said Madam would send me a treat tonight.”
    She looked down the table uncertainly and saw Pearl walking behind some of the other men at the other side. She draped her arms about two of them and kissed their cheeks. One of them tossed his head impatiently; the other simply stared ahead and mumbled. She went on and greeted the next two the same way, oblivious that Gillian hoped for her notice.
    The prisoner who had spoken rose to his feet. “Come around and sit with me. I have waited so long for this meeting.”
    Gillian could feel eyes upon her from a number of the prisoners, stares so malevolent that her instinct urged her to back away and flee out the doorway. But then another guard from the other side of the room stepped to the table. The uncompromising look he gave her subdued her impulses. She bowed her head and walked about the closest end of the table and came to stand before the waiting prisoner.
    His smile was almost bashful as he gestured to the bench. Gillian sat down, catching the grunt made by the prisoner to her other side.
    The one who had insulted her before now sneered at her admirer.
    â€œYou are a whore,” he hissed. “I shall eat nothing contaminated