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Claire's Submission (Argus)


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Claire is a young English tourist in Ecuador. One early morning she goes jogging along the beach and is attacked by leering criminals who tear her bikini off! She is saved by a powerful, handsome man named Javiar, who speaks no English. However, Javiar is wearing only a bathing suit, and the criminals have stolen hers, leaving her naked! As Javiar leads her along the beach, Claire finds herself breathlessly aroused by her own predicament, and melting under Javiar's determined seduction as he first gives her the most astonishingly pleasurable sex in her life, then introduces her to what seems to her to be a kinky game of dominance, submission and bondage!

Unable to communicate in any way other than breathless cries of pleasure, she submits to his will, and soon to that of a companion who arrives to join him! Then she is led a little ways back from the beach to Javiar's large estate, where she is bathed by servants, but still given no clothing, only a collar and shackles, as his dark, thrilling game of slavery continues! For a day, she will be his sex slave, and that of the rest of his family! But it will be a day that changes her life forever!

Product type: EBook    Published by: author - self-published    Published: 9 / 2018

No. words: 35200

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Sex Slavery / Training

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Chapter One

Claire was determined that no matter how much partying she did on vacation she would keep in shape. She had devoted far too much effort to ensuring her body was fit and toned to let herself go slack just because she was on holidays.
She had given some thought into just how to exercise. Her hotel was somewhat low rent, her being an insurance clerk without a lot of excess funds, and certainly had no exercise facilities. Swimming was certainly something she could do, given how close she was to the beach. She could also jog, and while in her room she could do Pilates and other stretching exercises to keep her arms in shape.
That was what found her, early that morning, jogging along the beach north of Montanita, her blonde hair flying in the breeze behind her as the sun peeked over the horizon. It was a gorgeous view! The water glistened! The birds were making a racket in the nearby park. And it felt amazing to her that she was here at all, living life, enjoying herself in Ecuador, so far from her home in London!
She was wearing one of the bathing suits the girls had all dared each other to buy the other day, a daring blue thong with a tight matching tank. The tank top covered her breasts, with the straps going up behind her neck and around behind her back, but the coverage, while quite modest in front, left the sides of her breasts partially bare.
Everyone had thought that was a sexy and different way of showing some boob – but not too much. Instead of cleavage, or baring the top or insides of her breasts it showed some side-boob! More importantly, though, the tank-top like nature of the swimming suit top held her breasts firmly in place when she jogged, much like an athletic bra.
It was hot and it was humid, which were both good reasons to wear a swimsuit. And every little while she could turn and dive into the water, swimming out a little, then swimming parallel to the beach before turning back and resuming her jog.
The beach was mostly empty. That made her a little nervous. But after all, at almost nineteen, she was practically immortal. It was simply hard to imagine anything bad would really happen to her. And if any bad men appeared she could simply dive into the water and swim away. She was an excellent swimmer!
Jogging on sand, she found, took more effort than on concrete, but that was to the good since it gave her a better workout. She had her iPod strapped to her arm (along with her hotel key), and the earphones in, but had the music on very low so as to not drown out the sound of the waves washing ashore, and the birds saying good morning to each other!
And then she became aware of a man jogging behind her. He wasn't close behind her. But he was a big man. A man man, not a boy man, not a guy, not someone her age, but a man. Without looking hard it was difficult to say his age, but he was certainly out of his twenties, and she wasn't even in hers yet.
That made him a man. Strictly speaking, Claire was a woman, or perhaps a 'young woman', but she still, for the most part, thought of herself as a girl, and the guys she dated as 'boys'. That they had crossed over the magical age barrier of 18 was irrelevant to that.
She picked up the pace a bit, and self-consciously stopped doing the little celebratory things she'd been occasionally doing, like the occasional handstands or cartwheels. Still, he was catching her up, and this was a narrow strip of beach with not a single person in sight but him – and her!
She felt a sense of vulnerability, a sense of wariness and worry as he came closer. He didn't appear, from what she could tell, to be putting a lot of effort into it. He simply had longer legs. He was, she saw, in brief glimpses out of her peripheral vision, a large man wearing just a swimsuit.
And then she realized, with some relief, that he had fallen behind. She swung her head from side to side, trying to be casual, and realized he had dove into the water and was swimming out from shore, much as she had been!
She kept jogging, putting distance between them until he was out of sight, then relaxed. Perhaps, she thought, this had not been the best of ideas. She was not exactly safe, she thought. And it wasn't as if she could defend herself very well. She was five foot six inches tall and weighed no more than a hundred and twenty eight pounds.
She was getting very hot and sweaty, so ventured briefly into the water, diving in, immersing herself, then swimming only a little before getting back to shore and resuming her jog. She didn't want him catching up, after all!
But he did.
Soon she became aware he was closing on her again, and her nervousness grew. She berated herself for being silly and having too dramatic an imagination. He was probably just someone else out jogging! How many killers went jogging!?
He was certainly in good shape. The way he had been doing the breast stroke with powerful swinging motions of his shoulders indicated as much. Not to mention the size of those shoulders.
Then he was right behind her, no more than a dozen yards back! Claire was acutely aware that he was probably staring at her bare bottom right that very second! Was it giving him lewd ideas!? Was he considering himself about how helpless she would be to a man his size!? Was he considering how alone she was and that he could simply grab her, tear off her bikini and have his way with her!?
And then he passed her by, giving her only a brief smile and nod as he continued on, his long-legged stride easily outpacing hers.
She felt her heart, which had nearly stopped as he drew abreast of her, starting to beat normally again.
He was a big man!
The top of her head hadn't even come to his shoulders when he'd passed her by!
And what shoulders they were! What a chest he had! What... an ass he had!
He had not pulled equal with her quickly, nor did he pull away quickly. She had a lot of time to see the back of him just as he had, no doubt seen the back of her. He, of course, was not wearing a thong, but a gray and red swimsuit that hid much of his thighs. It was low on his hips, though, and he had a powerful and very attractive back.
His legs were well-muscled below the suit, and her eyes were, despite herself, studying his bottom as he moved away, with considerable appreciation.
Had he done that to hers, she wondered as he got further away?
Everyone said she had a great ass. Sometimes that was embarrassing. And certainly strangers had made lewd and obscene comments about it in times past. As they had about her breasts. It was embarrassing when they did that, and made her furious! Ignorant louts!
He was well ahead of her now, when he turned and abruptly ran into the water, diving in and not emerging for many yards before starting the breast stroke. She admired its power and the grace of it as he swept further out into the ocean than she had dared.
He was a very strong man!
She jogged past before he had even turned around, and rounded a corner. She did a little cartwheel then continued.
Then he was behind her again, slowly catching her up.
That made her nervous again, but not as much. If he was a violent or abusive type of man he could have done anything he'd wanted to her the last time, she told herself. Nothing she could have done about it, after all. He hadn't made any attempt to do so, nor even to try to hit on her.
No doubt he simply dismissed her as some foreign tourist girl, beneath a man of his stature. A man like that, after all, would have no problem whatsoever getting women! Not only did he have a powerful chest and broad shoulders, not only a great body, but he'd been an extremely handsome man.
She'd only gotten a brief glimpse of his short dark hair, his square jawed face, and dark brown eyes, but he struck her in that brief gaze as a man who would impress anyone who met him – especially women! He was not a pretty man, like Phil, who was on her tour, but more like a stern, older version of Brad, who was her friend Sasha's boyfriend.
The man was a dozen yards back again, and she licked her lips, wondering if he was studying the back side of her the way she'd studied the back side of him! He probably was! Why wouldn't he!? She cursed herself for wearing the thong! She'd certainly never wear one back home! Well, not unless she was on holidays to the south of France or Italy where they were more common.
So it had felt freeing and rather naughty to wear one here amid this lush beauty.
But now a man was jogging along behind her staring at her ass!
A very handsome man, a very muscular handsome man with an incredible body!
He's way too old for me, she told herself. He's probably over thirty! The only thing he'd be interested from me is a quick romp in the sack!
Normally that was something Claire simply did not engage in. She had a measure of pride and self-respect, after all. Not to mention a reputation to uphold. She wasn't about to throw that away by just jumping into bed with some pretty boy she'd barely met!
Of course, this wasn't a boy...
He drew up alongside her again, and as before, turned and smiled. But this time his eyes seemed to hold something else, a kind of appraisal and approval, and she flushed as he passed her by, remembering the nearly open side of her top!
She felt a surge of strange, swirly emotions as he pulled away. Had he been staring at her boobs!? God! This was so strange!
Still, he hadn't looked dangerous. No, that was wrong. He'd looked very dangerous indeed! He looked like a man who would not respond well to bullying, or to anyone trying to push him around or cross him! He looked like a man who could, as they say 'take care of himself' in a fix!
But he didn't look like a crazed killer or some kind of demented sexual maniac. And if he had been, she reminded herself, he could have done anything he wanted. What could she do? Slap his face and call him names? The idea made her smile a little.
But the thought still lingered in her mind as she watched him pull further away.
What would she do if a big, hot, sexy man like that just threw her down to ravish her!?
Think of England and lay back and enjoy it, she thought in amusement.
She let her mind imagine him atop her, pinning her down in the sand, those dark eyes on hers, grinding himself into her as she lay helpless with her legs spread around him! Perhaps he would kiss her passionately, his big hands racing over her naked body!
Was he as big down there as he was elsewhere, she wondered idly.
Would he make her 'please him'? She felt her chest tighten suddenly as she imagined herself on her knees before him, before this powerful example of male strength, helpless and submitting to his domination, prepared to take him into her mouth and service him!
Her nipples were rock hard within the tight little tank top now, and she felt a swirly hot feeling down low in her groin.
You have too much imagination and a dirty mind, she told herself.
And there he was out in the water again, swimming briskly.
Fear of him, well, anxiety, had kept her from doing the same to put distance between them. Now she thought that had been a mistake. She should slow herself down. She had no chance of pulling away, after all. He was so big, with such long legs, he simply caught her up.
She passed him by and kept going, then dove into the water, letting it flow around her, turning circles in the water before heading back to shore and resuming her jog. He would not be as far behind her this time, she thought.
She reached up behind her and twisted her hair, pulling as much water from it as she could, and combing her fingers through it. Should she run faster and hope it dried faster? She wished she had a mirror!?
You're being an idiot, she told herself in annoyance. He's not interested in you.
And then as she approached a large rock ahead, and the beach took a turn inward, two men stepped out from behind it. She gulped, feeling a sudden surprised alarm, and tried to shift to the side to run around them. But one of the men moved to intercept her.
They both had greasy smiles on their faces, and neither was in a bathing suit. They were wearing ragged looking trousers and dirty looking t-shirts. Neither had shaved recently. And they were lean and heavily tanned.
“Hey, Gringo,” one of them said, grinning widely, showing bad teeth.
“You enjoying our beautiful beach, hey?” the second one said.
“Uhm, yes,” she said nervously, stopping.
“Tha's good, but you got to pay the beach tax,” the first one said.
“B-Beach tax?”
“Yeah, it's our beach, hey blondie?
“I-I'm afraid I haven't brought any money,” she gulped.
“Tha’s too bad. You got to pay a fee,” the one on the left said.
“Yeah, or else you got to be punished.”
“Punished,” the first one said sadly.
“I'll just... just go back,” she gulped, backpedaling.
“Not without you pay the fee!”
She started to run but one of them grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back.
Claire screamed and he laughed as she twisted and tried to beat at him. He and the other grabbed her wrists, and the one holding her hair forced her arms behind her back, and she felt something like ragged rope or cord being wrapped tightly around her wrists!
“No! Please! Don't!” she cried, twisting and trying to pull free.
They laughed, and the other man moved forward to help her.
“Maybe this worth some money, hey, gringo?” he said.
She squealed as she felt the string behind her neck give way. Then the other was undone and her top fell away.
The two men examined her bare breasts with considerable interest while her face burned and she felt her heart pounding with fear!
“Very nice,” one of them said with a leer.
Then her thong was yanked down and they snickered and began to paw her. She got her knee into the crotch of one man and he cursed, but that gave her some freedom and she darted away. The other grabbed at her but she kicked at his crotch. He dodged back, tripping and falling on a low rock.
She ran back the way she'd come, but the two were quickly up and coming after her!
Then the big man was rounding a corner ahead of her. The two men took one look at him, turned and ran in the opposite direction!
Much to Claire's relief!
But she still found herself completely naked on an isolated beach with a strange man rapidly approaching! Her face flamed as she jerked aside to put her chest to the brush, blushing furiously, heart pounding like a drum!
He halted before her and said something in Spanish.
Claire, unfortunately, understood almost no Spanish.
She stared over her shoulder at him anxiously, filled with embarrassment and fear.
She shook his head as if in resignation. She understood a few words, like 'gringo' and 'nena rubia' which meant, roughly 'blonde girl'. From his attitude he was basically thinking she was an idiot being out here alone, and she could hardly blame him!
How do you say help in Spanish? she wondered wildly.
Doubtless he understood. He had probably seen the men from a distance. But would he do anything about it to help her!? And aside from chasing those men off what exactly could he do? It wasn't like he could gallantly whip off his jacket to cover her nudity! If he could whip off anything it would be his swimsuit, and she didn't want that!
He could at least untie her, and he seemed intent on doing just that. He came up close behind her and gripped her wrists, then began to pick at the rough cord which had been tightly bound around her. It wasn't easy, picking at the knots. He talked as he did it, his voice deep, and somehow reassuring, even if she couldn't understand him.
Finally, he pulled the cord away and she yanked her hands forward, hardly examining her wrists at all as she hurriedly covered her breasts and groin with her hands and arms.
He was still talking, but she still couldn't understand him. Then a shovel sized hand gripped her arm and pulled her away from the brush! Claire squealed and tried to turn back to it again and he said something, his tone annoyed.
She yelped in surprise at the sharp slap to her bare bottom!
Then he yanked her away from the bush, his hand firmly around her upper arm, heading down the beach!
Claire shuffled hurriedly along as best she could, trying to keep her right hand over her groin and her left, well part of it, across her chest!
This was so mortifying! She felt like gibbering in fear!
And yet, she also felt oddly reassured. This man seemed so... solid, so calm. And he wasn't throwing her on her back and ravishing her, was he? No! He was leading her up the beach! And what else could he do!?

Author Information

Argus is a man with long experience and credits in the publishing world. He has had almost two hundred novels published in the United Kingdom and The United States, by such publishers as Beeline, Star, Nexus, Chimera, Silver Moon, and Olympia. He has also been published in dozens of magazines.


Publisher Information

This story has been self-published by the author

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