Fatal Submission –
By Nicole Austin
On edge, body humming with arousal, Claire aches to have her desires sated. And ruggedly
handsome Dominant Mason Burke is the man she wants. But for Mason work comes first
Mason’s loss is Dr. Carl Skinner’s lucky break. The bonus—Carl’s a rich, drop-dead gorgeous
and Claire’s tired of waiting.
Dom with a real dungeon in his basement.
Getting what you want isn’t always a good thing and the game takes a drastic turn Claire
never saw coming. According to the Dungeon Master’s victims who still haunt his torture
chamber, submission has fatal consequences and she’s running out of time.
Note: This scary tale contains graphic scenes of erotic torture and violence that may cause
the reader to stay up late reading with all the lights on. *This previously published title has
Excerpt from Fatal Submission
Copyright © Nicole Austin, 2016
Ever the gentleman, Carl held the door and allowed her to precede him
down the stairs.
Second thoughts stopped her for only a few seconds before stepping
through the strange entryway. Nothing ventured…
With her heels clicking on the wooden steps she couldn’t be certain, but
Claire thought she’d heard the soft snick of a lock being engaged. Every
hair on her body stood on end and her muscles tensed.
Why the hell would he lock the door? Weren’t they alone in the house? If
she ran back up the stairs and turned the knob, would it open?
Taking a deep breath, she descended the stairs and shoved her crazy
fears aside. She’d gone into this with her eyes open and she would not
freak out. Carl was a Dom. Her Dom—at least for tonight. If she went into
this without trust, limiting her submission, they might as well not even
When she safely cleared the last step, she lifted her gaze and looked
around the room in awe.
An actual dungeon.
Heat washed through her body as her nipples puckered and her panties
grew damp. Lord, she felt as if she’d waited her whole life to submit in a
Gray cinderblock walls and cement foundation. Track lighting fixtures on
the ceiling cast a soft glow yet left areas in shadow. A pegboard held a
wide variety of floggers, whips, crops and paddles. There against one wall
was a strange chair with a padded V-shaped seat to spread the legs open
and leather cuffs attached in strategic locations. She noted the familiar
shape of a St. Andrew’s Cross looming in the shadows next to an ancient-
looking stockade. The dungeon was well-stocked with various padded
tables and spanking benches, each one equipped with built-in restraints.
A small part of Claire hadn’t believed Carl had a dungeon in his basement.
But the proof surrounded her. At that very moment in time, she stood in the
middle of a private, subterranean, fully equipped dungeon.
Anticipation supercharged her blood, sending it zooming through her veins.
Her abdominal muscles fluttered and she wasn’t sure if the cause was
excitement, fear or a combination of the two. She hadn’t thought this far
ahead or even got around to wondering how it would feel to be in a
dungeon. To know that soon, Carl would restrain and dominate her.
She shuddered as slender fingers skated over her shoulder and down her
spine. Carl. How had she forgotten she wasn’t alone?
“Go ahead. Take a look around. Check out the equipment while I fix a
drink.” He nodded toward a small wet bar. “Would you like anything?”
She had to pry her tongue from the roof of her dry mouth to respond.
“Water.” A strong drink might help bolster her courage, but Claire didn’t
want anything to dull her senses.
Carl turned to the bar and she moved about the room to get a closer look at
things. Hanging from a sturdy chain in the ceiling was some kind of
contraption with thick, flat metal vertical slats and horizontal bands. It was
elongated, rounded at the top then broadening before tapering again
toward the bottom. She estimated it at six to six and a half feet tall.
Her hand flew upward, covering her mouth to hold back a gasp.
It couldn’t be? But it was. The damn thing was some kind of cage, roughly
in the shape of a human.
Moving past it quickly, she came to a standing device, shaped like the one
hanging from the ceiling but solid. An iron maiden? The device had hinged
doors, one of which had been left open, revealing an interior lined with
spikes. When a person was shut inside, those spikes would press into their
Shooting a nervous glance over her shoulder, she located Carl, still at the
bar with his back to her.
Lord, had she made a mistake believing in this man? If he went too far and
she asked him to stop, would he?
Kind of late to get nervous.
Skirting around a gynecological table complete with stirrups, she
approached the center of the room and the least threatening apparatus
she’d seen so far. Similar to a padded massage table with thick wooden
legs but oddly canted, as if the maker cut one set of supports shorter than
the other. The table surface itself was short, perhaps two-feet long. At the
higher end the padding curved over the rounded edge. She noticed a cut
out section at the lower end and off to each side were wide, hinged metal
cuffs that would lock someone in place. She stepped around the table and
saw similar cuffs toward the bottom of the taller legs.
Just as she stepped forward, hand extended to test the thickness of the
leather padding, a scraping sound had Claire turning her head toward Carl.
The toe of her shoe caught on something and her forward momentum
threw her off balance.
Several things occurred at once. She felt herself moving through the air as
if she’d been pushed, practically flying with her arm extended, her pelvis
slamming into the curved table edge.
Her hips folded and her upper body continued, coming to an abrupt halt on
top of the table, knocking the breath right out of her. The material of her
skirt flapped up, bearing her panty-clad ass to the chilled air.
She heard the scrape of wood on the concrete floor as the heavy piece of
furniture was shoved by the hard impact of her body. This was followed by
the loud clang of metal on metal.
Claire struggled to draw air into her abused lungs and make sense of what
After several painful, wheezed breaths, she pushed with her hands to lift
her upper body but was stopped short, her right wrist held firmly in place.
Horror dawned as she turned her head to see the cuff had snapped closed
over her wrist.
Her palms were sweaty, her heart pounded against her ribs and her ears
were filled with the loud swish of her galloping pulse.
Lord, she wasn’t sure what won out, her mortification over the indignant
position or fear that she’d had help getting into this mess. Had Carl pushed
her or had it been an innocent trip and fall?
“Umm…Carl. Could you help me up?” A burst of nervous laughter passed
Catching movement in her peripheral vision, Claire arched her neck to
watch Carl’s slow approach. Too slow for her comfort. Apparently the jerk
was enjoying the view of her bared butt sticking up.
She blindly reached back with her free hand, trying to catch the hem of her
dress and push it down. As she grasped at material, hard fingers closed
over her wrist and forced her left arm toward the open cuff. Claire kicked,
bucked her body and struggled against him but Carl had strength on his
side. Within moments he had her left arm and both ankles locked down to
the table. As she continued to struggle, he fastened a wide leather strap
over her hips, severely limiting her movement.
“Carl, let me go. We haven’t talked about my limits yet.”
Oh God, this couldn’t be happening. Nobody knew where she’d gone and
Carl had turned into a complete psycho. He had her immobilized in his
basement dungeon, far from any other house. No one would even hear her
“Carl,” she screeched, “this isn’t funny.” Claire put all her strength into
trying to break free knowing the effort was wasted but unable to stop
fighting for her freedom.
“I will allow no limits, Claire. You will take what I give you and thank me for
Buy the Book:
Nicole Austin lives on the sheltered Gulf Coast of Florida, where inspiration
can be found sitting under a big shade umbrella on the beach, sipping cold
margaritas. A voracious reader, she never goes anywhere without a book,
but started looking for something more. Something hotter.
A passion for erotic romance led to Nicole’s creation of sizzling characters
and boundary pushing stories. Now she lives in an incredible world where
fantasy comes to life in bold, vivid detail. Well, until real life intrudes and
she has to share the computer with the rest of the family.
Visit Nicole’s website: http://nicoleaustin.net
Email Nicole: email@example.com