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  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Dakota Trace

  His Christmas Gift: Myrna’s Submission © Dakota Trace December 2011

  eXcessica publishing

  All rights reserved

  His Christmas Gift: Myrna’s Submission

  By Dakota Trace

  Dedication

  This story has a special place in my heart. When I sat down to write Caelan’s mother’s tale, I could think of no other person to dedicate it to then my father, my biggest fan AND biggest critic. If I’ve heard him say once, “I may be old but I’m not dead” then I’ve heard him say it a hundred times. So I taped it to my monitor as I wrote Myrna’s Submission for inspiration. Thanks Dad!

  Just as Myrna and Amery prove neither love nor lust die after age of fifty, it reminds us to never forget that the brain is the largest sex organ in the human body. So instead of the fast frenzied pace of youth, why not savor the slow way around? I promise the destination is still the same.

  Prologue

  Dublin, Ireland–December 20, 1978

  “I’m sorry, Myrna, but it’s over. This is for the best. You’ll see.” The cold assuredness of her husband’s voice seemed like it came from a long distance away. Deep inside of her, Myrna Doherty longed to cry out - to ask why. What had she done wrong? She’d done everything he’d ever asked of her - given him everything that he’d ever asked for in their ten years of marriage and now he wanted to throw it aside – for what?

  “What did I do wrong, Master?” She winced when she heard the pleading tone in her voice. She couldn’t believe she was standing in the doorway of their playroom, watching him casually toss his various floggers, whips, and restraints into the dark duffle at his feet. This was the man who’d introduced her to her own submissive nature and offered her his collar, but now he was stripping the room of everything that had brought them both so much pleasure. She tried to find the loving Dom she’d married when he zipped the bag shut, and his dark eyes briefly met hers before scanning the room to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Her heart cried out because that man was gone and she didn’t know how to connect with the cold, distant, unsympathetic man standing in front of her. The dark brooding looks which had attracted her as a young woman now frightened her.

  “I found a new sub, Myrna, one who is young enough to make me feel like a man – one who doesn’t nag me about the bills or where I’ve been every time I’m more than a few minutes late arriving home.”

  Anger filled her along with shame. She was no longer a young nubile eighteen-year old. Now nearing thirty, her body showed its age. The long dark hair which had once been her crowning glory now had strands of premature gray, that if she’d been even a little vain, she would’ve colored. The softly rounded belly left over from having their son had replaced the flat stomach Grant had been so fond of. She was a mature woman, not a girl with the fresh bloom of youth. She’d never thought it’d mattered to her Master.

  But it obviously had. Not only had her body changed - so had her personality. She no longer was completely submissive to him. She only gave him her submission in the bedroom, while outside of it was another story. Although she’d tried to hang on to the blind obedience he wanted, she couldn’t ignore the obvious. If he’d taken care of the outside world as well as he had their intimate life, then she’d have willingly allowed him to rule their entire life together. But he hadn’t and everything he’d just accused her of was true. She’d done all those things. If she hadn’t, the bills would never have been paid. When he was late, it was natural for her to worry about him, especially if he’d stopped off at the pub to share a few pints of Guinness with his buddies or to play with one of his younger subs. Now she realized it must not have been the only thing he’d been doing, if he’d not only found a younger woman play with, but also to replace her with as well.

  His hand cupped her chin before lifting her gaze to his. “You were good while it lasted, sweetheart, but I have other obligations now. She’s given me what you can’t – a baby.” His fingers went to the slender collar he’d gifted her with over ten years ago. With a quick flick he opened it, then the symbol of her submission to him was gone.

  A low whimper filled her throat and she’d hurt as if he’d laid her open with a single-tail whip. Dammit, she’d known he’d played with other subs. She’d accepted it since she’d had no other choice, but he’d promised that any child of his would come from her womb – her due as his wife and first slave.

  “You promised me, Grant.” Tears burned at the back of her eyes.

  His bitter laughter had her flinching. “That was before I found out you couldn’t have any more children.”

  Gone was shame and its place bloomed fury like she’d never felt before. A fine trembling wracked her body as she clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. It hadn’t been her fault that the delivery of their one and only child had nearly killed her when she’d started hemorrhaging. Nor was she to blame when the doctor had told her another birth was a risk she shouldn’t even consider if she wanted to continue breathing. But it was his fault when he’d gone outside their marriage to fulfill his desire for the great family dynasty he wanted. The fact he found their small family lacking had her lashing out. “What about our son? Are you planning on abandoning him just like your father did to you?”

  She cried out when he backhanded her with a suddenness that had her barely able to catch herself on the frame of the door. Glaring at him through the sheen of tears, she held her hand against her burning cheek. She could already feel it swelling and knew her marriage to Grant Doherty was over. Never once in all their times of play had he ever struck her in anger.

  “Caelan will always be my son, Myrna. He’s the one good thing that came from our marriage. I should take him with me, but Marianne doesn’t want to raise some other bitch’s kid.” His chest heaved with his fury. “Perhaps after I get her trained, I’ll send for him. A good slave does whatever her Master tells her – even taking another woman’s child. All you ended up being was a mediocre fuck and worse slave. Perhaps if you go crying to Amery, he’ll take you in - once I stop paying the mortgage on this dump and take Caelan to America with me. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Or better yet, go begging to your daddy. If you plead with him, I’m sure he’ll take you back.”

  Fear left a bitter taste in her mouth when the first part of his vicious words sank in. Would he honestly take Caelan from her? She didn’t want to think so but… Shaking off her fear, she drew on the years of being the privileged daughter of the upper crust. Her spine stiffened while she listened to him finish spewing crap at her. The aristocratic upbringing of her youth saved her heart from getting any more battered. The idea he held himself above her would’ve tempted her to laugh if she wasn’t so pissed off. “Never let them think they have any power over you, Miss Myrna. Treat them as
if they’re nothing more than street urchins not fit to kiss your shoes. Make them think you have all the power.” The echo of her strict governess’s cool voice did the trick. No longer was she Myrna Doherty, wife and slave to Grant; but she, once more, was the disowned daughter of Lionel Bickerstaff, one of the wealthiest merchants in all of Dublin.

  “You bastard! You want to leave, go! But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you take Caelan from me. Go to your little whore who pleases you and makes you feel like a man. But know this: Caelan will remain mine! If I have to use my family connections or even that of Amery’s, I will. You’ll never have a chance to hurt him or warp him with your perverse ideals.”

  She had to fight to keep from trembling in front of him. She hardened her expression into one she knew he wouldn’t be able to read and waited for the coming explosion. Amazingly enough, Grant didn’t explode - he just glared at her before swinging the dark duffle over his shoulder.

  “You know, I think you would, Myrna.”

  She nodded before crossing her arms over her chest. “Get out and don’t let the door hit you on the arse.”

  * * * *

  How long she stood there, Myrna had no idea. The shadows had lengthened across the floors as the sun set. She vaguely heard Caelan run into the house after school, call out about going to play with the neighbors’ boy, Lenard, before the front door slammed shut again. What was she going to tell her son? Like many ten year olds, Caelan doted on his father. Now that Grant was gone, how would he take it? Would he demand to go with him? Tiredly, she clicked each one of the lights in the playroom off, one by one – throwing the spanking bench, the St. Andrew’s Cross, and other bondage furniture into the dark. She’d contact Master Alastar after she’d put Caelan down for the night and see if he knew anyone who might like to purchase them. With Grant gone, she would have to be very frugal with her money until she found something. Aside from that, the mere sight of them actually made her stomach churn. What a fool she’d been to let her need to be dominated overrule reality. Starting today, she was a single mother in a man’s world. It was time for her to start living like one. If she couldn’t have it all, she’d settle on being the best mother Caelan could have.

  Entering the kitchen, she was just reaching for a bag of frozen peas in the freezer to soothe her throbbing cheek when a soft knock sounded on the back steps. Moving woodenly towards the door with the bag of peas dangling from her hand, she had to catch her breath when she opened it to find Amery Alastar. Standing on her stoop as if it were nothing to be caught wearing an expensive, dark gray silk suit in the rougher part of Dublin, was Grant’s best friend. Physical awareness washed over her. His wide shoulders filled out his suit jacket to perfection. The sculpted plains of his face were well-hewn as time had smoothed away any imperfections aside from the small scar on his chin. His dark auburn hair had been swept away from his chiseled face, but the piercing gray eyes immediately went soft with concern as he examined the mottled bruise on her cheek and the veggie bag clenched in her fist. Standing nearly eight inches taller than her petite self, she was surprised when instead of feeling overwhelmed as she normally did in his presence, she found it comforting.

  “Master Alastar, I wasn’t expecting you.” She kept her voice respectful, but for the first time since she’d met him ten years ago, she kept her gaze on his instead of lowering her eyes as Grant had taught her.

  “I just heard at the club about Grant. Are you all right, Myrna?” His voice was deep but smooth as he checked her over for other signs of abuse.

  Giving him a haphazard smile, she motioned with the peas for him to come in. “I’ll be fine, Master –“

  “Don’t.” His voice brooked no refusal. “I’m not your Master, Myrna.”

  She nodded, before lowering her head to hide the sharp pain his words wrought. Shutting the door softly, she led him into her kitchen. It stung that even Alastar, a man she’d respected as a Dom, found her lacking. “I meant no disrespect, Mr. Alastar. I realize I no longer have a master and wasn’t looking to replace him with you.”

  She jerked when Alastar stopped her in the middle of her kitchen, took the peas from her hand, and placed the bag against the swelling on her face. “If it were under any other circumstances, Myrna, I would love to have you as my submissive – but you’re in no shape to make that decision right now. You have bigger things to worry about than finding a man to fill Grant’s place.”

  She nodded. “Caelan?”

  He gave her a brief smile. “Yes Caelan. That’s the reason I stopped by. I want you to gather up your things and Caelan’s. You’re both going to be my invited guests for the holidays.”

  When she started to protest, he leveled her with his best Dom glare. “I won’t take no for an answer, Myrna. Once the holidays have passed, I’ll see about helping you find both a job and new home. I’m assuming you don’t wish to go back to your father’s.”

  She shook her head. “No. Just help me find a job and I’ll be forever grateful, Master…ah hell, what do I call you if, you don’t want me to call you Master?”

  “Alastar will work…as will Amery.” He peeled off the peas and ‘tsked’. “I’m sorry about what happened with Grant. I tried to reason with the man…”

  Embarrassment flushed her cheeks, as the idea he knew about her husband’s desertion before she did bothered her. Had her entire life with Grant been public knowledge at the clubs? If so, she was never going to step foot in one again! She took the bag of melting veggies away from him.

  “It was never your battle, Alastar. I should’ve realized this was coming, but what’s done is done, and now I must move on with Caelan.” She pushed back from the table. “Can you give me thirty minutes to pack?”

  He nodded. “Of course, Myrna, take as much time as you need.” When she walked out of the room, he spoke so softly only the walls in the kitchen would’ve heard him. “I’ll wait thirty years if I have to.” The look in his eyes would’ve scared her if she’d seen it. He wanted Myrna Doherty and intended to have her, but he was patient. He could wait.

  Chapter One

  Killarney, Ireland – Early December, 2011

  “I need your help, Alastar – please!”

  Amery Alastar stood with his back to the begging woman. His tall, thick body was outlined perfectly by the weak afternoon sunlight as he stood at the bay window of his study. The traces of silver in his auburn hair glimmered in the soft light while his hands shoved in his trouser pockets gave him the look of a man deep in thought. In the distance he could see the snow-covered hills that surrounded Lough Leane, the largest of the Killarney Lakes. With Christmas less than a month away, the weather, which had been mild so far this winter, had turned bitterly cold before the skies had opened up. Now there were several inches of fresh snow on the ground, but it wasn’t the snow that held his attention. It was the woman behind him. He’d been waiting over thirty years for this moment and wasn’t about to ruin it with impatience.

  He knew if he turned around he’d find Myrna Doherty standing as still as could be, directly behind him, her dark hair with its streaks of grey pulled back from her face in the ever-familiar French braid. The imploring look in her eyes would be his downfall for sure, if he faced her. She was his weakness and he knew it. Hard to believe such a small curvy woman could have much of an effect on him as she barely reached his shoulder. The casual woolen suit she’d worn the night before would be hugging each of her curves faithfully with nary a wrinkle in sight. His Myrna was nothing if not fastidious about her appearance, even though she’d stayed the night under rather unusual circumstances. It was a trait he’d looked for in a submissive ever since he’d witnessed it during one of the rare scenes Grant Doherty had allowed him to observe between the couple. Even when she was sweating from a scene - she still had tidiness about her as if she’d been barely affected. It had made him long to push her until she lost that tidy appearance and surrendered everything - to him.

  When she’d arrived last night
for their normal once a month supper, he’d thought nothing of offering her a bed – even insisting when the snow, which the weatherman had predicted for Sunday, began to fall two days ahead of schedule. By the time Myrna had finished her after-dinner coffee while he sipped on his aged scotch, there had been no possible way for her to return to her small cottage in the city. The normal thirty minute drive to his home on Lough Leane would’ve taken her several hours, even if the roads hadn’t been closed by the authorities. There was no way he’d have let her leave his home under those conditions. Secretly though, he was glad the weather had conspired to keep them together. He saw too little of her these days. She was always busy with one charity or another, now that she’d retired from the secretarial job he’d helped her find all those years ago. Of course, he didn’t begrudge her the times spent with the community in the least bit. If volunteering to help the needy made her feel good, who was he to stop her?

  “Did you hear me, Alastar?” The silky smooth voice he’d dreamed of hearing call him Master washed over him. Behind the material of his slacks his dick twitched at the urgency in her tone before he focused on her words, reminding himself that now was not the time for this. The pleading he heard in her voice wasn’t sexual in nature. It was emotional.

  “Yes, I heard you, Myrna.” It was all he could do to contain his anticipation. He needed to tread carefully here. She was expecting him to be the experienced Dom he was and he wouldn’t – no, he couldn’t fail her now. He was no longer a mere lad of twenty to get excited over the first woman who offered to let him have his wicked way with her. He was a full-grown man while this was Myrna. Not only had she been his former best friend’s submissive, she was also the mother of the man who Amery considered to be his own son despite their lack of blood ties. With no children of his own, Caelan Doherty was as close as it came to being his own son. He had been the most important male in his life since his father left him and Myrna, and he had mentored him when he came of age into being an experienced, well-trained Dom. Now, it was because of Caelan that Myrna had come to him to ask his assistance. She was petrified of hurting her own son.