Drunk & High

A DevotedSub Books Collection

Volume 10

by Devoted Sub

To my husband, my Dom, my Twin Flame. My love, my strength, my courage, and the soul who awakened the parts of me I never knew howto set free.

You believed in me when my own faith had all but vanished. You saw a writer where I saw doubt, a voice where I heard silence, a futurewhere I saw only limits — and gave me the courage to put my wordsinto the world and dare to call myself an author.

You never wrote my stories for me or walked the road in my place. You gave me something more precious: the strength and courage tobelieve I deserved to walk this path, the confidence to believe inmyself, and the faith to know I could do this.

You taught me that when life knocks you down, you get back up, and you never fail. Failure is never found in falling, but in giving up.As long as I keep rising, keep trying, and refuse to surrender, Iwill never truly fail.

If my words reach the world, your love gave them wings. If my stories outlive me, a part of you will live on in every word.

You are my love by choice, my Dom by devotion, my Twin Flame by a bond that transcends the ordinary, and my forever by a promise Icarry willingly.

What is claimed is loved. What is loved is kept. What is kept is bound. What is bound is never abandoned.

And so, upon these pages, I carry the title you bestowed upon me, my most cherished one: Devoted Sub. Not simply a name beneath astory, but a name born of our bond, carried with pride, and foreverentwined with the man who gave it to me.

With all that I am, all that I create, and all that I will ever become,

Forever yours,

Your Devoted Sub.

Contents

1. Anniversary Heat

2. Drunk on Her Vows

3. Drunk on Midnight

4. Drunk on the Vine

5. Drunk-5

6. His Drunk Little Bride

7. Love-Potion Date Night

8. Night school tutor

9. Out in the open

10. Stepped On Sweet

11. Sunday morning

12. The Anniversary Trial

13. The Dance Captain's Claiming

14. The fae court's temptation

15. The Flock

16. The Great Rite

17. The One She Never Got Over

18. The Witch's Brew

Anniversary Heat

Four years. Willa had counted them all morning the way some people count down to a flight. Four years married to Alessandro, and she had spent the whole day making the night into something he would remember.

Willa was twenty-eight and had been his since she was twenty-three. Alessandro was thirty-two and had run their bedroom from the first night they ever shared it. That part had never changed. He held the power and she handed it to him gladly, every time.

She had lit every candle in the bedroom. Twenty-four of them, tea lights and pillars, arranged along the dresser and the nightstands and the floor around the bed. The sheets were the good black ones he liked. She had laid out his favorite whiskey on the dresser with one glass. And she had dressed herself in the red silk robe he had bought her two years ago, the one she knew he could not stop staring at, with nothing underneath it but the matching red thong and a pair of heels.

The plan had been simple. He would come home from work. She would pour him the whiskey. She would let the robe fall open. She would tell him she was his anniversary present and she would sink to her knees like a good wife.

But Willa had learned in four years of marriage that her plans only ever survived until Alessandro walked through the door.

The front door opened at six forty. She heard his keys hit the bowl. She heard his boots cross the tile. She tied the robe a little tighter and went to meet him at the top of the stairs, because she had planned the reveal for the hallway. Except he was already halfway up, and he stopped three steps below her, and he looked at her for a long moment in the candlelight from the bedroom behind her.

- You did all this for me. — he said. It was not a question.

- Jorge anniversary. — she said. — Four years.

- Four years. — he repeated, and his voice dropped. — Come here.

She went to him. He put one hand on the back of her neck and the other at her waist and he kissed her like he had not seen her in a month. His mouth took hers hard, his tongue pushing past her lips, and she opened for him without a thought. That was the rule and it was also the truth of her body. She opened for him.

- Whiskey. — he said against her mouth. — Then you.

- I was going to pour it for you. — she whispered.

- You're going to do what I say. — he said, and he squeezed the back of her neck. — Go stand by the bed. Robe open. Don't touch yourself.

Willa's breath caught. This was the part she loved best, the part where her plan became his. She walked into the bedroom with her heels clicking on the floor and stood at the foot of the bed and untied the robe and let it fall open down the front of her body. The candlelight flickered over her bare skin. The red thong sat low on her hips. Her nipples had already hardened.

Alessandro poured the whiskey. He drank half of it standing there, watching her, and she could feel his eyes on her like heat. He took off his jacket and dropped it over the chair. He loosened his tie and pulled it off. Then he walked to her and stood in front of her and took the rest of the whiskey and set the glass down.

- Hands behind your back. — he said.

She obeyed. He untied the robe and slid it off her shoulders and it fell to the floor around her heels. He looked at her standing there in nothing but the thong, and he ran one finger from her throat down between her breasts to her navel.

- How long have you been wet for me? — he asked.

- Since this morning. — she said.

- Good. — he said. — Then it won't take long to make you soaked.

He cupped her through the thong and rubbed her slow over the silk, and Willa's head fell back. She was already slick, and the wet spot spread under his fingers fast. He hooked the thong and dragged it down her legs and she stepped out of it, and then she was completely naked in front of him except for the heels.

- Knees. — he said.

She went down on the carpet at the foot of the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off and unbuckled his belt. The sound of the belt coming through the loops made her stomach clench. He pushed his trousers and his briefs down together and stepped out of them, and his cock stood up hard and heavy in front of her face, thick and flushed, the head already glistening.

Willa's mouth watered. She loved his cock. She loved the weight of it and the taste of it and the way it stretched her throat when he decided she was taking all of it.

- Open. — he said.

She opened her mouth. He held the back of her head and fed his cock into her mouth, and she took him deep on the first push, her lips stretched tight around his girth. He groaned low and held her there, his cock filling her mouth, and then he started moving her head himself, setting the rhythm.

He fucked her mouth with long slow strokes at first, letting her taste him, letting her tongue work his underside. Willa hummed around him and drooled down his shaft, and her hands gripped his thighs. He pushed deeper and she swallowed around his head, her throat opening, and he slid another inch in.

- Take all of it. — he said.

She breathed through her nose and let him push until her nose pressed into his groin and his cock was buried to the root in her throat. She gagged softly and swallowed and the muscles of her throat rippled around him. He held her there for a count of five and pulled back out, and she gasped and sucked in air and took him again without being told.

- Good girl. — he murmured, and he picked up the pace.

He fucked her face properly then, his hips driving, his cock sliding deep into her throat on every stroke. Saliva ran down her chin and dripped onto the carpet. Her eyes watered. She kept her mouth open and her throat loose and she took everything he gave her, and he held her head hard and used her mouth the way he wanted, groaning through his teeth.

- You taste so fucking good. — she managed to say when he pulled out to let her breathe.

- Lick me clean. — he said.

She licked the length of his shaft and swirled her tongue around the head and sucked it hard, and he ran his fingers through her hair and watched her.

- On the bed. — he said. — Face down, ass up.

Willa climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees and presented herself to him, her ass high, her pussy wet and open for him. He stood behind her and spread her cheeks with both hands and looked at her, and he ran one thumb from her clit back through her folds.

- So fucking wet. — he said.

He bent down and put his mouth on her. His tongue dragged up through her folds slow and flat, and Willa moaned and pushed back into his face. He licked her open and then he focused on her clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, and then he sucked it into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue.

- Oh god, Alessandro. — she gasped.

- Don't come. — he said, and he went back to eating her.

He ate her pussy with his whole mouth, his tongue thrusting inside her and then coming back to her clit, his lips sucking her folds. Willa whimpered and gripped the sheets. Her thighs shook. She was dripping down her legs now, and he groaned into her like he was feeding.

He pushed two fingers into her while his tongue worked her clit, and he curled them up and found the spot inside her that made her cry out. He fingered her hard while he sucked her clit, and Willa buried her face in the pillow and screamed into it.

- Alessandro, please, I'm going to. — she cried.

- I said don't come. — he growled, and he bit her ass cheek lightly and then he pulled his mouth off her.

She was panting and soaked and empty-feeling, and she knew he was going to fill her up.

He positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed the head in. Willa moaned long and low. He was thick, and her pussy had to stretch around him, and she loved the feeling of it. He pushed in another inch, then another, working himself into her with slow steady pressure, and she felt every inch of him.

- Take me. — she whispered.

- You're taking me. — he said, and he drove into her all the way in one hard push.

Willa cried out. His cock filled her completely, stretching her, pressing deep. He held there for a moment, buried to the root, his groin pressed against her ass, and then he pulled back and drove into her again.

He fucked her hard from behind, his hips slapping against her ass, his cock driving deep into her dripping pussy on every stroke. Willa pushed back against him, meeting every thrust, and the bed rocked under them. The candles flickered.

- You feel that? — he growled. — That's your anniversary present.

- Yes. — she gasped. — Yes, harder.

He reached under her and found her clit with his fingers and rubbed it hard while he fucked her. The combination undid her. Her pussy clenched around his cock and she started to come, her body seizing, her moans tearing out of her.

- Coming, I'm coming. — she screamed.

- Come for me. — he ordered, and he drove into her twice more and she shattered.

Her orgasm ripped through her, her pussy pulsing around his cock, her legs shaking. He rode her through it, his cock thick and hard inside her, and when she stopped shaking he pulled out and flipped her onto her back.

- Legs up. — he said.

She lifted her legs and he pushed them back toward her chest and drove his cock back into her in one stroke. Willa moaned and wrapped her legs around his back. He fucked her deep like this, his weight pressing her down, his cock hitting spots inside her she could feel in her stomach.

- Kiss me. — she begged, and he bent down and crushed his mouth to hers and fucked her mouth with his tongue the way he was fucking her pussy with his cock.

He pounded into her and she took it, her nails digging into his back, her pussy dripping around him. She could hear how wet she was, the slick sound of him moving in her filling the room.

- I'm going to come inside you. — he said against her mouth.

- Yes. — she breathed. — Fill me up.

He drove into her hard and fast, his cock swelling, and then he pushed as deep as he could and held there and came. Willa felt his cock throb inside her, pulse after pulse, hot cum flooding her. She moaned and clenched around him and milked him, and he groaned into her mouth and stayed buried in her while he finished.

They lay there tangled, his cock still inside her, her pussy full of his cum. The candles burned around them.

- Jorge anniversary. — she whispered.

- We're not done. — he said.

Alessandro rolled off her and pulled her against his chest, and Willa lay there with his cum leaking out of her onto the black sheets, her body loose and warm. He ran his hand down her back and she melted into him. For a few minutes they just breathed together, and she felt four years of being his in every inch of her skin.

- Get up. — he said finally. — Shower. With me.

She followed him to the bathroom, still wearing only the heels, which she kicked off at the door. He turned the water on hot and pulled her in under it, and the steam rose around them. He washed her himself, his hands soaped and slow over her breasts and her belly and between her legs. Willa leaned against the tile and let him do it. He rinsed her and then he pressed her back against the wet wall and kissed her neck.

- Turn around. — he said.

She turned and put her hands on the tile. He took the soap and worked it over her ass, his thumbs sliding between her cheeks, and she shivered. Then he rinsed his hands and pressed his body against her back, his cock hard again against her ass.

- Spread your legs. — he said.

She spread them. He reached around and rubbed her clit with two fingers while his cock pressed between her cheeks, and Willa moaned into the steam. He was already hard again. Four years and he still came back for more on nights like this.

- You want it again? — he asked, his mouth at her ear.

- Yes. — she said. — Please.

He lifted her. He put one hand under her thigh and hauled her leg up and around his hip, and with his other hand he guided his cock to her pussy and pushed in. Willa cried out, her back arching against the tile. The water ran over them and he fucked her standing up in the shower, his cock driving into her, her pussy gripping him tight.

- Hold on to me. — he ordered, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He held her pinned against the wall with his body and thrust into her hard, water splashing around them, his mouth on her throat. Willa dug her nails into his shoulders and took every thrust, her pussy slick and hot around his cock, the shower steam thick around them.

- God, you feel so good inside me. — she gasped.

- Say it again. — he growled.

- You feel so good inside me. — she said, louder. — Fill me again, Alessandro, please fill me again.

He groaned and drove into her harder, his hips pistoning, his cock slamming deep. The sound of their bodies and the water filled the bathroom. Willa came hard around him, her pussy clenching and pulsing, her cry echoing off the tile, and he kept fucking her through it.

Then he pulled out and turned her around and pushed her down.

- Knees. — he said.

She went to her knees on the wet tile of the shower. The water ran down over her shoulders and her hair. He stood in front of her and she took his cock into her mouth, deep-throating him again, her throat working him. He held her head and fucked her mouth, water streaming down his chest.

- Look at me. — he said, and she looked up at him with his cock buried in her throat, and his eyes burned into hers.

He pulled out and stroked himself, and he came over her. Hot thick cum hit her lips and her tongue and her chin, and she opened her mouth and took it, swallowing, licking her lips clean. He groaned and ran his thumb over her lower lip and pushed it into her mouth, and she sucked it.

- Beautiful. — he said.

He pulled her up and kissed her hard, tasting himself on her mouth, and she loved that he did. He rinsed them both off and carried her back to the bedroom wrapped in a towel, and they fell into bed together among the guttering candles.

But Alessandro was not finished. He blew out the candles one row at a time, leaving only two burning on the dresser, and he crawled back into bed and pulled Willa on top of him.

- Ride me. — he said.

She straddled his hips and sank down onto his cock, and she rode him slow, her hands on his chest, her pussy sliding up and down his length. He watched her with heavy eyes, one hand on her hip and the other squeezing her breast. Willa threw her head back and moaned, grinding down on him, taking him as deep as she could.

- Touch yourself. — he said.

She rubbed her clit while she rode him, and he watched her fingers work. She was close again, her body tightening, and he felt it.

- Come on my cock. — he said. — Let me feel it.

She came with a long low cry, her pussy clamping down on him, and he sat up and wrapped his arms around her and held her there and thrust up into her, fucking her through her orgasm. Then he laid her back on the bed and drove into her one final time that night, hard and deep, and he came inside her again, his cock pulsing, filling her pussy with a second load.

Willa lay under him, soaked and shaking and completely his, and he stayed inside her until he softened.

- Jorge anniversary, Willa. — he said quietly, and he kissed her forehead.

- Best one yet. — she whispered.

They fell asleep tangled together, her pussy still leaking his cum onto the sheets, his arm heavy across her waist.

In the morning he woke her with his mouth between her legs. She woke to his tongue on her clit and his fingers inside her, and she came before she was fully awake, gasping his name. Then he climbed up her body and slid his morning-hard cock into her still-slick pussy and fucked her slow and deep in the gray morning light, kissing her the whole time.

- Four years down. — he said, driving into her.

- Forever to go. — she said, and she wrapped her legs around him and held on.

Drunk on Her Vows

Elena was thirty-one years old, married ten years, and drunk on her own vow renewal.

She'd said the words twice now — once a decade ago, once tonight, in front of God and two hundred witnesses and a wedding planner who would never quite meet her eyes again. I take you. I keep you. I love you. I bind myself to you. I will never abandon you. And then she'd drunk champagne. A lot of champagne. The good stuff, the expensive stuff, glass after glass pressed into her hand by well-wishers, until the reception hall went soft at the edges and the music went syrupy and her husband's eyes went dark every time she swayed in her second wedding dress.

Damion — her husband, her papacito, her dom in every way that mattered, the man who'd owned her body and her heart for a decade — had stayed mostly sober. Somebody had to drive the ship, and it was always him, steady and calm and absolutely in charge. He'd watched her all night with that look, the one that said exactly what was going to happen later, and every time she caught it she felt it low in her belly, a hot tightening that the champagne only made worse, her thighs pressing together under the table.

- —I'm skipping the champagne,
she announced to the last table of guests, swaying slightly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, her wedding dress — the new one, the second one — rustling around her.
- Straight to the honeymoon suite. My husband and I have plans.

He laughed, deep and dark, and kissed her — hard and promising — and drove his drunk, demanding, devoted bride to the hotel, his hand on her thigh the whole way, sliding higher every red light.

The honeymoon suite was all candlelight and rose petals and a bed the size of a small country, the air thick with perfume, the city lights glittering through the windows. The door had barely closed behind them before he had her pinned against it, his mouth crashing onto hers, hot and demanding, his hands already at the back of her dress, finding the zipper.

- Papacito, — she breathed, drunk and laughing into his mouth, her hands clutching at his suit jacket.
- Be careful with the dress, it cost —

He tore it. His big hands gripped the silk and ripped — the zipper gave way with a sound like a scream, the back of the dress splitting from zipper to hem in one brutal tear — and she gasped as the silk fell away, pooling around her feet, leaving her in nothing but the garter belt, the stockings, and a scrap of lace panties, her breasts bare and heaving.

- —a fortune,
she finished weakly, her whole body on fire, her pussy throbbing.

- Worth it, — he growled, his eyes raking her — the garter belt strapped around her thighs, the stockings, her breasts heaving, her nipples hard and aching.
- Every penny. You have no idea what you look like right now, mamacita. My drunk little bride. Ten years, and you still undo me. You still make me hard the second I look at you.

He lifted her — her legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck — and carried her to the bed, and threw her onto the rose petals, the petals scattering, sticking to her skin. He stripped fast, his suit jacket hitting the floor, his shirt, his trousers, his boxers, and his cock sprang free — thick, heavy, the head broad and flushed dark, leaking precome in a thick bead, jutting from his hips hard and throbbing, every vein standing out.

She stared at it, drunk and hungry, her mouth watering, her thighs pressing together.
- Papacito — please —

- On your knees, — he commanded, his voice like iron wrapped in velvet.
- On the bed. Now. Show me.

She scrambled onto her knees on the rose petals, the petals sticking to her skin, and he stepped to the edge of the bed, fisting the base of his huge cock, guiding the broad head to her lips. She opened wide and took him in, her lips stretched wide around his enormous girth, drool running down her chin onto her bare breasts.

His cock was throbbing and pulsating against her tongue, rock hard, almost as if it was going to burst, every vein standing out corded under her lips. She moaned around him, drunk and uninhibited, her cheeks hollowing, sucking hard, her tongue swirling around the leaking slit, lapping up the thick salty precome. The champagne had loosened everything — she was loud, greedy, shameless, moaning around his cock — and she took him deeper, her throat bulging around the broad head, gagging sweetly, her eyes watering, her hand gripping the thick base and pumping.

- That's my good girl, — he groaned, his hand tangled in her hair, his hips rolling.
- My drunk little bride, choking on my cock in the honeymoon suite. Ten years married and you still suck like you mean it.

She whimpered around him, sucking harder, her hand gripping the thick base, pumping it slick with his precome and her drool. His cock swelled even thicker, throbbing and pulsating, and she hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper — and he pulled out suddenly, his cock glistening, the head dark purple and leaking.

- On your back, — he said, his dark eyes burning.
- Spread for your husband. Show me what's mine.

She flopped onto her back on the rose petals, spreading her thighs wide, drunk and giggling and aching, petals sticking to her damp skin. He settled between her thighs and buried his face between them without warning — his tongue lashing up through her folds, delving deep inside her, lapping at her walls, curling and probing. She screamed into the honeymoon suite, her back arching off the bed, rose petals scattering, her hands tangling in his hair. His tongue was hot and relentless, and then it found her clit — licking and sucking it hard, flicking it with fast strokes — and her juices flooded his mouth, dripping down his chin onto the petals. He growled against her pussy, the vibration jolting through her whole body, and shoved two thick fingers deep inside her, curling hard against her G-spot, pumping them while his tongue never stopped.

- Papacito!
she sobbed, her hands tangling in his hair.
- Oh god, please —

He growled against her pussy, the vibration jolting through her, and shoved two thick fingers deep inside her, curling hard, while his tongue worked her clit. She came with a scream, her pussy convulsing around his fingers, her cream gushing over his hand and mouth, and he drank her down greedily, not stopping, pushing her into a second screaming orgasm, her thighs trembling.

- Please, — she gasped, drunk and wrecked and dripping.
- Please, papacito, I need your cock, I need you inside me —

He rose over her, his massive cock hard and leaking and throbbing, and lined the broad head up with her dripping entrance. He pushed forward — slow and inexorable — and she screamed. His thick throbbing girthy massive cock was hard as a rock, almost as if it was going to burst, throbbing and pulsating powerfully as he pushed against her entrance, and she knew instantly he was going to stretch her sooo much. He had to struggle and fight to force his huge cock into her, she was so tight, and he was watching — he could see her pussy stretching and stretching as his broad head passed through her outer lips, her pink flesh pulled taut and glistening around his enormous girth, like sticking an extremely long thick cucumber up a pussy. She let out a loud moan and he moaned too, deep and rumbling, from the tightness, from her pussy stretching so much around him.

He buried himself to the hilt, his heavy balls pressed against her ass, rose petals crushing beneath them, their perfume rising, and began to pound her into the honeymoon bed, his hips slamming, driving his huge cock in and out of her stretched pussy, brutal and deep. She screamed, drunk and shameless, her nails digging into his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper, the garter belt straps pulling against her thighs, her stockings sliding down. His cock was dragging along her walls with every stroke, thick and throbbing, hitting that deep spot, the broad head battering inside her, and her juices flowed freely, soaking the rose petals beneath her.

- Whose pussy is this? — he snarled, his hand fisted in her hair.

- Yours! — she screamed, drunk and laughing and crying all at once.
- Yours, papacito, it's yours, I'm yours — ten years, I'm still yours —

He fucked her harder, the wet slapping sounds loud in the suite, her juices running down her thighs in slick streams. He reached between them and pinched her clit hard, rolling it brutally, and she detonated — her orgasm tearing through her with a scream, her pussy clamping down on his cock in convulsing waves, her cream gushing out around his shaft.

He groaned and drove into her three more brutal strokes, his cock throbbing and pulsing deep inside her, and erupted — a massive scalding flood of seed, load after load pumping into her, filling her to overflowing, thick hot come spurting back out around his cock and running down her thighs onto the rose petals.

He pulled out slowly, and his seed gushed from her gaping pussy onto the bed. He carried her to the bathroom — the great sunken bathtub already filled, steaming, rose petals floating — and lowered her into the hot water. He climbed in behind her, her back against his chest, the hot water lapping at their skin, and his hands were everywhere — cupping her breasts, thumbs circling her hard nipples, sliding down her belly, between her thighs, under the water.

- Spread for me, — he murmured against her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, his fingers finding her swollen pussy under the water.
- Let me take care of my drunk bride.

He worked her with his fingers under the hot water — two inside her, thumb on her clit, curling and pumping — and she came apart in his arms, soft and screaming, her head falling back against his shoulder, her cream clouding the water around them. He didn't stop — he kept working her, his thumb circling her clit relentlessly, pushing her into a second shaking orgasm, her whole body trembling in the hot water.

He lifted her, turned her to face him, and pushed her down onto his cock — she straddled him in the bathtub, impaling herself, the water sloshing over the edges onto the tile, sinking down until he was buried to the hilt, her pussy stretching wide around his enormous girth.

- Ride me, — he commanded, his hands gripping her hips.
- Ride your husband in the bathtub, mamacita.

She rode him, bouncing on his thick cock, the water splashing everywhere, his shaft dragging over her G-spot with every stroke, throbbing and pulsating inside her. His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing hard, thumbs grinding her nipples. She came with a scream, her pussy clamping down on him, her cream gushing into the water. He stood with her in his arms — still impaled, water streaming off them both — and carried her to the balcony.

The night air was cool on her wet skin, raising goosebumps, the city glittering below like a carpet of diamonds. He bent her over the balcony railing — her breasts pressed to the cool stone, her ass high, the garter belt still strapped around her thighs, her stockings wet and clinging — and drove into her from behind in one deep stroke, his huge cock stretching her open. She screamed into the night, her hands gripping the railing, the wind in her wet hair, her body exposed to the whole sleeping city.

He pounded her on the balcony under the stars, his hips slamming into her ass, his cock pistoning in and out of her stretched pussy, thick and throbbing.
- Look at the city, — he growled, his hand fisted in her wet hair, pulling her head back.
- That's how many people know you're mine tonight, mamacita. Every light down there. You're mine.

- Yours! — she screamed into the night, drunk and wild and free.
- I'm yours, papacito!

He reached around and ...