A Life of Submission Read online

  My first reaction, of course, when the door opened, was shock. I halted in mid-step, jaw dropping, unable to believe I was seeing a strange man standing in my doorway. An instant later I recalled my nudity, of course, and, I suppose, made some sort of scream or shriek as I tried to cover myself.

  The man was extremely large, filling the doorway from top to bottom and side to side. He wore a pair of neatly pressed black trousers, and a black T-shirt which bulged against his massive chest. His bare arms rippled with muscles. He had a square jawed face, and his dark hair was cropped close to his head. He did not smile as he moved forward, and his eyes never left me.

  He backed me against the dresser without touching me, and stood motionless, eyes cool as I stood there clutching a bed sheet against myself, stammering and blushing and filling with terror and anxiety.

  When he finally moved it was to reach out and take hold of the sheet. I tried desperately to hang onto it but he yanked it free effortlessly, then seized my wrists and lifted them up above my head, pinning them together in one hand, then extending that arm so he could ease me back a bit and inspect me.

  I was, of course, terrified as well as mortified to the point of death. No man had ever seen me nude, at least, not in my memory, and here was this complete stranger, a grown man of at least thirty with his eyes taking in as much of my pale flesh as they desired while I was unable to do a thing to hinder him. I could almost feel his gaze moving over my breasts - jiggling slightly as my chest rose and fell furiously - my trim, flat belly, and my pale bush of pubic hair "down there".

  "Let me go!"

  I writhed helplessly, twisting and turning, but unable to change my position in any significant way.

  "Please! Please!" I gasped, heart pounding. "What do you want!?

  He did not speak a word. I begged, pleaded, cursed, made demands, and broke into tears, but he ignored it all. He looked at me in a sort of bored way and continued to hold my wrists up high until, I suppose, I finally wound down.

  Then, shivering and trembling, my tears starting to subside, I felt his hands shifting, pulling my hands back behind my head, and there gripping my hair as well before pulling further down. With my hands forced back I was thus made to arch my back quite sharply. I knew, of course, that this was to accentuate my breasts, to thrust them out even more firmly for his inspection, and my skin burned with humiliation as his eyes roamed my body. He raised his other hand then and placed it on my stomach, sliding it slowly upwards as I shuddered and moaned.

  I felt his large, work-roughened hand cup the underside of my right breast, then slide upwards to cover it. Even amidst my terror I could not but help note how delicious this felt. I sensed his fingers closing inwards, squeezing into my soft, malleable flesh, and moaned anew at such shocking and intimate contact with a complete stranger.

  I could not see, for the pull of his hand on my hair forced my head upwards, yet I did not need eyes to follow the touch of his fingers as he moved them across the surface of my breast. I felt them seize my nipple, stroking and pinching it lightly, then tweaking it and rolling it between them. I could feel the nipple hardening and swelling, and my face burned with shame for fear he would think I somehow welcomed his touch.

  I think it was this which drove me to kick out at him. It was quite foolish of me, for he was easily more than twice my weight, and many times stronger than I, but I felt I needed some signal that would indicate to him my outrage and displeasure.

  My bare foot made contact with some part of his leg. The contact was not strong and probably caused me more pain than him. However, it drew an immediate response. He whipped me forward and sent me flying, staggering across the floor to sprawl face down across my table. I tried to rise, but a huge hand slapped down between my shoulder blades, pressing me into the desk hard enough that my breasts - pillowed out beneath me - ached.

  "I shall be your first instructor, girl," he said to me in a low, throaty voice. "Those instructions shall be on the nature of your position from this time on. You will obey any order given, and will make no attempt to resist the wishes of those placed over you."

  "I-I don't know what you mean!" I cried. "Let me go! Leave me alone!"

  "You are not in any position to make demands," he said. "You will do as you are told or face the consequences of your misbehaviour."

  He removed his hand from between my shoulder blades and I immediately tried to rise, only to be shoved down forcefully.

  "Do not move!" he barked in a menacing voice.

  Frightened, I obeyed, only whimpering when I saw him slide a thin, ugly looking belt from the loops of his trousers.

  "Punishment for any resistance to your masters will be swift and painful," he said, speaking quite precisely. "You will be taught your place."

  I screamed more in surprise than pain as the belt cut across my bottom. I felt shocked, even outraged, yet the fear was there, as well, and even as my buttocks began to sting, I made no attempt to rise again, or to twist away. Instead tears filled my eyes once more as the belt slashed in once more, this time harder. I cried out softly, laying my head on my hands, shuddering as the belt cracked loudly across my bared buttocks again and again, the pain building up like a growing fire. I felt a sense of disbelief to be experiencing such punishment from a stranger, to be naked as I was and so badly treated. I had no previous experience with such behaviour and was at a loss as to how to cope.

  "P-please!" I cried out in a choked, tear-filled voice.

  The pain was simply too much, each new crack of the belt sending a new wave of it searing through my burning skin and through my body.

  The belt whipped down again, and again, and again, like his voice, very precisely laid, very carefully landed. I sobbed freely into the table top, knowing I could do nothing to stop him, that anything I tried would result only in further punishment.

  He stopped, finally, and I felt a wonderful relief that the next blow had not landed. My legs were trembling and I could hardly see through my tears as his hand slipped down along the cleft between my buttocks, fingered my anal opening briefly, then dropped lower. He held my sex in the palm of his hand, squeezing it lightly, then pressing a finger against the tightness of my body. This would have shocked and horrified me previously, but at the time anything other than the belt was almost welcomed.

  Naturally, from the moment I had seen him I had suspected to the point of certainty that he intended my violation. I almost welcomed his touch, wanting him to get it over with and leave me alone to recover. Yet humiliation flowed through my veins as well, and hatred of him and my weakness before him.

  I felt his big finger sliding up and down between my pubic lips, nudging against that hot little button at the top of my sex, then slipping lower and pressing into the small hole there. I closed my eyes, praying for him to hurry and finish, feeling his finger slowly working its way into my virginal body. It hurt a little, but the pain was nothing compared to my still burning bottom, and I simply stood there, sniffling and shaking as he eased it high enough to feel my hymen, then withdraw.

  His big hands seized my wrists then, drawing them back behind me and pinning them together at the small of my back. A moment later I felt something, a strap of sorts, wrapped around them quite tightly, binding them together there. He pulled me upright, turned me, and then, much to my surprise, kissed me quite hard on the lips.

  Both his big hands were up beneath my jaw as he kissed me, pressing upwards beneath my jaw to force me to my toes. I tried to keep my lips tightly closed, of course, but he would have none of that. His thumbs pressed in against the sides of my jaws until I cried out in pain.

  "I said that you were to offer up no resistance. Did you not hear me, girl?"

  I tried to nod, but his hands had such a tight grip of me that was impossible. My jaw was aching as his thumbs pressed against it, and my legs danced and twisted beneath me as his dark eyes bored into me.

  Then he loosened his grip and I gulped in great lungsful of air as the pain dimini
shed. He pulled me into him again and kissed me once more, his tongue sliding between my lips. He kissed me roughly, bruisingly, his tongue like a snake in my mouth, and I did not resist. I kept my lips slack, enduring the disgust I felt at his use of my mouth, too terrified to even think about resisting.

  He eased back, and removed his hands from my throat.

  "Kiss me," he ordered curtly.

  Eyes wide, I leaned forward, forced to rise on my toes now and let my naked breasts flatten against his powerful chest in order to bring my lips against his. I kissed him uncertainly, then, as I felt his anger, more strongly, sliding my tongue into his mouth.

  You cannot imagine how odd I felt, standing on my toes nude like that, face still wet from my own tears as I tried my best to kiss this man, tried more than I ever had with any boy I liked, He reached out then, gripping my hair behind my head. He pulled my head up and back, so that I cried out as my back was once again arched painfully hard. Then he pulled me forward again, and down, pressing my face into his chest, then his belly, then, forcing me to my knees, down against his groin. He rubbed my face against his groin for a long moment, then eased his hold on my hair so I could pulled back.

  There, on my knees, gasping for breath, sniffling fearfully, I watched him undo his trousers and shove them down, and my eyes widened at the sight of his manhood thrusting up and out from amidst a dark tangle of black hair. I looked away at once, or tried to, but he filled his hand with my hair again and jerked my face back until the head of his organ was mere inches from my nose.

  "Get to work," he ordered.

  My mental response was Oh No! Yet I knew the basics, despite being far from expert. I cried out lightly as his hand twisted my hair sharply, then before I could protest he had pulled me forward and thrust the head of it into my mouth.

  It was soft, and almost spongy, warm and slick and yet hard at the same time. The pungent taste of it filled my mouth as I knelt there, and as it slid deeper, pushing against the inside of one cheek, then the roof of my mouth. I knew the helplessness of my sex, confronted by the power of the male animal, and whimpered softly.

  A strange little shiver ran up my spine, however. For, unaccountably, I had fantasized about this sort of thing many times before. Oh, my fantasies had been tame things, mostly, yet being overpowered and sexually used had been among them, as it was for many girls my age. I had imagined myself on my knees, hands tied, staring up at a powerful man who demanded my submission. And the memories of those fantasies, and the orgasms which had come with them seeped slowly through my flustered mind.

  "Suck," he ordered.

  And so I did. I closed my lips around the shaft, noting how much thicker it was than those of the boys I had hitherto been exposed to, and tried to please him.

  It's odd the things which run through a young girl's mind at a time like that. I wanted him to come, hoping he would then finish, and yet I did not want him to think I was "good" at it, if you garner my meaning. There was, of course, no reason why I should care about his opinion of me but I still did not want him thinking I was a slut!

  And I was beginning to feel like one, to be truthful. For my fear was slowly subsiding - though it was still strong, and so was my embarrassment. And this was, after all, one of my little fantasies. Here was an enormous, powerful, and, I admit, quite handsome man hulking over me, and there I was naked, absolutely NAKED at his feet, forced to please him. I began to feel a little erotic tingling between my legs which worried, and even rather appalled me.

  I was distracted by, of all things, his instructions. For yes, he proceeded to instruct me in the "art" of fellatio as I knelt there. His words were unforgiving, and curtly delivered, directing me to suck harder as I slid my lips backwards, to work my tongue more along the head, to caress his shaft with the insides of my mouth more, and to slide my lips down further, taking more of the shaft past my lips.

  I found myself licking at the underside of his shaft, especially around the head, and bobbing my lips up and down to a certain rhythm while his fingers combed through my hair. I still felt embarrassed, and was deeply angered at what I was being forced to do even as fear continued to grip me. Yet the unquestionable arousal I could sense within my lower belly seemed to be having some effect on those feelings, and I felt a soft liquid heat spreading through my body and mind as my lips slid up and down his glistening shaft.

  He began to push himself into me, then, thrusting his organ deeper and deeper into my mouth. With my hands bound behind my back I could do nothing to restrain him even as the rounded knob of his head threatened to choke me. This was something new and frightening. I gagged repeatedly, and tried to twist away, but he held me remorselessly, and then he tilted my head back sharply so that I was looking up at him. He smiled, somewhat cruelly, I thought, and then spoke.

  "Swallow."

  I did not understand, or at least, not in time. He held my small head in his large hands, and suddenly, with practised ease, thrust forward and down, driving the head of his cock past my mouth, past the little gag thingee at the entrance to my throat, and then straight down my throat.

  My eyes bulged and I gagged terribly, but he simply kept pushing his thick cock forward, the gleaming shaft pushing past my helpless lips. I could no more scream than breath, and he would not stop until my lips, parted so wide they ached, were pressed right in against his groin, my nose crushed against his hairy abdomen.

  He held me like this as I trembled and shook violently, one hand with my hair wrapped completely around it, the other on the back of my neck. My chest burned and my mind fluttered like a trapped bird. My vision began to blur and I became light-headed. I slumped bonelessly, held up only by his strong hands as he eased his tool slowly back up the length of my throat, then out. I felt the head come free with an almost audible sound, and immediately retched and gasped desperately.

  I drew in great, heaving, shuddering breaths of air, caring for nothing else but the sweetness of inflating my lungs.

  "You will have to learn how to do this," he said, holding me steady. "It takes a little practice, but eventually you should even be able to relax your throat enough to breath with one inside."

  His cock was slick with my saliva, and he quite casually wiped it against my face as he held me by the hair. "You shall get a great deal of practice, so it's to your benefit that you learn to do it well."

  And then, with my mouth as wide as a fish, he pushed the head into it again. I had just enough time to fill my lungs before he thrust himself forward and down, filling my throat with his shaft once again.

  This time he held me against his groin for only a few seconds before pulling back. Yet he did not withdraw entirely. Instead he began to use my mouth and throat as though they were a vagina. His cock slid back and forth with growing force and speed, and if he cared at all for the terrible discomfort this produced in me it did not show in any manner at all.

  I was again growing faint as he pulled free, and once more I was able to gulp in desperate breaths of air.

  "Now if you'll make better use of your tongue we won't need to do that again just yet," he said, sliding himself into my mouth again.

  With such a promise I worked desperately, lapping furiously along the underside, bobbing my lips and sucking as best I could. There was no longer any room for resistance or hesitation. All I cared about was pleasing him. I was startled when he yanked himself out of me and held the head just before my face. Then he erupted, spurting thick white wads of his semen. It spattered, of course, across my face, on my lips, nose, and cheeks. He squeezed himself to force every drop out, then rubbed the head firmly over my face, smearing his semen into me.

  I felt outrage, disgust at this, but there was relief, as well, for, innocent that I was, I thought we might now be done. I was quickly to learn how much in error that was.

  He produced a leather strap attached to a soft leather ball, and jammed the ball into my mouth, forcing my jaws painfully wide and filling my mouth to the point of overflowing. The atta
ched strap went around my head and buckled behind. His hand on my arm lifted me roughly to my feet, and then he led me out into the hall. He paused at the stairs, turning me around, then bent forward and lifted me up across his shoulder, slapping my bottom as he pinned my legs against his chest.

  He carried me through the kitchen and out the door into the alley which went behind our row of houses. There was nobody about to see as, still completely naked, he carried me to a small van, opened up the sliding side door, and pushed me inside. The door slid shut, and I was alone on the cold floor until he moved around and got in the drivers' side.

  The realization that he was carrying me away came hard, another terrible shock to my mind. I just lay there as the van started up and made its way down the alley. Then I became almost frantic, trying to think of something to do, some way to escape. My hands pulled despairingly at the straps binding them behind me, and I sat up, looking around me.

  "Lay down," he ordered without turning.

  I obeyed, fearing to do otherwise, and for some time lay on the dirty floor, bouncing now and then as the van drove along. I tried to think of what he intended for me, tried to imagine some method of escaping. I feared, of course, that he was taking me somewhere to kill me, and as that built up in my mind almost any other fate would have been welcomed. The sky began to darkened outside, but that was the only solid information I had about the passage of time. The van continued to move at a good clip, and the man in front said nothing to me.

  Finally we stopped, and he got out, coming around to slide open the side door. He gripped my ankle and dragged me across the floor until my buttocks were at the edge and I could stand up on the ground outside. I felt grass and dirt beneath my toes, and in the dim light remaining could see we were at an isolated cottage somewhere on the coast. I could smell the sea, if not sight it, and wondered desperately what he intended.

  The opening of the cottage door flooded the little area before it with yellow light. I blinked and squinted as two figures came out. I had a momentary hope of rescue, but the sight of one of the figures shaking hands with my captor dispelled that notion.