A Life of Submission Read online

  There were two people there, another man, large like the first one, and a woman, also quite tall, and quite beautiful. All three adults were in their thirties, and when they looked at me they smiled in a way that made my legs shake. My horrible embarrassment at being nude had faded, but now it flared powerfully with two new pair of eyes examining me, and my face turned scarlet as the two turned me from side to side, examining me from all angles.

  "Very nice ass," the new man said.

  "She'll bring a good price," the woman replied with a nod.

  She looked at me with a kind of contempt, then plucked one of my nipples, making me squeal silently through the gag in my mouth.

  "Nice breasts," she said, actually squeezing one of my breasts.

  "Nice everything," the other man said.

  "Let's get her inside," my captor responded.

  A hand firmly on my upper arm, I was led up the walk and into the cottage. I had a brief sight of a comfortably furnished front room, then we were through into a kitchen, and then another room, a large one which at first resembled a garage. There were bare beams overhead, and brick walls with no furnishings.

  "She's a virgin," I heard my original captor proclaim.

  The others chuckled, and I felt a new source of shame, though why I did not quite know.

  They unstrapped my wrists, and massaged them as they held me there between them. Then thick leather restraints were placed around each, and my arms were lifted up and out to either side, the restraints fastened by small chains to rings set in the sides of two vertical beams.

  The rings were high enough up that the two men had to lift me right to my toes to clip me there. A moment later the woman pulled one of my feet to the side, sliding another leather restraint around it, and buckling it in place. My other foot was pulled wide, and I was literally hanging by my wrists, the leather digging into my flesh, my arms aching already. Soon both legs were chained apart to the beams, my toes an inch or two off the stone floor. My sex was lewdly exposed to their eyes, and I felt more shame.

  Yet I was completely baffled by what they were doing. I was that naive.

  They left me like that, closing the door and going into the other room. I felt relief, at first, alone at last away from the staring eyes of unkind strangers. My arms began to ache even more, and my shoulders soon followed. The pain travelled halfway down my sides, with my ribs feeling bruised by the tension, and my body writhed weakly as I sought to relieve the cramps and pain.

  The thoughts and emotions which swirled around me were quite strong, of course. I was mortified at being naked and molested by these people, and terrified about what they had in store for me. I was also utterly confused, bewildered by why they were doing this to me. Oh, I could understand, after a fashion, the idea of sexual violation. That is to say, I was not confused about why certain men would take a girl by force.

  This, however, was entirely different. I simply could not comprehend why people, adults, (for I still thought of myself as a girl) would drag me out to God only knew where, and then hang me naked from my wrists.

  It was desperately uncomfortable, of course. Every part of my body seemed to ache, and my hands quickly went numb. My arms were cramped and my shoulders felt ready to tear away. The nerves and muscles running down the sides of my chest were also somehow affected, for I found that simply hanging loose caused me considerable pain along my ribs.

  My bottom was still stinging a bit, but for the rest of me, the sensation to my skin was quickly become cold and clammy, goose bumps standing out on my pale white flesh. My nipples were erect, as well, though not from any kind of sexual reaction.

  At least I did not think so, at first. Fear is an odd emotion, however. Like embarrassment, it has its limits in time beyond which one seems to grow anaesthetized. After that time was passed my fright began to dim somewhat. I tried to inspect my new surroundings, but little was visible in the bit of moonlight coming through a high window. It seemed a dark, bare room of concrete and wood. What objects I could see were mere shadows.

  I could, however, make out my own body, seeming to glow almost white in that light, the leather straps around my wrists and ankles, and the gleaming chains that bound my arms and legs apart. I could see the beams and the floor, as well, but little beyond that.

  I was resigned to whatever happened, as I had since first spotting the man in my bedroom doorway, and my mind, now trying to put things into some kind of understandable perspective, imagined myself as a captive of pirates or some such.

  This was probably a mistake, though of course, it really did not matter to my inevitable future. I had always found the idea of being a captive of pirates deliciously wicked and exciting. During my masturbatory sessions, in fact, I had often imagined myself bound to a stake or post while surrounded by leering, bearded ruffians. Of course, my wrists were together and I was standing on the deck of a ship, but there was enough resemblance to the fantasy to imagine the eroticism of my present position.

  And that struck me almost like a blow. For all at once I realized why I was so bound, that it was for the arousal of my captors. Just as I had been aroused by the fantasy of being a helpless bound prisoner to the lusts of others, these people must, I thought, have the opposite fantasy.

  The difference being, of course, that they were bringing their fantasy to life with my person. This, then, was a sort of violation, just crueler and requiring considerably more time.

  Oddly, this made me feel better, for at least I could now understand what their motivation was, why they were treating me so.

  Now I could see how a naked girl, a beautiful naked girl, I thought objectively, hanging spreadeagled in such a fashion, could excite people. After all, such an image would have excited me in my fantasies.

  Of course, were I to so fantasize I would not include the pain and discomfort, nor the humiliation of being so lewdly displayed before strangers, nor the fear of what was to come.

  I looked down at my body, trying to see it as they saw it, imagine what they thought of my firm breasts and shapely thighs. Did they become aroused at looking at my pubic mound, my pussy opening? I had, as I mentioned earlier, become accustomed to people finding me attractive, even in a sexual way, but being so displayed was a shocking new experience. And while it was terribly embarrassing, I still had the odd little flare of pride at being seen as attractive, even sexually desirable by adults.

  But any real excitement I might have derived was easily overcome by my pain and fear as I hung there.

  It was exhausting. People who have never been hung by their wrists would never credit how much so. Every breath became an effort, and my body was soon damp with sweat. The floor seemed so far, far below. And yet at the same time it was tauntingly close, just below my wriggling toes.

  I wished someone would come in, use my body, and let then me go. I wished, beyond everything, for it all to be over with.

  Chapter Two

  I have no idea how long I hung there, but I was hardly aware of the woman's return at first, dazed as I had by then become.

  My chin was on my chest, and she lifted my head up by the simple expedient of grasping my loose blonde hair and yanking it back. I cried out at the pain, of course, but little sound emerged from the gag straining my jaw.

  Though I was hanging by my wrists I was not raised up very high. My legs were spread apart so that I was actually somewhat lower than I would normally be standing. And so I was forced to look up into the eyes of this cold, haughty woman. I felt my mind stirring awake, and felt a fresh surge of embarrassment at being so, well, so naked around another woman.

  Of course, I wasn't just naked. Being just naked would be almost like, well, being in a locker room at school. No, I was naked and hanging from my wrists, my legs spread wide, my body utterly bare and vulnerable to this strange woman, in a way I knew was extremely lewd and sexually provocative. This made me feel quite vulnerable, and weak, inferior, if you will, for I was utterly at her mercy.

  Then again
I would have felt intimidated by her even were I fully clothed and in a more equal situation. She was a powerful looking woman, with dark, intelligent eyes and a strong, handsome face. Her dark hair was cut short and swept back, and her every movement bespoke a strong will and confidence in herself. She wore very tight faded jeans below a white silk blouse, and a gold chain circled her slender throat. She was easily ten years my senior, and I felt little more than a girl alongside her. Or would have, as I said, even were my situation not so vulnerable.

  Her hand moved against my body then, sliding down my back. I could feel the warmth of her skin along my cool flesh, and felt a startled tingling and then anxiety as she traced the length of my spine. Her fingers rubbed gently at the soft skin at the cleft of my buttocks, then her fingers spread wider, and my eyes widened as she cupped my buttocks and squeezed.

  "I want you to listen to me, little girl," she said, "for I'm going to explain some facts of life to you. Are you listening?"

  I could do little else but nod.

  Her hand moved off my buttocks, traced along my hip and then caressed my flat, taut belly as she resumed speaking.

  "You have been taken for money."

  I thought immediately that there had been a terrible mistake, for my uncle had no money. She smiled, as if able to read my mind through my eyes.

  "No, little girl. We are not holding you for ransom. You're to be sold to a wealthy man who wants a pet."

  Once again I failed to grasp her meaning.

  "Do you know what a slave is?"

  I nodded, well, as much as I could, and she nodded as well.

  "That is what you are now. You are a slave. We will train you so that you'll not give your new master any problems, and then sell you to him for a tidy amount of money."

  I was astonished by this, of course. Slavery was something out of history. Innocent that I was, my mind was filled with the certainty that people did not buy and sell other people any more. I longed to tell her this, but she gave no sign of desiring my opinion.

  "You will be trained to obey, to perform your duties as a good little slave girl, and to never talk back or even think about resisting your master's desires."

  A slave? I? And yet it did correspond with my pirate fantasy, and so I began to understand her intent, at least to the small degree I was then capable.

  Her hand slid up my body and cupped one of my breasts then, which unnerved me, she being a woman. Again, I was quite innocent. My first thought was not about being preyed upon by a woman with lesbian desires, but indignation that she should set her hands on me in such a way. Unlike a man, after all, she was not motivated, or so I thought, by lust. I could understand men pawing at me, but another woman doing so could, I thought, only come from contempt and a desire to further humiliate me.

  "You are raw meat," she said in a bald, certain, confident voice. "You are a plaything. A toy. A pet for others to use, to enjoy. Your body was designed to please the eye and the touch, and that is precisely what it will do. Your body will please any man - or woman - who wants to make use of it. And you will have no choice, no choice at all, but to participate, to cooperate, to obey and please those with power over you."

  She eased her grip on my breast, letting her splayed fingers slide slowly along the skin until they came together just behind my cold, rigid nipple. Three fingers squeezed together against my nipple where it thrust out from the swollen aureola, and began to stroke back and forth along it with just enough pressure to stretch my skin out slightly on each outward movement.

  "Do you like that little slave girl? Does your nipple enjoy the feel of warm skin against it?"

  It did, in fact, and I was quite disconcerted about that. I could feel the warmth of her skin seeping into my nipple, could feel the gentle stroking beginning to send small rippling sensations of pleasure through my taut breasts.

  "Have you dreamed of sexually exposing yourself, little girl?" she said, her voice almost a whisper, and strangely mesmerizing in that dark, silent room. "Have you dreamed of giving in to your impulses and being the sexual creature you so desire?"

  She raised her other hand and caught at my other nipple, then began rolling both between thumbs and forefingers.

  "You have lovely nipples. Has anyone ever told you that? No, of course not."

  She smiled lightly, then let her fingers pinch together so that I jerked and gasped aloud into the gag. This drew another smile and she eased her grip, then spread her fingers out and slid them beneath my breasts to cup both and raise them lightly. She examined them, as I quivered helplessly in embarrassment and unwonted anticipation.

  "Very lovely breasts, as well," she said, looking down at them.

  "They could be larger. Many men like the really buxom girls, but yours are quite a good size, larger than your slim body, but not so large as to lose this youthful firmness."

  Her fingers were gently kneading the soft flesh of my breasts as she spoke, and both were warming to her touch in a way which was tightening my chest and making it difficult to breath. My mind was swirling with conflicting messages. I hated her, feared her, and deeply, deeply resented her presumption in speaking about my body in such familiar terms, much less daring to fondle my private parts as she was. Yet at the same time my body seemed to be gripped by a rising cloud of almost electrical tension, a quivering anticipation which seemed to pay no attention whatever to my embarrassment and anger.

  Her hands moved abruptly, sliding behind me as she brought her body forward. I was startled as she pressed her body against my own, and I felt the softness and warmth of her breasts beneath her blouse. Her arms were gripping me now, her hands stroking along my back as a man would, and then they moved downwards to squeeze my bottom, each hand squeezing and kneading one buttocks as she brought her lips in an inch from my own gagged mouth.

  "Do you dream of a man between your thighs, little slave girl?" she whispered, eyes boring into mine. "Do you dream of him thrusting himself into you again and again, of wrapping your legs around him and crying out in glorious pleasure?"

  I turned my eyes away, unable to meet hers, and gasped as her head bent low and her lips trailed along the nape of my neck. I moaned through the gag as I felt the moisture of her open mouth and then the hardness of her teeth nibbling along my skin. Her tongue caressed my cool flesh, and my breasts were squeezed against her own chest as she squeezed me tightly against her, fingers digging in hard against the soft flesh of my buttocks.

  Her lips moved up beneath my ears and her teeth nibbled on my earlobes, and my body trembled as my mind fluttered like a butterfly caught under a glass. I was completely flustered, not knowing what she was doing, or why. I felt her hands slide up then, going behind my head. She undid the strap holding the gag in place and then leaned back and gently pried the ball free of my mouth.

  I cried out at the sharp stab of pain as my stiff, aching jaw was finally allowed to close, and for long seconds I could not do anything but cope with that pain. I moved my mouth ever so slightly, wincing, feeling the sore muscles and tendons begin to relax.

  She leaned her body in again, kissing me lightly along my cheeks, then tracing her lips along my own. I again tried to turn away, but her lips followed, and her tongue darted forward.

  'P-please!" I gasped.

  She ignored me, and one of her hands slid up behind my head to hold it in place even as her soft tongue pushed deep into my mouth. My eyes widened in astonishment, and I tried once again to twist away, to no avail.

  Her tongue danced along my own, and her lips pressed strongly against mine, and fear kept me from reacting with more violence. I dared do little else but moan my protests as her tongue ravished my mouth and her lips made free with me. My breasts throbbed against hers, and my nipples felt tight and hot, sparkling with tension each time her body moved against them.

  She eased back finally, and I gasped aloud, gulping in breath as her hands moved down to my breasts and she seized my nipples in her fingers once more.

  "Pleas
e untie me," I panted.

  "No."

  "But... but you must," I begged.

  "You will call me mistress. Is that clear?"

  I stared at her stupidly, and then cried out as her fingers pinched in against my nipples.

  "Ow!"

  "Is that clear?"

  "Ow! Yes!" I cried.

  Her fingers twisted my nipples harder, as she smiled at me like a scolding but tolerant schoolmistress.

  "Yes, mistress!" I cried, squirming and straining against my bonds.

  Her fingers eased their grip, but did not move off, resuming the gentle stroking she had engaged in previously.

  "You will be a good little girl, won't you?" she asked.

  "Y-yes, mistress," I panted.

  "And a good, obedient slave."

  I hesitated but agreed. "Yes, mistress."

  "Say it then. Let me hear you say you are a slave."

  I stared at her in confusion, but as her fingers tightened around my nipple I agreed.

  "I am a slave!" I gasped, feeling a strange fluttering in my chest.

  "Again."

  "I am a slave."

  "Again."

  I repeated it again, and again, and continued to repeat the words under her forceful gaze and touch, and when she moved back and I faltered, a quick frown from her brought the words tumbling free of my mouth once more.

  "I am a slave. I am a slave. I am a slave."

  She moved out of my sight briefly, into the darkness behind me, and then light flooded the room, cold, harsh white light which had me blinking and squinting. She returned, rolling a small tray before her on which were a small bowl of water, scissors, a razor, and some cream.

  "Continue," she ordered.

  "I am a slave," I said, my voice faltering as she took the scissors into her hand and then reached between my legs.

  "Continue," she ordered, raising her eyes to scowl.

  I did so, staring in wonderment as she began to denude my pubic hair. She snipped quite close to the skin, not merely trimming, but cutting all the way to the centre of my mons. She moistened my sex, then, and then spread a soapy cream over it before kneeling there and taking the razor to me.