A Life of Submission Read online

  Finally I felt a touch, and knew I was no longer alone. I felt a deep sense of thanks, and tried to stir my sluggish mind into comprehending the words spoken to me.

  A slap to the face brought me more awake and I blinked tired eyes within the hood as the woman spoke once again.

  "..onto your knees and we'll go for a walk, little slave."

  My wrists restraints were released from the chains and I all but fell to my knees with a groan. I clasped my arms together over my chest and luxuriated in being able to bend my spine, my arms and my legs all at once, at having the weight off my feet and being free too move.

  I felt a sharp little blow, as from the crop, at my shoulder, and her voice lashed out as well.

  "Onto all fours, slave. At once."

  I had to obey, yet even so I felt a great delight at being bent, so, after so long with my body held straight. I felt the chain slipped around my neck, and the pressure drew me forward. I crawled at her direction, turning as she ordered, moving at the pace she set, though aching arms and legs protested. I felt us leave the room when my fingers came down on carpeting, and felt a thankfulness for my bare knees.

  We continued forward for some metres, then turned once more and halted.

  'Now you are going to learn to follow orders at once. Do you understand, slave? Nod."

  I obediently nodded.

  "If you follow orders with alacrity, you will be given food and water. If not, you will be returned to the position you recently left, and kept there for the rest of the day."

  My mouth was already salivating at the thought of water, and I determined to obey her every command, however lewd, as quickly as I could.

  "Sit on your heels."

  I obeyed at once.

  "Keep your back straight and your knees well apart."

  I quickly positioned myself according to her orders.

  "Clasp your hands behind your back."

  I did so.

  Over the following some minutes I was positioned and repositioned. I had to rise to my full height - on my knees, to place my hands behind my neck and arch my back, to lay upon my belly and spread my legs, to place my head and shoulders on the floor, while raising my bottom and spreading my legs, to lay upon my back and draw my knees back tightly against my body, and take an assortment of other positions according to her whims and orders.

  Occasionally I could hear one of the men speak, but neither of them gave me further orders, so their presence served as little more than an additional source of embarrassment.

  And then I was ordered to lay on my back, spread my legs, and place my feet flat on the floor.

  "Now, slave, what I want to see you do is simple. It's something you've done often. I and my friends here want you to masturbate while we watch."

  I believe it was the word itself which struck me so. Masturbation, after all, was that most intimate of actions, something one was always embarrassed about, and which one discussed with no one, not even ones most intimate friends or companions. The full force of the word took my breath away as I realized what she required of me, and my mind instantly balked. To even discuss masturbation would have once been too humiliating to even contemplate, and yet I was expected to demonstrate it before others!

  Of course they had already seen me naked for some time, and already degraded, demeaned and humiliated me, yet this seemed a thing I could simply not do. The very notion made my mind quail.

  "Now, slave. We know you've done it before. We want to watch you."

  I'm quite certain now that her words were deliberately chosen, made to goad a girl only a day in captivity into recalling what her own cultural conditioning had taught her of self abuse. For now I realize how they had already so quickly taught me to obey, had already humiliated and violated me, and taught me a small measure of pain. But there were other lessons I had to learn, and they were intent on teaching me quickly.

  And when I did not obey I was forced to crawl back the way I had come, to feel the hard, cold stone beneath my feet and knees once more, and raised up into my former position. This time, however, I was raised higher, so that even with my feet together the tips of my toes merely brushed the floor. All my weight now hung from my wrists, and I moaned in pain and discomfort, not realizing that this would soon be but a minor part of my punishment.

  "You're going to experience what happens to a slave who disobeys her master," the woman said calmly. "You are going to be flogged."

  My mind shied away from the meaning of her words. I had thus far been punished in manners with which I was at least somewhat familiar. I had been slapped, pinched, and strapped (or cropped) on the buttocks. Having my breasts slapped was outrageous but still, it was not something from a lost work of fiction, not something from the dark ages. I was not entirely certain what she even meant, for flogging brought to mind the bare backed crews of Nelson's navy being whipped with braided strips of leather. And surely that was absurd.

  And yet that was almost exactly what she meant. The flog she used was, I have since come to know, a mild variety of the assortment available to a master who wishes to punish a recalcitrant slave. The leather strips were light, and with no knots. Yet still, when I felt the impact against my back I was shocked.

  The strips in themselves were of light weight, but there were many of them, and each stung quite severely as it struck. The overall effect, then, was quite painful, and I screamed in horror (almost entirely muffled by the gag, of course) as I felt the pain stab into me from a dozen spots along my back.

  My body shook and jerked violently, my legs kicking spastically as my body reacted to the pain. And then another blow landed, higher against my back, and another dozen stinging aches made me scream as a terrible warmth grew across my flesh.

  I'm being whipped!

  Even in the midst of the pain I knew an amazement, a wonder. People simply did not do such things today! She could not do such a thing to me! And yet another blow landed, and I screamed silently, writhing and twisting and kicking helplessly as the leather slashed in against my lower back.

  Another blow landed, and another, and my eyes were wet with tears, my throat rasping from screams which did not penetrate my gag. My back was on fire and my wrists threatening to break from the pressure of my thrashing body. Another blow landed, and another, the long strips arching down and around to snap at my right hip. My initial horror and the rush of adrenaline which had given me strength began to run dry, and my movements became less violent in the face of hopelessness.

  Another blow landed across my rump, then another, then the flog moved upwards, striking my lower back, then my upper back.

  This is not happening! This cannot be happening!

  I felt dreadfully sorry for myself in between the cries of pain and yet - and yet there was something else there in the background of my mind. The image of a girl being hung naked from her wrists and then - shocking, outrageous - being whipped, was casting a strange, dark, seductive glow about my mind. My entire back was a throbbing mass of heat now, and so each new blow was denied the full force of pain. A curtain of pain already present masked the severity of the blows and though there was certainly pain it was not beyond my ability to cope.

  I'm hanging by my wrists naked and being whipped.

  There was a measure of wonder in my thoughts, and I felt a dark little shudder of excitement at being the recipient of such a wanton, barbaric, forbidden action. So cruel, they were, so cruel and heartless to me. Ahhh, and another blow landed, and I groaned and twisted weakly, a poor, whipped girl, naked and abused.

  My pussy began to thrum weakly, but with rapidly growing strength, and I felt a sudden flare of electricity run a long my body. Another blow and another, and as my back arched I could feel the flesh pulling tight across my breasts, could feel the stiffness of my nipples, and the tension in them.

  I heard a shuffling movement, and then cried out in new pain and shock as the flog lashed across my chest. My breasts burned and I thrashed wildly, tears spilling from my
eyes once again.

  They daren't! They can't!

  Another blow landed, this time more squarely upon my breasts, and both my throbbing orbs screamed in protest even as my nipples burned hotter. The next blow landed just below them, across my lower chest. Then the flog snapped down over my taut, straining belly.

  They're whipping me! They're whipping me! They're whipping me!

  I could not think of anything but my shock at what was happening, the wonder and horror, pain and despair, and even so the heady sensual thrill of being subjected to such a cruel beating. The flog snapped against my abdomen, then my stomach again, and thence onto my lower chest. I braced myself, but screamed even so as the many leather strips bit into the soft flesh of my breasts, one even scoring a glancing blow against one nipple.

  My breasts were whipped again and again, as the flog concentrated on them for a dozen blows, and dark pain and heat flowed through my body and mind. As with my back, however, a curtain of throbbing heat rose around my chest to shield me from the worst of each new blow. And even as the flogging continued I felt that dark part of my mind exulting in the cruelty being visited up on them, wished that I could stand aside and observe the indecent cruelty being forced upon me.

  I could hear voices now, giving orders, their voices loud in my ear, yet it was difficult, given my flustered, dazed, shocked state of mind, to comprehend them. Fingers pinched at my inner thighs as inspiration, and finally I was able to understand.

  'Open your legs wide. Open them."

  I was exhausted and weak, yet I sought to obey, groaning with effort as I parted my legs and drew them out as widely as I could. I did not think at all upon the consequences of such actions, for already obedience was becoming instinctive. And when the flog lashed in and struck my sex directly the pain drove all other thoughts from my mind.

  "Open your legs. Wide. Spread your legs."

  I sobbed within the hood, yet the words were commanding, angry, and I did not dare to disobey. I raised my legs apart and again the flog struck, wrenching a scream from my already aching throat.

  "Open your legs."

  They could, of course, have simply raised my legs themselves at any time, yet they persisted, shouting, pinching, convincing my dazed mind to obey their wishes. And each time I spread my legs apart the cruel flog lashed in, the strips slicing into that most tender flesh at the joining of my thighs. One blow landed directly across my swollen clitoris, and I almost leaped in my shackles, screaming at the force of the sensation ripping through me.

  And then strong hands gripped my buttocks and the woman's tongue slipped up into my sex once more, and after mere moments of light dancing across my wounded clitoris my body began to spasm and shake with a powerful climax.

  Chapter Four

  There is little to be said of what happened soon after, for my mind was in such a state I remember little of it. I was let to rest, but only briefly, for having my mind in a rested state was no part of their plan. I was forced to crawl about the room once more, then returned to the front part of the cottage, and once again presented with the orders to position and reposition my now well-striped body. Afterwards I was ordered to masturbate, and did so to the best of my ability. I did not expect to feel any pleasure from caressing my body, and was surprised at what small sexual heat I was able to raise. However, I went through the motions, and upon further orders did my best to pretend that I was enjoying and even climaxing from masturbating.

  Following this the gag was removed from my mouth, and I was permitted to drink a small amount of water which was placed in a bowl on the floor before me. I was not permitted to use my hands for this action, but must drink in the manner of animals. Following this I performed fellatio on both men, and then was introduced to cunnilingus, performing on the woman who had used her own mouth on me earlier to such powerful effect.

  I was given a small amount of somewhat tasteless food to eat, and again must eat without the use of hands, as though I were an animal. Following this was an exercise in verbal self abuse where I repeated numerous foul statements regarding my morality and sexual proclivities and confessed to uncountable perversions. The slightest hesitation in movement or statement drew a blow, sometimes quite sharp, and so I learned to obey without thinking.

  The hood was not removed for several days, and this time I spent in absolute helplessness, subject to blows at any time without even the ability to see their approach. For hours on end I was stood in the middle of the front room, wrists locked together above my head, and at any time, without notice, a harsh blow from hand or crop would land somewhere upon my body. It kept me in a state of constant wariness and anxiety, which, I suppose now, was the intent.

  When I was not bound in that way I was further degraded by being forced to remain on my hands and knees like an animal. To this end my ankles were lifted back and strapped tightly to the backs of my thighs, and my wrists were pulled back and bound to my upper arms just below the shoulders. Thus, hooded and blind, I was forced to hobble about on my elbows and knees, eating and drinking from bowls set before me and using my tongue on whatever parts of the floor, wall or other people's bodies to which I was directed.

  Any use of my voice, on the occasions in which I was not gagged, drew instant repercussions, normally a quick blow with either hand or crop. I was permitted to answer questions or make statements as directed, but I was not allowed to ask for anything, be it food, freedom, or mercy. On one occasion, as if to remind me of my animal-like appearance and status I was ordered to bark like a dog.

  At night, or what I took, in my blindness, to be night, I was bound more tightly, often to the point where I could not move so much as an inch. I was constantly hungry and thirsty, and in a state of some disorientation due to my blindness. To take advantage of this a pair of headphones was firmly placed against my ears each night, and the woman's soft voice would croon to me for hours on end.

  "I am a slave," she would whisper, her voice sometimes so low it was difficult to hear. "I am a whore. I am a slave. I must obey. I will be hurt if I do not obey. I must serve my master. I love my master. I must always obey. I am a slave. I am made to give pleasure. I must obey. My purpose in life is to bring pleasure. My body was made to be used. I am a slave..."

  On and on it would go, whispering, crooning, hour after hour after hour until it all became almost a background noise, hardly even recognized.

  By morning I would groan with relief and gratitude as I was released from my rigid immovement to perform sexual acts upon one or the other of my captors. And I would hardly think about the words spoken in my ear all night long. Yet that night they would return, hindering what little sleep I might find.

  Finally, after long congratulation regarding my behaviour, and many warnings that a single instance of disobedience could set me back to the beginning, the hood was removed and I was once again permitted to see. I cannot adequately express the relief I felt at once again being able to look on the world around me, even if that world consisted of nothing but a small room and three not very friendly adults. I was surprised to find my body relatively unmarked. It had, of course, been several days since I had been flogged, yet I had expected to see long red wheals criss-crossing my pale skin, and there were but a few very light lines to recall the event.

  I was permitted to crawl into the bathroom then, and kneel on all fours in the bathtub as Mistress (for I had no names for any of them) bathed me and shampooed my hair. This felt glorious, for I was quite filthy by then. After this was done she removed her own clothes and slid into the tub alongside me, pulling me around so I lay on my back, and kissing me lightly.

  I responded at once, and gladly, for you will understand that after the harsh treatment to which I had been subjected I was not only desperate to avoid more, not only eager to please my cruel captors, but also, as a young girl is wont, desperate for any measure of affection and gentleness. And as Mistress held me in her arms and gently caressed my soapy flesh I returned her kisses with no hesitation what
ever, our lips moving together in soft, but growing passion.

  She brought one of my hands to her breast, and I squeezed it carefully, marvelling at the feel of it against my fingers, at the soft, tactile pleasure as my fingertips sank into the warm flesh and grazed the bump of her nipple. Our tongues slid lazily together as our lips made soft love, and my hands began to move over her body, mirroring her own upon mine. It was the lovemaking I had never known, and my mind soared in wonder and delight as we rolled slowly there in the water, half in, half out.

  I lapped at her nipples, large and brown, but swollen with lust. I closed my mouth around one, tasting some soap, but not caring, suckling like a babe as she sighed and caressed my head and breast. I moved from one breast to the other, eager to pleasure her, my fingers gently kneading her breasts as she stroked my head like a faithful dog.

  She eased herself up out of the water, sitting on the edge of the tub, in the corner, and spreading her long legs out along the top. I needed no urging, nor was I at all reluctant as I slid forward in the water and brought my lips against her sex. I made careful love to her, using all that she had taught me, feeling a mounting excitement as she moaned in pleasure and began to slowly roll her hips against me.

  "Darling little slut," she groaned, caressing my head. "Filthy little slave. Yeses, darling! Use your tongue there. Ahhh, filthy little girl. Nasty, wicked little slave! You're so baaaaad."

  I teased her clitoris with my tongue, circling it slowly, then reversing my direction before lapping directly across it. I brought my lips against it, now suckling rhythmically, now massaging it by rubbing my lips in opposite directions. I drew back and blew a stream of warm air across it, then pushed forward, licking hard, varying my actions according to her responses. My hands caressed her moist thighs, sliding up along her dripping body to gently knead her breasts, and she sighed and moaned encouragement, telling me again how sluttish and cheap I was, and what a good slave girl I had become, one worthy of her affection.