A Life of Submission Read online

  I brought her to climax, and she shuddered as she clutched my head, jamming my face into her sex. Then she groaned in relief and slid back into the water, pulling me into her arms and hugging me tightly.

  I was on my best behaviour thereafter, and each day would bring more testing, more training. I was put through my paces like a dog, rapidly changing the positions of my naked body as required, performing whatever menial thing was demanded of me, stating whatever wicked thing I was ordered to, all without hesitation or thought. And, of course, I was used as a sexual pleasure toy by all three of them, sometimes one at a time, sometimes all together.

  One night I was permitted to actually sleep in a bed, rather than bound into a tight state of discomfort on the floor or in a closet. On this occasion Mistress was out, and the two Masters took me to a large bed early in the evening. We made love for many hours, each taking me in turn, or on occasion, together. Often I would fellate one as the other sodomized me. And afterwards I was permitted to stay in bed with one of the men, the American, with no bondage but a chain locked to my collar and the headboard of the bed.

  A day after this I was ordered to position myself on my feet in the centre of their front room. I stood straight, my hands behind my neck, unbound, yet locked into place by their orders. All three were present, and I looked nervously upon a small tray the woman rolled before me. On it were medicinal bottles of some sort, together with a group of very sharp little instruments.

  "You will hold your position, and not move. Do you understand, slave?" she said.

  "Yes, mistress," I replied, anxiety filling me due to uncertain, and the coldness of her voice.

  "Your nipples are going to be pierced," she said. "This is not much different than when you were younger and had your ears pierced and I do not want you to act like a silly baby. If you move your position you will be punished."

  That, of course, I had already known. I was less anxious after her words, though gripped by a wonderment and a little quiver of excitement. To have my nipples pierced was a shocking idea. I had never heard of such a thing, and was attempting to consider how and why this might be accomplished when one of the men gripped my wrists behind my head and jerked back roughly, forcing me to arch my back even more, and look up towards the ceiling. He then let go, forcing me to self-discipline - which to my mind was considerably more difficult.

  I gasped as I felt a harsh sensation against my left nipple, but after a moment recognized it as an ice cube. They had taunted and teased me with ice cubes at various times over the previous few days, even slipping them into my anus and pussy, so I adjusted quickly. The ice cube was rolled back and forth across my nipple, forcing it to swell and pucker and thrust out to meet its fate. I was attempting to discipline my breathing, which was becoming harsher due to my anxiety, when I felt something pinch my nipple just at its base.

  "Don't move," she ordered.

  The pain - was not inconsiderable. I had, of course, adjusted somewhat to pain over the course of my captivity, and was less shocked by it than I had once been. Nevertheless, the harshness and sharpness of the pain biting into my nipple made me tremble and shake, and the air began to raggedly puff in and out of my chest as tears filled my eyes. I moaned softly, but did not dare to move, interlinking my fingers and clenching my teeth against the pain as it became more biting, more sharp, and then began to fade.

  Perspiration stood out on my chest and forehead by then, and I felt a continuing source of pain in my nipple as her fingers twisted it lightly. Then she drew back slightly and I felt the ice cube rolling against my other nipple. I whimpered slightly, but braced myself both body and mind to a repeat of the pain I had already experienced.

  One of the men behind me pushed his foot between my ankles and forced my legs further apart, then jerked back on my wrists. My arched back had eased somewhat and he clearly required me to draw back further. Again I felt a terribly sharp pain against my nipple, causing me to grind my teeth and close my eyes, forcing body to tremble and shake with the need to escape. Almost did I give way and throw myself back. Yet I knew this would not avail me, for they would simply hold me in place to repeat the necessary piercing and then beat me.

  The pain faded, though both nipples felt somewhat heavy now, and throbbed hotly, and I started to straighten, wanting to examine them.

  "Don't move!" she snapped harshly.

  I froze in place, arching my back further still.

  "We are not finished. Spread your legs further."

  I obeyed, wondering at what else they intended, my insides quivering and fluttering with alarm, pain and anxiety.

  "We're going to pierce your clitoris."

  I thought that surely this was mistaken, that I had either misheard or she was making an idle threat. But strong hands gripped both my ankles then, holding them in place, and my wrists and hair were gripped behind my neck, held tightly.

  I felt her fingers spreading open the soft lips of my sex, then easing the hood back to expose my clitoris. Yet even then I did not believe she had spoken truly. I was staring up at the ceiling, gaping really, I suppose, shocked and wondering, alarm rising higher and higher inside me as the ice cube played over my clitoris.

  "Please," I whispered.

  I felt my clitoris pinched, and my ankles jerked instinctively against the hands holding them in place.

  "Don't move," I was ordered.

  The pain which came next was shocking in its intensity, and on its affect on my body. My limbs all spasmed and jerked violently and my body began to sway and pull against the hands holding it in place. I felt a terrible pain accompanied by a sense of nausea and cried out as both grew stronger.

  Then they both subsided somewhat, and, trembling and weak-kneed, my flesh glistening with perspiration, I was released. I staggered a step or so, and immediately cupped my groin with both palms, bending dizzyingly over to see what had been done to me.

  My clitoris had indeed been pierced, and a small gold ring had been inserted through the hole. Furthermore, as I bent, I could not but help notice both my nipples were similarly pierced by identical gold rings, each quite thin, but large enough to have fit around my thumb.

  "Try not to touch any of them. We don't want you getting infected," Mistress said.

  I thought that they actually did look quite pretty, in an odd, but deeply erotic sort of way, but the pain still throbbing within my nipples and clitoris prevented me from welcoming these new additions to my body. However, for the next few days my captors were careful about the way they handled and fondled me, and this at least was some relief.

  My training continued unabated, however. Long periods of time were spent on my knees, instantly twisting and contorting my body to the orders one or another would snap out to me, or immediately responding orally to statements or questions.

  "What are you?"

  "A worthless slave, master."

  "What must you do?"

  "Obey, master."

  "What is your purpose?"

  "To give pleasure with my body, master."

  Any hesitation whatever would draw a blow, which inspired me, of course, to very quick obedience.

  Mistress then taught me how to strip and dance, and we spent considerable hours rolling our hips and moving our bodies to various songs coming over the radio. She instructed me on how to make my face appear seductive, or coy, or shy, depending on what persona she wished me to take on. I was also taught to speak in a subservient manner, always with a tone of respect if not admiration for my masters and mistress.

  Of course, I was alone quite often, usually bound, and had a considerable amount of time to consider my situation. Although I was being trained, and learning to obey instantly, I cannot say that I was an eager student. I resented my captivity and abuse and longed for freedom and the peace it would bring. My values had changed, of course, for outrage, indignation and humiliation at being naked and sexually abused could not continue indefinitely. Even sodomy soon came to be routine, and hardly caused me
any trauma or unhappiness.

  Yet I continued to feel my situation was most unfair and that despite what they said, and despite the frequent betrayal of my body, I was not the subhuman creature they continued to insist. My awe and fright of them began to ease, and my opinion reformed accordingly. The men were arrogant, but so far as I could see, had little cause for such a sense of superiority. The conversations which I overheard seemed no more sophisticated or intelligent than any I might overhear my male acquaintances engage in, and often quite a deal less so. And neither seemed to be a man of any great accomplishment in life, for surely if they had been they would not have resorted to stealing helpless girls and selling them..

  The woman was somewhat different. She seemed to take sex and all that went with it as a matter of great and natural pleasure. She was insatiable in that area, and I sensed that she found little guilt in treating me the way she did because she considered such treatment not only natural but desirable. Rather than the arrogance I sensed in the men she had a seemingly limitless degree of lust and passion, triggered always by her subjugation of and use of me as her slave.

  In truth I found that excitement contagious, and her obvious delight at the beauty of my bound, naked body gave me a feeling of pride and attractiveness, a sense that people would be intensely eager to taste the softness of my flesh and feast their eyes on the beauty of my helpless, bound form. At times, as she positioned me to be used, binding me down, I felt my loins throbbing and heating with excitement as the leather or rope tightened around my wrists and ankles, and my body would welcome her every touch as she forced it to experience the thrill and pleasure she felt herself.

  It was with considerable shock and dismay that I found myself, one day, sent away from her. I did not miss the two men, but I had grown strangely fond of Mistress, and feared the unknown to which I was now to be subjected.

  I was given a thin silk shift to wear. It was much like a poncho in nature, being a long strip of square material with a round hole through which my head protruded. It fell to just below my groin and buttocks, front and back, but was open at the sides. A slim gold chain went around the middle to hold the two sides in place, but the lower part continued to flap widely whenever I moved, so the cover was slight.

  My wrists were shackled together behind my back, and my ankles were also shackled, with a chain of sufficient length to permit me to move by quick shuffling, but not to give any hope of fleeing. I was gagged, and collared, and the man to whom I was given led me by leash out of the house and across the yard to a van similar in nature to the one which had brought me there. I was placed in the back and strapped in place on the floor, and as the door slid shut I saw my kidnappers for the last time.

  We drove for some time, and the man spoke to me not at all. I dosed a little, for I had not had any real length of sleep since my capture, but anxiety kept my sleep light and troubled.

  It was night by the time the van stopped, and I waited warily for my fate to be unveiled. Away from the cottage, at last, from my prison, I began to think again about escape, about finding some way to call outside attention to my plight. Yet I saw no opportunity, and the violence to which I had been subjected made me quite wary of drawing more.

  The man unstrapped me and helped me sit, then pulled me free of the van. I found we were on a wide, darkened dock next to a large ocean-going ship of some kind, a freighter. The man, holding my arm now, instead of my leash, led me to a gangplank which led up to the dock. I looked around in vain for someone to whom I could signal for help, but the only people in sight were my captor and two dirty, smirking individuals standing at the foot of the gangplank.

  Both looked at me with hungry eyes, lust and contempt equally clear in their minds, and I felt deeply grateful for even the slight modesty the little white shift afforded me. For though I had become accustomed to nudity around Mistress and the two masters, still my face heated at these new eyes and minds ravishing my body. I also felt a rising indignation. I wanted to shout that I was a solicitor, or would be, that I was far more intelligent than they, and better educated.

  Yet they cared nothing for that. They cared only for my breasts, for my sex and buttocks, for my legs and lips. I was an object of desire for them, but my mind was something to be dismissed. It was not necessary to the satisfying of their members, their lusts, and they felt quite superior to it since it was attached to such a helpless body.

  The man led me up the gangplank, then down into the bowels of the ship. The air was damp and chilly, and the dark steel corridors dirty and unappealing. After descending several stairwells, stairwells so steep my captor was forced to unchain my ankles, we paused before a narrow steel hatch. My captor unlocked the hatch and flung it inward, then pushed me into the small cabin.

  There were three bunks along the walls, and a girl sat upon two of them. Each of them seemed approximately my age, with one being a big busted brunette, and the other being a blonde with waist-length hair. Both were nude, and their arms were apparently bound behind their backs.

  "You will cause no trouble. There is water there on the table, and the toilet is in the corner. You will be fed when it is time and you will be permitted up on deck for air after dark. Obey."

  Obey.

  The word sent a strange little shiver through me, and my eyes blinked helplessly as he pushed me forward.

  The man glared around at each of us, then left, closing the door behind. We all heard the solid snick of the bolt being shot, and were alone with each other.

  The brunette had a round, sad face, and a cute, pageboy haircut and looked quite miserable as she sat on the edge of her bunk. The other blonde girl looked angry, sullen, glaring at I and the brunette, then at the porthole, then at the hatch.

  None of us spoke, however. I had become accustomed to not speaking unless I was spoken to, and not once since I had been captured had doing so failed to bring a blow. I supposed the other two had been similarly taught.

  After a few minutes the blonde girl lay down, stretching long legs along the bunk and looking up at the ceiling. The brunette looked at me miserably, wide brown eyes looking much like those of a puppy I had once owned.

  "Do you know where we're going?" I ventured at last.

  The brunette's eyes widened and she gasped in fear, turning quickly to look at the hatch. The blonde girl turned her head and glared at me. Neither replied for a few minutes.

  "We're whores," the blonde girl said finally.

  "But I'm a virgin."

  She looked at me in disgust.

  "I want to go home," the brunette whimpered.

  "Shut up, you cow," the blonde snapped.

  "I wonder if we're going to Arabia or something," I gulped.

  "Maybe," the blonde said. "Somewhere we can be nicely abused without any of the authorities intervening."

  "You have nice eyes," the brunette said, rather oddly.

  I frowned at her. "Thank you," I said uncertainly.

  The blonde looked at me slowly. "Yes, you do have nice eyes. You look kind of...delicate. You'll fetch a nice price, you and big tits here."

  "I still don't understand how people can sell us!" I exclaimed.

  "We're girl meat," she replied bitterly. "That's what they told me. Nothing but girl meat, toys for the boys."

  The ship shuddered briefly, then with a growing quiver as it moved away from the dock. Before long we were out to sea, moving slowly and rolling slightly from side to side. We lay back and tried to get some sleep in the dark, but were all too fearful.

  We spoke very softly, all having acquaintance with beatings for speaking anything approaching a protest, commiserating warily with one eye on the door. The other blonde was named Sara, and the brunette was Penny. Both had been taken, much as I had, though by different people, trained, disciplined, well-used as neither was a virgin, and repeatedly taught their place in the world was that of a slave.

  It was a shocking thing to learn those who had captured me were not unique, that there were possibly
whole legions of such people about, kidnapping helpless girls, abusing them, and then selling them abroad. I could hardly believe such a thing could happen once, let alone with such apparent regularity.

  Sara spoke with an upper class accent. She had been at university, in her third year, studying art history, of all things. Her parents were wealthy and she had grown up amidst the privilege of the public schools and proper society. It was clear her present circumstances infuriated her.

  Penny was a shop girl, having worked in her parents grocery store. While Sara's intelligence was obvious Penny was quite clearly not generously endowed with intelligence. She seemed sad and bewildered more than anything else.

  We had no sense of time in our little steel box. A long while passed, however, before the hatch opened. A man came in, all shifty eyes and eager leers, carrying a tray of food. He set bowls of food and water on the floor, then turned to look warily behind him before darting forward.

  He gripped Penny's hair and bent over her as he forced her head back, grasping one of her breasts crudely and squeezing it quite hard. His mouth moved to her nipple, chewing and suckling in a frenzy as his fingers twisted and mauled her breast. Penny took this action with feigned pleasure, moaning and begging him for more, spreading her legs wide so that he could grope and fondle her there.

  But then the man turned and hurried out, slamming the hatch behind him, and her face turned sad once more.

  The three of us moved off the bunks and examined our food and water, then attempted to eat a little and drink - in the manner we had been taught, bent over on our knees, lapping like animals.

  More time passed, and we lay back on our bunks, talking softly, wondering where we were bound, and what chances of escape might come.

  The door opened suddenly and a strange man stood there. He examined us all shrewdly, then snapped his fingers at the floor before him. Sara, for all her bitterness and rebellious attitude, grasped his intent first, but Penny and I were but an instant behind in throwing ourselves to our knees before him.

  He looked us over, then reached out to Sara, grasping her hair to pull her to her feet and press her body against him. She returned his kisses with an apparent eagerness that was embarrassing to see, for I knew the depths of her anger and resentment. She preened before him, rubbing her naked body against his chest and moaning in pleasure as she slid her tongue into his mouth.