Fifty Shades of Submission (16 page)

If only she would use the whip on me again. There is something infinit
ely comforting in punishment. It implies the possibility of forgiveness.

She
seems to have completely forgotten the slave contract. She has not mentioned it again. Does she still intend going through with it?

To
day I caught her glancing at me with a strange pleasure. She gently reached out and stroked my brow. "I love you, Julian," she whispered softly. "I don't think I could ever love any one more than I love you at this moment. Let’s forget our quarrel and start afresh. What do you say?"

Instead of replying I
threw my arms around her. A profound, yet melancholy happiness welled up inside me. My eyes grew moist and a tear fell on her hand.

"
Oh, Julian!" she exclaimed, "You’re far too sensitive for your own good!"

On our walk today our paths crossed once again with the new guest. His eyes lit on Saskia as though he wanted to undress her with his icy stare. He seemed
unpleasantly surprised to see me at her side again. She, however, paid absolutely no attention to him, as though she did not even see him. She let her glance slide over him with utter indifference. Then she turned to me with a radiant smile and squeezed my hand.

At
that moment my heart bursting with humble gratitude. I was overwhelmed by my love for her.

I had a sleepless night. Finally, in the early hours of the morning as the cold grey light of dawn touched my window, I made a decision. I got out of bed and wrote Saskia a letter in which I declared that our relationship was dissolved. My hands were trembling when I sealed the envelope.

As I went upstairs to
give it to her, my legs threatened to give way under me.

I knocked and her
door opened, and she stood there smiling at me, clearly pleased to see me. "What have you there?"

"A letter—"

"For me?"

I nodded.

"Ah, you’re breaking up with me," she said intuitively.

My whole body was tr
embling as I offered her the letter.

"
Keep it
," she said scornfully. "Really, it is no longer a question of whether or not you will
ever
be capable of satisfying me as a man – the question now is whether you could
ever
satisfy me as my slave."

"
Saskia-" I began.

She cut me off.
"Do not dare call me by my name in future," she said, lifting her chain haughtily with utter contempt. "Put your affairs in order within the next twenty-four hours. The day after to-morrow we shall be leaving here, and you will accompany me as my slave."

"
Saskia—"

"I
absolutely
forbid
any sort of familiarity," she said cuttingly. "From now on you will not speak unless you are spoken to. And from now on your name is no longer Julian, I shall simply address you as Slave. In my opinion, you are too low, too pathetically inconsequential to deserve a name."

I
began to tremble and yet, I also began to feel an overwhelming sense of excitement and relief –
finally, it has begun
.

“The time has come to
redeem your promise and to follow me as my slave wherever I go, and to obey my every command. Now leave me, Slave!"

I turned toward the door.

"Wait! Not yet—you may first kiss my hand." She held her hand out to me with cold indifference and I, her submissive yet ecstatic slave, pressed it with intense tenderness against my lips which were hot with excitement.

Then I was dismissed.

The following day Saskia drove me into town. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. She
headed for the sleaziest part of the commercial district and parked in front of a tattoo parlor.

“Come,” she commanded.

It appeared that she had made a prior appointment - the tattoo artist was expecting us. A man in his fifties, he looked like a member of a motorcycle gang. He wore a black T-shirt with ripped-off sleeves with a grotesque tableau of skulls and chains emblazoned across the chest. Long grey hair fell in dirty strands on his muscled shoulders. His face and his arms and neck were completely covered in tattoos depicting more skulls and bloodthirsty images of death and hell.

“I want
the tattoos on him to be finished in one sitting,” Saskia told him. “I don’t care how long it takes. Do the wording exactly as we discussed.”

She looked at me dismi
ssively. “Find your own way back to the hotel when it’s done.” She paid the man and left.

The tattooist showed me to what looked a like a dentist’s chair
and got to work. After a ten-hour session and a great deal of pain and discomfort, the job was finally done. He held up a mirror for me to inspect his handiwork.

The words ‘
Serve, Obey, Worship
,’ were emblazoned in big bold black gothic letters across my pectorals, and below that, in the middle of my chest, a huge tattoo of a pair of wrists bound together in chains, with the word
Slave
inscribed boldly underneath. The final piece of skin art was the depiction of barbed wire wrapped around my penis shaft. That had been particularly painful to endure.

The tattoo artist lit a cigarette and grinned lopsidedly. “You got a kinky thing going on with your bitch, dude. Respect!” He wasn’t only referring to the fresh tattoos, of course, he was
also talking about my nipple, testicle and penis rings.

“Bondage, slavery,
BDSM - you into all that shit?”

I
nodded.

“
Respect! That’s some fucked up crazy shit, dude!” He laughed and shook his head. “A hot looking bitch like that can seriously fuck with your head if you ain’t careful, know what I mean?”

I knew exactly what he meant.

She knocked on my door late that night with a sharp rapping sound. I opened the door and she stood there with he
r thick fur coat wrapped luxuriously around her, the whip in her hands. She had used the handle of the whip to knock.

She
came into my room and I closed the door behind her and she turned to face me.

"Are you ready, slave
?" she asked.

"Yes
, mistress," I replied.

"
I like that word," she said. "You are always to call me mistress from now on, do you understand?”

I nodded.
“Yes, mistress.”

“
We are leaving here to-morrow morning at nine o'clock sharp. From the moment that we leave here you are my slave and my servant in body and soul – understand?”

"
Saskia, I —"

"Who gave you permission
to use my name?" She gave me a sharp blow with the whip across my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, mistress.”

“That’s better.”

She
sat down in the arm-chair. "Kneel down in front of me."

I obeyed.

"Kiss my hand."

I took
her pale cold hand and kissed it.

“Now,
take off all your clothes and let me see your bodywork.”

I
got undressed and stood naked before her and she inspected my chest.

“
Serve, obey, worship
,” she read, her eyes lighting on the angry black words etched into my skin. “I shall expect you to live up to that slogan.”

“Yes, mistress.”

"Now, you may kiss me on the mouth as reward. I want you to pleasure me with your tongue in my mouth.”

I
put my arms around this beautiful, cruel woman, and kissed her. A surge of passion rose up inside me and hardened my cock almost instantly. She guided my head with her hands, indicating that I should kiss her neck. Then she opened her fur coat - she was naked underneath. She guided my mouth to her breasts, then her nipples.

She
threw her head back and moaned softly, pleasurably, eyelids closed as I sucked her nipples. “I love it when you suckle at my breasts,” she murmured. “Are you hard? Are you excited?”

“
Yes
,
mistress
,” I whispered hoarsely.

“Good.” She guided my
head down further, to her navel, then her groin and onwards, down to the secret furry nest between her legs.  She opened her legs wide and pushed my face hard against her. My probing tongue found her salty clitoris and she began to moan and move her hips slowly and rhythmically up against my tongue.

“
Make me come, slave
,” she groaned. “
Make your mistress come!
”

I pushed harder
and more intensely with my mouth, probing and sucking and pushing, and finally her body arched and she threw her head back and gave a low, deep-throated sigh and her body relaxed.

I lay with my face buried against her vagina, gasping. My swollen cock was s
creaming for release.

Saskia opened her eyes and looked down at me. “
Serve, obey, worship
,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t you ever forget that, slave.”

She pushed me away and stoo
d up, wrapping her fur coat about her. “Be ready and packed by tomorrow morning,” she said, and left.

I
slumped down naked in the armchair next to my bed, feeling empty and cheated. I looked up and saw myself in the full-length mirror on the wall. My penis was engorged with blood to the point of exploding, standing up rigidly and demanding attention.

I pulled the chair closer to the mirror and
opened my legs and then slung one leg over the arm of the chair. I watched my body closely as I took my swollen, erect penis in my hand. I gave it a few pleasurable strokes and then I began to explore the rest of my body, touching first my nipples and then massaging my scrotum firmly. My testicles responded instantly to my touch and I began to relax, enjoying the familiar pleasurable sensation, taking my time to stimulate myself.

I
f Saskia refused to satisfy me, I would do it myself.

I reached for
the bottle of body lotion on the bedside table and lubricated my penis with slow caressing movements, then touched my abdomen, nipples and thighs once more, arousing myself even further before returning to my penis. I stroked and massaged my whole penis – the shaft and the tip - as well as my scrotum and perineum – the small area between the scrotum and anus. I noticed a delicious tingling at the base of my penis and my breathing became more labored as the beginnings of a delicious orgasm began to stir and gather momentum in my loins. I felt it build and just before I reached the point of no return I stopped and did the deep breathing exercises that I had learnt over the years to avoid ejaculation, while pressing the head of my penis firmly with my fingers and focusing mentally. Once the moment had passed I began arousing myself all over again.

I brought myself to several peaks of
gratifying orgasm without ejaculating and finally, after more than an hour of pleasuring myself and riding the heady explosive waves of multiple orgasms, the sexual energy became too intense and I finally let go. I felt a surge of sexual voltage race up my spine and explode throughout my body and finally expel through my open mouth in a soft growl of agonized ecstasy.

I lay back in the chair with my eyes c
losed, enjoying
the sexual tingling that always circulated through my body after a long and satisfying session of self-stimulation.

I felt
at peace and content for the first time that day.

I
opened my eyes at last and looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I had mastered the art of masturbation at a young age and was able to prolong my sexual pleasure for hours, enjoying multiple orgasms without ejaculating.

If Saskia would no longer offer me her
precious vagina for my enjoyment there was no reason why I could not continue to enjoy myself as I have always done.

I
laughed softly to myself as I recalled the mythical god Atum, the creator of life. According to ancient Egyptian mythology, Atum masturbated and swallowed his own semen. Then he spat it out to produce the first male and female on earth. And the Egyptian god Apsu copulated with his own fist in order to fertilize himself and create the Milky Way. And then there was the great god Enki who, according to Sumerian myth, masturbated and then ejaculated the rivers Tigris and Euphrates. So, according to the gods, men are able to fuck themselves and then accomplish great deeds with their semen.