Her Willing Submission - A Bride Blossoms With BDSM and Male Domination (11 page)

“No,” he replied.

Eva was suddenly scared, “I’m not getting a tattoo, right?” she asked with fear.

“No,” he replied.
 

Andre shook hands with the owner and pointed to Eva. The owner nodded and ushered them into the back of the shop. There was a small room with a chair in the middle that looked like a barber’s or dentist’s chair. “Sit right here, Eva,” said Andre patting the big chair. Eva did as she was told.
 

Andre looked into her eyes. “Today you’re getting your nipples pierced. I want you to have a constant reminder of who controls your body. I want you to have something to look at and feel every day that shows you who you serve and why you have jewelry on your big tits at all times.”

Eva had stark terror in her eyes and her hands began to tremble. The shop owner seemed oblivious to their conversation and placed a clipboard in her lap that contained what she assumed was a consent form. Andre looked at it. It was all in Spanish and contained a blank for her name. He filled it in and handed it to Eva to sign. Her hand shook as she signed it. Andre handed the owner a wad of bills. Then he reached into his pocket and gave him more with a knowing nod. They both smiled.

The chair was moved into a reclined position and Andre told Eva to remove her breasts from her dress. The owner swabbed them with generous amounts of disinfectant. He removed instruments from an autoclave and placed a device that looked like pliers onto her left nipple. He squeezed it tight and her nipple was immobilized under the pressure of the clamp. He slid a long, thin skewer into a channel on the pliers. To pierce the nipple the skewer slid through the channel, always following the exact path it needed to in order to come out perfectly where it should on the other side of the nipple. When the device was in place the owner stepped back from the chair and nodded to Andre.

Andre took the device in his hand. “I’m going to pierce your nipples myself, Eva. I want you to tell me who owns your tits and what can be done with them. Say it.”

Eva’s voice trembled with fear but she looked him square in the eyes, “You own these big tits, Sir. You can do anything you want to them, Sir.”
 

On her last word Andre pressed the skewer through her nipple. The pain was less than she feared. The needle was very sharp and thin. It hurt, to be sure, but Andre’s pinching and twisting in past discipline sessions hurt equally. Tears came to her eyes but she did not cry.
 

The shop owner completed the procedure and inserted a silver barbell into the piercing then moved the apparatus to her right nipple.
 

Andre repeated the ritual, “Say it,“ he told her.

“You own these big tits, Sir. You can do anything you want to them, Sir. Thank you for giving me a reminder of your control over me. Thank you for piercing my big tits, Sir.”
 

Again he pressed the needle through her pink, engorged nipple and again she whimpered and bit her lip with obedience. A sense of pride came over her for taking her man’s token bravely and without bargaining. She knew she’d done well.

They left the shop and went back to their hotel for drinks. When they sat at the outdoor bar Eva noticed the couple from the room next door were sitting adjacent to them. Again the woman gave Eva a disapproving look. Eva nudged Andre and pointed out the couple.
 

“Hi. Where are you folks from?” he asked.

The husband answered, “Memphis.”

Andre tried to be friendly, “Oh, some great barbecue in that town. I suppose you can’t get much of that around here.”

The man smiled but his wife still looked dour.
 

“Ma’am you seem upset with us. Did we do something wrong?” Andre asked her.

She looked at both of them. “Well, let’s just say the walls in this hotel pretty thin. Folks can hear you carrying on and, to be blunt, I don’t like the idea of a wife being slapped.”

Andre turned to Eva with a smile, “Honey?”

Eva took a sip of her drink, cuddled closer to Andre and spoke to the couple, “It’s not like that, Ma’am. The truth is I was brought up to think sex was dirty and sinful. When we got married I had a lot of trouble pleasing my husband and I was unhappy and unfulfilled. Worse, I was hurting the person I love the most. Luckily for me, Andre helped me let go of my fears and inhibitions. One of the ways we do that is to have him discipline me when I fall back to my old ways.”

The woman was unconvinced, “Uh-huh. I’ve heard that before. You’re supposed to believe you deserve it.”

Eva continued, “It’s not that. It’s more like I want it more than anything else. I want to become, if you’ll excuse my language Ma’am, a whore in the bedroom. Like that old saying about a chef in the kitchen and a lady in the parlor. I need to learn to be a whore with my husband. I want that more than anything and I want him to push me to get there. If that means a hard spanking or even a whipping with a belt, then I want it. This trip to Mexico has been the greatest time in my life. And I apologize if we disturbed you with our noise. That was wrong of us. But what you heard was some of the best sex I’ve ever had in my life and if I could live every day of it over I would. Except maybe I’d want it harder than I got it this time,” she giggled.

The woman seemed to relax a bit, “Well, I’m glad to hear it wasn’t something against your will.”

Eva smiled, “No, Ma’am. What you heard was me doing whatever my husband wanted, and nothing gives me more pleasure than that. In fact, I think we share a love that goes deeper than most people. May I show you my rear end, just for a second?”

The couple looked at each other and nodded with some amusement. Eva turned her ass toward them and lifted the back of her dress. She never wore panties so they were treated to a view of her perfect, bare ass. The welts from the morning still criscrossed her cheeks. The husband leered with a grin until his wife elbowed him.
 

“These marks are from this morning. It excites Andre to see them, and do you know what? I love him so deeply that if it excites him I want. I will actually beg him to use the cane on me and then sodomize me for his pleasure. Do you love your husband that much, Ma’am? You don’t have to answer, but I want to make it clear that’s our situation. We will try to be more quiet but if you hear a belt tonight or a scream it’s only me showing my husband how much I love and appreciate him.”

The couple stammered a few words about being happy Eva and Andre were in love then gulped their drinks and left the bar hastily.
 

Andre was beaming at Eva’s victory over caring what other people thought about her or their relationship. She was polite but she told them plainly that she felt right about what they did and their disapproval was misplaced. A perfect response.

That night was their last in Cancun and they had hot sex without the aid of any toys. Eva was allowed to climb on top of Andre and ride his big cock for as many orgasms as she wanted. It was a rare treat for her to spoil herself with multiple orgasms and she relished the reward she earned so richly.

They had an early flight in the morning. They packed their bags and rolled them into the hallway. In the hall they heard the unmistakable sound from the other couple’s room of a woman getting a spanking and wailing ‘thank you,’ the whole time. Apparently the incident at the bar had led to further discussion between the older couple.
 

Eva darted back into their room and grabbed a hotel notepad. She drew a big smiley face and scribbled a few words. As they left she silently slipped the note under the door of the couple from the bar.

Andre chucked as they headed for the elevator, “What did you write on that note?” he asked.

Eva put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. “Welcome to my world!” she said.

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Read below for sample of Kim Acton’s book

College Discipline

A Sample of Chapter One of:

COLLEGE DISCIPLINE by Kim Acton

Heather absentmindedly turned the pages of the campus newspaper. She couldn’t concentrate on what she was reading due to her worry about flunking two classes in the semester and driving her GPA below the level where she qualified for her scholarships and financial aid. She could feel desperation seize her as she tried to think of some way to get her hands around the problem and boost her grades on her exams later that month.

That’s when her eyes caught an unusual classified advertisement in the back pages of the newspaper:

 
“Bad Grades? Do you lack the motivation and discipline to study hard and improve your grades? Strict corporal discipline could be the answer for you.”

The ad contained an e-mail address and the name “The Professor.” Heather read the ad three times before she set down the paper, gulped the remainder of her orange juice and hurried off to her day of classes. What was waiting for her was not pleasant. Her world history professor had just posted grades online for the test she wrote the week before. It was bad.
 

Her afternoon class in medical biology brought more grim news; another low grade that threatened her financial aid. By the time her school day was over Heather was in tears. When she got back to her dorm room she studied the ad in the paper for a few minutes, reading it again and again. She sent an e-mail to the address explaining her situation and was surprised to receive an answer with five minutes.

The email said;

It’s possible that I can help you. Come to this address this evening at 8PM sharp.
 

 
The address was an upscale condo building bordering the campus, an easy ten minute walk from Heather’s dorm. She figured she’d go talk to the guy and determine whether he could help. She worried about what sort of discipline he had in mind and how she would pay for his service. In fact, she worried about everything related to the whole idea, but mostly she worried about flunking two credits and having to quit college altogether. That’s what impelled her to keep her appointment.

 
She knocked on the door promptly at eight o'clock and it was answered by a well dressed, very handsome man in his late thirties who appeared trim and fit. His wire-rim glasses and corduroy jacket gave him the classic look of person who spent his life in the academic world.

“I assume you are Heather. Please take a seat in the living room. I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said.

Heather was impressed with the decor. Of course, she’d become used to her friend’s dorms and apartment’s which were invariably filled with crappy hand me downs and mismatched, discarded furniture. This home was sumptuously decorated with polished mahogany bookshelves and leather furniture. She took a seat on the end of a sofa, crossed her legs and did her best to not look nervous.

Her host returned to the room and took a seat directly across from her. Before he said a word he looked her up and down slowly then began to ask her several questions, “What is your major? What classes are you failing? How many hours do you devote to study? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you party often with friends?”

Heather stammered answers to his onslaught of questions. His skill as an interrogator enabled him to swiftly identify her problem.
 

“Heather, you know how to study properly and you know where to get answers to the areas for which you require more explanation. In short, you have the means and opportunity to remediate the issue with your low grades, however you spend entirely too much of your time avoiding study and wasting time with social activities.”

Heather wanted to display her willingness to admit her mistakes, “I agree,” she offered.

He was terse. “I’m not interested in whether you agree with my observations and assessments. Do you understand?”