Eve: Portrait of a Submissive

Chapter Three-2

Eve awoke to the dim gray light of early morning. A glance at the clock by her bed confirmed that she had slept a mere three hours. She didn’t feel like she had slept at all, but she had dreamed—strange, bizarre, troubling dreams. Just now she had dreamt that the building was on fire, that she had ran out the door, and in the miraculous fashion of dreams found herself outside without ever having climbed down the stairs; she stood outside and looked at herself, and she was naked, but her body was on fire. Now she was awake but she still felt like she was on fire. She threw aside the cotton sheet that in the warm weather served as a blanket, uncovering her naked body. The burning sensation was coming from below her waist; she rubbed her buttocks, which felt tender. And then she remembered. She remembered everything.

She remembered standing by the door, naked except for her blue stockings. It was shortly before midnight; he knocked at the door, she glanced through the peephole, then undid the lock and let him in. She stood there in front of him; he was carrying his jacket over his arm and he told her to hang it up, and she took it to the closet and hung it up and returned, looking at him, waiting for him to tell her what to do, ready to obey him, and he told her to go into the bedroom, and she went into the bedroom and she stood before the bed, waiting for him to tell her what to do, and he sat down on the side of the bed, and he told her to lay across his lap, and she obeyed him without asking why for she already knew. She felt the bulge in his pants under her thigh, the sign of his desire that matched her own; she waited for what he would do next but he sat silently and did nothing—not, she was sure, because he hadn’t decided what to do but simply to make her wait. And as she waited, she wondered how much it was going to hurt, was it going to hurt so much that she wouldn’t enjoy it at all, and if it did and she cried out for him to stop, would he do so? It was just for that reason he was making her wait, to give her time to think and worry and fret while in the meantime he was enjoying her fear and her helplessness. Then breaking his silence he again reminded her of what he had said in the park, told her she had been a bad girl for vexing him and causing him to change his plans and that he had to punish her so in the future she would learn to be obedient and not complain. He was not laughing now, he spoke quietly and seriously and in the dim candlelit room his words seemed invested with an awful solemnity. She trembled, and waited for him to do what he had promised.

At that moment a childhood memory flashed through her mind. She was at an amusement park with her big sister, who had bought tickets for the roller coaster, the first time she had ever ridden one. She recalled sitting in the car next to her sister, and the long agonizingly slow climb to the top of that first loop, and her growing terror as the car approached the top. The fear she felt now was like that. And she remembered how as the cars reached the top, time seemed to stand still for a moment but then came that first downward plunge and that sickening feeling of terror, terror which would soon turn into exhilaration. Now as she lay across his lap, her heart pounding like it did then, the tension became unbearable; in another minute she would start to scream—Suddenly fear was succeeded by pain; his hand was striking her buttocks and it hurt, like plunging into a tub of scalding hot water. Her eyes filled with tears; she wanted to escape but was helpless. But then she began to get used to it and pain slowly turned into pleasure. The pleasure became greater and greater; this was what she had dreamed about. The spanking went on and on and on, it seemed to be going on forever but she wanted it never to end. Slowly he increased the intensity of the blows; it reminded her of the hot shower she had taken that morning, and how she liked to turn down the cold water as she got used to the heat. And he seemed always to sense just the right moment to increase the heat, transmitted from his hand to the nerve endings under her buttocks, driving her to ever greater heights of arousal....

Recalling this now, the next morning, she became excited all over again. She reached her hand down between her legs and began rubbing herself. The memory was made all the more vivid by the still burning sensation in her bottom. She tried to recall what came next. As the evening’s events came into focus, she played them through in her mind’s eye like a movie.

He had stopped. He was gently rubbing her cheeks, massaging them as she rested. The picture now became a little blurry. Did she briefly pass out? Then it seemed as if someone had changed the reel. He told her to sit up. She pulled herself up onto her knees next to him. She watched as he stood up, undid the buckle of his belt, pulled it out and doubled it over itself, the inner surface facing out. Then he ordered her to get down on her knees in front of the bed and bend over. He struck the belt against the bed several times, making a terrifyingly loud noise. She began to shake with fear, a fear that was mixed with arousal. She felt all wet inside. She felt she was going to melt with fear and desire. And then she felt the first blow fall across her buttocks. The sharp sting of the leather on her flesh sent a shiver of delight through her. He waited, the sting slowly dying away like the reverberations from a loud stroke of a kettledrum. Then came another blow, lower now, right across the sweet spot. The sting was exquisite. The pain, though real enough, hardly matched the terror of the sound the belt had made striking the mattress. It made a sound too against her ass, a softer sound, and she enjoyed the sound, the sound of herself being whipped and punished. It was as if she were outside herself, experiencing it both as victim and as spectator. As he continued he always varied the blows, never twice in the same spot, now harder, now softer, now faster, now slower. He played her like an instrument, she shook with excitement, she began to moan like he was inside her, until finally and incredibly, with a shuddering climax she came.

And recalling it now, as she rubbed her fingers over her c******s, she came again! She lay there, breathing heavily, drenched with sweat. She felt an urgent need to pee. She stood up and hurried to the bathroom, and sat down on the toilet. Oh, it hurt to sit! How long would that last, she wondered? She lifted herself up a little and peed, until her bladder was empty. Then she got up, walked back to the bed and flopped down again. She was tired, she needed more sleep, she closed her eyes, but then the film started again...

By now he had stopped whipping her with the belt and she heard him kick off his shoes and unzip his pants, and he told her to climb onto the bed on all fours. She did so, and from the corner of her eye saw him finish undressing himself; she would have liked to turn and gaze at his splendid body, but she didn’t dare, but waited there submissively, dog like, until he climbed onto the bed in back of her and entered her from behind. She had never been f****d in that way before, it had always been missionary style, or whatever they called the reverse of missionary style. What did they call this, doggy style? As he thrust himself back and forth inside her, rubbing against her ass already sore from the spankings, inflicting added pain along with the pleasure, she felt like a pet being brought to heel, a submissive little puppy. He grabbed her breasts, squeezed them, played with her n*****s, sometimes squeezing them in a way that was painful, but not too much so, as if he were just giving her a taste of what he might inflict if he wished to. He was inside her a long time, it seemed longer even than on the two previous occasions he had f****d her. She came again, more than once, how many times she didn’t know, she had lost interest in counting. But at last he came himself, discharged his load inside of her, and withdrew.

Now began the strangest part of the evening. He told her to lie down. Obediently she lay down flat on her stomach, her arms by her side. Some of his semen had leaked out of her; she felt it, warm and sticky between her thighs. Now she felt him pull down the stocking on her right leg until it was off, then he did the same with the left. What came next was unexpected. He grabbed her wrists and crossed them across the small of her back. He took one of the stockings and tied one end around her wrists and made a knot. Next he took the other stocking and tied it around her ankles. He grabbed her calves and lifted them up until the toes pointed skyward, and took the ends of the two stockings and tied them together, first pulling her legs forward a bit more, and tying the two stockings together so they were taut. Then he crouched beside her head and whispered he was going to leave her tied up until he got hard again. She was to lay there quietly until he returned. Then he stood up again, leaned over and blew out the candles, leaving her in darkness.

She heard him walk out the room and into the bathroom and heard the shower go on. She lay there in the darkness and the silence, again with that odd mixture of fear and exhilaration. She was thankful for the sound of the shower for without that evidence of his presence she would have been utterly terrified. Being tied up this way was a very different sensation from the way he had tied her to his bed last week in his apartment. This wasn’t a position designed to facilitate lovemaking. Why had he done it? She was to wait this way until he got “hard” again. Was this his way of saying he was here to use her for his pleasure, and when he didn’t need her he would secure her like a piece of machinery, like that phonograph on the floor, closing the lid and snapping the lock? She couldn’t use her arms and legs, she couldn’t leave the bed, but that was all right, she was just his property to use as he saw fit, with no will of her own. And that thought, of being his property, excited her...

Had she actually thought that at the time or did it only occur to her now? She couldn’t recall; what she did remember was the feeling of terror and helplessness, and the strange feeling of excitement it caused. She felt so tired now, but still she couldn’t sleep. It was time to go on to the next reel...

He had returned from his shower and now was seated by her side. He had relit the candles and the smell of sulphur from the matches and the dim yellow light of the flames gave the place an infernal air. Now came a new, unexpected sensation. His hands were on her cheeks spreading them apart, and then she felt him stick his finger into her anus. He plunged in deeply, feeling and probing, playing with her asshole. It was a stunning act of impudence to enter uninvited and with so little ceremony into such a private area, like a customer in a*****e barging through one of those doors marked “Employees Only.” It was a place even more private than that neighboring portal he had visited now three times. That door had been especially designed for visitors, though admission was only by special invitation and at the discretion of the management. But where she was concerned he was no respecter of law, entering like a thief in the night probing for hidden loot. He stuck another finger in and then a third; it was a new and strange sensation, to be penetrated in this way, in this place. Then abruptly he withdrew his fingers; he released the knot between her two stockings so her calves dropped back onto the bed. But he didn’t undo the knots binding her wrists, instead he took her arms and lifted her up to her knees and pulled her towards him. He told her to suck his c**k. Again she obeyed him while he held her arms and rocked her back and forth. But by now her mouth had become very dry, and she started to grunt loudly as if trying to speak. He let her withdraw, and she asked if she could please have a drink of water. He laughed and went to fetch it. He came back with a glass which he held in front of her mouth while she drank. Some of it went down the wrong way and she started coughing. He told her to wait and came back with a bowl; she lapped up the water with her tongue like a dog or a cat. Then he withdrew the bowl and ordered her to resume her task. She licked her lips and began sucking him again. A few minutes later he told her to stop, after which he laid her down again on her stomach.

Then, speaking with deliberate coarseness, he asked her if she had ever been f****d in the ass before. She shook her head no; what she didn’t tell him was that she had been asked twice by guys before and both times had refused; it was something that frightened her. Now when he asked her if she wanted to try it she froze, afraid to say anything, but her frail shoulders shook in a manner he may have taken for assent. He walked out and came back; she felt his palms spreading her cheeks again, then a finger was inserted this time coated with some creamy substance. It felt pleasant but then he removed his finger and in its place his huge c**k began penetrating her ass and it hurt, worse than the spanking. She bit her lip, but as he plunged deeper it hurt so much she became afraid, she thought he was going to split her apart. In a panic she screamed for him to stop. He pulled out. His voice became harsh. He said if she didn’t want it she should have said so. And then he reached for the belt and struck her a few times very hard across her ass. She started to cry.

It was the low point of the evening. He had ravaged her and debased her, and then made her feel inadequate, leaving her utterly humiliated. But how was it then that recalling it now she became even more aroused? Could it be she wanted to be brutalized, debased, humiliated? She didn’t know, she was too tired to think, she just lay back and once more reached down between her legs to pleasure herself. She closed her eyes, trying to remember what came next. The man in the projection room changed the reel and the movie started up again....

He had gone into the bathroom, she heard water from the sink; was he washing off his c**k? When he returned he finally untied her hands, tossing her stockings to the side, and told her to turn over on her back and spread her legs. She now hurried to obey his commands, like a dog that had been whipped into obedience. She looked up at him as he stood by the bed, at his tall, muscular form, and at his large erect p***s, and she felt utterly weak, and she knew then that her destiny would be always to serve and obey him. Once more he climbed on top of her and entered her, to begin another marathon session, only this time it was not copulation alone, but copulation combined with spanking, or rather alternating with it, as he would from time to time withdraw, and turn her over in order to spank her, and when he was done spanking her he would turn her on her back again and enter her, and each time he spanked her it was harder than the last time, and each time he penetrated her he thrust back and forth with greater violence, and his movements caused her bottom to rub painfully against the bed, her ass that was so raw and tender from the spankings, and the painful throbbing of her ass mingled with the sensations in her v****a, a cocktail of pain and pleasure, and she came and came and came and came again, until she grew dizzy and faint with the pleasure and the pain. And when he was inside her he would sometimes squeeze her breasts and shower her face with kisses, her face that was stained with tears, tears of joy and of pain, and where one left off and the other began she didn’t know, she seemed to be transported out of herself. And thus he mixed harshness with tenderness, rewarding her for accepting the pain, and she was so grateful, grateful for the tenderness and the pain. And after orgasms without number he at last exploded inside her, and he wasn’t squeezing her breasts now but he was holding down her arms again, his powerful hands squeezing her tiny wrists reminding her of her weakness and her helplessness. And after he came, he left her go and put his arms around her and squeezed her tight, and she put her arms around him and squeezed him in his turn, and he whispered in her ear that she belonged to him now, that she was his slave, and she felt a great joy, as if he had proposed to her, and she would be with him now until death.

And then he was gone, but before he went he told her he would send for her. She rejoiced in the promise of future bliss. And now as she lay on her stomach reliving those final ecstatic moments, her fingers inhabited the same place where the powerful organ of her lover and Master had lately resided, and her body shook and she came one more time, collapsing at last into a state of utter exhaustion, until she fell into unconsciousness, and drifted once more into the realm of dreams.