MMA Romance: Path to Submission (3 page)

END OF CHAPTER 2

3

Having spent a feverish night filled with confused dreams, I awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I found myself still at Mr. White’s estate sitting in front of the fireplace that has long burned out. How much of what was hovering in my memory was true; what had I actually experienced and what had I dreamed? That I had been whipped was certain. I can still feel each blow.. My dream has become truth. All this cannot express in the remotest way my feeling for her, my complete devotion to her. What happiness to be her slave!

I spotted Mr. White and his blonde housekeeper sitting at his kitchen table reading the newspaper and having a cup of coffee.

“Would you like to join us and have a cup?” he asked.

“I would love some coffee,” I replied.

After his housekeeper poured the coffee she left the room so we could chat.

              “Mr. White, what is your general feeling towards women,” I asked.

"I respect a woman who is either virtuous and lives according to her own convictions, or who openly lives for pleasure's sake and is guided by her passions," he said.

"But you see, a woman can only do that in the rarest cases. She can neither be as openly sensual, nor as spiritually free as a man; her state is always a mixture of the sensual and spiritual.”

Her heart desires to enslave a man forever, while she herself is ever subject to the desire for change. The result is a conflict that begins a series of  lies and deception that manifest into her actions and personality and corrupt her character."

"Certainly from my experience that is true," I said, “the unreasonable ideals of love that exist in a woman leads her to deception and weak character."

"Every woman has the instinct or desire to seek advantages from her attractions, and if she does it in cold blood, she can reap its rewards ," he said.

“What are you saying?" I said.

“Take note of what I am about to say to you.
Never feel secure with the woman you love, for there are more dangers in a woman's nature than you imagine. Women are neither as good as their admirers maintain, nor as bad as their enemies make them out to be. A woman's character is flawed.”

“The best woman will momentarily go down into the dirt, and the worst unexpectedly rises to deeds of greatness and goodness and puts to shame those that despise her. No woman is so good or so bad, but that at any moment she is capable of the most diabolical as well as the most divine, of the filthiest as well as of the purest, thoughts, emotions, and actions,” he continued.

“In spite of all the advances of civilization, a woman has remained as she came out of the hand of nature. She has the nature of an animal, who is either feared or fearful, according to the impulse that dominates at the moment. Throughout history it has always been a serious deep culture which has produced moral character. Man even when he is selfish or evil always follows principles, a woman never follows anything but impulses. Don't ever forget that, and never feel secure with the woman you love."

“That is very profound Mr. White,” I said.
             

I sit in silence for a moment while I contemplate what Mr. White has just told me. I do not want to overstay my welcome so I finish my coffee and return to my home.

Later that evening I lay on my bed thinking about my previous encounter with Victoria. I wonder when I will see her next. I close my eyes and begin to fall asleep. 

As I begin to dream I turn my head and she is standing in the doorway, holding out her hand in a friendly gesture.

"I am ashamed of myself," she says.

“Why?" I reply.

"Please try to forget the ugly scene of yesterday," she says with a quivering voice.

"I have fulfilled your mad wish, now let us be reasonable and happy."

“My angel," I whisper, "I am your slave."

Victoria interrupts.

"Not another word of slavery, cruelty, or the whip."

"I will not grant you any of those favors!” she exclaims.

“But I require this treatment from you and all of the attention and passion it gives me,! I say.

"You are not a man, you are a dreamer, and you certainly would be a priceless slave, but I cannot imagine anyone wishing for this kind of treatment."

I was frightened with the consequences of her words.

"What is the matter? You are trembling?" she said.

"I tremble at the thought of how easily I might lose you," I replied.

"Are you made less happy now, because of this?" she replied.

"Does it rob you of any of your joys, that I have belonged to another before I did to you, that others after you will possess me, and would you enjoy less if another were made happy simultaneously with you?"

"I believe," she said, “that to hold a man permanently, it is vitally important to mistreat him.”

"There is a painful stimulus in the mistreatment by a beloved woman. It is the highest form of ecstasy," she added.

"Is this your belief?" Victoria asked quickly.

"Yes, I hold strong to this belief."

"And if I should give you that pleasure," She exclaimed mockingly.

"I will suffer terribly, I will endure anything so as not to lose you,” I said.

"Promise never to leave me, I want you to have the demonic greatness of saying to me you will only stay if I worship you and become your slave," I added.

“Fine, then be my slave!” she said.

"Be your slave!" I exclaimed.

"Be your unrestricted property, without a will of my own, of which you could abuse as you wished, While you are surrounded by luxury and devour happiness and joy, I want to be your servant, put on and take off your shoes," I said.

"You really aren't so far from wrong," replied Victoria.

"For only as my slave could you deserve my full attention. Furthermore, the freedom of enjoyment is unthinkable without slavery. It must give a person a sense of incredible superiority to see a man kneel before them and tremble.”

“I want you as my slave, do you hear me Eric?"

"Yes!” I said, “I want you to have real power over me, I want my life to be in your hands, I want nothing that could protect or save me from you. Oh, what a voluptuous joy when once I feel myself entirely dependent upon your absolute will, your whim, at your beck and call. And then what happiness, when at some time you indulge to be gracious, and I may kiss your lips which mean life and death to me."

I knelt down, and leaned my forehead against her knee.

"You are talking like you are irrational," said Victoria agitatedly, "and you really love me so endlessly? You really want to be my slave?"

"I swear to you now by God and my honor, that I shall be your slave, wherever and whenever you wish it, as soon as you command," I exclaimed.

"All this appeals to me," she said.

"It is different from anything else I’ve encountered. To know that a man who worships me, is dependent on my desire and caprice, wishes to become my possession and slave.”

She then embraced me and drew me back onto the couch. She began to kiss my neck, and this silent language was so comprehensible, so convincing.

It told me more than I dared to understand. What a voluptuous softness there was in the look of her half-closed eyes, in the black magic of her hair which shimmered faintly under the candlelight, her furs parting like the red sea for my indulgence. My lips follow the path of her neck down over her soft breasts and into her lap. I stay there allowing my senses to overload with the fragrance of a woman. Her legs spread ever so conveniently for the aroma to escape into my airway as I breath in and out. I become intoxicated with ecstasy.  

"Please," I stammered.

"Do with me what you will," she whispered.

"Well, then whip me, or I will go mad." I said

"Haven't I forbidden you," said Victoria sternly.

"You are villainous," I said, “I am deeply in love with you."

I dropped to my knees, and buried my face in her lap once more. Her fragrance was now like a chemical dependence.

"Your madness is nothing but a demonic, unsatisfied sensuality. Your unnatural way of life must generate such illnesses,” said Victoria thoughtfully.

"Well then, make me sane," I murmured.

There was silence as my hands played with her luxurious fur while my arm indirectly caressed her silky pubic hair. It stimulated my entire soul. I moved my face up her thigh to the source of my euphoria. I lay there in plain view once more. Breathing in and out.

She suddenly gripped my face and kissed me savagely, pitilessly, as if she wanted to slay me with her kisses. I was as in a delirium, but now I, too, was breathless. I sought to free myself.

"What is the matter?" asked Victoria.

"I am suffering agonies." I said

"You are suffering?" she said with a smile.

"Have you no idea?" I said.

She was serious all of a sudden. She raised my head in her hands, and with a violent gesture drew me to her breast.

"Victoria," I stammered.

"Of course, you enjoy suffering," she said with a laugh, "but wait, I'll give you a taste of what you desire."

"Whether you want to belong to me for always or for only a brief moment of time. I want to drain my happiness to the full,” I said.

"Now you are talking madness," she replied.

She kissed me again with her murderous lips. her naked breast surged against my chest.

Suddenly things changed and my thoughts became disoriented.

I remember a moment when I saw blood dripping from my hand.

"Did you scratch me?" I said

"No, I believe, I have bitten you," she replied with an evil laugh.

I felt a rush of weakness in my body. I sit down in a chair as my surroundings fade to black.

END OF CHAPTER 3

4

I awoke the next morning by a ray of warmth stroking my face. I must have  fallen asleep in the living room while sitting in my favorite leather chair.  The room was bright with the Sun shining through the window and I heard my housekeeper cleaning in the next room. I was still a little dazed from just waking up and the bright Sun made keeping my eyes closed more bearable. I called for Florence to come and close the curtains.

As she entered I heard a panic stricken voice.

“Mr. Blackstone. are you okay?” she exclaimed.

“What do you mean?” I said with confusion.

“Look at all the blood on the floor,” she while pointing next to the chair.

I looked down and saw a small pool of blood. I noticed a trail of blood going up my arm.

             
“Mr. Blackstone, you have a small cut on your neck.” she said.

I determined that the blood must have flowed down my arm as a result of my sleeping position. I quickly recalled that in my dream I had been bitten. But that was a dream. In reality I must have been bitten by an insect. At the very least I had to rationalize it under that pretense. I would certainly give the  appearance of becoming unhinged if I had shared the truth.

Florence took a cloth and cleaned the blood. She is a very gentle and considerate person and had been my housekeeper for three years. While she has a figure built to satisfy any man’s primal desires she leads a life without such distractions, content on living an uncomplicated life. That’s not to say she is void of sexuality. I remember walking past her bedroom door one evening just after midnight when I heard some faint moans coming from inside. I cracked opened the door to ensure everything was fine and saw her in the doggy position using a vibrator to masturbate. I’ve never seen this side of her before and watching her breasts rock back and forth certainly got my juices flowing. The way she was moving I imagined she was dreaming of being taken strongly from behind with force. I began to fantasize that it was me taking her from behind it was making me so aroused I knew I had to explode on the hardwood floor. I could hear her breathing increase rapidly as she attempted to use the pillow to muffle her loud moans the best way possible. I could see her body jolt as the intensity of the vibrator brought her raised bubble butt to an explosive orgasm. We both orgasmed simultaneously. As she collapsed to her stomach I wiped my semen off the floor and closed the door gently to keep her from seeing me. She arouses my senses quite frequently, but I have suppressed my urges to act on them. I suppose our relationship is more suitable this way for now. 

I was feeling perplexed and told Florence that I would be taking a bath to clear my mind. I do much of my thinking in the bath. The warm water is therapeutic.

             
As I was taking a bath I began to think about many things. I was questioning my thoughts and if I was being unreasonable. I have been seized by that fanaticism of love which has repeatedly been so fatal to me. I’ve never been married and always seemed to fall short. A relationship in the beginning is like an overpriced  bottle of wine. The first glass is delightful and you request a second. You indulge yourself until a point when pleasure becomes pain and a headache ensues. I often wonder if the best approach would be to put myself entirely under the woman’s control to alleviate the conflicts that are inherent in most relationships.  

Sometimes, I have an uneasy feeling about placing myself so unconditionally into a woman's hands. Suppose she did abuse her power. Love knows no virtue. It loves and forgives and suffers everything, because it must. It is not our judgment that leads us, it is a sweet, soft, enigmatic power that drives us on. We cease to think and to feel. We let ourselves be carried away by it, and follow it with no direction.

With the warm bath soothing my soul, my thoughts quickly shifted to Victoria. I thought that at last I knew her, understood her, and now I see I have to begin at the very beginning again. Only a little while ago her reaction to my dreams was violently hostile, and now she tries to carry them into execution with the soberest seriousness.

             
My thoughts take me to a previous conversation I had with her.  We were sitting on the couch. She wore her furs, her hair was loose and fell like a lion's mane down her back.

"I want to be absolutely in your power, Victoria," I exclaimed suddenly, seized by a frenzy of passion.

"I want to put myself absolutely at your mercy for good or evil without any condition, without any limit to your power."

While saying this I had slipped from the couch, and lay at her feet looking up at her with drunken eyes.

"How beautiful you are," I exclaimed.

"Your eyes fill me with joy, carry me away.”

She was being very forthright that evening. She had drawn up a contract according to which I give my word of honor and agree under oath to be her slave, as long as she wishes. I read the terms and conditions and had some hesitation.

I said, "But all the obligations in the contract are on my side.”

"Of course," she replied with great seriousness.

“I am released from all duties and obligations towards you. You will have to look upon my favors as pure benevolence. You no longer have any rights.”

“There can be no limit to my power over you. Remember, that you won't be much better than a dog, or some inanimate object. You will be mine, my plaything, which I can break to pieces, whenever I want. You are nothing, I am everything. Do you understand?"

A sort of cold shiver ran through me.

"Won't you allow me a few benefits?" I began.

"Benefits?" She contracted her forehead.

"Ah! You are afraid already, but what would you desire?" she said.

"First of all, I would like to have it included in our contract, that you will never abandon me and you will provide me with constant attention,” I said.

“I will not sign that, I will be very cruel to you, do you understand?” she exclaims.

“A slave who submits helplessly to my power solely on account of my beauty and personality will attain my attention,” she said.

As I relax in the bath with eyes closed my thoughts shift from recollection to a present state. I look and Victoria is sitting on a bench in the bathroom wearing her furs.

“Allow me to test your resolve, Eric.”

“What do you have in mind,” I say a little confused.

The bathroom door opens displaying an exotic looking male. He aroused general interest on account of his athletic figure, magnificent face, and splendid bearing. Victoria particularly gazed at him as though he were a wild animal garnished in a towel. Suddenly he saw Victoria, and fixed his cold piercing look upon her. She veritably devoured him with her radiant blue eyes.

The devious flirtation with which she looked at him, almost stifled me.

My heart stops when I see the half-enraptured look with which she devours him, but he is worthy of it. For he is, no doubt, a magnificent specimen of a man.

Under his icy glance I am again seized by a mortal fear. I have an expectation that this man can enslave her, captivate her, subjugate her, and I feel inferior in contrast with his fierce masculinity; I am filled with envy, with jealousy. I feel that I am a weak creature unable to challenge his superiority.  

              "Aren't you my slave?" she said calmly while looking at me.

"Am I not Victoria, your cruel master.”

I was silent. I felt literally crushed by her words; her cold look entered my heart like a dagger.

She stood behind the statuesque figure and proceeded to grope his chest while offering me stinging glances. Her hand moved down his abdomen and disappeared behind the white towel he was wearing, searching for his soul. She made a point of showing long slow strokes behind the towel slowly increasing the bulge. The exotic’s eyes were now closed in a state of bliss.  

“Enough!” I exclaimed.

As the male visitor vanished from the room she reminded me that this was just a test.

“The journey for you will get much harder,” she said.

I got out of the bath now feeling emasculated and wrapped myself in a towel. She let me stand before her like a servant waiting for instructions.

"Wash my feet," she commanded.

I obeyed, and while washing her feet I remained kneeling. I was in plain view of the modest pubic hair that surrounded her soul. I placed my head in her lap and enticed her legs to slightly spread open. The fragrance was eagerly looking to intoxicate my mind and make me delirious.

"How will this end?" I asked sadly after a short pause.

She broke into playful laughter.

"Why things haven't even begun yet."

"You are more heartless than I imagined," I replied.

"I haven't done anything yet, not the slightest thing, and you are already calling me heartless. What will happen when I begin to carry your dreams to their realization, when I actually become your ideal woman, keep you underfoot and apply the whip?"

“You have wished it. Was it my idea or yours? Did I persuade you or did you inflame my imagination? I am taking things seriously now," she said.

"This is something that was probably latent in me," she said quietly and thoughtfully.

"Perhaps it would never have come to light, if you had not called it to life, and made it grow. Now that it has become a powerful impulse, fills my whole being, now that I enjoy it, now that I do not want to do otherwise, now you want to back out.”

“Are you a man?"

She pushed me away, and got up.

"Victoria!" I likewise rose, and stood facing her.

"Now you know what I am," she continued.

"Once more I warn you. You still have the choice. I am not compelling you to be my slave."

"Victoria," I replied with emotion.

"Don't you know how I love you?"

"Decide on what you want,” she said.

She stepped close up to me, cold and contemptuous. As she stood before me now, her arms folded across her breasts, with an evil smile about her lips, she was in fact the despotic woman of my dreams. Her expression seemed hard, and nothing lay in her eyes that promised kindness or mercy.

My blood rose in my heart. I threw myself down at her feet and began to plead with her.

"I will do whatever you command, be your slave, a mere object with which you can do what you will, I cannot live without you." I embraced her knees, and covered her hand with kisses.

"Yes, it is clear to me, you must be a slave and feel the love of the whip. You are not a real man," she said calmly.

She said this to me with perfect composure, not angrily, not even excitedly, and it was what hurt most.

"Now I know you, your dog-like nature, that adores where it is kicked, and the more it is mistreated. Now I know you, and now you shall come to know me,” she said.

"Come here," she commanded harshly, sitting down on the bench.

I obeyed her command, and sat down beside her.

If only she would use the whip again. There is something uncanny in the kindness with which she treats me. I feel like a little captive mouse with which a beautiful cat easily plays. She is ready at any moment to tear it to pieces, and my heart of a mouse threatens to burst.

What are her intentions? What does she propose to do with me?

"Be mine forever!” I exclaimed.

"Never, Eric," she said with great firmness.

"What do you mean?"

"You are not the man for me,” she said.

At that point I felt a rush of sadness. I closed my eyes in search of a better solution. I sat with my back against the wall and when I looked once more, Victoria was no longer there. I was alone once again and It was not a good feeling. I closed my eyes in despair and hoped for a better tomorrow.

END OF CHAPTER 4