Fifty Shades of Submission (19 page)

Everything is ostentatious and in varying shades of crimson
— elaborate wallpaper embossed with gold, velvet curtains trimmed with gold braid and tassels, a huge and heavy antique four-poster bed with deep crimson velvet curtains that can be drawn shut so that the bed itself is transformed into a kind of private sleeping chamber within the room.

It is a grand setting for our
adventure.

But what is truly eye-catching in the room is a massive
print on the wall of the magnificent painting of Samson and Delilah by Rubens, framed by a heavy and opulent gilt frame. It hangs on the wall above the chaise, dominating the room. The scene depicts Samson resting with his head on Delilah’s lap, while a servant is busy cutting Samson’s hair; the servant’s arms are crossed over denoting deceit.
Philistine soldiers can be seen waiting at the open doorway in the background, ready to arrest Samson the moment he is stripped of his power. It is a vivid, powerful and beautiful scene of love and betrayal.

Saskia sees
me staring at the painting and smiles. “Do you like it, slave?”

“Rubens was a master
, mistress.”

“
Indeed. I thought you might enjoy the imagery. Love and betrayal – isn’t that a pet theory of yours? Or is it love and pain?” She laughed softly. “I’m not sure there’s a difference, really.”

This morning she
is dressed in a gracefully flowing full-length white satin dress that accentuates her slender body, leaving her arms bare and exposing the tops of her breasts. Her hair cascades luxuriously around her shoulders and down her back. She looks like an exotic high priestess.

She pats the chaise next to her and
I sit down beside her and she pulls me up hard against her breasts and kisses me. The moment I feel her skin against mine and smell her intoxicating fragrance I can no longer think clearly; everything is drowned out in an sea of heady pleasure.

"Do you still love me?" she whispers close against my ear
, her green eyes soft pools of tenderness.

"
Of course I do," I murmur. “You are everything to me, mistress, you know that.”

"
Do you still remember your oath?" she continues with her alluring smile.

“Yes
, mistress.”

"E
verything is prepared now, my slave, everything is ready at last. But I must ask you once again: are you still serious about becoming my slave?"

"Am I not your slave already
, mistress?"

"You have not yet signed the
contract."

"
Nothing gives me greater pleasure and happiness than to serve you. I am ready to sign the contract.”

"How b
eautiful you are when you speak so passionately
,
" she whispers, “I love you and yet you want me to be dominant, harsh and cruel towards you. I find it so terribly hard to be all those horrible things." Her eyes suddenly shine with tears and I am deeply touched.

"I
’m not afraid," I say softly. "Where’s the contract? Let’s sign it together."

"
I want you to know exactly what it means to be in my power, Julian,” she says solemnly. “With that in mind I have had a second agreement drafted in which you declare that you have decided to kill yourself. In that way I can even kill you, if I want to."

I look at her, aghast. “Kill myself, mistress?”

She looks unperturbed. I may find it necessary to punish you to death. In that case, I will need a suicide note.”

"Give
me the contract, mistress."

She hands me the
documents and while I read them she gets a pen ready. She sits down beside me with her arm slung fondly around my neck, and looks over my shoulder as I read.

She has
added an appendage to the first document:

The Owner-Mistress
is entitled to punish her slave as she deems fit, even for the slightest transgression or fault, and is may torture him as the mood takes her, or merely for the sake of her own amusement. Should she so desire, she may kill the slave whenever she wishes; in short, he is her unrestricted property to be disposed of as she pleases.

Should
the Owner-Mistress ever set her slave free, the Slave agrees to forget everything that he has experienced or suffered at his mistress’s hands as her slave, and undertakes never under any circumstances to take vengeance, retaliate, or report his former Owner-Mistress to the authorities. Nor will he ever make any attempt to contact his former mistress.

The second document contained only a few words.

Having become weary of my existence and life’s disappointments, I have of my own free will decided to put an end to my worthless and insignificant life.

The words fill
me with a sense of deep sense of foreboding as I read them. It is as if I am reading my own death sentence.

There i
s still time to back out, but the insane torment of love and passion and the sexual excitement brought about by a cruel and beautiful woman is utterly spellbinding.

I know that I am bereft
of my senses but I no longer care. If there are to be consequences I will face them when the time comes.

"
You will have to copy this in your own handwriting and sign it, Julian," my mistress says, indicating the would-be suicide note. "It has to be in your own handwriting and signed by you to make it credible."

I
copy the few lines of the suicide note, sign it, and hand it to her. She reads it, then looks up at me with a smile – my life is now in her hands. We both know it.

She hands
me the slave contract.

"
Do you have the courage to sign it, Julian?" she asks, smiling almost mockingly and inclining her head.

I ta
ke the pen. My hand is trembling.

"
No, let me sign first," she says, "Your hand is shaking. Are you afraid of the cruel happiness that I am about to bestow on you? Why are you afraid when you are about to fulfil your most depraved fantasies?"

While she signs
I look up at the Rubens painting on the wall. Delilah, an opulent woman with flaming red hair, lounging back against a crimson chaise longue not unlike the one we are sitting on; half-disrobed, her voluptuous breasts nakedly seductive, her head bent down over Samson who sleeps trustingly and adoringly with his head on her lap. The look on her face is one of melancholy, as though she is already beginning to regret her betrayal of her lover. Does she realize the consequence of her actions? Does she know that once he is arrested and imprisoned by the Philistines that he will be blinded by them? Perhaps it is fitting that he should be blinded as punishment for being mesmerized by Delilah’s beauty, which results in his eternal bondage, slavery and damnation.

Saskia signs the contract and
hands it back to me. "Why are you so lost in thought? Are you scared? Everything will remain just as it has been between us, even after you have signed. Don’t you trust me?”

I look at the contract
. She has initialled each page and her flamboyant signature is scrawled boldly on the last page as my would-be mistress and owner.

I
look once more into her green eyes with their potent magic, then I take the pen and sign the agreement as though in a trance.

Saskia kisses
my cheek. "You’re trembling, poor darling" she says comfortingly.

My
signature appears at the bottom of the contract and Saskia takes the two documents and locks them in the drawer of her dressing table.

Emulating
the painting on the wall, I kneel before her and nestle my head in her lap, surrendering myself to her finally, completely. She is my love, my mistress, my life. I feel as though we have entered into a union far more binding and sacred and gratifying than any marriage could ever be.

I have given myself to her completely.
Until death do us part.

She
pushes me away suddenly and pulls the bell-rope next to the chaise. I can hear the little brass bell ring in the kitchen downstairs. In answer, the bedroom door almost immediately bursts open and two black women enter the room.

I am taken aback by their sudden a
ppearance as if from nowhere. Is this the hired help that Saskia referred to earlier?

The taller
black woman is pure African, the other an African-American. The tall African is gracefully slender with the fine Arabic features of a proud Somali. Her breasts are small and firm body and her body is haughty and erect and beautifully statuesque, as though perfectly carved from polished ebony. She is barefoot and dressed in a long-sleeved flowing red satin kaftan
that touches the floor like some sort of ceremonial robe. She is wearing an elaborate crimson headdress like the traditional headdresses worn by Herero women from Namibia. Both garments are lavishly embroidered with gold thread. She has some sort of tribal tattoo down one side of her face.

The second
black woman, the American, has the same tattoo on her face which makes me think that both women are members of some sort of sisterhood or cult. The American’s features are heavier and her body more thickset and muscular and powerful. She is dressed in exactly the same manner as the other woman.

They look like hi
gh priestesses. Members of a cult or sisterhood of evil?

The tall
African steps forward and lights an incense stick and places it on the writing table. “I am Osiris,” she says to no one in particular, her eyes affixed on the wall in front of her.

“
I am Amun,” says the second, more thickset woman. She too, lights an incense stick and places it next to the first.

A sweet,
exotic, pungent fragrance begins to fill the room.

Then the two women turn out the lights and light candles all about the room. The candlelight changes the atmosphere of the room immediately, making it warmer and cosier and infinitely more mysterious.

Saskia stands up. Her face suddenly coldly sombrely beautiful. She turns her eyes toward me and the look in them are aloofly contemptuous. It is clear that she is now standing before me as my mistress - cold, omnipotent, and merciless.

“I promised you that we would commemorate the signing of our contract with something memorable,”
she says coldly. “Undress and come kneel before me, slave!” she commands.

With
a pounding heart I pull my T-shirt over my head and unbuckle the belt on my jeans and step out of them. I kneel before my mistress, naked and subservient.

“
Put the slave collar on him,” Saskia commands Osiris.

The
Somali steps forward gracefully and straps a broad black leather collar, adorned with ornamental metal studs, around my neck and secures it at the back with a small padlock. She hands the key to the padlock to my mistress.

“Stand up, slave!” my mistress commands.

I obey, my nudity before these three women making me feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. But I am used to being exposed and naked in front of women and I can feel myself beginning to get aroused.

My mistress
nods to Amun and, on cue, she clips two short weighted chains to my nipple rings.  Her hands are coarse and rough and she works swiftly. As her hands move roughly and deftly over my nipples, I start getting hard.

“
Shave his hair,” my mistress commands. “All of it!”

The two women each produce an electric shaver. One
proceeds to shave my chest, arms, legs and pubic hair. The other shaves my head of every vestige of hair until I am completely bald. I watch as my hair falls in thick blond curls at my bare feet.

With the shaving done, they rub my body
down from head to foot with some kind of fragrant oil. Incense, oil - I get the feeling that I am being prepared for some sort of ritual sacrifice.
My heart begins to race

My mistress looks
contemptuously at my rigid, swollen penis. “Get rid of that erection!” she commands. “I have told you, from now on you will not be permitted any sexual pleasure – unless I permit it!”

I stare back at her. My hesitation seems to incense her.

“What are you waiting for?
Start masturbating at once!”

I begin to
stoke my penis self-consciously. All three women watch me, their faces impassive. I run my hand back and forth across my shaft and it only takes a few minutes to reach an orgasm. The climax is swift and almost unpleasant – little more than a bodily function. Just as I am about to ejaculate,
Amun holds out a plastic cup and my semen spurts into it. The whole process is swift and clinical.

My mistress
nods at Amun who steps forward with some sort of a steel device in her hands.  Amun fits the steel contraption around my waist and between my legs and I realize with shock that it’s a stainless steel chastity belt. Its thick steel belt locks securely around my waist, with an attached steel cup that sheaths my genitals in such a way that it traps my penis, holding it close to my body and making it impossible to get an erection, yet leaves the urethra exposed to allow me to urinate.