Fifty Shades of Submission (24 page)

Her right hand plays
with the whip. "Look at me, slave" she says, "Look up at me with your fanatical, wounded look. Let me see the pain in those beautiful blue eyes. Yes, just like that. Are you suffering? Are you suffering right at this moment?”

“Yes, mistress.”

"Why? Because I have just let the painter fuck me again?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Good. I love it when you suffer. I am constantly thinking of more ways to make you suffer, slave. I will not rest until I have destroyed you completely.”

The painter has
turned pale. He is witnessing an intimate scene between a mistress and her submissive slave, and he devours the scene hungrily with his eyes.

"Well, how do you
like our pose?" my mistress asks him.

"
Enthralling," the painter murmurs. His words come out in a moan, like the weeping of a sick soul.

“You can paint the background
in later,” my mistress says. “First I want you to paint the slave and his mistress in the foreground.”

Gradually
the charcoal outline of the painting takes form on the blank white canvas; and then the painter begins to paint in the heads and flesh parts and brings my mistress’s diabolically beautiful face vividly to life. Under the bold and confident strokes of his artist’s brush life begins to glow in those cruel green eyes.

At the end of the day my mistress
stands in front of the canvas and inspects it.

Beside her, the painter
gazes at the painting. He has become as pale as death.

"
What’s the matter with you, are you ill?" my mistress asks.

He stares
with a consuming look fixed on the wanton woman in the painting. "It reminds me of the goddess of love descended from Mount Olympus to corrupt the souls of mortal man. I can imagine this beautiful and cruel goddess whipping her slave mercilessly when she grows bored with making love to him, and the more she abuses him, the more insanely he loves her. It is the most passionate thing I have ever seen. The heartless destruction of one human being by another. The cruel and resolute dismantling and destruction of love."

My mistress
laughs, well pleased. “That’s very perceptive, Eric. I shall reward you well once the painting is finished and hanging on my wall.”

The painter looks at her with his smitten, washed-out grey eyes. “Being with you is reward enough,” he
mutters and suddenly grabs her hand and kisses it as though paying homage to a goddess.

The d
ays roll by slowly, inexorably and the three of us are drawn into a kind of macabre play my mistress, I her slave, and the painter her lover. My mistress is the masterful puppeteer, the painter and I her puppets. She pulls our strings and manipulates us deftly.

She is in good spirits as t
he artist paints his picture, pouring over the huge canvas with utmost concentration and dedication. Paints are smeared on his hands and clothes, and there are crimson smudges on his stubbled face that give the impression that he’s bleeding. As the days go by he becomes more emaciated, his eyes sunken and hollow, and he has begun to mumble unintelligibly under his breath. Each day his brush strokes become more urgent and violent. He does not pause to rest, eat or drink.

As she poses for him,
my mistress absently fondles her naked breasts from time to time, sensually caressing herself, and then looks up at the painter with a coquettish expression. As he stares at her I can see the erection in his trousers and his ashen face assumes a kind of desperate, wretched look.

My mistress looks at his erection and laughs with satisfaction. “Do you want to fuck me, Eric?”

He gives her a tortuous looks. His eyes dart swiftly to me, then back to her.

She laughs. “Oh, it’s alright, don’t worry about my slave. You can fuck me in front of him. He’ll probably enjoy it.”

“
Not while I’m working
,” the painter growls out of the side of his mouth and turns back to his canvas.

During this morning’s
sitting my mistress amuses herself by eating chocolates. She rolls the foil wrappers into little pellets and bombards the painter with them flirtatiously.

He suddenly throws down his brush in a fit of anger
. "I am glad that you’re in a playful mood, but your face has lost the expression which I need for my painting!"

"You need an
expression for your painting?" she repeats, smiling. "Wait a moment..."

She lashes
me viciously across the back with her whip. “There, is that better. Do I look cruel enough for you?”

The
painter is shocked at the sudden outburst of violence. A look of disgust mingled with admiration shadows his face.

My mistress suddenly
strikes me again, and again, and her face acquires that familiar cruel and wildly savage expression I have come to know so well. A look that excites, terrifies and intoxicates me.

"Is this the expression you need for your picture?" she
says, naked breasts heaving with the sudden exertion, red hair flying wildly about her flushed face.

"Yes, that’s
the correct expression—" he stammers, "
but I can't paint now
—"

"Why
?" my mistress demands. "Do you want to be whipped too?"

“
I want to be loved by you
,” he says in the strangled, tortured tone. He looks like a wounded animal near death.

“
Loved
?” my mistress scoffs coldly. “Why is every man I ever meet so obsessed with this idea of love? Men do not have the slightest
inkling
what it means to love! To your sex love means
owning
a women, making her subservient to your needs, possessing her body for your pleasure, capturing her soul and molding it to your will until she has lost all sense of herself.
No
, you do not want me to love you!” she says malevolently, eyes flashing. “You want me to open my legs for you, you want me to let you
fuck
me –
love has nothing to do with it!”

“
Whip me then!”
the painter cries suddenly, as if overcome with madness. “Beat me as you have beaten him! I need to feel the pain for your cruelty!”

She stares at him for a long while, then shrugs her pale, beautiful
shoulders and says, "Very well, but be warned. I do not play games. Will you let me tie you up?" she says, smiling coldly.

I can already see the gleam of excitement in her eyes.

"Yes!" he moans. “Tie me up! Do anything you like to me!”

Saskia
fetches the ropes. The sight of them are only too familiar and I’m instantly filled with a feeling of terror and dread – and sexual excitement.

"Well—are you
brave enough to put yourself in the absolute power of a cruel woman?"

"Yes!" the painter replies
hoarsely. His eyes are wild and his paint-stained fingers are trembling.

Sh
e looks around the room for a suitable support, then ties his wrists and loops the rope over one of the heavy beams in the ceiling above. She pulls the rope tight until his wrists are high above his head and he is suspended from the beam with his feet barely touching the floor. She ties a knot to secure the rope and then unzips his trousers and pulls them down to his ankles, exposing narrow hips and an unexpectedly large cock. He has a full erection. His cock is thick and rigid and ready.

My mistress
pulls his shirt up and arranges it around his armpits, so that his naked body is exposed and ready to receive her.

I watch,
mesmerized, and have become intensely sexually aroused. My penis is straining and protesting against the confines of its steel cage.

My mistress
pulls the bodice of her crimson dress down to her waist so that her torso and breasts are bare. She raises the cat-o-nine-tails and brings it down on the painter’s buttocks and thighs and back with all her might. Her eyes gleam with excitement and malice. Her naked breasts heave and shudder each time she strikes him with the whip.

I am indescribably excited as I watch t
he scene in front of me. It is strange to be an observer and not a participant. The whip cracks and hisses through the air as blow after blow rains down on the painter’s gaunt body. My mistress looks magnificent in the full savagery of her cruelty. Her mouth is half open and her teeth flash between red lips. The painter moans and sobs under her ministrations and yet, his erection remains firm.

Finally he
cannot take the pain anymore and begs her to stop. She ignores his pleas and carries on until she is completely spent – too tired to raise her arm for another single blow. She is breathing heavily, her face a white mask of brutal fury.

My excitement
has reached fever pitch. I want to rip the steel belt off my loins with my bare hands. I need my penis to be full and hard. I have the most incredible urge to mount her there and then and fuck her in front of the painter. Let him watch if he wants. I have an indescribable craving to take her by force. To fuck her until she screams and begs for mercy. I will make her tremble and cry beneath me. At this moment I need to penetrate her or I will explode.

She sees the
fevered look in my eyes and laughs. “Do you want to fuck me, slave?”

I am breathing hard,
almost as hard as she is. “Get this thing off me! I need to fuck you! I want to fuck you so hard that you cry for mercy!”

She laughs
demonically. “
Cry for mercy?
How typical! You want to use your cock to subdue me?” She looks at me wildly. “Well, let me show you what a woman can do!”

She jerks
the bell-rope and immediately the door flies open and Osiris and Amun enter the room. They are both completely naked. The two women close in on me, grab my wrists, and in a moment I am tied to the beam next to the painter.

“Now, let’s see who will be
begging for mercy!” my mistress cries as she lashes out at me with the cat-o-nine-tails. Luckily for me she has already spent her fury and strength on the painter and her blows are weak and she soon grows bored.

She drops her whip and turns to her henchwomen.  “
Fuck him!”
she commands, pointing at the painter.

The two women close in on the painter who is hanging limply from his restraints and moaning softly with pain.
Osiris attacks his swollen penis with her mouth, expertly massaging his testicles to make his erection bigger and harder, and when he’s ready Amun mounts him. She curls her thick muscular thighs around his waist and squeezes hard to support herself. The painter gasps as though caught in the deathly grip of a female python. She pushes his big cock inside her and begins to move her hips rhythmically back and forth against him. My mistress suddenly produces the black latex dildo from her bedside cupboard and Osiris puts on the harness, slips the contraption’s second penis smoothly into her vagina, and mounts the painter from the back. She shoves the latex cock up his rectum with all the force she can muster. The painter screams like a stuck pig. The two women fuck him hard and my mistress’s eyes gleam with excitement at his screams.

I stare at my mistress. “Fuck me too,” I say hoarsely. “Take this thing off me and fuck me.”

She laughs in my face. “No, my dear, slave. That’s precisely your punishment –
not
to fuck you! You see, I know that to deprive you of sex is the very worst thing I can do to you.”

When the two naked women can no longer coax any response from the painter’s flaccid penis, they leave him hanging in a dazed and almost comatose stupor from his restraints.

Amun goes to my mistress’s bedside cupboard and produces a second strap-on dildo, identical to the one Osiris is wearing, and puts it on and climbs into the big four-poster bed with my mistress and immediately begins to caress her breasts and kiss her.

Osiris goes over to the small washbasin on the wall and holds her latex cock under the
tap and washes it. Then she joins the other two women on the bed. The familiarity with which the three women interact tells me that they’ve done this many times before.

My mistress lies on her side while Amun lubricates the inside of my mistress’
s anus with fragrant oil, and Osiris lubricates her vagina, pushing her fingers deep and caressingly inside my mistress’s vaginal passage. My mistress begins to moan and move her hips in response.

My mouth is dry and my heart is racing wildly as I
watch Amun enter my mistress from behind, pushing her big latex cock up my mistress’s anal passage. Then Osiris joins in, penetrating my mistress from the front, pushing her black dildo expertly all the way up inside her vagina. The three women begin to moan and writhe in unison.