Fifty Shades of Submission (32 page)

“What are you going
to do to him?” the Russian asks, grinning.

She shrugs. “I have a few ideas. I
want to disfigure him permanently so that he will never forget me. I could blind him of course, or cut out his tongue, or even castrate him as punishment for raping his mistress...”

The Russian grins
. “Permanent disfigurement, the idea appeals to me.”

She steps up
close to me, her green eyes are deep pools of merciless hatred. “I am going to carve my name across your groin with this little knife,” she breathes, on fire with excitement. “I am going to carve it so deep that you will bear the scars for the rest of your life. You will
never
forget me! And every time you look at them you will loathe me as much as I have come to hate you.”

The Russian leans
on the rope and the noose tightens further around my neck until I am balancing precariously on my toes, barely able to breathe. If I lean back I will choke to death. My eyes are bulging and I am on the verge of blacking out. I know that if I do it will be the end of me.

I scream
as the blade of the dagger slices into my flesh and she begins to carve out the big bold letters across my groin: S-A-S-K-I-A. Blood flows freely into my genitals and down my thighs. The pain is excruciating. I can’t breathe. I can’t keep my balance a moment longer. And suddenly my body has taken all the pain and shock that it can stand and I pass out.

I sag back against the noose, unconscious.
This is the end.

I
float back into consciousness in a sea of pain. My body is on fire from the whipping and my genitals and thighs are sticky from the blood oozing from the letters carved into my flesh. I am manacled and caged, and it takes me a while to realise that I have been locked in the steel box of the iron maiden once more. I am gripped with a sense of claustrophobic terror.

As before. My genitals have been threaded through the small hole in the door of the torture device and hang outside, vulnerable and exposed.

I blink my eyes in a daze of excruciating pain. Movement catches my eye in the candlelit gloom and I try to focus my eyes as I look through the iron maiden’s steel grill into the room.

The Russian and Saskia are on the four poster bed. They are both naked and the Russian
has mounted her. He is fucking her. Her legs are spread wide open and her thighs are raised with her legs draped over his shoulders. Her arms are flung back submissively as he thrusts his cock back and forth inside her. The muscles on his back ripple and his buttocks contract each time he pushes hard into her. She begins to mewl and writhe under him and his strokes become faster and more urgent, and as he grows excited he begins to slap her in the face and hit her breasts.

“
Come on, bitch!” He snarls. “Open your legs wider!
Let me ride you, whore!”
His movements become faster and rougher and then his back arches in spasm and he throws his head back and growls like a beast in agony. His orgasm goes on and on and finally he collapses on top of her.

I lose consciousness once more.

I have no idea
where I am.

I
turn my head slowly and see the dying embers of a fire in the grate. I gradually realize that I have been released from the torture chamber of the iron maiden and am lying on the floor of the bedroom, in the dark. The candles have been blown out and the fire has all but gone out.

I
strain my ears to listen. There is no sound and no movement. I am alone in the house. They have gone.

M
y hands and feet are still tied. Have they left me here to die? I feel a hard metal object dig into my ribs and it takes me a long time to figure out that it’s the she-devil’s dagger. It takes me an even longer time to manoeuvre my body in such a way that I can get hold of it. Finally I manage to grasp it with trembling fingers and slowly and painfully begin to cut the ropes that bind my wrists behind my back. Once my wrists are free I sit up and sever the rope on my feet with the sharp blade of the knife. I begin to crawl painfully and slowly across the room, leaving a trail of blood behind me, and switch on the bedside lamp. The room is flooded with an eerie light. I manage to drag myself into a sitting position on the bed.

Now that the room is devoid of her and her
possessions it seems different - unfamiliar even. There is no sign of her clothes or her cosmetics and brushes on the dressing table. There is no hint that she has ever been here – except for the smell of her perfume which still lingers in the room.

She has
gone with him. It’s all over.

I
am overcome with grief and sob uncontrollably.

I cannot remember much about the last few weeks. I remember only pain and delirium and horrific nightmares. In my dream Amun came to me and lay naked in bed with me and cradled my face against her large voluptuous breasts and held me while I sobbed. It was only days later that I realised that Amun’s presence was not a dream, but that she had in fact come back for me.

“I knew what that bitch was gonna do,” she murmured in my ear as she held me. “I knew she was gonna run off with that no-good Russian ba
stard – she told Osiris and me that morning when she took us into town. She said she was gonna run away with the Russian but that they were planning on hurting you bad first.”

“Why did you come back for me?”

She shrugged. “I knew you were gonna need someone to help you. I figured maybe she would leave you locked in the cellar to die of starvation. I don’t mind some fun and games, but I don’t want to be a party to no murder. Anyway, I figured you didn’t deserve to be done in like that.”

Gradually, as the days went by, I began to regain my senses. The pain eased and the scars began to heal and I grew stronger and eventually, one evening, Amun straddled me and we fucked. There was no passion in it. I merely went through the motions to satisfy her and fell asleep lying on top of her, too drained to move.

When I awoke it was morning and Amun had brought me coffee in bed. She sat naked on the side of the bed and looked at me pensively. “That bitch left you some things in the sitting room.”

A cold fist closed around my heart. “What kind of things?”

She shrugged. “Best you come and see for yourself. I’ve made a fire so it’s warm in there.”

I
first thing I notice as Amun helps me into the room and seats me on the sofa is the huge rubenesque painting of Saskia and me. It has been unwrapped and is hanging on the wall over the fireplace. The oil paint gleams richly and vividly, the wide canvas framed in a heavy and ornate gilt frame.

“The bitch left you this.”
Amun hands me a sealed envelope with my name on it.

I recognize Saskia's f
lamboyant handwriting. I open the envelope with trembling fingers and the slave contract and my suicide note fall out. There is also a letter, I begin to read.

Julian,

Now that it’s all over between us and Vassily and I are starting our new life together somewhere far away from here, I suppose I should confess to you that, once, I did indeed love. You yourself, however, stifled my love by your obsessive devotion and your insane fantasy of total submission.

In Vassily
I have found a kindred spirit. Whether we will stay together remains to be seen. And whether he will treat me badly only time will tell. And you? You are far better off without me. You will come to realize that in time.

I am enclosing the contract
. Take this as formal notification that I have set you free. You are no longer my slave – or anyone else’s.

In memory of our
time spent together, I am leaving you our Samson and Delilah portrait. I hope it will remind you of a strange, yet intimate chapter in both our lives.

Fondly,

Saskia.

PS. The lease on the farm will remain in force for another nine months and the rent has been paid in advance. Stay as long as you wish until the lease expires.

PPS. I am not pregnant with your child. When I was married, I was told by a number of gynaecologists that it will never be possible for me to bear children.

PPPS. I have left you some souvenirs with compliments from Aunt Sophia. You
did not know this, but she and your stepmother were in fact blood aunts – my father’s sisters. I have left you some video tapes, a VCR and a TV set. I think you will find the viewing riveting. By the way, I was the one who was watching you through Aunt Sophia’s one-way window. Sometimes I also helped her torture you when you were blindfolded. She often let me fuck you, provided I didn’t speak. Bumping into you at the hotel was accidental, however. When I saw you on the terrace that first day I couldn’t believe my luck - fate had thrown us together once again.

I stare at the letter for a long time, my hands shaking so badly I can hardly hold it steady.

“What’s wrong?” Amun said. “You’
ve gone as white as a sheet!”

I make no reply
. I sit for a long time staring at the words on the paper. Then finally I hurl the letter, the slave contract and my suicide note into the fire with fury and prod the embers until they burst into flame and burn to ashes.

I look up. There’
s a TV set, a VCR and a pile of video tapes on the antique chest of drawers.

“Leave the room,” I say to Amun.

She looks at me quizzically. “Why?”

“
Get out!”
I scream.

She sees the agonized look of ashen fury on my face
and leaves without another word, closing the door behind her.

I switch the TV on and slot a tape into the VCR. An image appears instantly on the screen and my heart begins to pound in my ears.
I can hardly breathe.

The video
is of me. I am blindfolded and hanging suspended upside down from chains in Aunt Sophia’s torture chamber. Saskia is also there, pushing an electrically charged anal prod up my rectum while I scream and sob and beg for mercy. Saskia turns up the voltage, eyes gleaming with excitement.

It was all there. Every torture session with Aunt Sophia
carefully documented and recorded. Saskia participated in most of them.

My
whole body is shaking. I suddenly began to retch violently and double over and throw up – vomit spewed from my mouth. I continue to heave violently long after there is nothing left to vomit.

I wake up suddenly in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. I am instantly awake and lie in the dark, listening to Amun’s steady breathing as she sleeps next to me.

Saskia had been playing me all along – right from the start. It was the final bitter pill to swallow.
It suddenly occurred to me that she might
still
be playing me. Why had Amun really come back? It was just a little too convenient that she had suddenly appeared just at the right time. Had her mistress sent her to deliver my ‘souvenirs’? To keep tabs on me? To spy on me and report back?

This woman had been in Saskia’s employ for months. Why should I trust her now? Why would I trust
any
bitch ever again!

Amun is still asleep when I drag her naked body violently out of bed. She is too dazed to fight me off and by the time she’s fully awake I have already tied her hands behind her back and gagged her with the ball gag I found in the bedside cupboard.

I slip the noose over her head and loop the rope over the ceiling beam and take up the slack and pull it tight. She gags and gasps for air. I tie the end of the rope to the burglar guard in the same fashion as the bitch and her Russian lover had done to me.

Amun stares back at me with a terrified look on her face.

I
look at her and allow a cold smile to play on my lips. “You’re still working for her, aren’t you? Your mistress?”

She shakes her head violently.

“I bet you’ve been reporting back to that bitch daily!”

Again a fierce shake
of the head. Her eyes are wide with terror. She’s trying to say something but nothing is getting past the gag in her mouth other than urgent throaty mewling sounds.

“You’re wasting your breath! I don’t want to hear a fucking thing you have to say anyway – it’ll
only be a pack of lies like your whoring mistress!”

I
am breathing hard and shaking and force myself to calm down. I take one of her tits in my hand and squeeze hard. Her eyes well up with tears of pain. I smile with satisfaction.