Fifty Shades of Submission (5 page)

“What was your first sexual experience with a woman?”

I sat for a long time saying nothing and just stared introspectively into the dark night. There were secrets that I kept locked away inside me, secrets that I rarely allowed myself to think about, let alone discuss with anyone else. What had happened was in the past, but the memories still had a profound power to haunt me; to wake me from a deep sleep in a cold sweat, to make my body tremble uncontrollably for no apparent reason.

Saskia squeezed my hand. “Did you have
such an unhappy childhood?”

I shrugge
d. “It’s not something I ever talk about. I will tell you about one sexual experience I had as a boy. I was about thirteen when I was sitting at my desk in my bedroom one day, studying. My cousin, who was about 19 at the time and was visiting, suddenly came into my room uninvited and bent down over me and kissed me. She had unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse and I could see her breasts. The kiss ran through me like a wildfire but I ran from the room, startled. I often thought of her after that in my bed alone at night, and I used to masturbate to the memory of her naked breasts pressed against me."

Saskia
laughed. "Was that the sum of your sexual adventures as a youth?"

The sum of my sexual ‘adventures’ as a child?
I thought bitterly.
That wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. How could I ever tell this woman – or anyone else for that matter – about what I was subjected to as a child?

I shuddered violently suddenly.

“Are you cold? Do you want to go inside? Saskia said.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Tell me more.”

“Well,
there was another incident around that time," I recounted slowly. "I was about fourteen. My stepmother’s older sister, Aunt Sophia, sometimes visited when my father was away. She was a handsome, aloof woman with a haughty bearing - very austere and serious and unsmiling – I was afraid of her. She did not like me and my behavior toward her was sometimes rude and even a little malicious.

"One day
she visited while my father was away on one of his business trips and my step aunt decided to teach me a lesson for being rude and insolent. One evening, after I had gone to be, she entered my bedroom unexpectedly. She was wearing a long fur coat and my stepmother, and my young cousin whom I had scorned, were with her. Without a word, they pulled me from my bed and tied my hands and feet with some sort of nylon cord, despite my resisting.

“
I had been sleeping in my underpants and a vest and my stepmother tore them from my body so that I stood before the three women absolutely naked. I felt humiliated and afraid. Then they pushed me face down on my bed and Aunt Sophia, with an evil smile, rolled up her sleeves and prepared to punish me. My cousin handed her a riding crop and she began to whip my naked buttocks with the switch. I was terrified. I cried out and wept and begged her to stop but she carried on until she was spent, leaving me bruised and in terrible pain. Finally they untied me and then Aunt Sophia made me get down on my knees in front of her and thank her for my punishment. When I stood up I was ashamed to see that I had a huge, uncontrollable erection. She looked down at my swollen penis and gave me a knowing smile. Without another word she left the room and the other two women followed her. I was alone with my pain and my shame and the confusion at my sexual desire. The pain seemed to arouse me even further and I masturbated immediately and came with a tumultuous roar of sexual gratification. This left me feeling even more confused and bewildered.”

“Poor boy,” Saskia
said, stroking my hand. “Now I am beginning to understand your obsession with Venus and domineering women in fur coats. What a coincidence that I enjoy wearing my sable coat – even though it’s politically incorrect. I just love the luxury of fur.” She laughed softly.

I nodded.
“Being naked and vulnerable and mercilessly beaten by a powerful woman first made me aware of the sexual pleasure of being stimulated and aroused by pain at the hands of a dominant woman. In her full-length fur coat my aunt was a cruel and wrathful dominatrix, and from then on she became the most desirable woman on God's earth to me. In my imagination the sensual sexual stimulus of pleasure and pain became entwined and a sort of a sacred cult. I found myself fantasizing about it more and more.” I was no longer aroused by a stone cold statue – the memory of my aunt’s angry, wrathful face as she meted out her punishment, drove me to indescribable orgasms alone in my bed at night.

“
Did you try to pursue a relationship with your step aunt?” Saskia said perceptively.

"
At the age of 17 I went to university in the city where Aunt Sophia lived. I studied English literature and kept very much to myself. I had no friends and read countless books and I could not stop thinking of what had happened that night when my aunt had lashed me and then made me kneel before her submissively, thanking her for my pain and punishment. I found the memory thrilling and exciting and sexually arousing. I imagined Aunt Sophia lying naked on a bed of roses, surrounded by dancing cupids.”

“What a vivid imagination you have!”

"One Saturday morning, I went to see my aunt at her house. She received me in a cordial manner and gave me a light kiss on my cheek in greeting which immediately put all my senses in turmoil. She was in her forties and, like most well-preserved women, she was still very attractive. I had not seen her in two or three years and I kept staring at her hands. They were strong and broad - almost coarse. They were hands that were capable of meting out excruciating, exquisite pain. I adored those hands.”

“And you became lovers?” she surmised.

“In our own way, I suppose you could say we became lovers,” I said softly. “My sexual appetite was insatiable. In our ‘relationship’ I was submissive and she was dominant. I longed to be sexually aroused by her cruelty. We became… intimately involved. We fell into sexual role playing.”

“What kind of
role playing?” Saskia asked. Her lips were slightly parted and she ran her tongue over them and was breathing heavily. I could see she was excited.

Oh my love, we could scale to dizzy heights of
pain and passion. If only you would allow it!

I shrugged. “Sex games. She was the dominatrix and I was the submissive.  She allowed me to visit
her once a week at a specified time to receive my punishment. I was not allowed to be one minute early or one minute late. If I was not exactly on time I would be beaten later on. I was allowed to ring the doorbell only once and to wait until she appeared. If I rang the bell more than once I would be severely punished. She demanded total submission. Sometimes she would make me wait at the door for an hour or more.”

“L
ike a dutiful slave?” Saskia said.

“Yes,
I was a dutiful and willing submissive.”

I
made the mistake of ringing Aunt Sophia’s doorbell twice when she had specifically instructed me to ring it once only, and wait. She was angry when she opened the door. She stood there, glaring at me. When I began to apologize she placed a finger on my lips, indicating that I should be quiet. I was not allowed to speak. I was not allowed to speak unless spoken to – that was the first rule of submission I ever learnt.

There were
many other rules. And if I did not agree to them she told me that she would not see me again.

And so on that first afternoon when she closed the door behind me and led me into her small sitting room, she said, “
You should not have rung the doorbell more than once, Julian. I did not command you to do that – I said ring it once only.”

The unemotional tone of her voice aroused me
. She noticed the bulge in my trousers.

“Take off
your clothes,” she said.

I
undressed while she watched me.

“Fold your clothes a
nd put them in a neat pile on the chair,” she commanded.

I did as I was told and finally stood naked
and ready before her. She inspected my 17 year-old body, travelling her eyes slowly and deliberately over every inch of my skin, my face, my genitals… Her eyes lingered on my engorged penis and dwelled there. A ghost of a smile played on her lips when she saw the size of my erection. But her face became hard once again.

“
Did I give you permission to have an erection, boy?”

“No, Aunt Sophia,” I muttered.

“Get rid of it!”

I
began to stammer a nervous apology.

“Get rid of it or get out!”

I realized what she wanted me to do and with downcast eyes, I began to masturbate in front of her.

“Look
me in the eye when you’re doing that!” Aunt Sophia said.

I stroke
d my penis faster and more urgently, while keeping eye contact with her. It was the most erotic and exciting experience I had ever had.

“When you reach an ejaculate pull your foreskin over the tip
of your penis so that you do not spill anything on my clean floor!” she said

I
quickly reached a tumultuous orgasm that made my body shudder with violent spasms of pleasure. I stood there, gripping my penis nervously to stop it from leaking. She went into the kitchen and came out with a small glass tumbler and told me to deposit my semen into it.

When I was done Aunt Sophia produced a metal penis sheath with small sharp metal spikes on the inside
.
At the sight of it, a prickle of fear and excited anticipation rippled through me.

I
stood still as she clamped the inhibiting sheath over my penis. I winced – the tiny metal spikes bit into my flesh like sharp teeth. The sheath was uncomfortably tight and constricting.

“This will teach you to exerci
se control over yourself and prevent you from getting hard again,” Aunt Sophia said, “If you want to continue visiting me, you will learn self-control and self-discipline.”

Aunt Sophia
then produced leather wrist and ankle straps which she strapped onto me.

“Follow me,” she said abruptly.

She led me down the passage until we came to a room with a black painted door.  We entered, my aunt leading the way.  The floor was carpeted in red and the walls and ceiling were painted black. The single window was also painted black and blocked out with heavy black velvet drapes. The room was lit by a single red bulb suspended from the ceiling, which gave the room an eerie red glow as though we were standing in Dante’s inferno. 

The walls were covered in large, poster-sized prints of men in su
bmissive positions – kneeling while being whipped by a woman, manacled in chains, gagged, blind-folded, suspended upside down from the ceiling... The scenes were graphic and gruesome. The room had the look of a medieval torture chamber, with strange devices, metal cages, and evil looking instruments of torture scattered about. 

I froze in the doorway, truly afraid for the first time. My aunt watched me with hooded eyes, like a cat keenly watching its prey
enter its domain before it strikes.  She saw me staring at the large iron cage suspended from the ceiling, the man-sized St. Andrews cross with its straps to hold its victim secure, a high wooden table in the centre of the room that looked somewhat like a table from a doctor’s consulting room, fitted with straps and stirrups… and there were more metal rings embedded in the walls and floor and ceiling…

My heart
was beating wildly with panic.

My aunt became impatient and grabbed me by my penis, closing her hand like a steel vice around the spiked sheath, and dragged me into the room, slamming the door behind me. I was fairly certain that the room was soundproof and, should I scream, no one would hear me.

She pulled me roughly up against the wall where heavy metal rings were mounted in the floor and wall.

“Stand here,” she commanded tersely. “Spread your legs and place your feet wide apart.” She attached my ankle straps to the metal rings
in the floor. “Now lift your arms and spread them wide!”

I did as I was told and she padlocked the two wrist straps to metal rings embedded in the wall above so that my arms were spread out above me. Then she clamped a metal belt around my waste and locked it into metal brackets on the wall. I was effectively pinned to the wall, imprisoned, spread-eagled and unable to move. My heart
was racing so badly it felt as though it would jump out of my throat.

There was a large wooden cupboard against the opposite wall. She opened it and rummaged inside in the red hellish gloom and came back with various
instruments that she laid out on a stainless steel table next to me. She was preparing her instruments of torture before commencing. Most of the items were unrecognizable. I looked away, shuddering.

Finally she withdrew a white surgeon’s coat from the cupboard, undressed completely, and slipped the white coat over her naked body without bothering
doing up the buttons. When she moved or bent over, the coat flapped open and I could see her shrunken breasts and the dark fur of her pubic hair. My penis began to strain painfully against the confines of its spiked prison.