Fifty Shades of Submission (8 page)

I hear the sudden soft hum of a motor and
a thick steel cable snakes down from the ceiling via a metal pulley attached to the ceiling. The cable is being paid out from a large electric winch bolted to the wall. Aunt Sophia holds down the button on the winch until the cable hits the floor at my feet. Then she attaches the cable to the ring between my ankle straps. She returns to the winch and presses another button and the cable begins to reel back in so that my feet are beginning to lift off the floor. I sit down quickly and soon my feet are winched up above my head until they are almost touching the ceiling and I am hanging upside down, suspended from the ceiling.

Aunt Sophia leaves the candlelit circle and I can hear the door of the heavy wooden cupboard open. This is where she keep
s her instruments. She returns to the lit circle with what looks like a black shiny garbage bag. It turns out to be a tight, body-fitting latex mummy bag. She pulls it up over my head and has to climb up onto a chair to pull it all the way up to my feet so that my whole body is mummified in a black latex cocoon from head to feet. It is stretched so tight across my skin that it constricts all movement. There are two small holes in the nostril area to breathe through, another hole in the genital area, and a third hole in the anal area.

I begin to sweat immediately, heart racing, panicking. I can’t see anything and I can’t move and I am hanging upside down and
gagged. I feel completely disorientated.

Aunt Sophia starts to pull my penis and testicles
out through the small opening at the front of the mummy bag, then she moves behind me and inserts a large anal metal probe into me. It is wider than my rectum and she forces it in roughly.

I groan and begin to hyperventilate and am feeling nauseas. I try to protest verbally but off course my voice is muffled by the
gag. The black latex cocoon is stretched tight over my head, yet I can hear the door open and close softly.

“Do you want to do it?” Aunt Sophia says to the person who has just entered the room. The person must have nodded because my aunt says, “Very well, you do it.”

I can feel what seems to be small crocodile clips being attached to my testicles and penis, nibbling sharply into my flesh.

I wait, heart pounding in my ears for the inevitable pain to come. And yet, when it comes, I am unprepared for the agonizing electrical current that
sears white-hot and excruciating through the metal crocodile clips attached to my genitals and the metal probe inside my anus.

Whoever is controlling the electrical current does so expertly - turning up the voltage to unbearable levels of agony, and then turning the voltage off just when I am about to pass out from the pain. The waves of terrifying torture go on and on for hours.

I scream until I am hoarse and finally pass out.

The next morning she did not join me for breakfast on the terrace. I didn’t see her the whole day and, when I knocked at her door, there was no reply. I was suddenly anxious and frightened that I had scared her off with my fantasies of pleasure and pain, and that she had left the hotel and that I would never see her again. It occurred to me that I did not even know where she lived or how to get in touch with her.

I was gripped by panic.

That afternoon I went for a walk in the pine forest and, to my utter relief, found Saskia sitting on the stone bench in the clearing.

She did not
greet me as I sat down next to her. For a long while we sat in silence and at last she spoke.

"Do you really
think that I could be capable of the wanton cruelty and abuse of another human being? Especially of someone who cares for me as you profess to do?”" she said.

I struggled to find an
answer. The fear of alienating her and driving her away stopped me from saying what I was really feeling and thinking.

"Well—do you
?" she insisted.

I kneeled down
in front of her and took her hands. “Become my fantasy, Saskia – absolutely and without compassion or reservation."

"
You want me to I realize your darkest fantasies? You want me to torment and torture you?"

I looked at her unflinchingly.
"I believe that all my dark fantasies lie dormant in your own personality. I believe that’s why we are attracted to each. I need to be dominated by a woman and you crave a submissive. I believe that you would enjoy having a man wholly in your power and torturing him—"

"
No!"
she exclaimed quickly and snatched her hands away. But uncertainty clouded her eyes. "Yes, perhaps…" She trailed off, confused.

She looked at me, unhappy and perplexed.
"Thanks to you I don't understand myself any longer. You are corrupting my thoughts and inflaming my imagination. I am actually beginning to
like
the idea of this torment that you dream of. The enthusiasm with which you speak of the coldblooded and cruel women throughout history has taken hold of my imagination. I find myself
wanting
to become like those women, who despite their vileness were slavishly adored. It is tempting to be unconditionally adored by a man with your beauty and virility. You seem so good and pure and innocent, and yet you have already been corrupted by base depravity. I must confess, it’s an intoxicating combination – your beautiful innocence on one hand, and your depraved wounded soul on the other.”

"Well then," I
urged, "if this feeling is inherent in you, why not give in to your true nature? If I cannot have you as my wife, then be as cruel as you like to me and I will adore you unconditionally."

I was nervous from loss of
sleep, and the proximity of this intoxicating woman was beginning to affect me like a fever. I kissed her hands and, kneeling on the ground before her, I raised her foot and put my neck under it in submission. She withdrew her foot quickly, and rose angrily.

"If you love me, Julian
," she said, her voice sharp and commanding, "you will
never
speak to me of this again. Do you understand me?
Never
! Otherwise I might really…" She trailed off and sat down once again.

"
Be tempted to give in to your true feelings?” I said urgently, half-raving. "I adore you so infinitely that I am willing to suffer
anything
from you!"

"
Julian, I warn you- "

"Your warning is
in vain. Do with me what you want - as long as you don't send me away."

"
It’s dangerous for you to put yourself so completely in my power – in
anyone’s
power. How do you know that I won’t abuse your insane fantasies?"

"
I trust you," I said simply. “I trust you with my life.”

"
Don’t
trust me! Absolute power over others can make people lose their heads."

"
I don’t care!" I blurted, "Be as cruel as you like! Torture me as much as you want! I am yours to do with as you wish!"

Saskia
put her arms around my neck, drew me close and looked deeply into my eyes. "I am afraid I can't be what you want me to be, Julian. I’m not that kind of woman. But I will try to do the things you want, to make you happy. I’m beginning to care for you very much. I think I may even be falling in love with you a little."

“Come and stand here, boy. Don’t be
shy.”

It’s the first time I am alone with my new stepmother. My father left on
a business trip the day before – this time he will be away for weeks.

Before leaving he had smiled at me. “Look after your mother while I’m away, Julian.”

“She’s not my mother,” I said defiantly. “My mother is dead.”

My father
was annoyed. “Well, she’s my wife now. One of the reasons I married her was so that you could have a mother. You spend too much time alone. I want you to welcome her into our home and treat her with respect.”

And now, this evening, my
‘mother’ is sitting in my father’s favorite armchair next to the fireplace in the living room. The room is softly lit with a single table lamp so that the light from the fire plays on the high cheekbones of her haughty face. Her dark eyes are black and unfathomable. Her black hair, usually pulled up in a tight bun at the back of her head, now hangs loose about her shoulders and down her back – like a raven-haired witch, I cannot help thinking.

We had taken an instant dislike to
each other the first moment we met.

“Come closer,” my stepmother says
. “Come and stand here next to your mother.”

“You are not my mother,” I say stubbornly.

She stares at me for a long time without speaking, her dark eyes as black and impenetrable as smouldering coal. “If you fight me, you will regret it, believe me. How old are you, boy?”

“I am nine
years old and my name is Julian - not boy.” I reply sullenly.

Her smile is chillingly cold
. “So. We are to be enemies then, you and I. But not for long, I’ll wager.” She reaches out and rings the bell on the table next to her, summoning the maid. “Help me with this disobedient child,” she says when the maid enters. “I think it’s time he was taught a lesson.”

The maid,
a big buxom woman, bears menacingly down on me. I try to dodge her but my stepmother leaps from her chair with surprising agility and catches me. I kick and bite and scream as they wrestle with me, ripping my pyjamas and dressing gown off my body. Then they drag me naked and kicking and screaming to my father’s room where they tie me to one of the posts of the bed.

My
stepmother produces a riding crop and they take turns in beating me. Both women are enraged by my impudence and the switch bites into my flesh across my buttocks and back, drawing blood and leaving thin angry welts.

I cry and scream and beg for mercy but the
beating continues until I sag unconscious against my restraints.

When I come to, everything is dark and qui
et. My body is on fire and my mouth is dry. I am confused, not knowing where I am. And gradually I begin to realize that I am locked in my father’s clothes cupboard in their bedroom. I can smell his cologne on the suits hanging from the rack above my head.

I am not sure how long I am imprisoned there. Days drag by. I sleep fitfully and am desperate to urinate and eventually I pee and as the hours drag by, I am sitting and lying in my own
wet stench.

I can’t stop crying, overwhelmed by fear and thirst and hunger.

Finally I hear a key in the lock and the cupboard door swings open. It is night time and my stepmother is standing naked before me. I cower away from her.

She
smiles down at me. “Have you learnt your lesson, boy?”

I nod, my eyes well
ing up with tears once more.

“Speak up! I can’t hear you!”

I startle with dread. “Yes,” I answer, my voice thin and trembling.

“Yes what?”

I don’t know what she wants me to say.

“Are you speaking to a dog?” she screams. “Are you speaking to a servant? Yes what?”

“Yes, mother,” I whisper.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Yes, mother,” I say louder.

“That’s better!” She seems to relax and then pulls a face. “You stink. When your father comes home I will tell him that you deliberately pissed in his closet as an act of defiance against me. I will tell him that
’s why I was forced to beat you. The maid is my witness.”

She took my nipple between her thumb and forefinger and twisted it savagely. “
You have made an enemy of me, boy. I warned you that you would regret it. Now, go and shower and report back here so that I can do an inspection and make sure you have cleaned yourself properly. Make sure to scrub your dirty penis and inside your bottom as I will look inside there as well. I will be inspecting everything.”

An hour later I stand before her in fresh pyjamas, washed and clean and smelling of soap. My body is trembling with fear and my cheeks are stained with tears.

“How am I to inspect your bod
y if you’re wearing pyjamas? Take them off at once – unless you want another beating! Your father is away for another two weeks. I can easily lock you in the cupboard till then.”

“No, please!” I begin
, my lips trembling.

“Not such as sullen, disobedient boy now, are you?” she said
, and laughed mockingly. “You will soon learn to bend to my rules. You will know what it is to live under the hand of a strong-willed woman. Now take off your clothes!”

I do as she says, shaking from head to toe.

She sits naked on the side of her bed and tells me to come closer. I stand before her and she cups my underdeveloped prepubescent genitals in her hand and fondles me. My limp penis begins to harden pathetically under her ministrations.