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HJ[Message 1 of 1 in thread 27 of 42] rec.arts.erotica

The Submission of Andrew
    From: Sir William <[e-mail]>
    Date: 21 Apr 1994 23:18:15 -0400    (10 screens)

Archive-name: s-of-a

Prologue:  Consider what follows to be a  a chapter from a larger
novella, titled Andrew and Diana (think Greek/Roman, not Anglo)
which is about a 48 year old man who has had a great deal of sexual
experience within some fairly normal limits and a 42 year old woman
who is a queen of erotica.  Both are married, they meet, begin an
affair.  Together, they begin to explore the edges of their combined
sexualities, the book will read like a variety pack of combined
short stories while character development takes place throughout,
linking the stories and leading to the eventual rise of their D/s
relationship and its subsequent fall.

Diana is very submissive.  She lets Andrew know that there is
absolutely NOTHING he can ask of her that she will not do for him.
He is, at this point, unable to comprehend, unable to cause pain to
More?all
the one he loves, quite lacking in understanding and fearful of
BDSM.  One night he asks her to play the dominant role, to show him
what it is that she wants, and this chapter is about that event.


THE SUBMISSION OF ANDREW

Late evening, early spring.  Quiet in a hideaway far from traffic
sounds.  Fireplace crackling gently, burning slowly.  Candles
everywhere, small, flat white pancake candles set in ashtrays around
the room, two or three to an ashtray.  Music at low volume.  Slow,
relaxing massage music.  Tangerine Dream.

Andrew and Diana are face to face, close on a couch in front of the
fireplace.  They are holding a brand new twenty foot hank of
magician's rope.  It is soft, supple, white cotton rope with a
smoothly woven outer shell and three finely packed cotton strands
twisted within.  They are fondling the hank together, silently
sensing the smoothness, then, Andrew holding and marking the spots,
Diana, with scissors, cuts the hank into four equal lengths.  These
they coil evenly, then, rising, slowly walking like dancing to a
nearby bed, the coils are lain at each corner of the brass frame.

Diana has adorned her 5'2" frame with her most provocative outfit, a
long, blue and yellow paisley blouse, deep neckline showing white
cleavage over black lace demi-bra, and cut Daisy Mae like into long
zigzags at the bottom so that the tips hang almost to the knees but
are cut in so high that there is visible midriff.  Black panties and
garter belt peek through the fringe and fishnet stockings cover
almost perfect Dietrich legs which end with tiny feet in delicate,
gold pumps with five inch spiked heels.  Andrew wears only light
blue silk briefs and supports her with his larger 6' body as they
glide to the bed together.  His incipient erection is visible as
Diana motions for him to lie down on his back "Oh, what have we
here?" she asks sliding tiny warm fingers across the silk almost
touching, not quite, taking his left hand in both of hers she looks
at the rope, then opens a bedstand drawer and finds a silk scarf
with which she blindfolds Andrew quite tightly.  Andrew can see
colored patterns of fireflame and candleflame flickering through
when he opens his eyes beneath the silk.  He can have pitch
blackness by closing his eyes.

Warm hands grasp his left wrist again, Diana extends a leg, toe
pointed, takes his hand and runs it along the length of the fishnet,
pressing Andrew's palm agains her fully contracted muscle, letting
him play with the contrasting textures of netting and smooth,
freshly depilated skin.   Now Andrew can feel the rope being wound
around his wrist in a spiral, then the knot, then the tension as the
other end becomes firmly attached to the brass.  He hears the rustle
of Diana's blouse above the soft synthsoothers, hears feet crossing
the floor away from him, the opening of a refrigerator, the tinkle
of ice cubes falling into a glass, glug of liquid from a bottle and
the sounds of her return.  Then her warm breath near his right ear
as she ties the other wrist to the headboard.   She rustles back to
his feet and the warm hands slide lightly from inner ankles up
across his thighs, evenly, light pressure making muscles in his
sides contract involuntarily.  A slapping sound and a sting on his
inner thigh accompany Diana's stern words of warning, "Uh, uh!
Don't do that!  Be still," and then, reassuringly, almost laughing
underneath, "I know this is difficult for you.  Please me and you
will be rewarded."

Understanding what Diana wants, closing his eyes, Andrew summons
complete control of his body.  He feels her hands grasp his briefs
and slide them slowly down his thighs, then over his ankles, hears
them land on a chair across the room.  Then a strange feeling as
something is being drawn onto his body to replace them.  "Women have
an advantage with clothes," Diana whispers.  "I want you to know
what my panties feel like, lace next to your skin."  They are on him
now, the elastic tight across his midriff, the soft yet slightly
scratchy texture of the lace feeling just a little strange and she
traces their outline across his midriff with slow fingers, then
places both hands on his fully erect cock, pressing the lace down
onto it, rubbing the texture of lace on glans into his memory,
making him forget so that his hips rise and press against her hands.
Another smack and sting, just below the line where the lace ends.
"No!  Be still!"

Her hands begin to wander over his body, very slowly, very
delicately, touching chest hairs without touching skin and he
maintains the stillness easily now, in his mind his wrists are no
longer bound, his body is tranquil in its place and quiet and no
restraints are needed because he is holding it captive for her with
his own will;  her will, which has become his by virtue of his
submission.

The near tickling ceases, Andrew's cock is throbbing beneath the
lace, pink tip peeking out above the waistband, oozing.  With index
finger Diana takes a drop of precum and places it on the tip of his
tongue.  "Taste!" she commands, and he obeys, rolling the salty
fluid into his cheeks, onto his gums, then extending his tongue as
if to say "More, please."  Next, the sound of ice cubes, rattling,
rattling in a glass and she puts it to his lips and tips it to give
him a sip of chilled tequila.

The sound of her body moving away again is followed by a sudden
sensation against the soles of his feet.  Andrew maintains control,
he is now fully submissive, fully relaxed, he has given her both his
will and his trust.  His body remains still as Diana speaks
encouragingly, "Good!  That's soooooo good, my darling!  I'm very
proud of you."  More cock rubbing, her hands gentle this time,
teasing the precum out of him, offering alternating tastes of salt
and tequila, making sounds to let him know she is sharing these
tastes, stroking, taking him to the edge, then........

The ropes slacken.  "Is it over?" Andrew asks himself.  "Is she
done?"

"Turn over!" Diana commands.  Andrew complies and her hands silently
mold his body into a kneeling position, head down between elbows,
knees drawn up underneath, butt in the air.  Attaching his wrists to
the bed once more she quietly whispers to him, reaffirming the prime
directive, "Still!  Be still for me!"  Hands moving to his waist she
removes the lace panties and slides them down and over his ankles,
tossing them away, then binds his ankles in such a way that they are
pulled apart by a few feet yet pulled forward toward the head of the
bed.  "You may test the restraints," she says with an air of
authority, and Andrew finds that he is comfortable straining
slightly against all four corners, firmly held in this almost
sculpted position.

Andrew's eyes open beneath the blindfold.  Colors of the silk shimmy
in the flames as Diana glides away again, then back.  Unrecognizable
sounds precede a warm sensation on his back.  Heat, yet he does not
move.  Scent of limes.  Heated massage oil.  Andrew inhales the
scented air as Diana pours the oil, coming closer and closer to his
skin, the heat gradually intensifies; biting bedsheets he maintains
stillness. Now Diana's hands spread the oil across his shoulders,
down his back, over his raised buttocks, onto his thighs, around,
between them.  Diana, with one hand pulls his balls back, exposing
them to drops of hot oil which, with the other hand, she supplies
from above, closer and closer with the lip of the pitcher, the heat
intensifies, she rubs and squeezes, then releases the sac and brings
her fingertips upward, pausing to tease Andrew's pink anus with a
smooth, lubricated fingertip.  He flinches.  She smacks.  It feels
good, the sting, the intensity of her small palm hard against his
soft flesh.  He baits her, moving his butt slightly and she smacks
again, "Be still, still!" but he is having none of it and he moves
against her hand as he finds the rhythm of her blows and matches it,
pushing upward to meet her falling hand as she begins to rain harder
and harder openhanded blows, watching his oiled, pink skin redden
beneath her hand, smiling at her craft.  Now she has what he wants
and he responds with more motion; she finds her crop and stings him
gently with it, increasing the intensity of each blow, ever mindful,
ever thoughtful, it is for him, Diana keeps telling herself.  She
must not abandon herself; he is biting the bedding hard now, moaning
and still raising himself in anticipation, his body asking, begging
for more, "Momma!  Oh!  Momma! Why, Momma?" he moans, "Why!" and she
replies in a calm straightforward whisper, "Because you're being
bad.  You're not doing what I told you to do."

Gradually, the beating ceases, Andrew slowing his rhythm, Diana
following, decreasing tempo and intensity.  Touching with a gentle
hand, Diana makes Andrew again aware of his cock, which feels, to
him, like it's grown three sizes, throbbing, huge, pulsating,
dripping and Diana teases it with long slow strokes, taking the skin
of his balls with her hand, all the way to his tip, then back, slow,
tortuous, her other hand beginning again to tease, this time a
small, lubricated finger slips inside him, slowly extending and the
rubbing, from inside and out continues, andante, as he gradually
opens to this new experience, his body is still again, soft moans
are escaping his lips, her hands go away for an instant, the
blindfold falls off and the ropes slacken, "It's OK to move now, but
keep your eyes shut," she says, her attitude very different, asking
now, no longer commanding, stroking, fondling, he senses more volume
inside him.  Her hands are so tiny and he has no frame of reference.
Could it be her entire fist?  Her forearm?  It feels so good and his
moaning is uncontrollable and the burning sensation sets a fire
inside him now as she intensifies her stroking and Andrew is all
ablaze inside, flaming, rocking now, matching, once more, her rhythm
and her hand releases his balls and cock as the other penetrates to
its deepest capability.  He bites the blanket to stifle an enormous
scream and then, bursting, convulsing, suddenly this thing that has
been happening to his body for minutes, (hours?  days?) is over.

An eternity passes before Diana, with gentle voice asks, "Open your
eyes."  She is in front of him, naked, displaying her cupped right
hand, holding Andrew's come, several tablespoons, perhaps, enormous
volume, thick, white, creamy.  Diana smiles, makes eye contact,
brings her hand to her lips, slowly drinks, slowly swallows,
extending her exquisite neck, slowly licks her palm clean with a
voluptuous tongue, then offers her mouth to Andrew, who pulls her
close with strong forearms and ropes attached to his wrists seesaw
gently across her clavicles to and fro as they rock each other
restfully , growing closer, naked, yet resplendent in a deep salty
kiss.

________________________

Epilogue:  Andrew, of course, turned right around and threw himself
into the task at hand -- becoming SuperDom for his love.  His
experiences since the event just related, which happened about three
years ago, have been running about 95% Dom to 5% sub.  He is quite
aware, however, that no sub experience will ever equal the night
that the magician and her assistant performed the disappearing fear
trick.

Copyright 1994 - Guillaume le Mechant - Permission to distribute
this material is granted.
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