My Dark Angel

This is a story I wrote some time ago. I thought it might fit into the general theme of this blog. As I read it I realise that it would probably need some more editing. But enough of excuses. Here it is:

I was nineteen at the time, studying at the university and living at my own place, very much my own. I am quite small, which, I think, makes me look younger than I am. My appearance could be said to be plain rather than special. I think I may be cute rather than beautiful but I am definitely unassuming rather than self assured and attractive.

Anyway, this summer I had just finished my last spring courses and felt as if I had a holiday. I didn't do anything special but went around town walking and shopping and going places with the friends that were still there. The summer was quite hot and relaxed.

The things that rocked my world began one warm summer night when I had joined my friends at a sort of rock club. I liked the music but the volume was high and it scared me in a way I couldn't explain. I stood back and watched the people move and talk and dance and flirt. People were quite lightly dressed, because of the heat and so was I. I looked at the young men in their jeans and t-shirts, many were dressed in black despite the summer. The girls were more colourful and less dressed. I was lightly dressed but not provocatively so, I think. I wore a short black skirt and a likewise black tight top that left my shoulders and arms bare.

That, which happened that night, happened fast. I had had a couple of beers and was a bit tipsy but not really drunk. I listened to the music with the muddled but pleasant feeling alcohol may sometimes bring. There were a lot of people and I watched a group of young men dressed in black and with heavy belts and other rocker paraphernalia. I knew a couple of them and fancied one of them a little. It was enough for me to watch them and think of the one I fancied.

Then my eye suddenly caught another young man together with that group. I can't say I was attracted to him but something in his way of moving made my head swirl and my knees weak. He wasn't handsome or attractive, the sensation I got was far beyond such things.

I stared at him as I wondered why he caught my eye. I was lost in those thoughts when I realised that the group was moving in my direction and that this, strange, young man was looking at me. I felt embarrassed and was scared that he might have realised that I was watching him.

The group came up to me and the people I knew said hello and gave me a hug and a kiss. Soon they saw someone else beside me and I found myself eye to eye with the strange young man. I think I blushed and he smiled. He seemed cocky and extremely self assured, so much that it was annoying. At the same time he seemed calm and serious, looking into my eyes as he smiled. He said something to me which I didn't hear and then he moved closer to me. I had to look up into his face and I felt, again, that swirling in my head. I felt silly and extremely shy.

Then things happened quickly. He moved closer to me and I found myself staring at his chest. I felt his arm at my head as he leaned against the wall behind me. Then I felt something else. He had put his hand under my skirt and suddenly I felt it against my belly. In the next moment he moved his fingers down into my knickers.

I froze, I held my breath. The world seemed to stop. I didn't hear anything. The only thing that existed was his fingers that not only touched my sex but now had found their way into me.

I couldn't breath as he held his hand in my sex. I couldn't think, couldn't react. I was petrified and helpless. His fingers moved slightly and I drew my breath.

He took his time, felt his way, there, in my most intimate part. I could do nothing. I just stood there. I think I closed my eyes. I don't know why. I didn't think, I didn't feel anything. I only sensed his fingers in my sex, moving slightly, touching, being there, close, inside me, intrusive and intimate.

Then he withdrew. He stepped back. I stared at him. He smiled, still. He didn't say anything.

Suddenly he moved away with the group and I was left standing there at the wall, violated, with the memory of his fingers in my sex.

I tried to gather my senses, straightened my skirt afraid that someone would have noticed. I was suddenly aware of all the people around me and thought that they all had seen the touch, seen the intrusion. I blushed and felt dizzy. I needed to go away, to get away. I turned and walked away from the club, out into the summer night, my thoughts tumbling through my head, my heart pounding in my chest.

I was not really able to think about what had happened, my thoughts were confused. I felt violated, humiliated and almost raped. I hadn't protested or said anything. I had let him do it. It had all happened so quickly, so unexpectedly. The most confusing and most degrading of all sensations was that I was aroused. I was horribly aroused by the memory of his fingers in my sex. A part of me longed for them to come back.

The days that followed was spent in a kind of haze, a kind of detached feeling. I walked around and watched people but they seemed distant and far away. I thought that this must be some kind of reaction to what had happened at the club. I had heard of similar things happening to women who had been raped. Had I been raped? Still I couldn't get the man out of my head and I couldn't hate him. Against my conscious thoughts he became a black angel that had blessed me with his touch. Still I felt violated and humiliated. I felt dirty and horrible.

Then he came back. One evening three days later he came up to me as I was sitting in a café, alone. He didn't ask permission but sat down opposite me. I froze, again. I couldn't do anything but stare at him. He said 'hi' and I think I nodded.

As the first shock left me and I could start to breathe, he smiled at me and started talking to me. He was polite and kind and smiled at me. He looked at me and I blushed. I managed to answer him and we talked for a while. He had that sharp gaze I had seen at the club, as if he had plans or his real thoughts were somewhere else. He seemed to be that kind of person who knew what he wanted and always planned ahead, always had something in mind.

'Let's go to your place!' he said, all of a sudden.

'Ok,' I said not able to do anything else.

Despite his rough appearance he was the perfect gentleman and paid for my tea. I walked beside him with my heart pounding. I didn't know why he wanted to go to my place. Strangely enough, the most obvious reason didn't appear to me. I couldn't for anything believe that he wanted me or was in any way attracted to me. I was smitten and terrified. I would walk anywhere with that man.

We came to my place and we went in. I rented a small room that had a bed and a tiny kitchen. I told him to sit down in my only armchair while I fetched a bottle of wine and two glasses. It seemed the natural thing to do. He watched me as I moved through the tiny room. It was at that moment I realised that things might happen. I blushed again and my heart started to pound. I was angry with myself at the same time because I knew that if he wanted something of me he would get it and I couldn't say no. The thing that annoyed me was the inequality of it. I sensed that he saw me as entertainment rather than someone to fancy.

We drank the wine, or some of it and talked a little. He told me about places he had been and music he loved. He sometimes asked me about things but didn't, really seem to listen to my answers. I was tense and apprehensive and a bit excited by his presence although I felt the sting of humiliation that came from the thought of him maybe wanting to use me for his pleasure.

Then things became strange, even stranger than at the club. He gave me a long enquiring gaze and I couldn't answer but had to look down and blush. Then he talked to me.

'Come here!' he said. It was a demand but his voice was soft.

I was puzzled but rose from the bed, where I had been sitting and walked towards him.

'Come closer!' he said.

I obeyed him with pounding heart. He demanded and I obeyed. I couldn't believe how weak I was.

I stepped closer to him and was standing in front of him. He looked at me. This time he had to look up. It didn't give me any sense of power over him, it only felt strange. Suddenly he stretched out his hands towards me. I held my breath but could not move. I closed my eyes and waited for his touch.

I was a bit surprised as I felt his hands on my hips, under my skirt. He moved quickly up to my knickers and put his fingers inside them. This time he didn't move towards my sex, instead he started to pull my knickers down.

I was taken aback but didn't have it in me to protest or say anything. I was at his mercy and he knew that, I think. He pulled my knickers down to my knees and then he took my hand. He pulled me towards him but it seemed to me to be in a strange direction. My movements were awkward because I couldn't anticipate what he wanted. His hand became more determined, not brutal, but more guiding and I relaxed and let him guide me.

He wanted me to lie across his lap. Words cannot describe the sensation of weirdness I experienced as I complied and prostrated myself on his lap. The situation was strange and I couldn't understand why he did this. Was I to be touched again?

I felt him lean forward and grab something that was lying beside my bed. I felt his face close to my ear and I heard him whisper:

'Now, I am going to spank you.'

I froze, I held my breath as I so often had done when he was close to me. I couldn't believe what he said and I couldn't get myself to react to it either. I lay still, waiting.

Then he flipped up my skirt. I realised that he really was going to spank me. I couldn't understand why. Then I felt the cold surface of something hard against my naked skin. I glanced over my shoulder and realised that he held my wooden hairbrush in his hand.

Then he started to spank me. He brought down the brush on my buttocks, one cheek after the other, with great force. The sound was tremendous and it seemed as if I heard the impact before I felt it. And I did feel it. Immediately from the start the pain was excruciating. He spanked me hard with full force. He smacked me in a steady pace and there was no getting away from it.

Soon the pain mounted and became unbearable and my body tried to wriggle free from his lap. He took hold of my waist with his other arm and continued to spank me. I felt his hand touching my belly and it felt, strangely intimate. The pain was horrible and I moved around and soon I was screaming and crying. I was thinking about the neighbours but could not stop myself from making noises.

I started to plead with him but to no avail. He continued spanking me and everything started to become unreal. I didn't know where I was or who I was. I just felt the relentless smacking of my naked buttocks and the mounting pain that made me squeal and squirm.

I heard him laugh. He enjoyed himself and it struck me, in the middle of my ordeal, that I hadn't seen him show any emotions besides smiling before. Now he seemed happy.

I didn't realise, at first, that he had stopped spanking me. The pain was still tremendous. I was exhausted and sweaty. I noticed, vaguely, that he had slid down my knickers and removed them. I don't know where they went because I never found them again. I believe he kept them, as a trophy.

'Stand up now!' he said and I complied still trembling.

I was in shock and my face was wet with tears.

'Come on, dry your eyes, we're going out!' he said.

I nodded and dried my eyes while I rubbed my behind.

'First you shall do something for me,' he said.

I remember him using the word 'shall'. It was strange but seemed natural for him.

He took my hands while I was standing in front of him and he dragged me down so that I knelt in front of him, between his legs as he sat. I shivered. I didn't know what he wanted but it seemed to be something that was going to be close and intimate.

He let go of my hands and I stared in amazement as he unzipped his trousers and released his sex. It was hard and erect and seemed enormous from my position. I looked at him and he smiled.

'Kiss him!' he said. Another weird thing to say.

I was petrified but leaned forward anyway, scared of not obeying. I leaned closer to his sex and felt a fear in my heart. This was strange, this was something I wasn't supposed to do.

Then I kissed him, I kissed it. I was horrified and repulsed by the whole thing but strangely aroused.

'Take him in your mouth!' was his order.

I held my breath in horror. Then I obeyed. I opened my lips and took his sex in my mouth. My whole being protested but I obeyed. I let my lips glide over him and licked him with my tongue. I had no experience of such things but I obeyed. I sucked on him and touched him with my mouth.

'Don't touch yourself!' he suddenly commanded. I hadn't thought about touching myself but as he said it I realised how aroused I was. The command seemed to deprive me of my satisfaction and I felt my sex ache for it.

The man started to moan after a while and I felt his member move inside my mouth. I realised he was on his way. I wanted to withdraw.

'Don't move away!' he said.

I realised what it meant and I was terrified, terrified and aroused.

When he came I didn't move away. I took it in my mouth and almost choked on him.

'Swallow!' he said and I did sensing my whole body shaking in affect. It was gruesome, horrible and terribly, terribly arousing.

When I rose again I felt an ache in my sex but I didn't dare to touch myself or do anything about it.

I was still confused and only remember us leaving my flat and he locking the door and giving me the key. We walked away from the flat and I remembered as we entered the street that I had no knickers. It was a strange sensation, feeling the air against my skin and at the same time the stinging and burning of my newly spanked behind.

He took me to a café and ordered some wine. I sat down even if it was quite painful. The man was quite cheerful and talked a lot. I was still in shock and felt my sex ache for satisfaction and the memory of his sex in my mouth felt strangely exciting. I had been spanked and humiliated by this man who sat smiling in front of me and I could not, still, hate him. He was my dark, black, angel who had touched me and taken command of me and I was his devotee and everything he did to me was a blessing.

Everything I thought about him and the things he had done to me or had me do spoke against everything that I believed in or thought I was, but still, I sat there, with him, in his presence and I couldn't hate him.

He had, yet another, thing up his sleeve to humiliate me. As the waiter moved away he leaned forward and whispered in my ear to pull up my skirt so my skin was in contact with the chair. I remember staring at him in disbelief and then thinking about how to do that without anyone noticing it.

I managed to pull up my skirt pretending to straighten it. I gasped as I felt my naked skin touch the chair but then I was concerned with arranging my skirt so that it would look natural.

The sensation of my naked skin directly in contact with the seat of my chair was overwhelming. It made me feel naked and exposed. It made me aware of the fact that I had no knickers. And the fact that I knew that he knew made me terrible aroused, aroused and ashamed.

We sat for a while drinking our wine, he leaning back in his chair and me sitting straight in mine, sensing my nakedness against it. It was late when we left and he said he was going home. He didn't want to go somewhere else and he didn't want to take me or have me. He could have done that if he had wanted it. He could have taken me anywhere, he could have spanked me on my aching bottom or he could have stripped me there in the street and I would have allowed him to do it. Instead we parted and that weird, sacred and special night came to an end.

I knew, in my heart that I would never see him again. I don't remember if he told me he should go away or if my intuition told me that but I cried as I walked home, naked under my skirt, newly spanked and humiliated. I cried in my bed and I cried in my heart for many days after that. I missed him so.

I cried during that summer even if I realised that it was not him I missed but the things he did to me. I cried for the things that he made me realise about myself. During those few days he made me understand that in my heart I longed for to surrender myself completely and helplessly to a man like him or if not to him to the things that a man like him might want to do to me. I desired nothing more than to wipe out what and who I was and become something, someone that could only obey, that had no will and whose body was for someone else to be pleased by. I wanted to disappear, to be immersed in something else, be a part of everything but without a will of my own. I felt so alone.