Surrender, part 1

Just a word on my latest story, Arrogance. My disclaimer was not so much about whether there was consent or not in the story, there obviously was, in some way. No, my concern was that someone might think that I shared the underlying assumption that she was to blame for the problems with the relationship and that a relationship between a man and a woman works better if the man takes charge, with physical means if necessary. I still wonder what you, dear Readers, think the title refers to.

Now, something completely different. I will now start serialising a rather long story. Mind you it is yet not finished but I have written quite a bit already. It is a proper story where I take time to develop the characters and the events unfold in a slow but steady way. There are no chapters and no parts so I will just present it in chunks of about 1500 words each. I will try to cut the chunks off where it seems natural but I won't take into consideration whether there are any kinky scenes in them or not.

So, here is the first instalment of the story called Surrender. The title will explain itself. There are no exciting scenes in this first post but if you read on there may be some of that later on. I will continue blogging normally on the side so not every post from now on will be part of the story but I will try to post them on a regular basis.

And, please, let me know if you grow weary of it.

He hit me between the eyes, directly between the eyes. I had no idea where he came from but suddenly he was there. He was a demon, who conjured up things in me I didn't know existed, brought out the worst and the best of me. I think he was a demon, a demon or a god.

He was handsome. He was good looking in a way that annoys you or makes you weak in your knees. But that was not all. Many men are handsome like that and very few impress me. I am not the one to pick and choose but I do look for something other than a pretty face.

He was handsome, that is true but he was also arrogant. He was an arrogant bastard and he had that steel hard gaze that threatens to intimidate you, the one that can make you feel like a little girl.

He didn't show off his strength. He didn't have to. On the contrary, he was extremely polite and gentle. His strength came from beyond that. It was of the kind that he brought with him from childhood, the one that didn't brag but just made him know that he had the right to be happy.

He had a very special smile. You saw it sometimes when he was talking or debating. It was the smile that told you he was enjoying himself. It was a tad arrogant but it was an introvert smile. It seemed to come from the heart.

It was that smile that decided it for me. I guess I fell in love with him but it didn't occur to me like that at first. What I felt when I met him was very different from what I had felt with other men. He seemed to just exist, to be there and intrude on my world and that was enough, enough to make him the guest of my thoughts.

How I met him is irrelevant. I think it was in the pub, with my colleagues. He was a friend of a friend. The important thing was that suddenly he was there and from that point he occurred everywhere.

He hit me between the eyes already at that first meeting but since I am as I am, I was angry about that. I felt intimidated in the way you feel when you have to admit that you fancy the most gorgeous boy in school and you know that he will never ever even look at you.

He was way out of my league but he looked at me and he smiled at me and he didn't leave my thoughts after that. I guess I was smitten in that very moment but when I walked home I was angry.

After that he was everywhere. He walked past me on the street and then we went to a café and then there was a lunch and even cinema and dinner. I came to like him during that time. He was dangerous, he could easily have made me feel ashamed and intimidated. I was vulnerable, had no defence. But he didn't make feel ashamed. He was kindness and gentleness with me and I started to feel that it was nice to be inside his bubble of confidence.

I wasn't a weak person. I knew who I was and I knew I was good at what I was doing. I could address an audience of hundreds and keep my head up and I didn't back down in the heat of a debate. I was strong in my own way. Perhaps this strength had scared some men away. I had made them feel uncomfortable.

I couldn't pretend. I was who I was and I acted in the only way I could. He was different. He was frightening in a way I had not felt before. I knew he could reduce me to a scared child if he wanted to. I stayed away from men like him. I didn't enjoy feeling vulnerable.

I was vulnerable, that was obvious. And perhaps we all are. Being with him was a leap of faith, trusting that he didn't hurt me. I felt naked with him in a way I wasn't used to, still I hadn't run away.

I didn't feel insecure with him. That was the miracle, and perhaps that is why I didn't turn and run. I felt him as a blessing rather than a threat.

I was happy those days. I felt it as if he saw me and I believe he did. I was blessed and I was in love. In a strange way I was in love but it felt very different from the other times.

I always fell violently and deeply in love and I sank deep when it crashed. No one was allowed to know how I felt, but I fell deep into darkness when it crashed.

He was different. It wasn't life threatening like it used to be. I was in love but he was of another kind. I was safe with him.

I don't know what he felt for me. I know he enjoyed being with me. That was easy to see and the way he looked at me made me know, not just think, that he cared for me. In his own unique way he cared for me a lot.

But it didn't seem for me to judge him or try to figure out what he felt. Being with him was a blessing and a grace.

Although I didn't really know what he felt for me there was no arrogance in his way of looking at me, in the warmth in his eyes, as he gazed sideways at me. He had that smile, that private smile that told me he enjoyed himself when he was with me and from him, that was the best assurance you could get.

And he desired me. That was thee great miracle. He was that kind of handsome man I would have expected would choose a more flamboyant woman than me. I was a lecturer, a researcher, not at all glamorous. I cared about my appearance and I felt I was vain in comparison with many of my colleagues. But I wasn't glamorous, not beautiful, not stylish or flamboyant. Still he desired me. At least he desired me enough to want to seduce me.

I desired him too, more than I had expected. He was handsome, well built, slim and yet strong. He was fit and moved well. I was surprised as I felt my knees become weak as I looked at him and how I blushed as he looked at me. I really wanted him to have me.

I expected him to want me and then forget me. I was prepared for it. Still I let it happen. I felt that for once I would throw caution to the wind and just let it happen. Tomorrow is another day, let it happen now!

I was apprehensive when it happened but he was strong enough to not let that scare him away. I was nervous over dinner as he looked at me. It was as if I knew he wanted it. Or maybe it was because I wanted it. I could do nothing. Either he would seduce me or I would go home untouched.

When we left the restaurant he kissed me and with that kiss he told me his intentions. There was no doubt any more. At least I thought so. He took me to a bar and we sat there for a while. I knew we were on our way somewhere else. I think the kiss had told him I would go with him wherever he went.

He asked me to come back to his place and I nodded consent. He smiled at me but this time it was not arrogance, it was reassurance I saw in it. I was reassured.

He was gentle and soft and a gentleman but he didn't hesitate. He unzipped my dress already in the hallway and let it slip from my shoulders. I wore my underwear to the bedroom and there my bra fell to the floor. He kissed me and he looked at me. He was still dressed as he sat me on the bed. He removed my shoes and then laid me down and removed my knickers. I was naked as he kissed me and I pressed my naked body against his clothes.

I was lying there naked on his bed as he undressed. Then he let me slip between the sheets.

He was in command but I wanted that. I wanted him to do what he wanted. I wasn't strong enough to take him for me. I had to be taken. It made me feel wanted and valuable and loved. I thought that love may not be involved but I wanted it still.

He was strong and selfish, yet loving and careful. He held me and caressed me and kissed me and had me. I wanted it badly and I let go of my fears.

Afterwards, I was relaxed, fulfilled and satisfied, yet there lingered a kind of sadness as I thought that such a man would move on after his conquest. I would let it happen, I was prepared, still it would hurt.

Nothing in the way he treated me afterwards gave any suggestions of his moving on. On the contrary, he started treating me as a girlfriend, as a partner. He took me to cinemas and restaurants and parties and gatherings and I was by his side and I was his.