Surrender, part 6

Happy New Year, dear Readers. I hope this year will be a good one, despite credit crunches and bad things. I am still recovering from a bout of flu and still not back to normal. I am not blogging to complain about my health, just to let you know why I haven't been very active lately.

Anyway, this is the sixth instalment of the story and there is some dramatic action in this part. Maybe the heroine of the story reacts in a too dramatic fashion to the events but love is a strange thing and it does strange things to your mind.

'This can't go on,' I said.

We sat in the Carfax Café and talked over a cup of tea.

'No, you are right,' he said.

I was a little surprised at hearing him say that.

'What do you mean?' I had to ask, my thoughts interrupted.

'We have to be more serious,' he said, 'yesterday was a start, though.'

'You spanked me,' I said, trying to hold back my voice to make sure no one heard me.

'Yes, I did.'

'You can't do that.'

'Can't I?'

'No, you can't.'

'You disobeyed me.'

'I am a adult, you can't spank me for being disobedient.'

He looked at me. He scrutinised me. He wasn't stupid. His answers were meant to provoke me. I knew that and that made me fear him. For once I was on the wrong side of his arrogance, outside his bubble of protection.

'What do you want?' I asked, my heart beating hard.

'I want a woman at my feet. I want you at my feet.'

'So I am supposed to be some obedient partner of yours,' I blurted out in a sudden and violent rage, 'I am supposed to be like some kind of dog you can train?'

He looked at me.

'I want you to obey me.'

'I do obey you, I do everything you ask of me, I never defy you,' I said, feeling suddenly upset and scared.

'Until yesterday you have,' he said, 'and that is why you were punished.'

'But you can't just spank me when I don't do as you please.'

'You disobeyed me.'

'I don't have to obey you.'

'Yes you have.'

'Go to hell!' I said, anger welling up along with bitter tears.

We stared at each other.

'I am going home,' I said.

'No, stay!' he said.

It was not a request. It was a command.

'You can't command me.'

'If you leave now,' he said, looking stern, 'you don't have to bother coming back.'

My heart was beating hard. Was this the end? Was this the end of a strange but wonderful dream?

'So be it,' I said while my heart wanted to scream in agony.

I moved to rise and leave.

'I still want you at my feet. And I will still want you even if you leave. But if you leave, you will have to beg me to take you back.'

I rose and left. My eyes were wet with tears. My heart sinking in my breast. I trembled and I thought I would faint. This was the end.

I spent the next days in a kind of detached haze. I couldn't think, couldn't understand. He was gone. It was over and I couldn't understand how empty my soul was when he was gone.

The haze disappeared and the pain took its place. I was hurting. I was in agony. I was in pain. I couldn't stand upright. I missed him so. How could he be so important?

On the fifth day I began to think of a way to return to him. He had said there was a place for me at his feet. He wanted me to bow to him. I couldn't do that. It was against my nature. I wanted him. But maybe it was already too late?

The following days I struggled with my desire to get him back and my fight against humiliating myself. I asked something of me I couldn't give him, something I couldn't do.

I was resolved to let him go. What he asked of me was impossible. I had to move on. I didn't want to move on but I had to.

Then the pain of losing him overwhelmed me and I felt that I couldn't live without him. I knew this was not true but my heart yearned for him although my rational mind could not understand the power of this longing.

I was going mad. I had to be with him. Had he rejected me, then I would have to learn to live with it but now I had walked away. I had chosen to leave, because I wasn't prepared to pay the price. I could pay the price and get him back.

On the twelfth day I knew I had to pay the price. I knew I had to bow to him and humiliate myself. I was losing my mind but I had to know if he would take me back. I was not who I used to be. I had lost myself to this man.

It took me two days of agony before I stood in my flat, in front of the mirror certain that I was going to him. I knew I was starting out on a road of penitence.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was only a little girl, a simple nobody. I had put on a short, green, sleeveless dress. It fell only halfway to my knees and hugged my body. It was a simple dress. I wore no knickers, no bra, no jewellery. I wore no shoes no stockings. The dress was the one and only garment I wore as I set out.

I wondered at my madness, my desperation that caused this dramatic gesture. I wanted to show him I was regretting my leaving him. I wanted to show I was set on asking for forgiveness.

I locked the door as I left and tied the key to a string around my wrist and then I set out. I walked barefoot through the streets to his flat.

As I walked barefoot, clad in a very short green dress and nothing more, I felt strange, naked, humble and scared but I didn't feel silly. I knew I was in the middle of a melodramatic gesture but I never felt it to be wrong. I knew I meant it and I wanted it to show, at least to those who could understand the symbolics. It was unlike me. I was always discreet, always held back but now I was walking through my town clad in a small dress only.

When I climbed the stairs to his flat my heart was beating hard in my chest. Tears welled up as I remembered how he had groped me on the second landing. In my present mind I wondered if I was too late and if he even was at home. I feared to know the truth. I didn't want to know I was too late but I had to know.

At last I stood at his door, ready to ring the bell. A reached to push the button but I stopped my movement. I wanted to show him I humbled myself and asked him to take me back. I know it was madness but I had to do it.

I quickly slipped my dress over my head and then I rung the bell. I feared someone would see me stand naked in front of his door but I was beyond that.

As I stood there naked I feared more than anything that he would not answer. That he would be gone. I knew it was possible and I knew I may soon be standing there like a fool, stark naked in front of a closed door.

My heart stopped beating as I heard him. I dropped my dress on the floor behind me and stood waiting. He was opening the door.

He opened the door and looked at me. He was dressed in a white shirt and looked unprepared but still very smart. He stared at me and I saw surprise on his face as his eyes scanned me and took in my nudity.

'I have come to ask you to take me back,' I said, my voice strangely confident.

He stared at me and then took a step back to admit me. I didn't hesitate but stepped into his hallway. We stood facing each other for a while.

I felt strangely serene as I knelt before him. I had come to beg but there was a kind of dignity in my pleading.

'I have come to beg you to please, please, take me back.'

'I didn't expect you to come back.'

'But now I am here. Will you please take me back? I am prepared to obey you.'

It suddenly struck me that he may not be alone. He may be entertaining some woman in his flat, some woman who had come to take my place, someone who was more willing to be at his feet, who would not protest.

'Please take me back,' I said, my voice cracking with fear.

He scrutinised me.

'Why should I take you back?' he asked, his voice hard.

'I don't know,' I said, my heart sinking.

I was naked, on my knees, asking to be taken back. I was humbling myself, begging and now fear and despair welled up in me. He may still reject me.

He looked at me for some time. My heart was beating in my chest. I felt that this was mad but I was at the same time sure about what I wanted. I wanted to do this.

'Straighten your back!' he commanded.

'And push your bosom forward!' he continued.

My heart beat a double beat out of pure joy as I obeyed his command. He took command. He gave me orders.

'Spread your knees!' he said.

I moved my knees apart. I felt a kind of joy welling up. He humiliated me, he wanted me to open myself to him, to show my obedience.

'Wider!'

I opened myself wider and my heart was beating hard. My conscious mind told me he was only cruel and wanted to humiliate me before turning me on the door but my heart sang of the knowledge that he was accepting my pleas.

'Beg me to take you back!'

'Please, please, sir, please take me back!'

My voice was stronger now and I spoke in earnest. My voice had never been this true before.

'Do you really know what it means to bow to my will?'

'No,' I replied.

'And yet you ask me to take you back?'

'Yes.'

He stared at me for a long time.

'I will take you back,' he said.

Those words meant the world to me but I already knew he would.

'You will be punished for walking away like you did and taking so long to come back, severely punished. Go home now. I will let you know when it is time for you to come back and start receiving your punishment. In the meantime, you are not to wear any knickers, at any time. And you are to wear skirts at all times, skirts or less. The skirt shall not be longer than clearly above the knee. Furthermore, you are not to touch yourself, your sex, that is, unless when washing yourself and then only a minimum of it. You are not to satisfy yourself sexually in any other way. I expect you to be naked in your flat at all times and never, ever, cross your legs. Go now!'

Then he turned around and left me in his hallway, naked and kneeling with my knees spread wide.

I rose to my feet and opened the door. I closed it behind me and took my dress from the floor and donned it. My heart was singing as I went home through the streets, still barefoot, still clad only in my dress and nothing more.

At home I stripped off the dress and went in and sat down at my kitchen table. My head was swirling. He had taken me back and I was happy. It was not over. This was the beginning of something new. I sat there rejoicing at having him back, rejoicing and fearing my punishment.