Tuesday, 24 February 2009

Surrender, part 13


Back on track again. Here is more cheerful part of this story of surrender.


'We are going home to your flat,' he declared and I had to suppress my annoyance at having me get all the way to him only to go back.


As we went we walked arm in arm and I felt happy, being his girlfriend, his partner. I wasn't sure if I was but I let myself be that for the time being and I enjoyed it.


He had never visited my tiny flat and was amazed at how sparsely it was furnished. I had a kitchen table, a bed, two armchairs and a small side board. It was nothing fancy, simple design but, as I thought it, elegant.


He sat himself down in one of the dark green armchairs and accepted a glass of wine. Then he demanded I should show him my wardrobe. When I looked at him in bewilderment he explained that I should put on my clothes and show him.


I had to laugh, This was silly. I had loads of clothes but they were mostly practical things, that was good for my college but not for anything else.


He smiled but was persistent. He said we had plenty of time. So I started with my jackets. He looked at me with a straight face and made some noises when I wore something I think he at least found stylish enough.


After a while he told me that he didn't want me to disappear into the bedroom to change but I should bring the clothes to the living room and show him.


'Begin with trousers,' he said and laughed and I went into my bedroom and returned with a pile. I tried them on one by one and he shook his head. He didn't like them. The only pair he approved of was a pair of stretch jeans that clung to my legs and were quite low cut. Those were a pair Sarah, my friend, had given me because they didn't fit her but I had never used them.


Most of my skirts were too long but he liked some of the shorter ones. I had a wide, red skirt that fell to my knees that he liked, despite its length.


Tops were harder, some of my shirts were good, he told me and demanded I should show him what it looked like if I tied a knot in the front and wore the tight jeans. He liked that he could see my belly then.


Some of my other tops were acceptable, especially the ones I didn't use because they were too tight. He liked that.


He seemed to like my taste in dresses and found most of them good looking but especially the green one I had worn when I asked him to take me back. It wasn't elegant, he said but it made me look exposed.


I took off and put on my clothes in front of him and although I was embarrassed I stopped thinking about it after a while. Until it came to underwear. He was very keen on underwear.


'Throw them away,' he said about my bras, 'why would you want to wear a bra?'

'My nipples are visible if I don't wear a bra,' I said, grumpily.

'I like nipples.'

I knew my breasts were small enough to manage without a bra but it was, still, a little hurtful to be told like that.


He was quite enthusiastic when it came to knickers. He didn't demand that I tried them all on but some he wanted me to show him. Most of my knickers were cotton and quite childish, with hearts and cats on and that sort of thing but I had some that were black and smallish that he liked.


He accepted that my one piece swimsuit was elegant but he liked my bikinis better. Still he found most of them too prudish. He liked a red one I had that had low rise tie side briefs and a triangular halter neck bra, a classic but small bikini. This one I considered to be too daring to really wear at any public beach. He laughed when I told him.


When I thought I was done and most of my clothes lay in heaps and bundles on armchair and floor in my living room he rose and went to my bedroom. He wanted to check my wardrobe.


'I like those,' he said when he returned holding some of my scarves.

'Try this on,' he said and held out a very flimsy, red one with golden threads. It was made of some very thin fabric and had golden disks sewn to the ends, that rustled when you shook it. I had bought that on a trip to Cairo and I had thought it pretty but never used it.


I took the scarf and put it on.

'No, not around your neck, around your hips.'

I looked at him and tied it around my hips.

'You should learn to belly dance,' he said, that scarf gives me ideas.

I smiled at him. He was like a child, a child with some naughty ideas.

'But you can't be wearing those jeans. Take them off!'

I knew better than to protest so I unbuttoned my jeans and took them off.

'Still too much clothes, take the top off, too.'

I blushed as I stripped off my top. I felt suddenly naked as I stood before him dressed only in knickers and the scarf around my hips.

'Knickers too.'

'The scarf won't cover me.'

'I know.'

I took my knickers off and was now only wearing the scarf.

'Lower, let it hang on your hips, even below the hip bones, I want to see your belly.'

I retied the scarf and made sure it was low on my hips.

'Now stand there, weight on one leg, push your hip out, hand at your hip, let the other hang, push your bosom out, look at me, over the shoulder, straighten your back.'

I felt like I was in a photo shoot and he was instructing me. I tried to follow his orders.

'There you go, very nice. You would make a lovely barbarian princess.'

'A princess with very little clothes on.'

'Or a dancer or a harem slave or both at the same time. My imagination flies.'

'Are you a barbarian king and I would sit at your feet?'

'That is not a bad idea. And maybe I should chain you. I think you would look lovely in chains, imagine the hard steel against that soft skin.'

'I feel silly.'

'Don't be, you look lovely. You should learn to dance. You are really sexy like that, exotic and sexy. I like that. Maybe I should invite all my friends to dinner and have you wait at the table, dressed like that.'

'Don't you dare.'

'Don't tempt me, you don't know what I dare.'


I was silent. I knew he spoke the truth, in a flash I imagined him really doing that. I wondered if my willingness to do anything for him reached that far.


'We have to go shopping.'

'Too little rubber pants in my wardrobe?'

'What do you mean by that,' he snapped and I felt a cold hand grip my heart.

'Nothing,' I said, my voice weak, 'I just thought, perhaps...'

'What did you think?'

'I talked to my friend, Sarah, and she thought that perhaps...perhaps you were into that sort of thing.'

'Like fetish wear, like rubber and leather, like I was part of some kinky scene, like I went to some fetish club?'

'I don't know, maybe, I did.'

'You think this is a game?'

'No, I didn't mean it like that.'

'How did you mean it?'

'I don't know, sorry, forgive me.'

'Very well, it is a mistake, easily done. I can tell you, I don't fancy rubber and I don't fancy leather and I am not part of a scene. I am me and I want a woman by my feet and you are that woman. There is nothing more to it than that.'

'I understand,' I said, 'I am sorry.'

'That's alright.'






11 comments:

Meta said...

The whole clothes part? Yeah, did that. If you're going for realism, you've got it nailed. :) Definitely had a similar mix of reactions - embarrassed, hurt by the response, but still kinda fun.

Manorlord said...

The silken bonds tighten imperceptibly as the intrusion and presumptions increase. I wonder if she is on a slippery slope to total control. I hope not. The tipoff would be his demand to see the contents of her pantry, then approving or disapproving each jam pot, potted meat and box of biscuits... A silly thought, but this too is, for some, "realism."

A fun read. I enjoy the camaraderie they share.

Wystan

David said...

Amusing to see 'Manorlord' also using the term 'I wonder if she is on a slippery slope...' ;-)

samos

Paul said...

Janice, I recognise aspects of control.
I think that she is being very patient.
I hope that he isn't going for micro control, that would be hard work and for me rather boring.
But you never fail to deliver a fascinating read, thank you.
Warm hugs,
Paul.

Manorlord said...

Always happy to be of (am)use -- but what did I miss, Mr. Samos?

The term "slippery slope" is itself amusing, especially in connection with the female form -- her curves slick with exotic oils, or soapsuds in the bathtub.

Rub-a-dub, dear Janice...

Warmly, (tho still a tad confused),

Wystan

Ollie said...

Like Paul I fear for her as he seems to be on the path to micro control, a slippery one at that.

What is interesting is the extent to which she is in control of this process. She knows that at any time she can walk away, it is only her desire for him which chains her to him at present.

As she learns more about him and submits further to his increasing requirements will his allure increase or will her disgust and self loathing? If the latter will she then feel the need to submit further as some form of punishment precisely because she has allowed herself to submit to him?

Does he have to pace his demands carefully so that her desire is always greater than her disgust?

Is this the slippery slope? Will he indeed slipper her slopes?


It was good to see the tiny red tie-sided bikini making another outing though.

Meta said...

Why the resistance to a total power exchange? No comment on what Janice should or will do with this story, but I think that if she does go down the "slippery slope," the story has just as much potential to be fascinating as if she avoids that. There's still plenty of room for character development of someone that submissive, for example.

Mina said...

Strangely enough I did not feel sorry for her or fear for her in this episode as other readers have. I enjoyed the fun they had together and how her confidence grew throughout the 'fashion parade'.

Loved the slave girl look and I have seen these scarves at markets over here in red and black with the little disks so I could picture it all perfectly.

The part at the end was good too as it served a number of purposes. It gave us a look into his character; helped define some of their relationship; set the scene for future episodes.

Thanks.
Hugs
Mina

Janice said...

Dear Meta, this comment made me really chuffed. In a way I want realism, in a way it is all fiction. I want it to be believable, to be about real emotions and I think I manage some times.

Dear Wystan, you will have to excuse me but this is one of your more silly (or sillier) comments. If she happened to be with a man who was in to jam pots then she would have to obey, wouldn't she?

Dear Samos, I just have to ask myself and you all, isn't it a slippery slope if you are about (perhaps) to give up your independence?

Dear Paul, thank you for the comment. The story is mostly written and things you say to me won't change it. This does not mean I don't appreciate hearing from you, on the contrary, it means a lot.

Dear Wystan (again), you have a knack to turn expressions into something that amuse you...I like that.

Dear Ollie, I think you hit the nail on the head. She is in total control, of course. Interesting thought, there with the punishment for submitting. I may have to think about that. And who could resist the temptation of using a tiny tie side red bikini again?

Dear Meta (again), thank you for the support. I am with you. Great potential for stories whichever path you choose.

Dear Mina, I am glad you didn't feel sorry for her. Hopefully there is a more cheerful time for her ahead. And thank you for the comment. I do want him to be someone you could fall in love with.

Hugs

Janice

Anonymous said...

My Dear Janice,

If he were into jam pots, she would "have" to obey? Now that WOULD be silly. I dare you to explore his marmalade kink. I double dare you -- I DOUBLE-DOG dare you!

Daringly,

Wystan E.

Ollie said...

I think we should be more concerned about his relationship to Marmite, well known to evoke strong passions either from its admirers or opponents, rather like the main subject of the piece.

The people must know.