Surrender, part 16

Hello there, Dear Readers, those of you who are still there. Now to next part of this story.

'Kneel!'

I was awakened from my thoughts.

'Now, my dear, spread your legs, as you do at home, every evening. I assume you do that, as I have instructed.'

'Yes, I do, every evening.'

I worked my knees outwards.

'Is this how you kneel?'

'Yes.'

'This isn't good enough, wider.'

'I am sorry,' I said as I spread my thighs wider.

'Don't worry.'

'Like this?'

'Wider.'

When he was satisfied I had my knees spread almost painfully wide.

'Back straight, bosom out, head up. Be proud!'

'I don't feel proud. I feel cheap.'

'It will come.'

He had me sit like that, open, naked and spread wide for a while. He sat in his armchair regarding me. I struggled with embarrassment and shame.

Finally he rose from his chair and approached me. My heart started beating wildly. I wondered if he was going to touch me.

He knelt in front of me and was suddenly very close. I sat in position, very exposed, very vulnerable. Was he going to touch me? He was close to me and I trembled as I felt the smell from his body. There was a hint of sandalwood and man. It made me tremble.

He put his hand out and held it in front of me. I held my breath in anticipation as I almost felt his touch as his hand approached me. He held it still and my skin was aching with the longing for that hand to come closer.

'Don't close your eyes. I want you to see me touch you.'

He finally touched me, he put his hand on my left breast and I heard myself sigh. He kneaded my breast, determined but gently. He felt my hard nipple in the palm of his hand, squeezed my breast, took the beaded nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinched it a little.

Then he let his hand slip down from my breast, over my midriff and a finger found its way into my belly button. I sighed again and felt stupid. His other hand he put on my hip while the first one continued down my lower belly.

I held my breath as he put his hand on my sex and I exhaled as he slipped his fingers into me.

'Look at me! Look at my hand as it enters you!'

His fingers snaked in me, felt their way, found what it was seeking. I struggled with him, with his fingers, felt that I should try to hold back. But there came a moment when I could fight no longer, when I turned around and was ready to welcome it.

It was in that moment he withdrew. He rose to his feet and returned to his armchair. I sat shivering on my knees, my body aching. I stared at him in disbelief.

'Come!' he said and stood up and held his hand out. I rose to my feet, took his hand and was led to the bedroom. There I undressed him, unbuttoned his shirt, caressed his breast, unbuckled his belt, released his sex.

In the bedroom I prepared him, stripped him naked and was told to kneel by him and serve him with my mouth. I wasn't used to that. I didn't know how but he instructed me and I was willing to please him, although my body ached for him to come into me.

Finally when I was almost crying with frustration, my body aching for release, he put me on my back and entered me. When it happened it didn't take long. I was scared by the violence of it. I used to be slow but now I wasn't. Now my body had longed for it so long it exploded almost at the merest touch by him.

In the common room at my college, the following Monday I was met with amazed gazes. I was sporting, as instructed, the shorter of the new black skirts. It was fit for work but still very, very short. I was wearing a body hugging, striped top, that had a so wide neck that it almost came off my shoulders.

I was properly dressed, no provoking cleavage or vulgar excesses but I am sure they noticed my nipples. I blushed as I looked around the room. Some of my older colleagues looked displeased, some even scandalised but the younger men among the fellows seemed more pleased.

I had very mixed feelings. On the one hand I felt like a clown, like someone who had overstepped the boundaries, like I had stripped naked and run across the quad. I felt I had done something wrong, broken some untold rule of decency. On the other hand I felt a strange thrill of satisfaction at the gazes I received from some of my colleagues and wondered if they found me attractive. There was also a sense of pride of having been brave enough to follow orders. I was showing the world I was his. Even if no one else got the message.

To lecture I donned a jacket. There was no way I would teach in a top that showed the students quite clearly I was not wearing a bra.

'Wow!' Sarah said as I met up with her after work.

We sat at the pub and had half a pint each. It didn't felt like a wine evening.

'You look great,' she continued, 'this man works wonders with you. What I have tried to do in years he achieves in weeks.'

'Stop it! You talk about me as if I was some hopeless nut case.'

'Well, reality isn't far from that.'

'Just because I am a little prudish.'

'Skip the “little” and yes, that is right. This man of yours, did he have to whip you a lot to get you into those clothes?'

'Will you keep your voice down!'

Sarah chuckled.

'Did he?'

'No.'

'But he did whip you?'

'Caned me, it is called caning.'

'Yeah, right, I guess it is important to get those things right, in that company.'

'What company?'

'He obviously is into kink, there are loads of people like him out there.'

'He isn't part of any scene,' I said and heard how sulking I sounded.

'A freebooter, even better.'

'What do you mean?'

'That he is strong enough to do what he wants and not what is mainstream.'

'Canings can hardly be mainstream.'

'I meant mainstream in the scene.'

'You know an awful lot about this.'

'It is common knowledge, stupid.'

'Don't call me stupid.'

'Listen, this guy is clearly into that sort of kink and it is doing you good. I can see that. I am not surprised.'

'What do you mean?'

'You like it, admit it?'

'I don't.'

'You do, but you can't admit it. You are too prudish.'

'I am not.'

'You admitted it.' She chuckled.

'Don't be daft!'

'But seriously, I have known you for quite a long time, like forever, and I know you. You really long for the knight in shining armour.'

'You are saying, I am hopelessly romantic?'

'Nothing hopeless in that but you are. And that's not all.'

'All what?'

'You will never admit it but that knight is supposed to come and sweep you off your feet and you still wish for that. You like a strong man to be in command.'

'I am an independent woman.'

'Yeah, but there aren't that many knights out there, so you have to defend yourself against the ogres.'

'So I have been waiting for a strong man to sweep me off my feet?'

'Yeah, someone who is strong enough to control you, to curb a little of that pride of yours.'

'I am not proud. I just have accomplished something. What's wrong with that?'

'Nothing at all. But you want someone to come along and take that away, undress you.'

'And rape me?'

'Don't be silly, I meant it metaphorically, like you have your armour, to take some of that away, to reach through to you.'

'And control me?'

'Yeah, that too. And I think this one has managed that.'

'So he is my knight in shining armour who sweeps me off my feet?'

'Something like that. But you didn't expect him to come with a whip and a rope.'

'What do you mean?'

'He wants to dominate you, right?'

'What do you mean?'

'He punished you for being disobedient, that sort of thing, dominate you, command you.'

'Yeah, I guess so.'

'And you want to submit.'

'No, I don't.'

'But you do.'

'I don't.'

'Like allowing him to cane you is not submitting to him?'

'I wanted him to take me back.'

'You want it.'

'No. And he has never tied me up.'

'Tied you?'

'You said the knight had ropes.'

'No, not yet.'

'I am not into kink.'

'I didn't say you were. Just that you liked him for what he does to you.'

'He loves me.'

'Yes, silly cow, I know that. I can see that. But he also takes command and you like it. It does you good.'

'Sarah, I do feel strange.'

'Not surprised.'

'You know it all, don't you?' I heard how strained my voice was.

'Do you love him?'

'Immensely.'

'Good.'