Surrender, part 22

I was a little mean to you who don't know the glory of Cricket. I couldn't help it. It is a great game. Here comes the next part of Surrender story. If you are as confused as Wystan E, then you may read my comment on his comment to the last instalment.

The next morning we went walking through the city centre. It was ancient and sedate and full of churches and old palazzos. He took me to a church and we wandered through it. I was taken by the mix of old and new, delicate and vulgar.

Behind a pillar, he leaned forward and whispered in my ear to take my knickers off. After the first rush of opposition and reluctance there came the thrilling sensation of giving in to him, to accepting his wishes, the excitement of doing something bad like that, in a place of worship.

I looked around and although I heard there were other people in the church, I saw no one. It was quick work to slip my knickers down and step out of them. I handed them to him and he put them in his pocket.

He took me to an art gallery and with precision found all paintings and sculptures depicting nudes, and especially female nudes. He stood before them for a long time talking about them.

'That is how women should be, naked. That is how I want them, naked for my pleasure.'

To him there was no doubt about our roles. I was there to please him and he made it clear to me that he was pleased with me. He compared my body to the ones in the gallery and explained in detail why he found me beautiful.

I was an object for him, an object he loved and wanted. In his strange way he respected me. He wanted me for what I could do for him, that was no secret.

He didn't look down on my academic achievements, on the contrary, he was proud of them, but they didn't interest him. He was selfish in a very childish way, he talked a lot about what he thought and wanted. He was interested in my opinions as long as they didn't interfere with his own wishes and desires.

There, in that Italian town, he made it clear to me that there was another side of me, a side that wasn't about career and achievements, but that was about something else. It was about body and submission and accepting my desires.

That was the strangest of it all. I desired it. All this submitting to him spoke to some longing in me. He disregarded my will but somehow, he left room for my own desires. I don't think he knew this, or if he did, he had stumbled on this knowledge by mistake. He was selfish, but self assured enough to not having to subdue my longings.

I was happy those days. We walked through this ancient town, had dinner in small restaurants and climbed the mountains outside the city walls. He didn't have to whip me and tie me up. He had me wear too short skirts and very little underwear, just as a reminder of whose power I was in.

It was easy being his. It was sweet being his woman, his servant and slave. He didn't provoke me in order to test my resolve. He had already done that, he had already forced me to accept the whip and being shamed me in front of his friend. We both seemed to know it wasn't necessary any more.

At the end of our stay he did want to shock me, though. He seemed to want to remind me that submission to him wasn't all sweet romantic walks through a lovely old town. Or maybe he just wanted to play a game.

In the evening we went back to the hotel and in the street in front of it, there was a group of young men sitting on scooters. My man stopped short and looked at them. He then looked at me. I saw a kind of wicked smile play on his lips and then he went over to the young men and talked to them.

When he came back they followed him. They looked at me in a way that made me blush. They stared at me, and smiled.

He took us all into a back alley behind the hotel. He took my arm and turned me around so I suddenly stood facing the small group of three Italian youths.

'Knickers off,' he said to me in a sharp voice.

Humiliation burned my cheeks as I put my hands under my skirt and pulled my knickers down. I stepped out of them and tried to give them to my man. He pointed to the young men and one of them reached out and took them. He chuckled and put them in his pocket.

'You,' my man said and pointed to one of the youths, the tallest and most handsome of them. 'Come here.'

The young man came forward.

'Unbutton your dress,' he said to me.

My fingers were numb as I did as I was told. I was terrified but not of the young man, but of my own humiliation.

'Slip it down your shoulders,' he snapped.

I parted the panels and slipped my dress from my shoulders. The young men stared at me, my breasts, and licked their lips.

'You may touch them now,' he said to the man standing closest to me.

I held my breath as his hands shot out towards my breasts. For a short moment, he seemed to hesitate, as if he didn't believe his luck. He smiled a childish smile and put his hands on my bosom.

I drew my breath. His fingers were cold. He started to grope me and knead my breasts with his nervous hands. He eagerly squeezed my flesh till it hurt. I looked at him and saw him stare with wide eyes at his own hands and my bosom.

'Stop it now,' my man commanded, 'put your hand under her skirt.'

He withdrew his hands, looked nervously at my man and then complied. He lifted my skirt and put his hand on my sex. I held my breath.

The youth looked at my man who nodded consent and he slipped his fingers into me. He was not gentle. He was too eager, too nervous. He rubbed his fingers against me, inside me and I gasped at the suddenness and the intensity of his movements.

'Stop now,' was the command, 'go now, the rest is for me.'

The young man withdrew. He looked in awe at my man but seemed unable to say anything. The other two looked amazed and disappointed, as they all returned to their scooters.

'Now they will have something to talk about,' he chuckled as he turned to me.

I still stood with my back against the wall, my dress down from my shoulders and with my bosom on full display.

'How do you feel?'

'Ravaged.'

'Excited?'

'Yes.'

'Humiliated?'

'Yes.'

'Button your dress.'

'Yes, Sir.'

I was trembling as we entered the hotel and went to our room. The youths were gone from the street. I was sure the story would be all around town soon.

'The rest is, indeed, for me,' he said as he began to unbutton my dress.

In that moment I didn't care I had been humiliated in a back alley behind a hotel. I desperately wanted him to touch me.