Controlled Surrender

Author's Note: This is the third in a 3 story arc. I think each story does stand on its own as enjoyable. If you want to know what happened before, read: "One Hundred and Ninety Two Hours", and then "The First Five Hours."

Also - this story delves more into the S&M side of BDSM. Please remember that these characters are acting in the context of a well established, mutually beneficial, power exchange relationship.

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*1*

The time for their vacation had finally arrived. She'd agreed that she would obey him for the length of the trip, and then they'd see how they felt. She'd gone along with his plans and commands as they left their normal life and journeyed to their alternate reality. He was brimming with excitement and plans. She was thrumming with anticipation.

When he left her to walk the last half mile to the house, he said to arrive naked and assume "a suitably subservient position". She was kneeling on the front porch. Knees spread wide, hands behind her back, head pressed into the wooden decking. She felt the vibrator trying to slip out of her again, so she raised her ass and arched her back. Clenching her pussy, she hoped gravity would help keep the slippery intrusion where it was supposed to stay.

She'd turned her head to the side, for air, since the penis shaped gag was still filling her mouth, but there was nothing for her to see. Any view of the yard was blocked by a bench. He'd said to wait for his invitation, so she had plenty of time to think about what she'd gotten herself into. What she'd already allowed him to do.

Contemplating the days stretching out before her, she thought about his promises. She knew how important it was to him that he keep his word, and she shuddered at that that would mean for her. Eight days of nothing but obeying his commands. She shivered, but almost convinced herself that was just her reaction to an evening breeze that had sprung up. Naked, ass in the air, her pussy having spent all day aroused and stimulated, she was covered in her own juice, and healthy doses of his cum and piss. The breeze freshening around her drying her off and cooling. Sure, that was the reason for her goosebumps. She smiled as best as she could with the gag.

She had no idea how much time had elapsed. She had no idea how long he planned to make her wait; how long she'd be required to consider her position, physically and metaphorically. She was excited. She was hopeful that this vacation would prove something to them both, that it would release tensions built of navigating the confines of time and space that were left after their 'normal' lives. She mused on the deeper kind of connection or meaning they might be able to come to, in so much time without other obligation or distraction. She might be a masochist, but she was also a romantic.

Her mind spinning up all sorts of delicious scenarios, she waited. And waited some more. And longer yet. She could hear him moving around in the rental house, maybe dragging furniture. Faintly, she could hear him humming, and knew that he was also definitely excited. Still, he made her wait.

Finally, she felt the door in front of her open, and almost sat up. She saw the toe of a shoe, and then he stepped over her without a word. She felt the wooden decking vibrate as he walked across the porch and down the steps. She heard the gravel crunching, then car door opening, some rustling, and then it slamming shut again. Heard him retrace his path and step over her again into the house, leaving the door open. Felt her traitorous pussy gushing at this new level of objectification.

Now she could hear much more clearly, him walking around, unpacking, organizing. He came back to the door and walked over her out to the car again. This time when he came back, he stopped long enough to tap her pussy with his shoe, pushing her ass higher into the air and then lightly pressing down on her back so she arched more, pressing her face into the planking even more firmly. He stepped over her back into the house, but was only gone a few minutes.

He looked down at her. He smiled at what he was already creating, here was the picture of obeisance. He couldn't wait to mark up her currently unblemished back; visions of her crawling, bringing him the objects he would use to defile her, dancing in his head. When they discussed the idea of this vacation, when he had broached his desire to own her, even temporarily, he'd told her that he didn't have everything planned out. That was technically true. But he had the arc of the story plotted, and believed he knew her well enough that he'd get the outcome he really craved.

For now, that meant easing into things. He'd made her wait long enough; long enough that she wouldn't know whether she'd made his deadline for arriving; long enough that her mind was full of anticipation of what she wanted to do. He shook his head. She had no idea.

He squatted down in front of her, and reached out to grasp one of her wrists. He put a leather cuff on it, tightened it suitably, and then reached for the other wrist to do the same. He checked that the cuffs had the correct amount of give and that the D-rings faced each other. He clipped a connector between the two. He'd also bought ankle cuffs, and a couple of other compatible accessories.

With her hands secured, he reached down and grabbed her hair, yanking her upright on her knees.

"You were late, slut," he growled. "Get in here."

He yanked again as he stood and walked into the living room. She started to stand up, and he told her that her knees had to stay on the floor. As she crawled precariously into the living room the vibrator slipped out, just inside the threshold. He would save that transgression for later. He walked into the living room and leaned against the back of a chair that was about eight feet from the door. He crossed one foot over the other, crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his fingers on the opposite elbow as though he were very impatient.

Truthfully, he loved how her chest was heaving and her tits swaying as she waddled in on her knees. Because her hands were behind her and no help for balance, she'd pushed her chest out and tossed her head back. Drool was leaking out of her mouth, slipping down her chin and little specks flinging off onto her shoulders. He thought it was a beautiful degradation, and his only regret was that he wasn't recording it.

When she'd crawled close enough to him, he pointed at the ground and she stopped. She started to lean over to put her head down, but he reached down and grabbed her hair again.

"Pay attention," he snapped. "I'm going to explain a few things to you."

He reached behind her head and unfastened the strap for the gag. Allowed her to flex her jaw and suck in her spit. When she settled, he began.

"For the duration of our stay, your name is 'Cunt'. You will address me as 'Sir'. You will obey me in all commands, as quickly as you are physically able, and completely. If you make a mistake, I will correct you. If you displease me, I will punish you.

"You have earned three punishments already, Cunt. Look." He pointed at a dry erase easel set up to her left, next to a kitchen island. On it was a grid, with five columns and at least ten rows. The first three rows were partially filled in. The columns were marked: Infraction, Strokes, Clips, Pins, and Time.

He strode to the board. "See here," he said pointing at the first row. "That blow job at the rest stop took longer than it should have." The first column had 'BJ', and the column marked 'Clips' had 52 written in the appropriate box. There was an exclamation point in the 'time' box for that row.

"Then you exceeded your time limit for masturbating in the car." He pointed at the second row, which was marked with 'fap', a 35 in the 'pins' column, and a 3 in the 'time' column.

"Finally, you were late getting into position on the porch." He wrote 'arrival' in the third row, and 112 under 'strokes', 'clips', and 'pins'. "That was especially serious."

He showed her a riding crop and a flogger. Then he held up a box of small binder clips. "I have 200 of these, and one day you'll be wearing all of them." Then he held up a box of sewing straight pins. "I have a couple hundred of these, too, Cunt.

"You won't have to take all these punishments now. That's why they're written down, so neither of us will forget. But before we leave, every box will be marked off. I dunno, I wouldn't want to add too many more boxes if I were you."

He walked back to where she'd remained kneeling, and squatted down in front of her. He held her chin and drew her up taller, tilting her head so she would make eye contact.

He whispered, "Remember, you agreed to this. You're accepting this. You knew, as soon as you said yes, that you would give me what I want. What I need. Give this to me willingly."

She was nodding.

He continued, "Try your best and you'll be rewarded. I can make you wish it will never end. My lovely, greedy, beautiful, wanton pain slut."

He kissed her lightly on the top of her head. Then he grasped her gently by the shoulders and bade her to stand up. Put his hand around one of her arms and told her he was taking he on a tour.

They'd found the rental on a kink friendly website, and there were eyebolts placed strategically in the ceiling. There was a square column marking one corner of the living room boundary, and that had hooks set in to it, and an electrical outlet at the base.

He walked her around, showing her the furniture in the living area, the kitchen, the table and chairs that marked one end of the kitchen. He pointed out the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard. Next to the sliding doors was the main bathroom, a large space with a walk in shower, big enough for several people, a double vanity, toilet, and then a deep soaker tub. The wall next to the tub was glass, and he showed her how it could be made opaque or left clear. She instantly wanted to climb in and take a long, very hot bath. But he still gripped her arm, and quickly walked her away.

They went around to the main bedroom, and she saw the big steel frame bed stead, with the tall headboard made out of a grid of small pipes. The footboard was a shorter version of the same, but also had an outside frame that was the same height as the headboard. Two long pipes led from the headboard to footboard frame, and there were a few cross pieces, like the skeleton of a canopy bed. Several pairs of handcuffs hung there, to emphasize the utility of that frame; he said they came with the bed. There was a large dog bed at the foot of the bed, and next to it a small upholstered chair.

"Your clothing will be on that chair, for any day I decide that you can have clothes. You can only wear what's on that chair when you wake up, unless I physically put it on your body."

She started to marvel at how much thought he'd obviously put into this. Started to wonder how long he'd really been planning it. She was kind of amused, actually, at all of the BDSM tropes he was trotting out, and wondering if this week was going to turn into some kind of "Claiming of Sleeping Beauty" knock off. She smiled, because she figured she'd enjoy that, actually.

There was a half-bath attached to the main bedroom. He unclipped one the cuffs so they separated from each other, slapped her ass and said, "Go clean yourself up at the sink, like a good little whore."

She went in and looked at herself in the mirror. She was a frightening mess, her hair stuck out at all angles, her face was streaked with sweat, jizz, dried piss. There were splatters of dirt along her chest and abdomen. Her feet and lower legs were filthy from walking along the side of the road and the driveway. She quickly found a washcloth and filled the sink with water as hot as she could stand.

She found some hand soap, then quickly scrubbed herself everywhere. Paid special attention to the underside of her tits, her crotch and her ass. Tried to fix her hair. She was rinsing off after getting everything a second time when she remembered the vibrator sliding out of her. Surely, he'd noticed, so him not saying anything felt like a test. She dried off as best she could with the hand towel that was in there, and sheepishly walked back into the bedroom.

He was leaning up against the footboard, head tilted back, looking like he was contemplating the weight limit of the cross bars. Trying to play along with the atmosphere he was creating, she knelt down in front of him and put her head on his foot.

"What is it, Cunt?"

"Sir, the vibrator came out of me when I was coming in the house."

"No shit, Cunt. I was wondering when you'd finally acknowledge that."

"I'm sorry, Sir, I..."

He cut her off. "Don't bother to apologize. That won't change your punishment. Fifteen minutes. It's been fifteen minutes since you mishandled my property. And you're just now noticing. That's serious. Very serious.

"You need to bring those to me. Because I'm in a good mood, you can walk back out there. Bring my property here to me, and make sure you do it the right way."

She scrambled to get up and practically ran back to the door. Stopped there trying to divine what he meant by 'the right way.' She assumed she was supposed to crawl back, so how to carry it? Because the vibrator was remote control, and designed to be inserted completely, it had a long retrieval cord. She knelt down next to it, and picked the cord up in her teeth. She didn't stop to think why she hadn't used her hands. Happy with this plan she spun around and started back to the bedroom. She was passing the chair when her mind clicked on something else he'd said. "Bring those back to me." She sat on her haunches, vibrator dangling from her mouth, thinking about what other property was out here.

She scanned around and noticed the gag sitting on a small table next to the chair. Of course; the gag. She could grab it by one of the straps and carry them both. She tried not to imagine how ridiculous she looked, using her chin and then her nose to pull the gag over to the edge of the table. Somehow in the process it tipped, the end of the fake penis pointing up. She managed to hold the vibrator cord in her mouth and suck the penis gag in, she clamped down with her teeth, and feeling it just secure enough, resumed crawling to the bedroom.

She felt strangely proud of herself, and then amused at how seriously she was taking this. She crawled back to the bedroom as quickly as she could, oddly grateful that this time she could also use her hands. When she got into the bedroom he was sitting on the chair, naked. She crawled over until her head almost touched the chair, then kneeled up, with the vibrator and gag still hanging out of her mouth.

He looked at her and laughed, joyfully. Ruffled her hair like a dog. Leaned down and said in a singsong voice, "Who's a good girl? Are you a good girl?"

She was hurt. She'd expected him to give her some real notice of accomplishment. As she was contemplating spitting the things at him, he stroked her cheek. He could see in her eyes that she was upset.

So he said softly and sincerely, "Thank you, Cunt. Let me have these. You're still going to be punished, but you got this part mostly right. Still, though, that took longer than it should have."

He ran his hand through her hair, and told her to stand up. They walked toward the kitchen, and he told her to sit at the table. He'd made dinner, a pizza and beers. While they were eating he sketched out some of the other rules. He casually put a two boxes of binder clips in front of her and told her that by the time they were done with dinner, she should have 26 on each breast. She counted them out and dutifully started affixing them; circles around each areola, and then in rows across the tops of her breasts. Six in the circle, and then four rows of five.

It didn't take long, and they were still eating when she was done. He was talking, she listening, and every so often he'd reach over and tug at a clip to ensure that it was firmly in place. They drank their beers and when they were done he told her to wash the dishes and put everything away.

When she was done he fucked her. He bent her over, her arms braced on the edge of the table so that her tits swung violently with every thrust. He rammed himself into her, one hand on her shoulder, and the other winding in her hair. Then he was holding onto her hips, shoving himself into her as hard as he could. He was grunting so loud he couldn't hear her, but he felt her orgasm around his cock, and kept fucking. Finally he couldn't hold back any longer and his own orgasm tore through him. He shuddered to a stop and pulled her upright to lean back against him.

He ran his hands down her torso, then back up and squeezed each of her tits, watching as the clips moved but still didn't come off. She'd done a good job securing them, but if they came off now her endorphins would mask the pain. He couldn't have that, so he used the cuffs to secure her hands behind her again, and walked her over to the couch.

He sat down and pointed to the floor between his legs as her spot. They were facing the television, and there was a good sized coffee table in front of them. He put his feet up, and turned on the TV. He found a football game he could pretend to care about. He waited a minute and reached down to tug at one of the clips; he kept pulling at it until her breast lifted, then he squeezed the arms to release the clip and let her breast fall back down. He tossed the clip onto a shallow tray on the table. He did the same again, once a minute, until there were two left. Those two stayed on until the game was over.

She'd had a good orgasm, and they'd played with binder clips before. So at first, she didn't react. But as the hour wore on, and there were fewer clips left, it started to hurt her more. She found herself squirming, or arching her back to ease the pressure of gravity, though that didn't really work. Each time one of the clips released she hissed. By the time there were only two, she was in agony. Both of the clips were in the circle nearest her areola, and had been jostled significantly each time he pulled off the others.

She couldn't focus on anything but the pain in her tits, and the feel of his body surrounding her. By now, these two clips had been stuck to her for almost two hours, far longer than any other time they'd played with them. She looked at all the other spots, and they were red and puffy. She realized he was deliberately knocking into her with his legs, to make her tits sway and pull.

She put her head back to try to look at him, but he was ignoring her. She rubbed the back of her head in his crotch, hoping to arouse him.

Instead he growled, "Keep doing that and I'll whip those last two off of you."

That made her sit up straight.

With the final whistle of the game, he reached down and pulled the last two off at the same time. He just yanked on them as hard as he could. She squealed, expecting blood. But there wasn't, just the normal icy hot pain of her skin refilling; it was almost pleasurable.

He turned off the TV. Tapped her on the head and said to stand up. He reached up and undid the cuffs, also tossing them onto the coffee table.

"I don't know about you, but I'm beat." He said, without a trace of irony. "Let's get a shower and go to bed." He stood up and went around to the dry erase easel, and marked through the first punishment line. Then he added a line: 'lost property', 15 in 'strokes' and 3 in 'time'.

They took a long soothing shower together. He helped her really clean all her crevices, washed her hair and stood still as she washed him. After they dried off, they got into the bed; she was very tired, but it was still kind of early. She was wound up with anticipation, excitement, and not a little discomfort coursing through her. She curled up next to him, while he propped himself up on the pillows. He pulled out his Kindle and started reading to her from a collection of BDSM erotica. She found herself drifting off, sore but content.