Submission: An Erotic Journey...

Submission: An Erotic Journey of Discovery

One

A tiny bead of perspiration traced a path on the man's hair and in spite of the difficulty, managed to move to his skin. Moving slowly down, it meandered aimlessly through the crevices of flesh formed by the constricting leather punishment hood and collar and further down the bound man's body.

Glistening in the light from the candles it reflected their glow and became transformed from a clear bit of nothing into a shimmering jewel of passion moving slowly down the man's back. The silence of the room was pervasive -- nothing moved and nothing made noise. In the silence she imagined she could hear the tiny bead of sweat moving. With an easy reaching motion she placed her thin leather-gloved finger onto his back and traced the line the bead had made until finally intercepting and capturing the precious moisture. The woman drew her finger from his body and examined the tiny bead of gold. She thoughtfully placed her finger into her mouth and tasted the man's passion.

She moved her hand down his back slowly causing ripples of tenseness as if he were an animal shuddering to remove a fly. Wherever her fingers touched she could see the effects -- a fine quivering accompanied by a muffled moan from under the hood. Her fingers continued down until they finally closed on the leather thong constricting his scrotum and penis and tightened to a belt circling the man's waist. She loosed the cord and began to slowly tightened her grip and pulled it tighter. She heard his breath catch in his throat and he tried to whimper through the gag. She smiled. Thinking little of the act, she cinched it to the belt.

Moving to the man's side, she carelessly flicked the riding crop onto his body under his bound arms where the flesh was tender. Just a reminder that she was there -- and in control. With a small smile she reached to the chain attached to the clamps on his nipples and added one more heavy metal hook. The added weight caused the nipples to be distended a little further and the man moaned loudly. Reaching out she closed her fingers around the chain holding the collection of heavy hooks and shook them. They jangled noisily in the silence. The clinking was nearly drowned out by the intense noises from under the hood and behind the gag. She picked up the hooks and held them. She measured their weight and sighed as she felt him relax. With little thought to the consequences of her action, she tossed them up. For a brief instant they danced on the air and the man's body relaxed. Reaching the apex of their short trip they snapped smartly and fell back. With a jerk their travel downward was stopped and the man moaned loudly as the clamps on his breasts tightened further.

He tried to move. The chains holding the thick leather cuffs on his wrists had little play. Still, in his pain he did manage to move them slightly. She saw this and reached to the table behind her and took a rubber bungee cord. She placed one of the hooks into a link of the chain as far up as she could reach. Even bound and hooded, the man could tell she was near. Her body heat touched his skin and his erection rose higher causing the cord constricting it to tighten. She took the other hook from the bungee cord in hand and stretched it tightly toward the chain holding the other wrist. With nearly every ounce of strength she had, she hooked it through. Satisfied with her effort she backed away to examine the completed bondage. With a neutral expression she moved closer to the man and pulled on the newly stretched cord -- it barely moved. Releasing it caused it to vibrate: quickly at first and then slowing until silence reigned once more.

She took one of the riding crops from the table and flicked it at the man's tightly clamped right breast. With amazing accuracy she managed to strike the point where the nipple was the most tender. He began moaning. His moans enthralled her and she began whipping faster alternating from breast to breast. The faster she caressed him with the whip, the more he moaned and shuddered. She could feel her own response coming and she quickened the pace.

Seeing him writhing in pain and hearing his breath coming in tiny gasps strengthened her and she moved the crop down his body toward his genitals. Faster and faster and stronger and stronger the blows fell finally reaching the man's scrotum and he moaned through the gag so loudly she said, "Hush. You know you love it." And then added ominously, "Besides, even if you didn't -- there's not a lot you can do about it, is there?"

With little thought to the matter she retreated to the table and took another crop in hand. Returning to the man who was still moaning she began the same movements again -- only this time using two crops. By the time she had reached his pubis the bungee cords were singing their low song of submission. He began screaming as loudly as he could, but all she could hear were gasps of pleasure. She continued, faster and faster until the sweat formed on her upper lip, traced a line past the full lips, and trickled between her leather covered breasts . . . Outside the night was still and quiet.

Earlier that year

"Honey, you coming to bed?"

The simple words echoed in the room and hearing no response, she repeated them. Still the house remained silent. With a look of consternation Catherine Wright rose from crisp white sheets on the bed and carefully smoothed the place where her thin body had made an indentation. She sighed and wandered into the hall. Glancing quickly down the stairwell, she could see that all was as it should be -- dark and peaceful.

Restlessly she moved quietly past the children's rooms and seeing the faint glow from the night light, into the bathroom. Her dark hair was messed from the pillow and she ran her fingers through it in an attempt to create at least a semblance of her normal self. She was a proper woman and to be seen by anyone -- even her husband -- with her hair disheveled was not a part of her personality.

Leaving the bathroom she looked down the hallway and saw the faint light from the computer's screen as it managed to slip beneath the closed door. She moved quietly down toward the light and opened the door.

Her husband Alan quickly hit the key sequence to blank the screen and turned with a start. "I thought you were sleeping?"

"Not yet. What are you doing?"

"Just playing on the internet, why?"

"Alan, it is nearly one o'clock in the morning. I think you should come to bed."

"Okay. Just give me second to shut down and I'll be there."

Moments later she felt him slip into bed. She smiled for the world was right once more. Still, what had he been doing? The thought troubled her and she tossed restlessly for the next fifteen minutes. She glanced at the clock and watched as the hour changed from a one to a two. Still she tossed in the bed with the thought of what he had been doing echoing in her conscious ness. Something was wrong. The feeling invaded her consciousness and denied her sleep.

After a small amount of time she heard his breathing slow and become regular. She reached her hand to his shoulder and shook him gently. "Alan, Alan, are you awake?" She listened carefully for a response and was unrewarded for her effort.

With a sigh she crept silently across the room and opened the door. Taking care to close the door silently behind her, she turned the hall light on and walked toward the computer room. Opening the door she turned on the light. Retreating briefly to the hall, she turned off the light and closed the door behind her.

She moved purposefully to the table holding the machine and turned it on. Choosing the icon for the internet provider she chose the automatic logging on option and sat in the chair and waited.

The sound from the speakers seemed too loud as the modem made its connection and she glanced behind her to make certain she had closed the door tightly. She had.

Reading the welcoming banner she moved the arrow to the icon representing HISTORY. She clicked it on. Reading through the list of universal resource locators she begin to frown. Every one of them seemed to be a connection to some sex site or another. Many of them had names with words she knew but had never seen in this context. Instead of moving the arrow up the list, she chose the last entry, and pressed it purposefully.

Nearly instantly, in large red letters, the legend:

THIS SITE CONTAINS ADULT SEXUAL MATERIAL

IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ADULT SEXUALITY -- LEAVE NOW!

IF YOU ARE OVER 21 AND IN A LOCALE WHERE VIEWING PORNOGRAPHIC

MATERIAL IS NOT ILLEGAL, CLICK HERE AND BE WELCOME

IF NOT, CLICK HERE TO LEAVE NOW appeared on the screen. She clicked on the WELCOME word highlighted in blue and waited. At the bottom of the screen she watched as the computer told her what it was doing. Endless streams of information saying it was getting such and such a file. She recognized some of the file types, but not all. She was not sure what a file with the extension of .JPG was, but there seemed to be a lot of them. Finally the computer seemed to stop for a moment. She waited. The screen blanked and words began to form at the top of the page and she read them carefully. CLICK ON THUMB NAILS TO LOAD IN SELECTED PICTURE.

In her life she had never been prepared to view the images that formed in tiny pictures on the screen. Women were bound in every position imaginable. There were pictures of women bound, gagged, and suspended by chains, women dressed as if they were animals with horse bits in their mouths, women bound with their breasts distended by ropes, women with clamps attached to their breasts -- she began to cry.

Choosing to exit the service she returned to the main screen. In the corner, away from the other applications she saw an icon of a camera. Without thinking about it, she moved the arrow to the camera and clicked. The screen filled with an image similar to those she had just seen -- only larger. The tears continued to fall. With a sigh she turned the machine off and moved into the dark hallway.

She looked at the bedroom and sighed. She didn't feel like sleeping -- particularly with a pervert. She continued moving down the hall and went downstairs.

Walking into the kitchen she retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it with orange juice and sat by the kitchen table. Taking a drink she moved the glass out of the way and placed her arms on the table, resting her arms on them, and began to cry harder.

The thin fabric of the nightie was soon soaked and still the tears came. She glanced furtively toward the clock on the stove and saw it was moving toward three o'clock. With a sigh she drained the orange juice and walked across the kitchen and placed the glass in the sink after rinsing it carefully.

She moved into the living room and turned on the television. Moving listlessly through the channels she sat on the sofa with tears streaming.

***

Alan reached across the bed to find her. His arm found nothing but bedding and he moved it further -- still nothing. He propped his body up on his elbow and reaching his other arm across the bed; he searched again. She simply was not there. With a look of concern he rose from the bed and crossed the room. His thoughts were tumbling: What if one of the kids were sick? What if she was sick? The dire thoughts quickened his pace and he entered the hall. Glancing first toward the children's room and the bathroom, he saw nothing but darkness. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the faint light of the television emanating from the living room and he carelessly flicked the switch turning on the lights. He walked down the stairs.

***

She heard him rise and turned her attention to the stairwell. In her mind she wanted to run as far away from this pervert as she could possibly get -- but where could she go?

***

He saw her face was puffy and could tell she had been crying. "What's the matter, Catherine? Are you sick?"

"No, but you are!" She hadn't meant for the words to be so harsh but they exploded from her lips as if they were something vile. He walked quickly toward her. Even through her tears she could see he was moving toward her. She bounded from couch and rushed past him and up the stairs to the bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she sat on the floor and felt the tears stream-

ing again.

The knock came suddenly and without warning. "Go away!" She screamed.

"No. What's the matter? Is there anything I can do?"

"Haven't you done enough already?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean, you perverted son of a bitch." She paused and thought about the last time she had cursed and for the life of her she could not remember. Her invective only increased her sorrow.

He heard the curse through the door and his concern doubled. His mind was a jumble of contradictions. He wanted to help, but she wouldn't let him. He wanted to make it better, but he didn't know what was wrong. In desperation he tried again, "Catherine, open this door immedi ately!"

"No. Go away."

She felt the door shudder as he placed his weight against it. The lock held. She continued crying.

Suddenly the pressure on the door ceased and she heard him move away. Relieved of the pressure of explaining herself, she turned her attention to her tears once more.

The click of metal on metal disturbed her sobbing and she snapped her head back. He was trying to open the door from the outside. She untucked her legs from under her body and placed her feet flat on the tile floor and braced her back against the door and pushed. The lock sprung and he pushed again. Slowly, inexorably, the door began to open.

"Just get out of here. I don't want to see you!"

"I will. I will. But not until I know what is going on."

"You know what is going on . . . your computer . . . those pictures!" The last words were lost in the flood of tears that rushed in a torrent down her face and streamed around her full lips and dripped onto the thin fabric over her breasts glistening golden in the light from the child's night light near the mirror.

Two

The clarity of the words stunned him. With a feeling of falling down a well he backed away from the door. His back smacked the wall of the hallway and he slid slowly to the floor. Thoughts unwanted tumbled out of control as he tried to think of an explanation for something that simply defied explanation. His own tears began to well and he pulled his knees to his chest, rested his arms on them, and nearly sobbed.

What were those pictures? He didn't even know. It had started simply enough. Just out of curiosity he had typed the letters BDSM into the service's search engine. Nothing in his life had ever prepared him for what he found. Instead of seeing pitiful sickness displayed he saw something entirely different. All of his darkest fantasies came springing to life. Thoughts he had been hiding and trying to smother since childhood were suddenly displayed in front of him -- he felt intoxi cated. His heart quickened and he felt a robustness to living that he thought he had lost forever enter his being.

Certainly he was aware of his interest in bondage. It was something that was made clear to him when he was a child playing a silly game.

His thoughts drifted back to that day when he was ten years-old and playing with his best friend -- Sheri Griffin. That summer they had spent nearly every day together doing things that children do. She was like him and that was enough. The fact that she was a girl mattered little. She was as good at ball as most of the boys and she also liked to play fantasy games -- something he didn't like to share with his friends.

That day Sheri had suggested they play pirate and captive. Pirate television show were the rage at that time and had infected society's consciousness to the point where it was nearly impossible to pass a store that sold toys without being bombarded with buccaneer images.

Being Sheri she decreed she would go first. He said he was willing to play, but had still laughed when she pointed the plastic sword at him and instructed him to place his hands behind his back. She repeated the command, "Place your hands behind your back, prisoner!" He started to protest, "Sheri, I don't think this is a good idea. The unfamiliar movement in his groin had told him to tell her no. She laughed and said, "Sorry about that. Do it anyway." As if to strengthen her point, she moved the toy sword to his neck and pricked him. He quickly placed his hands behind him. She moved behind him and after pulling a piece of curtain cord from her jeans pocket quickly looped the slender line around his wrists and pulled it tight. Feeling the cord bite into his thin wrists excited him and he groaned. "What did you say, prisoner?"

"Er . . .nothing."

"Good. I like it that way. If you aren't quiet I will have to gag you."

With a deliberate movement the small girl walked around him until she faced him once more. She had a small smile as she said, "Good, I think that will do. Now, drop to your knees."

"Sheri, really this is going too far. What if your mom comes downstairs?"

"What? We aren't doing anything wrong. Now drop to your knees, prisoner!"

The venom in her voice told him to do so and he dropped quickly down. He stood on his knees and looked at the ground. There was something about the scene that was very uncomfort able and he didn't want to make eye contact. He tried to follow her as she moved behind him and looped another cord around his ankles. As the ropes tightened he could feel his penis getting hard. His thoughts of embarrassment were overwhelming and he tried to reason with her again. "Sheri, stop. I don't like this. " Although he heard himself mouth the words, he knew them for the lie they were -- he not only liked it -- it was his first experience with a kind of sexual love. He closed his eyes and waited.

The movement of his bound wrists caught him by surprise and he felt the bonds tighten as she tied another cord around them. She tightened it further and he felt himself being drawn backward as she pulled his wrists toward his ankles. She grunted as she cinched the rope tightly and smiled.

Moving in front of him she went to the laundry pile and retrieved a kitchen towel. Standing behind him she tightened the towel around his eyes and the world became dark. After what seemed to be forever he felt her foot on his shoulder as she pushed. He tumbled onto his side and lay there whimpering . . . .

The experience had ended as innocently as it began. After being interrogated by the small girl about the Crown's ship movements, she released him. His face was crimson as he said, "Sheri, I have to go home now."

He remembered that day as if it were yesterday because he went immediately to the bathroom and after a few touches, ejaculated onto the floor. Even now he smiled as he remem bered the fear he had felt. At that moment of bliss he was certain he had done something terribly wrong to his body.

Still, what was he going to say to his wife Catherine? Nothing came to mind. There had to be a way to explain that he didn't want to do such things as she saw in the pictures to her. Even as he thought about the contradictions of what he was thinking he could see no way out of the dilemma.

Sitting on the floor outside of the bathroom he tried to think of how he could explain his need to be bound. The pictures, oddly enough, turned him on not because he wanted to do such things to women, but rather to have them done to him. Even in his own mind the thought didn't make sense. Logic dictated that if he was excited about being bound: why didn't he want to see pictures of men bound?

"Cathy, I think I can try to explain, if you will let me."

"Sorry, Alan, I am not particularly interested in your explanations. You have hurt me deeply. I never knew you were that sick."