"You will do. Come knell at my feet."
Arms and balls bound, I stood naked in the unbearably high window of Anna's tower above the city as she determined my fate. Accepted? I was reborn. I turned away from the world to joyfully stumble to the supreme bitch goddess and fell to my knees.
"Do you like these shoes? Put your head under my skirt. Lean forward between my legs and breathe. Suck my air. Is this what you need? There are just a few details, some things for you to sign. Sign away your life to Gina, and you be accepted."
Anna's scent spun into me. Memory of how I had come to be in this place faded to an indistinct haze. I gratefully accepted her grace.
With my arms strapped behind my back, I struggled at Anna's feet. Her scent overwhelmed me, enthralled me. I was lost in a fog-swaddled sea. Anna's beauty alone could have commanded my absolute surrender, but she wanted more. She wanted nullification, then transformation. And so she made me breathe the vapors of a magical preparation she wore as a perfume. I bowed to the ground before her like a savage worshiping a smoldering pot of sacred fungus. The intoxicating narcotic dazzled, enchanted, and charmed a hazy obligation to Anna's dominion more profound than any bullying coercion could enforce. One by one, the connections in my brain abandoned their posts and turned to salute Anna. I knelt stripped naked as the unifying weave of my oneness loosened and came undone.
Numb, drunk, and awed by Anna, I fell hopelessly under the spell of the mysterious pheromones wafting from the temple of her body. My world disintegrated into a crumbing collage of sensation. Stupefied, I lovingly caressed the pieces—her shoe, her petite and perfectly formed foot, her toes.
Thoughts mumbled through my mind like exhausted, muffled thunder bumping around in a saturated, spent sky, "The Goddess's foot is snow white; her nails blood red; the delicate articulation of her bones is a marvel. Her shoe is a pedestal wrapped in straps of white leather and embedded with sparkling diamonds. The heel is a dagger. Her ankle, her calf, the back of her knee...a voice, no the aria of an angel is floating down upon me from heaven. It is warm snow whispering a secret, 'Breathe. Take the scent deep into your lungs'. Yes, anything, thank you Goddess."
I could not speak. Rather, an odd paralysis froze my capacity to summon any act independent of the Goddess's command. She said breathe; she did not say speak. I dreamed, "Thank you mistress. Let me absorb your bouquet. This air is not air, nor water, earth or even fire, it all at once and more—quintessence. More? Of course dear goddess. She is permitting me to put my head under her dress." My thoughts and emotions wobbled an idiot's reel. The warm pastel tent of Anna's full, flowery skirt enveloped me.
Judgment buckled into muddled musing, "Ah, here is my center. This is what I live for. My heart aches for her taste. The smell is new, like, but not, Gina. Are there words to describe that difference? If I could taste, if I could run my tongue across the slick, smooth folds, if I could reach to lap the sweetness deep within, perhaps I could discover the language of her pussy, perhaps the mysterious sacred words would form upon my tongue. Anna's legs are lovely, sturdier than Gina's, but perfectly formed and white as snow. Would she permit a kiss? Would she grant the blessed honor of tasting the back of her knee? It is so soft. Yes, it is scented, dabbed with that perfume. The fragrance is strangely, powerfully enervating—at once flowers and sex. The drug calls the way the love lure of flowers calls the worker bee."
Anna uncrossed her legs and opened her thighs, such perfect, encircling softness. The aroma of novel pussy wafted down upon me from her inviting crease, flooding my mind. Her perfume, her sex, her governance fogged and negated my sanity. My mouth watered, but my throat was dry as an ache. I did not dare further approach toward the mouth of her holy body, but my heart's core was drawn out of my flesh toward her essence to fall exhausted beneath her supremacy.
"Anna is speaking. She seems so far away. Her voice is a heavenly chorus and I float in ethereal clouds. Please madam, let me stay here, here within the tent of your dress, here at the mouth of the cave of love, here at the portal of paradise. Let me linger." Anna softly pushed me out, back into the light. Half-formed images, forgotten dreams, and insubstantial wafts of lost wishes floated through my mind only to evaporate. I was too weak to speak; thoughts could barely form or adhere to meaning.
"Anna's hands are soft and kind. She is warm and tender. What can I do to return to the warm, silky shelter of your thighs? What can I do to earn the privilege of sucking on the sweetness of your sex? Sign? What is it that all they want? Sign? Of course I will sign, if my hand can grasp the quill. I am too weak even to speak, too weak to beg. It is her face. Anna is floating above me. Her hair is long—strawberries cascading in slow motion. Her smile—her lips are sweet cherries, her skin still sweeter cream. She leans toward me. Her milky throat, her fair shoulders, and the white bulge of breasts swelling within whiter lace billow about me. I am drifting in a cumulous sky of Anna. Ah, she kissed my forehead. I will cry. I am feeble; this scent of Anna compels blessed fondness. Her legs are so beautiful. Her face...I cry."
"Eric, please listen. I will let you lick me. If you do as you are told, you may taste my femininity. Here, let me reach down and get some on my fingers. There, now you may have a taste, just a little taste. Suck it from my fingers. Is that better? Now listen. Are you awake now? We want you to sign some documents.
"It is nothing really. They just say that you agree to be Gina's slave, and that you are granting full control of your care and custody to Gina. The papers simply state the obvious: that you will let her, that is that you yearn for her to do whatever she desires to you. You give your body, your person, and your life to her. That is what you want; right, to be of use to Gina? The documents state that you recognize your perversions, and so you seek, desire, and accept healing, treatment, and whatever cure Gina deems necessary. The papers state that you acknowledge Gina's control is required to prevent your perversions from menacing women, and that to control these dangerous impulses, you wish that Gina subordinate concern for your personal welfare to the greater good of making the world safe for women. Safe...it's a good thing. You want that, don't you?
"The documents list things you propose to Gina to do to you. You ask that she, or her designee, punish you regularly, that you may be whipped daily regardless of any apparent need to punish, that she may mark your body for identification, even with a hot iron if need be, that may she insert body ornaments into you as it pleases her, that Gina will use you for her pleasure and profit, that you implore her to forge you into an implement for pleasuring women, and that Gina may dispose of you however and whenever she deems appropriate. Oh my, this list goes on. It says Gina may have sexual commerce with whomever she likes, but that you will be permitted relations only as she orders. Any income earned will be hers and you give everything you own to her. She may delegate her authority as needed, and so on and so forth. In their essence, the documents are quite straightforward and unambiguous. Did I mention the branding iron? What is the matter sweet boy, you're trembling. Is the room too cold? You may speak."
I moaned, "Please madam, a hot iron, please, must I be...be...branded? I have been good. I obey. Is it necessary to... to...?"
