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.
