MMA ROMANCE: PATH TO SUBMISSION

by T. A. LESNER

  As she entered I heard a panic stricken voice.

  “Mr. Blackstone. are you okay?” she exclaimed.

  “What do you mean?” I said with confusion.

  “Look at all the blood on the floor,” she while pointing next to the chair.

  I looked down and saw a small pool of blood. I noticed a trail of blood going up my arm.

  “Mr. Blackstone, you have a small cut on your neck.” she said.

  I determined that the blood must have flowed down my arm as a result of my sleeping position. I quickly recalled that in my dream I had been bitten. But that was a dream. In reality I must have been bitten by an insect. At the very least I had to rationalize it under that pretense. I would certainly give the appearance of becoming unhinged if I had shared the truth.

  Florence took a cloth and cleaned the blood. She is a very gentle and considerate person and had been my housekeeper for three years. While she has a figure built to satisfy any man’s primal desires she leads a life without such distractions, content on living an uncomplicated life. That’s not to say she is void of sexuality. I remember walking past her bedroom door one evening just after midnight when I heard some faint moans coming from inside. I cracked opened the door to ensure everything was fine and saw her in the doggy position using a vibrator to masturbate. I’ve never seen this side of her before and watching her breasts rock back and forth certainly got my juices flowing. The way she was moving I imagined she was dreaming of being taken strongly from behind with force. I began to fantasize that it was me taking her from behind it was making me so aroused I knew I had to explode on the hardwood floor. I could hear her breathing increase rapidly as she attempted to use the pillow to muffle her loud moans the best way possible. I could see her body jolt as the intensity of the vibrator brought her raised bubble butt to an explosive orgasm. We both orgasmed simultaneously. As she collapsed to her stomach I wiped my semen off the floor and closed the door gently to keep her from seeing me. She arouses my senses quite frequently, but I have suppressed my urges to act on them. I suppose our relationship is more suitable this way for now.

  I was feeling perplexed and told Florence that I would be taking a bath to clear my mind. I do much of my thinking in the bath. The warm water is therapeutic.

  As I was taking a bath I began to think about many things. I was questioning my thoughts and if I was being unreasonable. I have been seized by that fanaticism of love which has repeatedly been so fatal to me. I’ve never been married and always seemed to fall short. A relationship in the beginning is like an overpriced bottle of wine. The first glass is delightful and you request a second. You indulge yourself until a point when pleasure becomes pain and a headache ensues. I often wonder if the best approach would be to put myself entirely under the woman’s control to alleviate the conflicts that are inherent in most relationships.

  Sometimes, I have an uneasy feeling about placing myself so unconditionally into a woman's hands. Suppose she did abuse her power. Love knows no virtue. It loves and forgives and suffers everything, because it must. It is not our judgment that leads us, it is a sweet, soft, enigmatic power that drives us on. We cease to think and to feel. We let ourselves be carried away by it, and follow it with no direction.

  With the warm bath soothing my soul, my thoughts quickly shifted to Victoria. I thought that at last I knew her, understood her, and now I see I have to begin at the very beginning again. Only a little while ago her reaction to my dreams was violently hostile, and now she tries to carry them into execution with the soberest seriousness.

  My thoughts take me to a previous conversation I had with her. We were sitting on the couch. She wore her furs, her hair was loose and fell like a lion's mane down her back.

  "I want to be absolutely in your power, Victoria," I exclaimed suddenly, seized by a frenzy of passion.

  "I want to put myself absolutely at your mercy for good or evil without any condition, without any limit to your power."

  While saying this I had slipped from the couch, and lay at her feet looking up at her with drunken eyes.

  "How beautiful you are," I exclaimed.

  "Your eyes fill me with joy, carry me away.”

  She was being very forthright that evening. She had drawn up a contract according to which I give my word of honor and agree under oath to be her slave, as long as she wishes. I read the terms and conditions and had some hesitation.

  I said, "But all the obligations in the contract are on my side.”

  "Of course," she replied with great seriousness.

  “I am released from all duties and obligations towards you. You will have to look upon my favors as pure benevolence. You no longer have any rights.”

  “There can be no limit to my power over you. Remember, that you won't be much better than a dog, or some inanimate object. You will be mine, my plaything, which I can break to pieces, whenever I want. You are nothing, I am everything. Do you understand?"

  A sort of cold shiver ran through me.

  "Won't you allow me a few benefits?" I began.

  "Benefits?" She contracted her forehead.

  "Ah! You are afraid already, but what would you desire?" she said.

  "First of all, I would like to have it included in our contract, that you will never abandon me and you will provide me with constant attention,” I said.

  “I will not sign that, I will be very cruel to you, do you understand?” she exclaims.

  “A slave who submits helplessly to my power solely on account of my beauty and personality will attain my attention,” she said.

  As I relax in the bath with eyes closed my thoughts shift from recollection to a present state. I look and Victoria is sitting on a bench in the bathroom wearing her furs.

  “Allow me to test your resolve, Eric.”

  “What do you have in mind,” I say a little confused.

  The bathroom door opens displaying an exotic looking male. He aroused general interest on account of his athletic figure, magnificent face, and splendid bearing. Victoria particularly gazed at him as though he were a wild animal garnished in a towel. Suddenly he saw Victoria, and fixed his cold piercing look upon her. She veritably devoured him with her radiant blue eyes.

  The devious flirtation with which she looked at him, almost stifled me.

  My heart stops when I see the half-enraptured look with which she devours him, but he is worthy of it. For he is, no doubt, a magnificent specimen of a man.

  Under his icy glance I am again seized by a mortal fear. I have an expectation that this man can enslave her, captivate her, subjugate her, and I feel inferior in contrast with his fierce masculinity; I am filled with envy, with jealousy. I feel that I am a weak creature unable to challenge his superiority.

  "Aren't you my slave?" she said calmly while looking at me.

  "Am I not Victoria, your cruel master.”

  I was silent. I felt literally crushed by her words; her cold look entered my heart like a dagger.

  She stood behind the statuesque figure and proceeded to grope his chest while offering me stinging glances. Her hand moved down his abdomen and disappeared behind the white towel he was wearing, searching for his soul. She made a point of showing long slow strokes behind the towel slowly increasing the bulge. The exotic’s eyes were now closed in a state of bliss.

  “Enough!” I exclaimed.

  As the male visitor vanished from the room she reminded me that this was just a test.

  “The journey for you will get much harder,” she said.

  I got out of the bath now feeling emasculated and wrapped myself in a towel. She let me stand before her like a servant waiting for instructions.

  "Wash my feet," she commanded.

  I obeyed, and while washing her feet I remained kneeling. I was in plain view of the modest pubic hair that surrounded her soul. I placed my head in her lap and enticed her legs to slightly spread open. The fragrance was eagerly looking to intoxicate my mind and make me delirious.

  "How w
ill this end?" I asked sadly after a short pause.

  She broke into playful laughter.

  "Why things haven't even begun yet."

  "You are more heartless than I imagined," I replied.

  "I haven't done anything yet, not the slightest thing, and you are already calling me heartless. What will happen when I begin to carry your dreams to their realization, when I actually become your ideal woman, keep you underfoot and apply the whip?"

  “You have wished it. Was it my idea or yours? Did I persuade you or did you inflame my imagination? I am taking things seriously now," she said.

  "This is something that was probably latent in me," she said quietly and thoughtfully.

  "Perhaps it would never have come to light, if you had not called it to life, and made it grow. Now that it has become a powerful impulse, fills my whole being, now that I enjoy it, now that I do not want to do otherwise, now you want to back out.”

  “Are you a man?"

  She pushed me away, and got up.

  "Victoria!" I likewise rose, and stood facing her.

  "Now you know what I am," she continued.

  "Once more I warn you. You still have the choice. I am not compelling you to be my slave."

  "Victoria," I replied with emotion.

  "Don't you know how I love you?"

  "Decide on what you want,” she said.

  She stepped close up to me, cold and contemptuous. As she stood before me now, her arms folded across her breasts, with an evil smile about her lips, she was in fact the despotic woman of my dreams. Her expression seemed hard, and nothing lay in her eyes that promised kindness or mercy.

  My blood rose in my heart. I threw myself down at her feet and began to plead with her.

  "I will do whatever you command, be your slave, a mere object with which you can do what you will, I cannot live without you." I embraced her knees, and covered her hand with kisses.

  "Yes, it is clear to me, you must be a slave and feel the love of the whip. You are not a real man," she said calmly.

  She said this to me with perfect composure, not angrily, not even excitedly, and it was what hurt most.

  "Now I know you, your dog-like nature, that adores where it is kicked, and the more it is mistreated. Now I know you, and now you shall come to know me,” she said.

  "Come here," she commanded harshly, sitting down on the bench.

  I obeyed her command, and sat down beside her.

  If only she would use the whip again. There is something uncanny in the kindness with which she treats me. I feel like a little captive mouse with which a beautiful cat easily plays. She is ready at any moment to tear it to pieces, and my heart of a mouse threatens to burst.

  What are her intentions? What does she propose to do with me?

  "Be mine forever!” I exclaimed.

  "Never, Eric," she said with great firmness.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You are not the man for me,” she said.

  At that point I felt a rush of sadness. I closed my eyes in search of a better solution. I sat with my back against the wall and when I looked once more, Victoria was no longer there. I was alone once again and It was not a good feeling. I closed my eyes in despair and hoped for a better tomorrow.

  END OF CHAPTER 4

  5

  A few hours later I awoke on the bathroom floor to the sound of knocking on the door.

  Florence was yelling, “Mr. Blackstone, are you still in there?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Is everything okay?” she said.

  At that point I opened the door.

  “You look pale Mr. Blackstone,”

  “Would you like me to call the doctor,” she said with a look of concern.

  “I’ve been having some sleepless nights but I’ll be okay after some rest.” I explained.

  As Florence helped me up the stairs, my knees threatened to give way.

  She said, “Mr. Blackstone, you should go back to bed and get some rest.”

  I knew sleep for me would allow Victoria to enter my mind. But I had no choice. I needed to see her again. As I lay down in my bed I knew within moments of falling asleep I would be in the hands of the Devil.

  Shortly thereafter, I rolled over in my bed and there she appeared. Laying next to me in furs.

  "Didn't you tell me yesterday that I wasn't the man for you?" I said.

  "There is no longer a question as to whether you satisfy me as a man but as a slave you will serve me well,” she said.

  "You are not to come in unless I call or ring for you, and you are not to speak to me until you are spoken to.”

  I felt some trepidation, and yet, unfortunately, I cannot deny it, I also felt a strange pleasure and stimulation.

  "As a man of honor you must keep your oath and redeem your promise to follow me as slave, listen to my demands and obey whatever I command.”

  “Now leave me, Eric,” she said.

  I turned toward the door.

  "Not yet, you may first kiss my hand."

  She held it out to me with a certain proud indifference, and I the undesirable pressed it with intense tenderness against my lips which were hot with excitement.

  There was another gracious nod of the head.

  Then I was dismissed.

  I entered the main living room and a fire was burning in the large fireplace. I sat in my leather chair and waited for further instructions.

  "Are you ready, Eric?" she asked darkly.

  "Not yet, mistress," I replied.

  "I like that word," she said.

  "You are always to call me mistress, do you understand?”

  “Yes, mistress,” I replied.

  “Now light some candles for my entrance,” she said.

  After I had obeyed her command she entered the room. She stood at the doorway. The curls of her hair danced around her breasts, her furs hiding her arms. and middle body. She was holding a long whip and wearing long black boots.

  "Well, how do you like me," she said with a smile.

  “You look amazing,” I replied.

  “Come to my feet.” she demanded.

  As I got down before her she gave me a tap with the whip.

  "You are very beautiful, mistress," I said with a pained look.

  Victoria smiled and sat down in the armchair.

  "Kneel down beside my chair!"

  I obeyed.

  "Kiss my hand!"

  I seized her small hand and kissed it.

  "And the mouth," she whispered.

  In a surge of passion I threw my arms around the beautiful angel, and covered her face and arms with glowing kisses. Her lips had the taste of fresh strawberries. She then pushes my head down to her thighs.

  As I kneel in front of her with my head in her lap she throws off her furs and places them over my back and head.

  “Now bring me pleasure slave,” she says forcefully.

  Having her furs placed over my head was very arousing for me. My lips kiss her thighs as I make my way to satisfy her.

  As I get closer I begin to feel the slightest sensation of pubic hair stroking my face. Her legs open with intention as her aroma guides my senses. On this day she had the fragrance of a young rose.

  My lips begin to encounter a hint of moisture. That naturally evoked my tongue to taste the sweetness of her soul.

  I gently took her backside into my hands and stroked her moisture with my tongue until her soul thrust out like a blooming flower.

  My mouth engulfed this directly as my tongue danced in circles around it and my lips got increasingly more involved.

  She was holding my head as she rocked back and forth and moaned with intensity. I continued this motion for several minutes.

  Her grip on my head was getting tighter and her rocking motion was becoming ever more violent. Her breathing seemed out of control.

  Suddenly she released a euphoric scream of pleasure.

  She let go of my head and just lay there in a state of blis
s with her eyes closed.. Her furs fell to the floor. I paused for a moment in admiration. wiping drops of perspiration from my brow. I was now in full view of her extraordinary body and pleasing her was everything I had hoped for.

  After a few moments she opened her eyes and covered her breasts with one arm.

  “Now give me my furs," she said with her arm extended.

  After I had helped her into them, like a good slave, she took to the floor lying stretched out on cushions in her comfortable furs, covered up with the skins of animals. She is like an ancient despot. I know there is more evil within her. I have the sick feeling as if I’ve been sold to the devil.

  With a brief glance I see the blazing fire and the beautiful woman who is sleeping in complete comfort among her soft furs. I lay down on the floor next to her and close my eyes. Within minutes I enter another dream state.

  When I open my eyes I am in a different room. Victoria is there and has made herself comfortable. She is sitting up in a red chair with her feet on a matching footstool. She has thrown her furs about her. The red flames from the open fireplace play beautifully on her smooth white skin. Her face is turned in my direction, and her blue eyes rest upon me.

  "I am satisfied with you, Eric," she began.

  I bowed.

  "Come closer."

  I obeyed.

  "Still closer."

  She looked down, and stroked the fur with her hand.

  “I can see that you are more than an ordinary dreamer, you don't remain far in arrears of your dreams.” she said.

  “You are the sort of man who is ready to carry his dreams into effect, no matter how mad they are. I confess, I like this; it impresses me.”

  “There is strength in this, and strength is the only thing I respect. I actually believe that under unusual circumstances, in a period of great achievement, what seems to be your weakness would reveal itself as extraordinary power.”