Total Submission
Part 1
by Steven Forsythe
How does one begin a tale such as mine? The words of a haunting song echo through my mind - 'The House of the Rising Sun'. There's a line in that song that warns people to "Beware what I have done". A message I can only empathise with.
The concept of Female Domination, as it has been with so many other men, has long been ingrained in my mind. You read the literature, play around at the edges of the scene, dream of being in a truly submissive relationship. But the reality of such a relationship for me has turned out to be case of 'may your dreams become your nightmares'.
You see it is one thing to read a magazine, watch a video, and even endure a session with a paid Mistress. For at the end, relief is always available, but, more importantly, ultimately you are always in control.
Yet true submission is to give oneself up to another. Where your Mistress's wishes, not yours, are all that matters. Where your relief is at her whim, not when you please, where your 'scene' is irrelevant.
It is a truly scary experience to be totally out of control. To experience a life where every day is one of dreary, monotonous drudgery, dedicated to serving in abject slavery. To be in total fear of the punishment that will swiftly follow the slightest infraction of the myriad of rules that exist. The severe retribution that follows if a chore is not performed on time and to perfection.
My life revolves around three aspects -
1) serving the day to day needs of others. This involves maintaining the house and other possessions to a standard of near perfection that could never be achieved by paid help.
2) satisfying sadistic sexual games and fantasies to ensure the total sexual pleasure of others.
3) remaining subject to the most harsh and Spartan lifestyle imaginable, being treated as a mere chattel whose sole purpose in life is to serve and amuse the perverse mind of anotherMy misery stimulates and heightens her feelings of power, which leads to her enjoying a most hedonistic lifestyle and voracious libido. I know that she revels in the power she holds over me, enjoys the way I cringe and shiver in her divine presence. It is a status that has been ensured by a regime of Draconian oppression and the most vindictive and excruciatingly painful punishments imaginable, for the slightest inference of resistance. I scarcely dare breathe without my Mistress' permission. I am resigned to a life of total and utter subservience, acquiescence, and deference. I must do nothing beyond that instructed. I must even request permission before I perform the most basic bodily functions or face severe reprisal.
And through all this I am unable to obtain any form of sexual relief. Imagine your organ locked away so that even though you cry out through your whole body and soul for carnal relief there is none forthcoming. When you turn in at night, aching from the day's travail, the flesh on your buttocks tortured and throbbing; knowing that tomorrow you must rise early and toil again.
Unable to even caress your penis, you can but curl up in a feotal ball and cry yourself to sleep. Your balls and groin having taken on a life of their own, a weight existing in your balls that seems beyond the realms of gravity, the skin seemingly stretched tight, as they throb for release. Desire seeps through your whole being, it courses through your veins and boils over in your mind. Like a stag in rut you toss and turn in frustration, your mind aflame with lust. And the resentment that inevitably surfaces through this ongoing maelstrom that inflames your mind; day after day after day, must be subdued. The total dichotomy of your existences eats into your core. But there will be no relief in the morning. Instead you will be forced to smile and remain obsequious for dread of what might occur otherwise.
So how did I end up in this sorry state?
Well it all seemed so much 'fun' at the time. I remember the sexual excitement and even masturbating myself to sleep that night. I'd just come in to a small inheritance and had money to spare. I'd bought a contact magazine in which, for whatever reason, I found one particular advertisement so stimulating that I felt compelled to reply, in order to explore my dreams.
Well-educated, professional lady seeks male slave for live-in position. Must be very clean. No time wasters, I am exceedingly Dominant. You will be worked hard and punished severely if required. You will serve My needs with no concern for your own.
I drafted my reply and, still aroused in the morning, posted it off, together with a photo and full details about myself.
Some two weeks later came a reply. It was terse and to the point. Quite simply I was instructed to meet Caroline at a local coffee shop at a certain time. It was a public place where obviously she wouldn't feel threatened.
It was with some nervous trepidation that I did indeed pluck up the courage to be seated as told, and on time. Some fifteen minutes after the scheduled time a most beautiful lady, in her late twenties, long blonde hair and graceful features approached the table. She wore a brightly coloured short sleeve blouse. A tropical flowery pattern of rich purples, maroons, yellows and greens, a deep collar cut down to the top of her pert breasts was tucked into a pair of designer denims. She wore little make-up and simple, but clearly expensive, gold jewellery. I was captivated.
Smiling brightly she introduced herself "Hi, I'm Caroline. You must be Robert?" Her smile was effervescent.
I rose to greet her and smiled a mumbled reply as she sat herself down opposite me. I sat down myself only to be greeted by an almost chameleon like change in her persona, a change I am now only too familiar with. "Did I tell you to sit?" she quietly snapped, a touch of ice in her voice. I could barely equate the bubbly smile flashed but an instant before with the icy gaze I now faced.
Begging her pardon I rose. She simply ignored me, picked up the menu and studied it, oblivious to my presence. I stood there stupidly, turning crimson, as the other patrons seemed to stare in my direction. The waiter arrived to be met with that dazzling smile of hers as she politely ordered. I in turn, dry in the mouth, declined to order again.
"You may be seated," she advised me in a business-like fashion when the waiter departed. "Now let me start by setting the scene," she continued, launching straight into the point of our meeting. "If chosen you will be subject to a true position of servitude. Your every waking hour will be controlled; you will perform all chores to perfection and observe a series of rigid rules. Any transgressions will be dealt with severely. Is that clear?"
"Yes," I replied, rather taken back by her forthright manner and the lack of any friendly chit chat first.
"Yes Ma'am," she corrected sternly.
"Yes Ma'am."
"Good!" she continued "Now tell me all about yourself," she asked in an almost maternal tone. That smile again radiating warmth so much so that I just opened up. For an hour or more we chatted away, the reason for our meeting seemed so remote; I was with an elegant lady whose company felt so warm and natural. I was relaxed and opened up totally, regaling her with my dreams and fantasies, the details of my life. She just sucked the information out of me; she was so warm and natural.
The coldness I'd felt at the start was gone. The shivers from what she'd detailed of her expectations were a distant, forgotten memory. She was perfect company and the waiters too were clearly captivated by her special aura. She was polite, courteous and emanated sophistication. She was clearly wealthy and exuded that natural calm that only those born to wealth possess.
I cannot express the joy I felt, captivated as I was by her stunning beauty and natural charm. I could barely believe my fortune to be in such company. I relished the jealous glances of other diners. She was stunning. She had high accented cheekbones, setting off her blue gray eyes that, at first glance, offered a promise of angelic softness. Rarely has a first glance been so ill informed.
Her legs crossed and she showed a glimpse of her navy stockings at her sensuous ankles, the toes peeking through at the end of her sandals. Oh how I desired to touch them, to seduce her, to lie languorously in her arms.
"Well if you're still interested there are some important steps to follow," she finally advised, fixing me with those blue grey eyes. Her gaze was neither sensual nor suggestive, rather it was cool and appraising, the sort of regard a first class equestrian, which I later learnt she was, might cast on a new jumper she was considering for her stables. "My husband is a senior partner in a major law firm and we enjoy a privileged position in the community. I can't jeopardise that."
"Of course not," I replied, assuring her again of my own professional background. I truly wanted to spend my time in her company. Accordingly I was given details of a medical practice I was to visit and a legal agreement to sign. So captivated was I by her sophisticated style that I could think of nothing else but her. Needless to say I attended the medical and signed the agreement. I am healthy and clean so had no concerns about the tests, including blood tests for 'obvious diseases'.
Some two weeks after this I received a further letter advising me to settle my affairs and report to a 'health and beauty' clinic in the city. I would be collected from there and enter into servitude for a period of a minimum of 12 months. I was to bring nothing of my own. I slept uneasily for several nights. But I was so enchanted by that one meeting with Caroline that I just knew I had to join her. Oblivious to the fact that she was married, that she had stressed the servile nature of the position. I could imagine nothing but being with her, of serving her, enjoying her company and, in time, receiving her favours. How foolish we are who let our penis act as brains.
Accordingly I settled my own affairs, established appropriate accounts and turned up at the fashionable clinic as scheduled. At the clinic I was groomed, pedicured, washed, and finally waxed of all body hair. Now waxing hurts. Especially when it is an all over waxing! Certainly it felt most strange as I fingered my now soft smooth skin. All this I might add was at my expense.
Dressed again I was presented, by the smirking junior, with an envelope and told a taxi was waiting outside. Blushing crimson I departed. The envelope contained the address details and we set off, me in nervous trepidation. I was to see my goddess once more. We arrived at what I can only describe as a mansion. It was secluded in the better part of town at the end of a short tree lined driveway. The house was two storeys of elegant splendour and clearly well maintained. The gardens were well manicured. Wealth poured out of the whole setting. To the right the garage was open revealing a metallic blue Mercedes Benz. Caroline's mode of transport, I assumed.
I paid the driver and stepped up on to the porch. Pulling my nerves together, feeling rather silly, as I stood there, shaved and empty handed, lonely, I drew back the large brass knocker and brought it down sharply, once, twice... And waited.
Caroline like so many beautiful women felt that her beauty entitled her to tardiness. I waited for what seemed an eternity but in reality was probably but a couple of minutes. Do I knock again? Has she heard me or not? Will I annoy her if I knock again? Then I breathed a sigh of relief, my quandary was solved as I heard her footsteps approach. The door opened to reveal my dream girl. She had on a white silk wrap around with a white towel curled around her hair like a turban. She was clearly preparing to go out later. The silk gown fell to her ankles and, as she pivoted and turned down the hallway, I caught the barest glimpse of her long, slim legs. My organ rose to attention as I was once more captivated by her, despite her complete disinterest in my presence.
She strolled down the hall with feline grace whilst I remained rooted to the spot, unsure what to do next. "Close the door and go round the back," she shouted as she reached the end of the hallway. I scurried round to the rear of the home where she waited at the back door to the kitchen. "Strip your clothes off and toss them in the garbage bin," she commanded. Blushing I jumped to obey. Nervously I glanced around but was assured of our privacy by the dense trees. The next house was not in sight. With my penis erect I stood under her icy gaze. She arched her eyebrows and smiled at my obvious excitement. "We'll soon fix that," she grinned.
"Follow me." She led me through the house and upstairs to the attic. Her buttocks encased in the sleek material sent further waves of lust through my body. At the top the door was opened and I was instructed to enter my room.
It was dark but I could see it was spartan. The door slammed shut leaving me in the pitch-black confines of the room. I could see nothing. She returned a few minutes later and this time switched the light on. It gave a dull glow, a small bare bulb hung unadorned from the central light fitting. It added to the gloom of my surroundings. Bare floorboards, no windows, and a simple hospital bed with a slim mattress. Dull, grey white sheets that appeared to have seen better days peered over the tops of the worn blankets tucked in military style at the sides. A battered wardrobe and chest of drawers circa 1950, though quite dissimilar to each other, an old washbasin and a white metal bucket were the remaining items in the room.
I was perturbed by the confined cell like surroundings. The room was small, minute within the grandeur of the whole home. My austere surroundings were in stark contrast to the richness of her silk wrap and simple gold jewellery, even the luxury of thick fluffy towel that encased her golden hair. She simply smiled at my crest-fallen countenance. "Expected better did we? Perhaps you'd like to move into my room", she grinned.
I didn't know what to say and stood there like a frightened deer. It was moving fast. I'd gone from a comfortable home to live as the slave of a total stranger. The bubbly, effervescent beauty that I'd dined with replaced with the cool siren who stood before me now. "Lie down on the bed and grip the bars at the top." Frightened I did as I was bid. "The other way up stupid" she frigidly commanded. I rolled over face up. "That's better." She leaned over and I could smell the delicate fragrance from her ablutions. The hint of rose water, her fresh breath...
She moved half way down the bed. She had something in her hand that I couldn't make out, together with a long rod like contraption I'd noticed her enter the room with. "Close your eyes now," she whispered, "Relax... that's better" she cooed as I tried to ease the tension in my muscles. She gently caressed my chest, my organ growing ever harder. "OK now close your eyes tightly, relax a little more, there's nothing to worry about, just you and me." She sounded like a nurse talking to a frightened child on the first visit to a hospital. Her hands moved away and I felt something gently touch my penis "Keep cool, eyes closed," she gently ordered.
Suddenly the most searing pain shot through my penis. The most incredible bolt of fire it felt like a bullet of pure molten steel had shot through it. It traversed on through my body exploding in a flash of white fire and heart stopping pain. I let go of the bars as my scream pierced the air and echoed round the room, I doubled up gripping my shrivelled organ and, wailing in agony, I fell to the floor.
Caroline through all this looked dispassionately on. She was not the least concerned by my intense suffering. "Back in position" she ordered sternly when I was still only partly recovered from the shock of what had coursed through me. As I lay back in position she sneeringly remarked, "Certainly brought you down to size didn't it?" "Yes Ma'am," I grimaced still shaking.
She gently toyed with my now limp organ with what I now realised was an electric cattle prod. I winced in fear of her shooting off another charge. I noted too that her breathing was slightly heavier, a touch of moisture beaded her upper lip, and she was excited by my travail. Lifting up my penis she advised "Let's keep it like this or you'll get another dose, would you like that?"
"No Ma'am, please no." I pleaded.
Next her cold hand gripped my flaccid organ and tied a slim cord tightly around the base of the head. I felt it pulled uncomfortably tight. Next she quickly guided the cord through a slim metal tube and pulled hard on the cord. I cried out once more as my organ was unceremoniously stretched taut and the cold steel slid down to the base of my penis. Two short chains were next wound behind my testicles and a solid brass padlock clamped in place. The tube itself curved down slightly.
She tossed the key in the air and with a jolly smile deposited it in the pocket of her wrap. "That'll make sure you behave yourself. You'll need all your energy for your chores. I don't want you wanking off every five minutes. We'd never get anything done that way! Now stand up."
As I stood I noticed a slim chain hung from the end of my penis sheath. It drew my limp organ down, as I noted how tight and uncomfortable it was even though I was limp. Next she removed the cord and slipped a chain round my waist. Standing close to my side, so I could feel the exquisite fabric of her gown as it brushed against my skin, she pulled the chain on the end of my penis sheath between my legs and, tugging hard, locked it on to the chain round my waist at the rear. My penis was pulled tight between my legs with the chain tight between my buttocks. It was most uncomfortable and I quivered at the thought of my restricted activity. I was used to wanking off once or twice a day, more when I had a sexual fantasy. How long would this be left on for?
She stood back and admired her handiwork. "Perfect" she announced. "Now sit down." She sat beside me on the edge of the bed, the curves of her breasts swelling against the silk of her wrap, almost absent-mindedly she began to stroke my chest, her fingers grazing my nipples. My penis locked tightly away as it stirred, bringing a feeling of discomfort rather than pleasure. A discomfort I am now only too familiar with. I looked into those soft blue grey eyes of hers. They were gentle, teasing. To her my emasculation was an event of sexual amusement, it was enervating her, and I watched the prickles of moisture rise on her upper lip.
Her fingertips ran along the tip of my chin, then up my cheeks to my forehead. "Such a handsome face," she said "all soft angles and edges, almost feminine." She bent over and kissed me softly on the lips. "And now you're safely locked away. I can feel safe with you, no need for jealous lovers tiffs eh?" she smiled. "In the morning we'll start turning you into my lovely maid, so you can wait on me."
"Yes Ma'am" I responded, uneasy yet excited.
"And when you're properly feminised we'll introduce you to David. Tall, tanned, muscular, rich - he's quite a beefcake," she laughed "least he makes me horny." I just sat there feeling a total idiot for getting myself into this situation.
"And with you all locked up I can play with you too without making David jealous." She looked at me with devilry in her eyes as I shivered in apprehension.
My own words were caught in my throat grasping to escape.
"I'm sure you'll learn to enjoy pleasing me," she replied with a twinkle in her eyes. I was confused. Later I would learn the irony behind her words.
Her face came close to mine, warm and tender, "And every Friday, if you're good, we'll slip your sheath off and jack you off...won't that be nice?" she smiled.
She drew away and once more it was back to business. She was again formal, cool. "I'm going to leave you with a tape, I suggest you play it several times. It details all the rules. I'll take it off you in the morning and from then on you're on your own. If you break the rules you'll be soundly punished. I'm off out with David tonight. ...In the morning I'll get you dressed and show you the ropes while David's out. You'll meet him in the evening. And I warn you now, behave yourself or else. I won't have naughty girls in this house," she sniggered.
"Now I'll leave you to your own devices and see you in the morning." She patted me on the head and stood up, laughing as she said "And don't play with yourself, that's for Fridays only."
She strolled to the door and went out, poking her round the door as she smiled at me and said, "That's every Friday the thirteenth!!!" I heard her coquettish laughter as the door was locked and the light turned out plunging me once more into darkness.
Her parting words echoed through the confines of my mind, tormenting me. I was hollow, had I gone too far, was she serious?
If I felt alone and afraid then though it was nothing to how I felt once I heard the message on the tape. The tape machine was on the floor and I groped in the dark to turn it on. There was a hiss on the tape, though Caroline's voice came through loud and clear. She calmly intoned the regime of my new life.
If you enjoyed this story you can find Part 2 as well as more wonderful tales of corporal punishment just like this in
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