The Submission Factory

by Susanna Hughes

'Be quiet,' he snapped. 'Pull your dress up to your waist. Can you at least do that much? Then I want your forehead pressed down on the carpet. Do I make myself clear?'

  She didn't understand at all, but struggled to obey. It was terribly difficult to grip her dress with her hands locked behind her but after several attempts she managed to get it up around her waist. Then she rocked forward until her forehead was touching the carpet and her buttocks were raised.

  He walked around her examining her bottom, the basque and stockings.

  'Do you usually go around in such fancy lingerie?'

  'No.'

  'So you wore it for me, did you?'

  She didn't reply. She realised this was what she wanted. She was wanton now. She knew in this position he would be able to see her sex and was glad she had decided not to wear panties. She hoped he would grab her by the hips and take her just as he had done at the party, and angled herself up towards him to show how willing she was. She even eased her knees apart so he would have a better view, her sex lips already glistening with the juices she could feel seeping from her vagina.

  But he had something else in mind. From her upside down prospective she saw him walking across the room. He took something from a cupboard but she could not tell what it was. He walked back to her.

  'Are you ready?'

  'I don't understand...' The sentence was cut short by a whistle of air and a thwack as the riding crop landed across her buttocks. She screamed. She felt a line of pain explode across her rear; stinging pain that brought tears to her eyes. But the sensation was not just pain; deep inside her sex it provoked an entirely new reaction, a sexual sensation she had only felt once before.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The blows came quickly, the combination of pain and sexual arousal so strong her whole body was trembling. He had said six. There were two more strokes to go. She dreaded them, but at the same time she wanted them.

  'Shall I go on?'

  He was teasing her, making her wait.

  'Yes,' she muttered.

  'Beg me?'

  'Please, please...'

  Thwack. Thwack. The last blow fell exactly on the line of scarlet red that the first had created. She cried out and rolled onto her side. She knew she was coming and knew there was no way of hiding it from him. As she lay on the floor of his bedroom, her body rolled into a ball, she moaned as the most extraordinary orgasm flowed over her.

  'Now let's see if you can improve on that pathetic performance you gave at the party. Get over here.' His voice was cold and unsympathetic.

  He sat on the bed and spread his legs apart. She was glad to see his cock had grown fully erect and had a tear of fluid at its tip. She was glad because she desperately wanted to excite him as much as he excited her.

  Barbara crawled across to him, every movement provoking new feelings in her burning buttocks, her sex so wet she could feel her juices running down her thighs into the tops of her stockings. She opened her mouth and took his cock between her lips, using her tongue to caress the whole length of it. The hardness and heat of it caused new feelings to tremble through her sex as she imagined what it would feel like thrusting into her. She wanted to show him that she could be a good lover, that she could give him pleasure as great as he had given her. She eased her mouth right down on him, swallowing him completely, then pulled up again and sucked his glans.

  'Not very impressive.'

  She tried harder, forcing him into the back of her throat until she almost gagged, then using her tongue to circle his shaft. The feeling of his cock buried in her mouth made her sex pulse with desire, reviving the orgasm she had just experienced.

  Pulling her mouth off his cock she sucked down the tube of his urethra until she reached his balls, then gobbled them both into her mouth.

  She felt his cock pulse strongly and moved her lips up to take it deep in her mouth again. She wished she could have used her hands, fingered his balls. She moved her head up and down, trying to use her tongue to increase the pressure as he slid in and out of her. She could feel he was coming but just as she thought he was going to spunk he took his cock in his hand and pulled out of her.

  'You're useless,' he said. He pushed her away and got to his feet, picking up his clothes. 'I'm late for dinner.'

  She watched as he stepped into black briefs and trousers.

  'What about me?' she said forlornly.

  'What about you?'

  'Aren't... aren't you going to fuck me?'

  He laughed.

  'I thought I'd given you want you wanted.'

  'I want to be fucked,' she said.

  'Get up,' he said in that authoritative tone she had first heard at the party.

  She managed to struggle to her feet. Casually he wrapped an arm around her waist. He guided her over to the bedside table where he stooped and took a large black dildo from the drawer. He slipped it between her legs, pushing it into her wet sex and turning it on.

  She gasped. Part of her wanted to open her legs, let the dildo fall out and show Jack she did not need his humiliating treatment. But that was not the part governing her actions, and instead she pressed her legs together, forcing the dildo deeper and putting more pressure on her clit.

  Jack's hand slid down to her buttocks, caressing the weals he had created with the whip. The feeling was indescribable; sensations of pain and pleasure renewed almost as strongly as before. She found herself trembling. She pressed herself against his body, wanting to feel him, hoping against hope he would fuck her but knowing he would not.

  'Please...' she whispered, but it was too late. Her orgasm overtook her and she shuddered to a climax, unable to use her hands to cling to him, as she wanted desperately to do.

  'You see,' he said quietly. 'It's not about what you want, it's about what I want. That's your lesson for today, Barbara. I hope you've learn it well.'

  Chapter Four

  'Bring her over here.'

  Celine led me forward on the leash. I had been released from the post and she had taken off the blindfold and gag, and the wires attached to my nipple rings, but left my wrists and elbows clipped firmly behind my back. A leather hood had been pulled over my head. It had holes for my eyes and mouth and was laced tightly at the back so the leather moulded to my face.

  I estimated I had been left on the T-shaped post for over an hour before they released me. With the wires from my new nipple rings pulled taut even the slightest movement made me tremble with a sexual tension that kept me on the brink of orgasm. My nipples were throbbing constantly, an intoxicating mixture of pleasure laced with pain. If I had twisted my shoulders slightly to pull on the wires I could easily have brought myself off, and it was a difficult temptation to resist. But I didn't want to give myself away in case I was meant to be passive, as a result of whatever they were supposed to have done to me.

  Madam Celine led me through an old house that had been meticulously restored, the pale carpets thick and the walls of panelled wood.

  There was a mirror on the wall. I looked at the strange sight of myself as I walked passed, the nipple rings catching the light, my face hidden by the black leather helmet.

  We had entered a small study, its walls lined with books. Sitting behind a desk was a woman I recognised at once - it was the brunette. She even had her hair in the same style, swept up into a chignon to reveal her sculptured neck. She was wearing a pair of skin-tight black leather trousers and a matching sleeveless leather top with a plunging neckline. It revealed a great deal of the lacy black bra that supported her large breasts. The woman was looking at a clipboard.

  'All right, you may leave us.'

  Celine immediately turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  'What do you think of your piercings? Pretty, aren't they? Are you grateful?'

  I said nothing. The truth was that I'd long-since wondered what it would be like to have my nipples pierced. I'd told Jack that, on the fateful night Tony found us together. And Tony had overheard.

  'Answer me.'


  'Yes.'

  'You will call me Madam M when you speak to me. Assume the first position.'

  I remembered that was what Celine had called lying prone on the floor. If I was to continue to pretend to be under the woman's spell I had to obey all orders without question. I slipped to my knees, rolled onto my side then slid onto my front. Immediately my nipples touch the carpet I gasped with pain.

  'A little tender I expect,' Madam M said. I heard her get to her feet. 'But then pain turns you on, doesn't it?'

  I didn't know what to say. My throbbing clit was certainly testimony to my excitement but I wasn't sure whether it was the pain or everything else that was happening to me.

  'Answer me,' she snapped, 'or I'll have your clit pierced too.'

  'Yes.'

  'Roll over onto your back.'

  I did so willingly, happy to relieve the pressure on my nipples. Madam M straddled my head and I found myself gazing up her long legs to the leather stretched over her crotch. She raised a foot and placed a metal heel on my left nipple.

  I gasped. My body was seized with shudders of pain but at the same time I could feel my clit pulsing.

  'You see,' she said. 'That's what pain does to you. You must learn that lesson.'

  She removed her heel then stooped down. I saw she had a thick gold chain in her hand. It had little clips at each end which she attached to the rings in my nipples. I was fearful she was going to pull it, but instead she squatted down on her haunches right over my face so her crotch was no more than an inch from my nose.

  'Lick,' she ordered.

  I strained upward and licked the smooth leather.

  'Harder.'

  I pushed my tongue hard against her, but I had to strain up to reach and with my arms behind my back the pressure on my neck muscles was enormous. After a minute or so I could stand it no longer and had to rest my head back on the floor.

  'You're useless,' she said, getting to her feet. 'Stand up.'

  Even this simple operation was not an easy task. I had to roll onto my side and then try to lever myself to my knees before I could stand upright. But the only way I could get up was by crawling over to the wall and using it to support myself as I struggled to my feet. All the time Madam M watched me with an expression of contempt, as if I had failed her again.

  'Are you a lesbian?'

  'I don't know. I can't remember anything.'

  'When Madam Angel sucked your pussy you had an orgasm, isn't that true?'

  'Yes. I don't... I don't...' I couldn't think what to say without betraying myself. If I told her I knew I was bisexual that would give the game away.

  'All right, we have to give you a name.' She smiled, her lips parting to reveal perfectly structured white teeth. 'Perhaps we should call you useless. What do you think?'

  'I have a name,' I said.

  'Oh do you? What is it then?'

  'I can't remember.'

  'You have nothing, you are nothing. I am going to name you. Natalie. Yes, Nat. That will remind us all that you're like an irritating little fly that we can swat any time we like. Do you like it?'

  'No.'

  'Address me as Madam M or I will have you taken back to the treatment room and have you strung up by your nipple rings.'

  She picked up a marker pen from the desk and used it to write the word NAT on my stomach.

  'Now listen to me, and listen very carefully.'

  As she said the words I felt a sense of wellbeing flooding over me. I suddenly felt terribly tired and couldn't keep my eyes open. I remembered I had heard the words before, that night with Tony. It was obviously the beginning of the process of hypnosis. I struggled to keep awake. Whatever happened I must not let her hypnotise me. I thought of Jack. I remembered how he had whipped me. I tried to think of those strokes of leather burning into my bum.

  'You are here to be trained for your master. You belong to him now. You are his slave. You only exist to serve him. You are not a person. You are an object, a possession. You have no will of your own. You name is Natalie M. Repeat it.'

  'Natalie M,' I mumbled.

  A thick black fog was closing in around me. It was warm and comforting. I desperately wanted to sleep, but I knew I must not.

  The door opened and Celine entered.

  'I've put her under again. Take her back to the cell. We can start the training tomorrow.'

  'Yes, Madam M.'

  It had been a week. One hundred and sixty eight hours since she'd seen Jack. She had practically counted each one of them. She couldn't sleep. She wasn't hungry. She was exhausted not only through lack of rest but by the fact that it was impossible for her to sit or lie down without thinking about sex, without thinking about Jack and having to seek relief, however temporary, with her own hand or vibrator. Some days she masturbated six or seven times. She'd masturbated in the shower, on the kitchen table, and in bed. She done it naked and fully dressed with her skirt around her waist and her panties pulled to one side, the urge too urgent to spend time pulling them off. She'd done it dressed up in stockings, high heels and a tight corset while she stood in front of the mirror imagining Jack watching her.

  She could remember every minute in his flat. She remembered how he had whipped her while she knelt on the floor, how every stroke had provoked pain that twisted into extraordinary pleasure. She remembered how his cock felt in her mouth and her disappointment when he pulled out before he'd come and how he casually thrust the dildo into her and stood beside her while she orgasmed, completely unable to control herself. Every second played in her head as she masturbated.

  He'd said he would call her and not to call him. She'd almost given up hope when finally he phoned her mobile. He told her to come to his flat at seven. He hadn't given her any alternative and hung up before she'd even had a chance to tell him she'd be there.

  She got a taxi to Kensington High Street. As she walked towards Melbury Road her heart was starting to beat faster again. She remembered Jack had told her at the party that he had a unique talent when it came to women, and there was no doubt in her mind that he had tapped into some profound unconscious impulses in her psyche. What was most surprising was that she'd had no idea they were there. It was true she'd had vague fantasies about being submissive, but she had never been able to be specific about them, had never pictured herself in a scenario of master and slave.

  She knew she should not be pursuing their affair, but she was completely unable to think rationally when it came to him. She supposed in the end her husband was to blame. In the last few years she had the impression that all Tony cared about was making money, and she had become a trophy wife, someone to be seen with at parties, a status symbol like his car. Tony's real needs were expressed in his desire to make money, not in the bedroom.

  It might be her fault too, of course. When their sex-life had started to wane she did all sorts of things to tempt him. She'd gone to his office in the middle of the day wearing nothing but stockings under her coat. She'd let him discover her in bed with a dildo. She'd crawled under the table in the dining room and given him a blowjob before he'd finished his meal. But the truth was none of these things had really led to the sort of sex they'd had in the beginning. She provoked him to fuck her certainly, but he'd shown little or no interest in making sure she was satisfied too.

  She buzzed the entry-phone on the ground floor and the door opened almost at once. She walked through into the spacious, rather old-fashioned foyer, the dark red carpet more than a little threadbare from continual use.

  She rode up in a clanging old caged lift feeling a wave of sexual urgency flooding through her. His flat was right opposite the lift doors. She rang the doorbell.

  'On time,' he said as he opened the door. He wore slacks and shirt but no shoes or socks.

  He ushered her in.

  'Next time you come I want you to take your clothes off in here.' He indicated a door to the right. 'Not your pretty lingerie of course. That would be a waste.'

  'All right,
' she said. Inwardly she was trying to hide her excitement at the fact he had clearly thought about seeing her again.

  'I want to show you something,' he said.

  She followed him down the hall.

  'In here.'

  She stood in the open doorway. The room had no window, with black walls and a black carpet with a substantial beam running across the middle of the black ceiling. Hanging from the beam were various leather harnesses, ropes, chains and pulleys. There were metal rings attached to the wall and an odd piece of furniture which could just about be called a chair. Against one wall was a double bed with leather cuffs and chains attached to each corner, the mattress covered with slick black rubber.

  'This is where I like to play games,' he said. 'Now take your dress off.'

  She had spent a great deal of money on new lingerie, and was wearing a black satin waspie which cinched in her waist and left her breasts bare. It had suspenders holding pearl-coloured stockings with a contrasting black heel and seam. She was not wearing panties.

  'How pretty you look,' he said in the mocking tone he often adopted with her. 'But next time I want you to wear panties.'

  'I thought...'

  He stood behind her and cupped her breasts. Her nipples were hard.

  'Sit in the chair,' he said. She could feel the heat of his cock and pressed back against it.

  'Why don't you just fuck me?' she said.

  'Because that's not what you want.'

  She turned and looked at the 'chair'. It consisted of a wide board set back at an angle. Sticking out from the board at waist level was a padded V-shaped projection covered in black leather.

  The only way she could sit in the chair was to perch herself on the part of it where the projections joined the sloping back, then spread her legs apart and rest them on the two limbs of the V-shape. The projections left her legs dangling from the knee, which meant she was sitting with most of her bottom unsupported and her sex exposed, which was clearly the purpose of the construction.

  'Comfortable?'

  The chair was furnished with leather straps. He wrapped them around the top of her thighs, just above her knees, around her waist and above her breasts. He pulled her wrists behind her where leather cuffs attached to the back of the chair held them. Finally he wrapped leather cuffs around both her ankles and pulled them back under the seat and clipped them to it. He had rendered her completely powerless. The only part of her body she could move was her head.