The Art of Submission
By Helotage
Chapter 7: Thank God It’s Friday
The day could not move quickly enough. She even considered lying that she was sick so she could go home early, but there were some meetings she couldn’t miss. She made sure to sit at those meetings with her legs wide spread in her too-short skirt. She wore no underwear, and her new submissive state did not allow for shame or modesty. Her bare breasts and prominent nipples were fully visible beneath her white blouse with most of the buttons undone. Coworkers openly ogled her. She was surprised at how her submissiveness extended well beyond the waking dream world. She had become the same in both worlds.
Finally home, she decided she should eat before doing anything else. It was not as difficult now to keep her hair from the bowls as she ate off the floor. She just tucked her hair into the iron collar. This time, she set up the phone to photograph her debasing and humiliating herself by eating off the floor.
She did not rush to the sculpture as she had other nights. Instead, she strolled with all the dignity a submissive sex slave could demonstrate. Kneeling as if in worship, she prepared to lay her hands on the marble in what seemed more and more a religious act. A sacrament? A communion? Communion with what?
She knew her fate that evening more definitely than any other. Three men, three preferences. She had been use two ways. She was more frightened by knowing than by not knowing. Knowing eliminated hope. But she also was more excited by knowing. Knowing eliminated doubt. As much as she loathed and regretted her one attempt at anal sex, she now anxiously welcomed the degradation, the defilement.
Awestruck, she settled her hands reverently on the sculpture as she would on a true god.
Still spread on the horse as she was, she heard the third man enter. Without warning, he picked up an implement and beat her viciously across her lower back and ass and thighs. On top of her other bruises, this beating was unbearable. It amplified the pain of her already swollen flesh, which made her lightheaded and desperate. She realized she would do anything, anything at all, to escape this treatment. The man beat her with something rigid and thin, a rod or cane of some sort. His efforts were so vigorous, she could hear the whistle of the implement before it struck her. That is, she could hear it when she was not screaming as loud.
He dropped the rod with a clatter. The only sounds then were her helpless sobs and moans. Meanwhile, she could sense him sizing her up, trying to work out the mechanics of what he would next do to her. The horse may be a bit tall for him to accomplish what he wanted, but, then again, he was taller than the other two. He walked forward to approach her mouth. His cock was sticking out already, long and thick, just as she feared. Beating her mercilessly had turned him on. He shoved it into her mouth probably more to get lubrication than to get pleasure. After a minute or so, he stopped and walked around her to the other end.
Suddenly, he was on her, leaning in. He pressed the head of his cock against her anus. She was fully expecting it and yet still screamed in shock. He pressed more insistently, and she felt her sphincter give way. He was in, only a little bit, but he pressed again even harder, and something inside of her seemed to rip, like a curtain suddenly gave way. He rammed it in all the way as she felt his loins meet her ass, and the pain sent her into spasms of agony and joy. Bizarre ripples of pleasure pulsated inside her. She was not expecting that. The pain was still there, but she began to enjoy the other sensations and the humiliation. She had no will in this place. She was owned. It was the most exhilarating experience of her life.
The man came far too soon. She enjoyed him throbbing and pumping into her, but she wanted to feel more of the defilement, more of the fulfillment of being filled. She knew she was lost for good.
The two women came in when the man left. They carefully removed the ring from her mouth, released the restraint on her head, and unshackled her from the horse. She got to her feet stiffly while rubbing her raw wrists, and they led her back to the main room.
Back in her living room, she stared at the sculpture a long time. She considered that she should light candles next to it before one of her sessions. She noted again how the duration in real life was very short no matter how long she seemed to be in the waking dream.
Tomorrow evening, her boyfriend would arrive. She wondered how she should greet him.