Total Submission 11

He prepared the meal with love, it was perfect and it was her favorite, by now he was certain she would not back out, so he didn’t ask If she had had second thoughts, the conversation was halting and difficult, at first neither knowing quite what to say.
By a mutual but unspoken pact tomorrow was not mentioned though the aftermath was, in a matter of fact way as if she was going to be switched off, they talked about her regulars now coming to terms with her absence, the local authorities reaction when they received her letter saying she was going overseas and would not be back, what to do about the flat it being in her name as well as his, her explaining about the letters she had written.

Time wore on, sleep they knew would be impossible so they watched the telly, twice during the small hours they had sex, neither time a total success, the clock ticked on measuring the minutes, slowly inexorably. They tried to ignore the thing, but no matter how they tried their eyes always returned to the elderly timepiece. Dawns light reached them, birds greeting the day, her last she knew, everything just a little more stark, a little more in focus today, that clock ticked on.

She couldn’t relax, at eight she showered; he dried her in a huge fluffy towel, she sprayed a deodorant, wouldn’t do to sweat on arrival. Naked she toileted herself then drank yet another tea, noting her hand was trembling just a little; finally she stood, and allowed him to dress her, not feeling she could do it herself.
Matching undies, sexual but not tarty in black lace, deep line bra, knickers a garter belt, black stockings a spray of perfume

She put her hair up in a bun, did her lips, then on with the immaculate white shirt, slide into pinstripe wide skirt, matching jacket and a neat but not gaudy broach. The final touch the patent black 2” heels.
She surveyed herself in the mirror, as tidy a middle age office worker as ever graced an office, no hint of her former life-style at all.
He appeared at her side in a grey suit; they held hands and waited silently.

They kissed and she said quietly “you must enjoy my pain Simon, I want you to enjoy it all!”
It was two minutes to ten.

**** Part 3

The doorbell rang causing them both to jump, her eyes followed him as he answered the door, and a disjointed voice intoned “car for the name of Simon” to her it was like the tolling of a bell.

Simon called her and they swept out, he locking the door as if it was a normal working day. The car was a black Bentley, opulent luxurious, and chauffer driven, it swished through the traffic smoothly and quietly, they were soon at their destination a slaughter house on the upper town outskirts.

They swished into the car park and were met by the hooded cameraman; he filmed their arrival and entrance to the office reception, refused the offer of the car waiting, and then secured the massive gate behind the departing car, before passing the camera to Simon.
The cameraman approached her in the reception area; she stood silently as he knelt before her, slid his hands up her legs then drew her knickers down her long legs, Simon filming every silent move. It was clinical and unfeeling designed to make her understand she was to them just a commodity and to test her determination.

He turned her to face the counter lifted her skirt, and took her without foreplay or tenderness, almost rape it was soon over, his huge splash of seed filling her for the first time today, though she showed no emotion at all, her face a mask. He withdrew himself, wiped his tool on the wisp of black lace then helped her step back into the now damp rags, she settling herself and her skirt checking herself in the mirror while the men exchanged her for the camera.

Simon, taking her by the arm and with the cameraman walking backwards before them, guided her into another office where the filming paused.

Mike was sat behind the big desk. He nodded a greeting, and with no further ado he asked if she still was willing to complete the contracted scenario. There was total silence for perhaps ten seconds, her one mark of defiance on this strange morning, in a clear concise voice she answered:
“I do.”

He nodded then remarked that he admired her single minded determination. Over the next few moments there was an exchange of payments by Simon and Mike using the computer proffered by Mike.

Simon checked the accounts on his telephone after a moment or two while she stood impassive, unmoving, silently watching the transaction till he showed her the phone screen. She nodded her understanding and at that moment she for a brief moment was in the richest women in the world category.

She heard a bell ring outside, a door opened to her left and a sinister figure appeared dressed in, black from the hood through a loose gown down to his polished shoes. About her own height and oozing power he stood in front of her. He was introduced to her by Mike, as her executioner, he shook her hand, saying she was to refer to him as `master or sir’ his eyes cold grey and menacing appraising her as he did so.

The cameraman now began again to film carefully avoiding both Mike and Simon who had now moved to a couch behind the desk. The executioner told her to strip, adding the single command “slowly.” She began with the jacket, draping it neatly on the desk; she slowly slid the skirt down her long legs, again the folding and laying of the item she knew she would never wear again. The shirt followed, each button revealing more of her underclothing, the camera capturing every tiny detail especially the wet patch at the crutch of her panties the result of the cameraman's ministrations.

She was told to stop there, dressed now in underclothes and stockings the room struck chilly. A pair of handcuffs appeared and she proffered her wrists for the attachment of these final tokens of her submission; they struck cold and final around her wrists. His voice quiet and full of menace her new master asked “was she ready?”

Her voice shaking with emotion, she almost in a whisper, answered;" I am master”.

Simon turned to her, whispered goodbye and kissed her tenderly, He turned to Mike and in answer to the unasked question there was a nod. The masked man took hold of the handcuffs and hauled her to one side as first Mike and then Simon swept past with a long meaningful look, going to take their places in the gallery to watch the coming spectacle.

She was lead into a long draughty corridor and then into a large room, it was cold, dimly lit, a large camera at each corner, a doctors couch in the centre under a spotlight, a table full of whips paddles tawse and the toys of his trade, chains hanging from rails set in a high ceiling. She noted grooves in the concrete floor, no doubt to channel the blood. She wondered how many animals had passed through this charnel house over the years.

A huge digital clock smiled down at her from the wall, another clock mocking her, measuring the minutes of her remaining life. It read just 10.45.

The master lifted her manacled hands to a hook on a chain; she was lifted till her toes only just touched the floor, her mind wandered, suddenly realizing she was barefooted, she tried to recollect when her shoes went she had no memory of removing them.
CRACK, a blow landed across her bra covered breasts, her concentration suddenly back she felt the sting of the whip across her nipples even through the thick bra`s protection.

The eyes of the executioner smiling now, beginning to enjoy his work, a single tail whip in his hand savoring the scantily clad and shapely woman's first encounter with the pain he was going to enjoy inflicting.

He approached her running his hands in a sensuous way over her body his touch as he knew it would be, like electricity to her super sensitive skin. Their eyes met just for a brief moment and in that instant they understood one another completely: she needed the death, as much as he would enjoy inflicting her pain, she was here just to suffer and ultimately die, she knew now he was going to savor every second of the experience he would not speed her end and would show no mercy.

He stepped back and the blows now fell rapidly, the thin fabric of her wet panties shredded under the onslaught, her stockings became pathetic shards of torn nylon, the skin under the rips, red though not broken, she knew he was playing with her, she groaned just really for show, she had endured worse pain at the dentists. Under his hood she knew he was smiling, they understood one another.

The whip rested, he approached her, knife in hand he cut the pathetic remains of the underclothes from her lower limbs, leaving the bra for some reason. He held up a small root in front of her eyes, peeling it slowly he neatly cut it length-ways. Never taking his eyes from hers he slid the peeled ginger into her sex, the effect was not instant but it was quick, her channel was rapidly on fire, he held up the other piece, wrapped both his arms round her feeling for her rosebud and still without breaking eye contact slid the pointed sliver of root into the tender orifice.

The effect was both genuine and sudden, she began to scream, no false noises, no `for the camera’ groan, her guts fore and aft were on fire, her legs kicking as she struggled to eject the invading slivers of ginger, it was futile, tears fell, her master standing back laughing, as she convulsed on her chain, dribbles of blood running from her suspended wrists as the cruel handcuffs bit her soft flesh unnoticed, her whole being concentrated on her bowel and her burning womb.