Journey of Submission Part IV

Submitted by Nicolae Parx

SUBMISSION
Beginning
Her words echoed in his head. 'And I'm only beginning with you," flowed through him as she loosed her grip and deposited his body on the thick carpet. Sensations of loneliness and quiet desperation filled him as Roxana extricated herself from what had been an indescribably close interaction.
Nicolae sank into an abyss of isolation and he craved the physical and emotional comfort she had just wrested almost violently from him. With no reserve of strength to decipher her intentions, he felt his body fall ignominiously to the carpet and his ears barely hear her walk to the chair. Following her with his dulled and tired senses, Nicolae felt the lack of Roxana's presence more than he felt his own exhaustion.

The only word to describe this new feeling to him that made any sense was isolation. And he didn't like it one bit.
Her words were as sudden as they were comforting. "Come here," were the only two syllables she uttered.
Gathering the remnants of his strength, Nicolae managed to pull himself to his elbows and knees and with extreme effort, dragged his body across the thick carpet to a place at her feet. Knowing he had no hope of lifting himself to the chair without her help, he knelt on all fours with his face at the toes of her black boots and waited for her strong arms to assist him. As he knelt there, a mass of molten flesh waiting for direction, Roxana pressed the toes of her boots a mere inch toward him and made the silent offer, Nicolae's head swam with possibility.
And questions.
He was used to being in complete control of his own destiny and at this very moment, Nicolae had no experience being in a physical or mental place where he was unsure of what was expected of him or how he was going to respond to a situation. It was new for him.
He felt fear that was also new to him.
Existing in a dimension where the laws of the physics that he knew like he knew his own name seemed not to apply was alien to Nicolae's experience. He saw the toes of her boots and he was certain that if he lifted his eyes, he would also drink in the heady smell of leather all the way to her knees. Trying desperately to remember what she was wearing without looking up for a reminder, all Nicolae could recall was that her skirt had a long slit from her ankles upward. Somehow, he remembered that it was blue.
But his eyes saw only the black of the toes of her leather boots and in the fading sunshine, the colors were discernable only from their contrast against the taupe carpet under her feet. The same carpet, he realized immediately, on which he was now naked and kneeling.
An incredible series of possibilities and events rushed through his field of vision and he struggled to sort them out. Visions of stories he had read, images of pictures he had seen, and likenesses of chats he had typed swam upstream through his otherwise empty mind. Focusing on the floor in front of his eyes, Nicolae saw black - - leather - - boots. And suddenly he knew what he must do.
All Nicolae could smell was the taste of leather on his tongue. As his lips drank in the fragrance he had yearned for all those years, he felt an awkward giddiness fill his brain with images that would become tomorrow's memories that would be burned into his mind.
It took all his willpower not to allow himself the luxury of being in and out of the experience at the same time. Too often when he was almost fully involved in whatever task was at hand, he found himself drifting above it and observing the events unfold as if he were both a spectator and participant simultaneously. Having that dual perspective helped Nicolae so often to make sure his strategy for any situation was both accurate and effective; however, this case was markedly different.
For the first time in his life, he was on his knees with a woman who wanted him there.
The only thing his body felt was enduring the wonderfully painful effort taxing his jaw and the smooth glide of his tongue across the supple leather of her black boots. Yet a yearning developed deep inside him that propelled him dangerously toward the out-of-body experiences he knew all too well but did not want at this moment. Nicolae struggled with himself, his thoughts, his willpower and his overpowering need to be on his knees tasting the boots that greeted his tongue. Instead of existing in genuine submission, Nicolae battled with his greatest enemy: his own mind.
His intellect told him that being in this spot was the physical culmination of his mental desires; however, the reality of his body's position hadn't yet sunk in - at least not fully. Forcing his lips to work harder on the leather as if to achieve his goals with dazzling effort, Nicolae lapped at her boots with newfound energy and heartfelt passion. The tips of the black leather boots glistened from his genuine exertion and his tongue offered her only more. It was his singular goal - to offer her more than she asked for and more than he felt he was capable of giving.
As Roxana relaxed comfortably in the soft chair and viewed the top of his head working so hard to please her, Nicolae was determined to make her feel the depth of his need. Even
though his jaw ached and his tongue bordered on numbness, he worked his lips more desperately so she could feel the potency of his passion.
For once, he neither cared what he looked like nor worried about a woman's reaction to his years of silent desperation. Instead, he threw himself into his labor more deeply and increased the expression of ardor with each stroke of his tongue. Nothing could measure the speed with which a cacophony of images darted like outtakes through the screen inside his head and Nicolae fought to gain control over the projection before it distracted him from his authentic reality that was his physical need. He didn't "want." He suffered only "need."
Almost imperceptibly, he felt the toe of her boot move deeper into his mouth and his body tensed momentarily with a mixture of emotions. Why did she move her foot toward his lips? Wasn't she satisfied? Had he not shown her how real his needs was? Behind all of his self-recrimination, he felt an uneasy sense of impending disapproval and his body stiffened from a wash of self-doubt that once again permeated his ever-present thoughts.
With a renewed sense of urgency, he raised his hips, pressed his face more intently against the black leather and drove into the task with greater enthusiasm. The flashes of misgiving that he had known for so many years began to metamorphose into an odd sort of honor she bestowed upon him. After all, she hadn't kicked him away yet and he clung to that lack of rejection with a peculiar sort of hope that his own desire for nothing more than to be exactly where he was and doing exactly what he was doing was to her liking and met with her approval.
Roxana must be able to feel his honesty and passion, he figured quickly in a strange sort of mental evaluation from his knees. As the words tumbled through his head, he stressed each word individually until he settled on the magical 'must' of the words. She MUST, Nicolae decided, feel his legitimacy. Only with that understanding could he achieve the goal that had for so long eluded his grasp. He believed that he finally understood what was required of him and he gathered all of his years of suppressed strength to accomplish it.
With his hands clinging firmly to the thick carpet's nap, he drove his entire soul into the tip of her boot and began tasting its heady fragrance as if it were new. Instead of merely tasting leather with his lips, Nicolae finally felt his entire mouth filled with the passion of giving Roxana what she wanted. As he did, incredibly strong emotions washed over him and filled his soul.
No longer tasting mere leather, Nicolae's senses overflowed with an amazing mixture of feelings that were unique to him. Unable either to put them into words or to have the strength even to try, he allowed the emotions to pervade his arms and legs and saturate his soul. Even though physical exhaustion should have nagged at his efforts, he felt inexplicably strong.
He felt new.
Nicolae's neck propelled harder and deeper and forced his mouth, lips and tongue forcefully against her boots as his body demanded that he taste higher and higher toward her ankle and then to her calf. Sucking almost religiously, he circled every inch of the black leather with enthusiasm that dipped into the realm of crazed ardor. As he continued his journey, Nicolae succumbed to the reality of his need to make her know his passion and felt, for the first time he could recall, really free.
As if his being had been wrapped up inside an invisible shell of disapproval throughout everyone of his forty years, Nicolae fought to break free of any vestigial shreds of selfimposed spiritual slavery. His cheek touched the leather and sent waves of energy through his thrusting body yet he ignored the personal rhythm to which his body was now dancing. Rubbing his face, eyes, nose and forehead against leather wet with his own worship, Nicolae yearned only for the strength to make her really know his dedication and touch his heartfelt commitment to providing her pleasure.
The perfect balance was within his grasp, but Nicolae longed for an equilibrium that still eluded him. Figuring that working harder and faster would achieve his goal, he pressed himself fully into her boot and suffered a moment of selfdoubt that he would never achieve his single-minded goal: to *make* Roxana know the depth of his passion. The ache in his jaw wouldn't subside and his lips and tongue felt his mouth offer only more.
His soul was exhausted.
And then he was struck by lightning.

An unexpected set of fingers ran gently through his sweaty hair and electrified his drained spirit. Nicolae felt a new and overpowering emotion course through him and his spent soul recharged. It was as if a sudden charge of almost religious importance had struck him and caused his skin to be electrified with a perfect steadiness of devotion, dedication and commitment.
He had no mental words to describe the magical moment nor did he feel the need to seek any. Too ecstatic from the almost-spiritual experience that flowed through him to be aware of anything other than the warmth of her absentminded caress, Nicolae felt the completion of his lifelong yearnings in that simple touch. Although he had no words for it at that time, he knew what he felt.
Acceptance. Approval.
Nicolae was instantaneously converted from one substance into another and evolved from a singular person into one who had closed the space between himself and another by offering honesty and having it returned with simple acceptance. The transubstantiation was as enormous as it was diminutive. Nicolae suddenly owned the experience and for the first time he could recall, felt like he owned himself.

There is no submission, he learned instantaneously, without mutuality. For that brief sacred moment, Nicolae understood that his gift of submission could not be experienced without the concomitant validation that came only from one who cherished his offering with passion equal to the manner in which he gave it. And he realized that he never wanted to offer that gift again unless he knew his partner would return nothing more - or less - than clear-cut but sacred appreciation of him and his sincerity.

With a burst of newfound strength drawn from the power of the grace of that moment, Nicolae drove his face into her boot with a zeal that was unmatched in any of his prior experiences or dreams. And he watched in perfect happiness and thorough fulfillment as she rocked in her chair with an overpowering climax that stunned both of them with its ferocity and purity. Too exhausted to speak, she drew his head into her lap and stroked his hair and face as he smiled quietly and waited to learn what else he could do to make her happy because she was, for that moment, simply someone who genuinely cared.
Suspense
By now, the summer sun drew perfect circles on the ocean's surface and Nicolae sensed that evening was falling. Feeling no need to turn his head and peek at the sunshine from the warm comfort of Roxana's lap where her hands rested on his perspiring head and fingered his damp hair, he rested in her strong and welcome grip. He was happy in that place, content and calm in her forceful presence.

It was Roxana's shifting in the chair that refocused his attention on his own reality.

"Well, now that you've gotten that out of your system," she began with a laugh and Nicolae's ears picked up a new lilt in her voice that was unfamiliar to him from their long late night chats and less-frequent telephone calls, "rest for a few minutes while I gather up a few things." As she relaxed her grip on his head and guided him gently to the floor, Nicolae was certain he heard her sigh.

Even in his fatigue, Nicolae knew what a happy sigh sounded like and his heart was glad that his actions could induce that expression of pleasure in her. What tore at his soul was the desire and compelling need to do it again.

Recognizing that Roxana was right - - that his body needed rest - - Nicolae succumbed once again to the comfort of the carpet against his skin and gave himself to the floor's strength. He breathed even and deeply and literally felt the air he inhaled touch parts of him that had never been open enough to be touched before.

It was dark when he awoke from whatever nap his body forced him to take. Nicolae felt the smooth silk of satin quilting against his skin and struggled unsuccessfully to focus his eyes. Where the days are crystal clear on the Pacific Ocean, the nights must be incredibly black, he figured in his postsleep fog. The satin quilt bespoke her caring attitude and Nicolae was struck once again by Roxana's thoughtful consideration.

He was warm, invigorated and totally sightless.

It didn't him long to realize the tightness around his eyes and head was intentional. Having never worn a blindfold, he was unaccustomed to just how completely it could block his vision and remove from him a sense of where he was in relation to everything around him. The sense that overwhelmed him was fear.

With no bearings to relate his position, Nicolae began to extricate himself from the quilt's comfort and rise to his hands and knees and begin the sightless exploration that she

must have intended for him. It never occurred to him to remove the blindfold. Obviously, Roxana wanted it there and that was all the reason he needed. Crawling was safer than walking, he figured, and Nicolae considered for a moment that his naked crawling body presented a probably amusing image for whoever was observing him.

That is, if there was anybody watching.

The thought of being absolutely alone, naked, crawling and blind began to terrify him as he crept tentatively. Unsure of which way was which, Nicolae moved carefully in all directions at once and managed merely to turn in a small circle. Only the warm spot on the carpet was any sort of reference point for him to triangulate where he started.

The problem was that he didn't know where he was.

His sightlessness was disconcerting on several levels but they all led to the same conclusion: he felt vulnerable and was getting a little angry at the game Roxana seemed to be playing with him. As he twisted and turned, fearful of running into furniture or a wall, Nicolae risked only small movements. As a dancer, he was used to huge movement and wide spaces. The incongruity of his present situation was overwhelming and he felt his breathing quicken and the inhaled air, which had so recently touched him so powerfully, was barely reaching his lungs.

Even though the breeze he felt on his naked skin was warm, Nicolae felt a creeping discomfort swell in his body. Unused to that physical feeling of anxiety, he began to sweat. Soon he was dripping perspiration throughout his skin and apprehension filled his brain. He could focus on only one question.

Where was she?

She had to be there, he knew in his heart, but he could not find her and his lack of power to locate her, touch her, feel her strength or enjoy her comfort drained his recent aroused emotions from him quickly. He wanted her again, to be in her power - - to be handled skillfully and rewarded for his efforts. Suddenly, all his thoughts were replaced by a single need: to find Roxana.

The incoming ocean breezes had all but dissipated her fragrance from the room and Nicolae was unable at that moment to recall her. Her aroma was missing, her strength had vanished, her physical closeness had evaporated and her gentle touch had been ripped from him. Fear rose inside him as he began to be terrified that he would be unable to recapture the all-consuming emotions he cherished while tasting her boots and fulfilling one of his life's fantasies.

Tears welled in his eyes under the blindfold and short but violent sobs wracked his chest. An uninvited moan of despair escaped his lips. Desperate beyond reason, Nicolae dropped his head to the carpet and gave in to the weeping that came from deep inside his soul.

Her voice broke his abject solitude.

"Kneel for me," she spoke in an unemotional voice that seemed to expect his compliance.
Exhilarated to find her once again, Nicolae accepted her instruction and fulfilled her anticipation.

He inhaled her fragrance as she approached. Stepping behind him, Roxana quickly applied leather cuffs to his wrists and ankles and in a surprisingly deft manner, hooked the two sets of cuffs together. Forced to bend backwards slightly and arch his back, Nicolae felt himself even more exposed and defenseless to whatever she had in mind. Even though he trusted her and wanted her with quiet desperation, he felt a gnawing sense of fear invade his heart.
Reviewing his day in mere mental seconds, Nicolae tried to figure out how he had come to be where he was: naked, kneeling, shackled, and totally blind.
The suddenness of her fingers touching his chest snapped his thoughts back to reality. Eager to feel her warmth and closeness, he succumbed to her both mentally and physically before he felt her fingers take his nipples and press hard. The sudden throbbing across his chest rushed through him and he yelped without thinking.
Had he not been sightless, he would have seen her smile.
Her fingers pulled at his nipples incessantly, and he struggled to stay upright against her assault. As she drew him toward her, he felt his body fight both to give in to whatever she wanted and also to not fall over in abject embarrassment. When she drew him up, he fought to comply. As her fingers pulled first to one side then another, Nicolae grimaced and silently concentrated on simply remaining erect and on his knees while following the direction her fingers moved him.
Her silence deafened him. Finally, her voice broke through the mist of confusion that had settled inside his mind.
"You're a good boy," she spoke appreciatively and filled his heart. "You are my sweet boy," she concluded and fell silent again.
It was enough for him. Her words encouraged him, filled him, and gave him the solace he needed to reaffirm that he was giving her what she wanted. Although he could not name what that intangible gift was, he knew that she was taking it with approval and appreciation and that filled him with satisfaction and urged him to give her more.
Her fingers suddenly became significantly tighter and Nicolae realized from the feel of cold metal that clips had been applied to his nipples. Excruciating pain filled his senses and he battled merely to withstand it. With equal abruptness, the warm thoughts of her acceptance of his gift were replaced with the bitter reality of torture she inflicted on him. Roxana's ability to move him between those two realms shifted him from comfort to agony in mere seconds.
"Open your lips," she instructed and without considering why, Nicolae obeyed.
Pressing his head toward his chest, she placed a chain between his lips. "Don't let it slip and don't let it fall from your mouth," she ordered harshly yet petted his damp hair.
Nicolae knew that if he accomplished nothing else that day, he would not allow the chain to move or drop. That was his only goal; it had become his clear focus. All thoughts of reality evaporated and his full awareness coalesced on the cold taste of metal chain between his lips. Ignoring the pain from the nipple clips, he concentrated on his lips, teeth, and tongue and the task of keeping the chain exactly where Roxana had placed it.
"Let's see how good a boy you can be," she spoke a little more softly. "And let's see how you enjoy suffering for me."
Nicolae heard the words but did not comprehend them. His entire being - - his soul, his mind, and his body - - were fully involved with the chain between his lips. Roxana's smile broadened as she watched him accept her direction without trying to predict her next move. Stroking his hair once more, she petted him as if he were a toy. Then her hands moved toward his stiff shaft.
When he felt her fingers touch his hard skin, Nicolae groaned audibly but never heard the noise his own voice made. Because his concentration was fully involved in holding the chain carefully in his mouth, the sounds of his own voice escaped his perception. Roxana drank in his passion and made it her own.
With one hand still on his erect organ, she pushed his head up and backward and forced a louder wail to escape his throat as the chain drew his incarcerated nipples to a new and more intense level of agony. His noise was music to her, as his suffering became her symphony.
"You are my very sweet boy," she hissed in his ear and suddenly Nicolae felt the pain's intensity lessen as his body began to enjoy her soothing voice and disregard everything else that affected him. "My very sweet boy," she whispered and in that magical moment, Nicolae felt a strong urge to endure even more pain for her so that she would whisper those words he required directly into his ear and heart.
Her voice: it was his only focus. Somehow, Nicolae knew that he would bear anything she could do to him if only she would speak those words one more time.
Roxana recognized his new understanding moments before Nicolae began to come to terms with it, and she reveled in the ideas that filled her head. Moving his head up and down, she gave him intermittent moments of agony and relief and listened to his rhythmic grunts with joy.
The more he gave her, the more she needed.
Her fingers applied yet another device to his vulnerable body and with precision, Roxana attached two weights to the parachute that now encircled his testicles. Watching him understand what she had done was a joyful experience for her to witness. His face metamorphosed from complete acceptance to newfound terror and Nicolae's passion for more was suddenly replaced by cold reality.
Placing the toe of her boot in the parachute's chain and pressing gently downward, she drew yet another - - and louder - - wail of agony from his throat. Building a tempo
by drawing a hand full of light brown hair and moving his head up and down in a cadence that was drawn directly from her needs, Roxana was filled with Nicolae's moans and suffering groans. When she stopped for brief moments and whispered encouragement into his ear, his face softened from a grimace of agony into an almost angelic simplicity.
He was touching something deep inside her as she touched his fear. She knew that fear and used it.
Removing her hand from his head and her foot from his chains, Roxana left him alone, kneeling and suffering as she contemplated her next move.
Nicolae felt his skin try to explode as she withdrew and he felt bitter loneliness. Finding her again, suffering for her, and being touched by her were the only needs he had. No matter what she did to him, he needed her and that realization, coupled with the knowledge that he would be forced to leave her soon, terrified him.
Flight
He had no choice as tears filled his eyes and overflowed the blindfold. Crying from a combination of fear, terror and joy, Nicolae fell into heaving sobs that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. There was no comfort that could assuage his fear or comfort his pain. The multiple levels of agony he experienced were incomprehensible next to the single source of joy that he had known. Losing either or both was unfathomable.

Yet it was his reality.

Nicolae cursed the darkness that was inflicted upon him as well as the terrifying mixture of emotions that caused him an indefinable fusion of jumbled pain and pleasure. As the line between them softened, one became the other and soon they were indistinguishable. Afraid to want more of either because he was unable to differentiate which was which, Nicolae allowed himself to fall deeper and deeper into resignation. Unable to figure a way out of his wanting and needing, he simply existed, kneeling and bound, on the thick carpet.

And he waited, testy and silent.

Roxana watched his emotions surge, rise and fall until she was sure that Nicolae had used up his seeming never-ending supply of logic and defense. Sipping sparkling water and allowing the lemon wedge to stimulate her lips, she simply observed him run through the obstacle course of touching what was really inside himself. What he had to learn, she knew from experience, was a lesson only he could teach himself and only he could learn from himself.

He had come to her with questions and he would soon receive answers different from he expected when he boarded the plane yesterday.


When the agony and joy both disappeared from his face, she removed the parachute, caressed his balls quickly, and then took off the clips that were torturing his nipples. She knew what their removal would do to him, and as he screamed, she rubbed his aching chest gently. Within seconds of recognizing her touch, Roxana watched the combination of joy and agony return to his face, with one replacing the other as she alternated between removing a clip and gentle

rubbing. All the while, she whispered to him.

"You've been such a good boy," she murmured. "Such a sweet boy," she added.

Inside Nicolae, waves of bliss interchanged with ecstasy as he heard her voice and felt her fingers touch his tortured skin. Yet his mind remembered his desperation from mere minutes before and confusion once again filled his head with trepidation. How could he exist, he asked himself silently, without her? And how could he exist, he asked while remembering the sheer torture she inflicted, with her?

He was in the state of confusion in which Roxana wanted him. And it was time.

Pulling him to his feet, she snapped a leash around his cock and balls and led him fairly quickly on a swift walk around the room and then headed toward her goal. The French doors, open to allow the breeze and ocean scent into her home, would serve another of her purposes. Pushing away the sheer curtains, Roxana exposed the secreted hardware and began attaching the naked, panting and very confused visitor securely to the eyebolts that were driven carefully into the wall studs she specified when the addition was done.

Nicolae offered no resistance, partially from his complete fatigue and partially from his gut-level need to continue giving her whatever of him she wanted. His head was filled with burning questions and his body was suffering from meeting the reality of having what he wanted. Whatever she could do to him, he figured silently, paled against what he had just done to himself.

Within a few minutes, Roxana bound Nicolae artfully by his ankles and wrists to four separate eyebolts. With a few adjustments that she made noiselessly, his extremities were pulled taut. His reality proved that the total of his desires was markedly different from the sum of its parts. Even though his thoughts were in a whirlpool of confusion, his body was positioned in the perfect posture of submission.

Roxana's task was to bring Nicolae's incessant logic, his finely tuned attention, and his body together.

Removing his blindfold was an odd combination of pain and pleasure that stunned Nicolae with its intensity. Blinking repeatedly to focus his vision and clear his eyes, he fought to rekindle his visual memory of Roxana. He searched for her with blurred watery eyes and explored the surroundings for her face to comfort his troubled head. As if allowing him to see also opened up his other senses, Nicolae inhaled her fragrance alongside that of the salty ocean air.

Without warning, a stern smack was delivered to his fully exposed ass. Nicolae's mouth and lips betrayed him and he yelped from both surprise and pain. Behind him, Roxana smiled. And then she swatted his tight ass again. The crack of the artfully wielded cane sang through the air before delivering its blow on his virgin skin. Forcing another lyrical shriek of surprise from his lips, she continued her assault on his backside to a silent count of ten.

Ten strokes always made her point.

Stepping in front of his semi-suspended body, Roxana watched his wet face smile as she entered his field of vision. She knew he was flitting between suffering and pleasure with every experience she gave him. Observing him shift from screaming in pain to smiling in relief filled her with the joy that only new discovery could bring.

Roxana wondered how long he could hold out before learning the lesson she was bringing to him. The fun for her was always in the duration.

It was time. She set upon him in earnest.

Replacing the cane with a short flogger, Roxana danced the strands against his skin that glistened in the moonlight and kissed every inch of him with gentle strokes. Listening to him groan and watching him shudder made her feel more alive than she had in months. As he tried to dodge the impending blow with his body sturdily affixed to unyielding bolts, he performed a new dance for her; one he had never been driven to perform before.

Only the dance that emanates from the soul has meaning.

Attacking him next with a short strap, she violated his inner thighs and moved dangerously close to his still stiff cock yet never touched it with the hard leather. Nicolae watched her hand with sheer concentration as if his intent stare alone could impede the strap's landing on his shaft or balls. His level of attentiveness on her hand and the strap within it was pure passion of want and Roxana inched closer to his genitals.

Nicolae had managed to suspend his disbelief in that series of swats she placed so close to but never upon his cock. He knew that she would never injure him but he was simultaneously filled with the dread that her hand could slip and his agony would overtake whatever control he still managed to exercise over his growing fear.

Then she reached for a long whip and the remnants of his restraint fled. Nicolae howled with fear and the sounds that he emitted echoed over the ocean and dissipated soundlessly into the blue water. Simply petrified to his core, Nicolae was unable to contain it any longer and shrieked long and hard before succumbing to exhaustion. She had yet to raise the whip.

Hanging from his wrist cuffs and anchored by his ankle restraints, he was empty of feeling, of fear, of joy, of emotion save for one. Inexplicably, he wanted to give this to her. He simply had no idea what 'this' was. Tears of exhaustion flowed down his face and sobs wracked his body. Beyond confused, Nicolae could not figure out what this woman wanted of him and, after shedding his last ounce of logic, he gave in to the not knowing and resigned himself to suffering whatever Roxana insisted upon inflicting.

His body shuddered and his erect cock danced with a sudden vibration. Lifting his head and staring straight ahead into the black nothingness of the dark ocean, he felt frightened to his core yet oddly free.

Surrender

Her voice was clear. "Suffer for me, sweet boy," she cooed and his soul, wrung out from the experiences of this most unusual day, drank in each syllable like a dry sponge absorbing water. It filled him, enlarged him, and made him complete.

Walking behind him, as if to torture him yet once more by removing herself from his sight, she lifted the whip. Her expert skill made it crack but never landed the blow on his naked back.

His face never moved. He didn't shiver or shudder or try to evade its bite. Nicolae stood on solid feet and held on with strong arms in acceptance of her requirement for him, whatever the form in which it was expressed. Whether the whip landed on his back or missed completely didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Only the omnipresent need for her pleasure and satisfaction with him became his benchmarks.

Roxana cracked the whip again and Nicolae didn't flinch. A third crack and a third stoic response to the fearful sound convinced her that he had learned and accepted the lesson that mere words could never impart.

He learned what his meaning was. And what it was called.

Surrender. Greater than submission, more elevated than want, more powerful than need, deeper than desire and more profound than any conversation, chat or phone call, Nicolae had touched his submission and surrendered to it and to her in authenticity.

And it seemed so clear to him. It was what he had been built for - - why he was put on the earth. Her voice, her approval, and her appreciation were the only things that mattered. The whip, still gripped in her fist, meant nothing. It was there merely to endure to achieve a higher purpose.

Roxana walked around him and studied his confident form.

"My sweet boy," she said as she rested her palm on his cheek, "you understand." It wasn't a question or a lesson. Roxana's words were a simple statement of fact.

Shrinking from his reverie and re-entering the world of reality, Nicolae managed to nod in agreement. More pleased than she had been in months, Roxana whispered warmth into his ear and began to help him rejoin the real world. With slow encouragement, she drew him mentally into the room, the carpet, the warm ocean breeze and the single chair into which she hoped he would soon fall.

Roxana unhooked his ankles first, but Nicolae never moved. Even when she released his wrists, he stood tall with his arms raised, as if in victory over an unseen and unknown but conquered foe. Dropping the whip and taking his neck in her arms, she guided him into the room, back to the place where he could be shielded and protected while he recovered from his arduous experience of happiness and bliss. They sat together, his face on her neck, his sound of his breathing punctuating the silence. Her fingers dropped to his still hard shaft and stroked it gently. He responded immediately to her touch.

As she helped him feel the reality of touch and the pleasure of friendship, Roxana asked him the single important question one more time.

"Where do you want to go?" she inquired gently.
Nicolae's lips moved against her neck as words began to form.

"Where I was," he stated simply and added, "Where I am."
Her fingers were wet with his juices and slid along him with ease. Suddenly, he burst into her hand with a violent full body shudder, and growled softly against her neck. For an eternity, his lips filled her skin with the vibrations of his relief. Kissing his wet hair and damp eyes, Roxana held him tightly and knew that he understood.