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Subject: Title story: "Oddyssey of Submission" Author: Katherine 109265703
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Date: Wed, 13 Jun 2007 19:06:34 +0000
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Oddyssey of Submission
Some girls grow up wanting to be Vivian Leigh in "Gone With The Wind," gliding
down an opulant staircase in an exquisite evening gown. My fantasy aspirations
came from a different era of film. I wanted to be Samantha Eggar in "The
Collector," squirming helplessly against my ropes with my captor is out of the
room, loving and dreading the thought of what he would do when he returned.
That wasn't my only fantasy, of course, but it was a powerful one. I took a lot
of pleasure from it laying in bed alone, rubbing myself against the pillow
between my legs, wishing for someone who could push me to new and higher levers
of sexual feeling.
But I had absorbed just enough feminist philosphy from my mother to feel guilty
about such thoughts. I also had just enough self-protective distrust of men to
keep me from asking any of my early sexual partners to oblige. So I went off to
college with my submissive feelings still unfocused, compartmented away from my
"real" life. They probably would have stayed there but for Colleen.
Colleen was my senior roommate my only year at State: a dark- haired
athletic girl who looked like she might have been a swimmer or a lacrosse
player. Instead, she was a quiet sociology major and the photographer for
the campus' alternative newspaper. The other girls told ugly jokes about
her, including cruel and hateful tales of why four roomates had moved out on
her in the last year.
I laughed politely, but secretly I hoped the gossip was true. I found out on the
last night of Indian sumemr. With no air- conditioning in the dorm, the room was
warm and I was hot. I wanted to slip my hand between my legs and enjoy the
world's best sleeping pill--but Colleen was awake, too, and to judge from her
breathing and the rustling of the sheets, as restless as I.
After nearly an hour of mutual sleeplessness, she got up and opened a drawer at
her dresser. I thought she would head down the hall to the bathroom, giving me
time to "scratch" my itch. But instead she came and stood at the side of my bed.
"I'm going to massage you a little so you can relax," she said in her gentle
voice. Without waiting for my reaction, she took my foot and began to rub it
skillfully, releasing tension I hadn't realized was there. Her hands were cool
and soothing on my hot skin. She worked her way slowly up my leg, kneading my
calf in her firm fingers, then the back of my thigh. I did nothing and said
nothing, just laid there and wondered how far she--this--would go.
Presently she moved to the other leg, beginning again at the foot and carrying
her knowing touch up towards the softest and hottest spot, at the apex of my
thighs. Her touch had inflamed my already heated pussy, and I was certain she
could smell my musk.
If so, she gave no sign. Skipping my bottom and hips, her hands began to work
the knots in my shoulders and back. My sleeping shirt made that difficult. When
she modestly pushed it up to my armpits, I took over and removed it completely.
In case that hadn't been a clear enough message, I told her "Don't stop. That
feels wonderful." The tremulous eagerness in my voice was real.
She stopped for a moment. "It can feel even better."
"Show me," I whispered.
"Turn on your back," was her command.
I did, spreading my legs slightly. I lay nude before her except for my skimpy
and well-soaked panties. She spread my legs still farther, then turned her
attention again to my feet and ankles. But there was something different this
time -- something other than her fingers encircling my ankle. She tried to be
both quick and casual, afriad I would realize what she was doing and stop her. I
knew what she was doing. I wanted her to do it. I wanted my legs tied open to
the bedposts. It was a fantasy coming to life.
When she was finished, she sat on the bed beside me and looked deep into my
eyes. She saw there what she wanted to -- my willingness, my desire. She bent
forward to my breast and took a nipple in her mouth. The sensation was electric.
My nipple grew hard under her tongue andlips. I moaned.
"Tie my hands, too," I whispered.
She sat me up and tied my hands behind my back with a third pair of nylons, then
pushed me back down. My weight on my arms made me feel suddenly powerless, and a
surge of sexual feeling charged through me.
Climbing on the bed at last, Colleen knelt by my head. "You're so pretty," she
said, stripping off her nightie and throwing it aside. The light from the
windows illuminated her small oval breasts and flat stomach. I took her heady
female scent deep into my nostrils.
"Please," I urged.
She reached out and caressed my breasts, toying with the erect nipples. When
she bent over to suck them, her own dangled above my mouth, and I strained
upward, eager to give back what she was giving to me. But she kept her back
arched and her ...
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