The Submission Of Anne

Anne has a new boyfriend, but it turns out he has rather severe expectations about her behavior. And apparently she’s willing, on some level, to meet them — but she needs to have this pointed out rather forcefully:

He twisted her rather harshly, so she was facing him. Making her cringe in discomfort from the strong hold he still had on her upper arm.

“You are, by far, the most naturally submissive person I’ve met. You obviously WANT to obey me, and yet you don’t. Why?” He asked, making it sound like a scolding.

She looked up at him in surprise, but quickly lowered her eyes to the floor again. Unable to meet those stern eyes.

“I’m not submissive, I don’t want to…”, she said in what was, even to her, a very submissive voice. She simply couldn’t bring herself to say “obey”, feeling that the word wasn’t safe, somehow. She was blushing furiously, and she cursed herself for her lack of resolve.

“Well, THAT is obvious,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “If you won’t obey me, then I’ll simply have to teach you the consequences of that,” he said matter of factly.

He pulled her with him to the bed, sat down, and placed her belly down across his knees. Somehow she hadn’t thought of resisting him up to that point, and it wasn’t until he started lifting her skirt, that it finally dawned on her what was happening.

“No, stop, please!” she whimpered, and finally tried to get up, and away from the situation. He simply pushed her down with one hand, and continued with the other. She started resisting in earnest, all the while begging him to stop. “Be quiet, and lie still,” he commanded. For some reason, she actually obeyed for a short while, enough time for him to lift up her skirt completely of her bottom.

“Nononononono!” She exclaimed, and fought back as much as she could. It was hopeless. He was so much stronger than her, and he had pinned her hands securely in the small of her back with one of his.

He then continued to remove her tiny and lovely knickers. She could feel herself blush, like she’d never blushed before. So deeply ashamed and embarrassed, that she felt more like crying, than fighting.

He jerked the panties down to the middle of her thighs, then he cupped and stroked her bottom.

“This is going to hurt. I want you to tell me, when you’ve decided to behave, then I’ll can decide how much more you’ll need to remember this in the future.”

She was positively terrified at that, at she almost forgot to beg and struggle for a second. Then he started spanking her. He hit her bottom with what felt like all the strength he could muster, really laying it on her defenseless behind, making her buttocks bounce. The sting and the pain where incredible, she completely lost what ever composure she had left howled in pain. He didn’t leave her time to collect herself, but slapped her again and again, covering her entire butt in angry red handmarks. It took at least 20 heavy swats, and a very red and swollen ass, before she was coherent enough to howl out “please, I’ll do whatever you want, pleeeeeeeeaasse! I’ll obey, I’ll wear what you want!”. He stopped.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, you disobeyed me, you are even still struggling and screaming, though I’ve told you to be quiet. I don’t think we’re even near done here”. He reached down, and tore her panties of her thighs, breaking them, and giving her two red marks on her thighs. He then folded them into a ball, and holding her viciously by her hair, he pulled her head back, and stuffed them in her mouth. “Don’t you dare spit them out” he growled. She started crying at this. He was so brutal, so completely void of any compassion, and it seemed, there was no limit to how nasty he would be to her. She lay limply over his knees, not daring to fight. He picked up something from the floor, something she later found out to be her pantyhose, and tied her hands together tightly. Then he pushed her legs to the floor, and lay his own across hers. Then he took of his belt. His very thick and heavy leather belt. With one hand he held her upper body, with the other, he now wielded the doubled up belt. Letting it crack across her cheeks on top of the hand marks. Her whole world was just her bottom and the belt. The next stroke, and how much it would hurt. She cried and wriggled over his knee, but she dared not spit out the panties. He was her entire universe, there was only him, his intentions, his will. And there was only room for pain and obedience in her mind. It seemed to go on forever. Angry red welts covered her bottom from the top of her cheeks, down to her thighs. Whack, whack, whack, filling her body and soul, defining her every thought.

When he was certain there was no uncovered spot, not one place where she would not be marked or feel his punishment on her bottom, he finally stopped. She had stopped fighting, and had only jerked in response to his strokes, crying and whimpering into the panties.

He let her lie there, broken and hurting over his knee for a little. Resting his big hand on her throbbing, burning butt. Then he lifted her up by her arm and gathered her up on his lap. He moved back to sit against the wall, letting her hide her face at his chest, and he pulled her soaking wet panties out of her mouth.

She sobbed into his shirt while he held her in his strong arms. Too broken and hurt to reflect deeply on the matter, she just savored, on an almost unconscious level, the feeling of safety it gave her to simply rest against him. It felt like tears she had built up for months, or even years, had finally been allowed to be let out. Soon it wasn’t the throbbing, aching bottom, but just tears and sobbing being let out. After a while, she stopped. She felt oddly relieved and light headed, and her thoughts began to spin around how she could possibly see him anymore, after this. He stroked her hair, then lifted her face.

“Is there something you want to say to me?” he asked, in a stern demanding tone that surprised her. To her horror, she knew what he wanted to hear. He wanted her to surrender completely, to humiliate herself. She had no fight left in her, still she found it harder to say than she had ever imagined.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do as you told me,” she almost whispered, looking at his chest.

From Finding Her Place, by Zenoida.

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