The Enslaving of anna

The Enslaving of Anna

©2004 by C. A. Smith

Chapter 1

There are whole books telling you how to deal with slaves. The hell with them! I can train my own damn slave. I knew from the moment I met Anna that I had to have her. Not just have her; own her. She was ripe for it, too. A wild little thing silently crying out for control. Well now, by God, she's going to understand the meaning of "control." And not by force. She wants it. Needs it. Agreed to it in writing and with a blood oath. She's mine now, my property. She loves me. She fears me. She has acknowledged that the only purpose of her existence now is to serve me.

The key to that service is instant and automatic obedience. This does not come easily and naturally to any human being, but to some it is the only path to a satisfying life. With Anna, the contradictory elements of her character — that unstable mix of shyness and exhibitionism, abject needfulness and chaotic rebellion — combined to make perfect psychological clay for the molding of an ideal slave. In her old vanilla life when life's arbitrary rules ground her spirit down, she reacted by unleashing a hidden wild side that often got her into trouble. Shocked by her own behavior, she would then withdraw again into the hang-tail, guilt-ridden shell of her Catholic upbringing. She was a confused and unhappy child who grew into a confused and aimless young woman — promiscuous and daring during the anonymous excesses of spring breaks in Florida, cloistered and unsure of herself when back on her college campus. The wild Anna rode on a strange young man's shoulders, snugging her crotch to the nape of his neck, baring her breasts for the chanting crowds with their video cameras in return for free beer, giving her body over to multiple strangers when the beers overtook her Catholic inhibitions. Back in the dorm the shy hang-tail girl found it impossible to express her true emotional and sexual needs to the multitude of suitors who dated her for her beauty, screwed her for their gratification and then passed on to more promising (i.e. less neurotic) pastures. The fools failed to recognize the wonder that lay just below the surface of the quixotic young Anna.

But I recognized it at once. I'm a lot older than the college boys who fumbled their opportunity to harvest this sweet treasure. I'm also a practicing psychiatrist and know a thing or two about how to coax dark secrets from unhappy humans.

Anna was twenty-one, had just finished her second year at nearby St. Andrews College and was dreading the third. I had concluded a stint as guest lecturer there and met her in a pub that was popular with both students and faculty. Five minutes into our conversation I realized I was inordinately attracted to her. It was also clear that she was an extraordinary butterfly trapped in society's web of numbing conformity. She obviously enjoyed talking to me, too. Four drinks later her defensive shyness crumbled and she let herself follow me to a quiet corner booth. It was there I extracted her secret and knew just how I was going to win her.

Like everyone, she wanted to be loved. Ached to be loved. But the boys who verbally salivated over her lush body and exquisite face, who poured out their devotion with tender endearments, plied her with extravagant gifts and wooed her with ringing testaments of their adoration, bored her silly. She let them fuck her just to get rid of them. What really turned her on, she confided through the haze of her growing intoxication, was to be treated badly. She liked to be roughed up, slapped around, taken harshly. Her fantasies involved a strange man kidnaping her, tying her up and spanking her mercilessly when she tried to escape. She could make herself wet by imagining a scene where her abductor drags her into a motel room, beats her into submission, rapes her, then leaves her naked, trussed up and helpless, to be found the next morning by a shocked chambermaid. Next she suffers the added humiliation of being ogled by the hotel manager and police as they struggle to undo her tight restraints, their fingers skimming across her belly and nipples, their eyes sliding to the sexual juices seeping from her abused vagina, glistening on her inner thighs. But, of course, she was horrified by these fantasies, thinking they indicated some kind of mental flaw.

My profession was her shield. She felt safe confiding in me. I wouldn't belittle her, call her weird. That made it easy for me. I assured her that while her fantasies and sexual preferences were not ordinary and bland, they were definitely not abnormal, that many others share her feelings and are excited by images of violence. A casual glance at movie listings supports that fact. I promised to bring her some books on the subject. That, of course, was simply a ruse to set up a second meeting. Which led to actual dates. She soon realized I was not a vanilla date. I never asked her for a kiss, I just seized the back of her neck and kissed her, squeezing her breasts with the other hand. I never told her how lovely she was, but I let her see it in my eyes and in the increasing intimacy between us.

On the fourth date I drove her to my home, mixed three round of tequilas, then ordered her to stand up and remove her clothes. She blinked and hesitated, speechless. I repeated the order more sternly. An odd look crossed her face, but she stood up and did as she was told, slowly peeling off her dress and stepping out of her shoes. Dressed only in a bra and thong she hesitated again, her hands in midair.

"Go on. Those, too. Now!" I left no room for doubt in my tone.

Anna trembled visibly, warming to a fantasy becoming real, and reached behind her back. The bra came loose and she shrugged it off. Looking me steadily in the eyes, she slipped her thumbs under the sides of the thong and pushed it down, letting it drop to her feet. She stepped out of the ribbony tangle and nudged it aside with her left foot. She was magnificent, her young breasts firm and upright, her figure trim, her skin a healthy pink and virtually unblemished, her pubic bush neatly trimmed to a racing stripe. I sat and enjoyed the sight of her without saying a word. The silence made her nervous, as silence always does in our culture. But when she started to speak, I raised my hand.

"No. Don't say a word. Stand there quietly. Be proud of your nakedness. Let me take you in."

I let nearly two minutes crawl by, then told her to turn slowly, a full 360 degrees. She took a deep shuddering breath and did an awkward, self-conscious turn. When she had completed it, I shook my head.

"No. Slower. More gracefully. Glory in your beauty. Show it off."

Her eyebrows flicked up, surprised at my criticism. But she smoothed out her expression, smiled slightly — getting into it now — and began a much more elegant turn. I rewarded her success with a nod. I let her stand a few more minutes before rising from the chair where I'd been sitting. I walked slowly around her, trailing the length of her long, dark, honey hair through my fingers. When I was at her side, three quarters of the way around, I kissed the top of her shoulder, then gently bit her neck, then kissed her deeply on the mouth, drawing her tongue between my teeth. In a sudden move I swept her up into my arms and carried her upstairs into my bedroom and stood her beside my king sized bed.

"Now remove my clothes," I said.

She smiled a little coyly and began unbuttoning my shirt. When I made no effort to help her, she unbuckled my belt, ran the zipper down and let my pants fall to a heap. She glanced up at my eyes seeking approbation, but I kept my face blank. She sighed and went about the more clumsy process of removing my shirt, the maneuver requiring her to lean in and let her nipples brush against my chest. My cock, already at half mast, instantly came to full attention against her thigh. She smiled more broadly, flipped my liberated shirt over to a chair and began sliding my shorts downward over my engorged member. I made no move to help so she was forced to squat down where she could untie my shoes to complete the process.

"Get on your knees to do that," I told her.

She glanced up, clearly nonplused that I was continuing to order her around, and undoubtedly amazed that she was letting me. And enjoying herself.

She had been sitting on her heels, balancing on her toes. Now she rocked first left, then right, as she switched to a kneeling position. This was both more comfortable for her and, more important for my purposes, a more useful posture. Kneeling can be sustained for long periods. It's a position which can be practical, worshipful or obsequious. Or all three. Anna had only begun to learn the joys of obedience. She was about to have her first taste of complete submission and humility.

Both shoes were untied, my pants and undershorts pooled around my ankles. Still I did not move. Anna looked up at me and frowned. "Well, are you going to help me here?" she grumped.

I adopted an ominous glare. "What did you say to me?"

She snorted with exasperation. "I said are you going to . . ."

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted it, drawing a yelp of pain. "I believe you meant to phrase that more respectfully, little one. Try it again." I held on tight and gave no indication of relenting.

Grimacing from the pain and looking a bit frightened at the unexpected brutality, Anna gasped and said in a small voice, "Would you please lift your foot so I can take these off?"

I smiled at her but did not let go. "Certainly." Using my grip on her hair for balance, I raised each foot just high enough to let her slip the shoe, sock and clothing off and out of the way. She dropped her eyes to her work but couldn't lower her head. When she was finished, I let her stare up at me for a long minute. I smiled and nodded to let her know she was on the right track, relaxing my grip on her hair and caressing her cheek and neck with my free hand.

"Now take my cock and balls into your hands."

She did as she was told, holding them as though she were offering a sacred oblation.

"Open your mouth."

She licked her lips and parted them, never taking her eyes off mine.

"You know what to do next. Do it lovingly, using your tongue and your lips, lathering my cock and balls all over, sucking them."

I could see and hear her breathing quicken. This exercise was turning her on in spite of her fright, or perhaps because of it. My own excitement was such that I was already close to orgasm. Tightening my grip on her hair, I pulled her off me, picked her up and dropped her on the bed on her back. Startled, she started to pull her legs up, so I grabbed her knees, forced them apart, climbed between them and rammed myself into her. She cried out and squirmed, but I paid no attention, pumping rapidly until I exploded inside her. When I came fully to my senses I realized Anna's eyes were closed, her teeth bared and her own body bucking in sexual frenzy. I let her ride it out, waiting until the seizures slowed and stopped before withdrawing from her and rolling to the side of the bed. I cupped a hand over her sex, slipping a finger into the orifice that was now dripping our combined liquors. She opened her eyes and smiled at me. I twisted my finger around inside her for a few seconds, making her moan, then drew it out and touched it to her lips. A look of incredulity swept across her face — she had obviously never thought of such a thing before. Then her expression softened and she touched her tongue to the finger, tasting the fruits of our lovemaking.

For that's what it was. Love. I knew I had to have this girl and I knew if she was not yet in love with me, she soon would be. I offered the one vital ingredient that was missing in her life, the ingredient essential for her happiness. And I was about to drive the point home.

"Get up, Anna," I said quietly.

She looked offended, apparently thinking that having quenched my sexual need, I was about to dismiss her.

"Get up," I repeated gently. "There's something we have to do. Come stand over here." I patted the outside edge of the bed to the right of where I was sitting.

That seemed to reassure her. She rolled off the opposite side of the bed and came around to stand beside me, her eyes bright and inquisitive. "Yeah?" she chirped.

"I like you, Anna," I said, watching her face glow. "You're a very special girl. And I'm a very special man. You're different from ordinary women and I'm different from ordinary men. The wonderful thing is, we're both different in the same way. We fit. We're a matched set, you and I. We're going to stay together, Anna, because no one else will make either of us as happy as we can make each other. Even though we've only been together half a dozen times, even though we've only been intimate this once, even so I know deep in my soul that we are a perfect fit, you and I, in spirit, mind and body. You feel that too, don't you, Anna?"

This was obviously moving a bit fast for the girl, yet I knew from our previous conversations, from our mutual body chemistry and from her own body language that she was falling in love with me. It was just a matter of getting her to admit it to herself and say it out loud.

She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. "Yes. It's true," she whispered. I felt it the first time I met you at that pub. But tonight you scared me a little. I'm not sure I know you all that well."

"I intended to scare you a little, because that's what you want. That's your fantasy, isn't it. Having someone take control of you forcefully. That's what turns you on."

She chewed her lip, unable yet to admit the obvious, but knowing it was true.

"You were a little embarrassed tonight when I ordered you to strip," I went on, "and humiliated when I made you stand naked while I examined you. There was pain when I pulled your hair. But it all translated eventually into erotic pleasure, didn't it? It's what you've been craving all these years; rough sex, the feeling of being raped. And I delivered it, didn't I?"

"I guess you did."

"You guess?"

"Yeah, all right, you did. It was great."

I stood up and gathered her against me. "I'll tell you straight out, Anna. I love you and I want you. Not just for sex. I want you to be completely and utterly mine. You're not used to looking at life realistically, Anna, seeing yourself as you really are. You've been trying to cram yourself into a standard box when you're way too exceptional to fit. So take your time if you want. Mull it over till you're ready to make a decision. You have two distinct choices. There's the flavorless, frustrating life you've led so far with occasional relief when you decide to be naughty and flash a little titty, which is quickly offset by guilt and shame. And then there's a whole new world where there is no guilt about the kinky and the erotic because those are the norms; and you need fear no shame for doing what you love, because that's what's expected of you; where you can be loved and respected and nurtured for what you really are. That's the world I offer to you, Anna. And when you're ready to join me there, tell me so. Will you do that?"

I felt her head nod beside mine. I held her and spread kisses over her face for another minute or so, then took her shoulders and held her at arms length. "I'm going to make love to you again, Anna, and stay inside you for a very long time. But first I'm afraid I need to discipline you for that disrespectful remark you made, that little burst of exasperation when you should have asked me politely to move my foot. You remember that, don't you, Anna." It wasn't a question. She nodded, looking puzzled. "Whenever you are disrespectful to me, from now on, I will correct you. The fantasies you've revealed to me express very clearly a strong inner desire to be punished. In your heart you want to be disciplined. And I insist on it. Do you understand?" She nodded again, looking downward at her feet, smiling faintly, not sure what kind of discipline and punishment I had in mind. But clearly titillated by the prospect.

Before she could ask, I sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled her over my knees and gave her three quick spanks on her perfect bottom. She cried out and struggled to get away, but I held her fast. "I'm only going to deliver seven more spanks, but if you continue to resist I will double it."

"No wait! Please! That hurts!" she squealed.

"You may, of course, refuse the discipline, Anna. In which case I will send you away and that will be the end of it. The end of us. But if you want a chance to be happy, to find the life you were meant to lead, if you want to please me and be loved by me, and turn your fantasies into exciting realities, you will say, 'Please Master, punish me. I deserve to be punished'."

She wiggled on my lap a few times while I held her firmly on my legs, then became still.

"Say it," I told her sharply. "'Please, Master, I want you to punish me.'"

I felt her body tense. Finally, her voice quavering, she whispered, "Please, Master, I want you to punish me."

"Excellent." I immediately resumed the spanking, but this time the blows were harder with four or five seconds between them to give her a chance both to recover from each burst of pain and appreciate the full intensity of it. By the seventh blow both cheeks were bright red and she was close to weeping, but she had not tried again to escape my lap. I picked her up, gently placed her face down on the bed and carefully licked those wonderfully crimson mounds until she was fully relaxed again and cooing. By now I was hard again, so I put a hand under her belly and drew her up to where I could guide myself into her easily from behind.

"I'm proud of you, little one," I murmured as her body began to move, synchronizing with my thrusts.

A long time later, after she had come five more times to my once, and as we were letting the cool air dry our soaked bodies, she whispered, "I've made up my mind. I do love you. I want to be yours."

"You understand, little one, there'll be more spankings when you're bad," I whispered back.

"I'm looking forward to it."

"And there will be harsher discipline as well."

"Will you hurt me?"

"Punishments always hurt. That's the point. But I will never, ever harm you. I absolutely promise you that. If you are to be mine, you must trust me on that point. I will not allow you to suffer any serious injury. I will be your Master, Anna, your protector and lover as well as your disciplinarian. Do you trust me not to cause you harm, Anna?"

"Yes. I trust you. But will they hurt a lot? The other punishments, I mean? Worse than the spanking?"

"Some will hurt more, some less. It's for your pleasure as well as your correction, little one. Remember your dreams? You like it rough. The possibility of pain excites you. Isn't that true? The fear, the anticipation of pain makes your female places tingle."

"Yes," she breathed.

"And after it's over, the sex is amazing."

"Yes."

"But there's more than that. Much more. If you truly become mine, little one, your life will be totally changed. Where before you were adrift, unsure of your direction in life, you will become completely focused. You will have one laser-clear purpose, one uncomplicated function, one simple reason for existence."

"Which is?"

"To serve your Master. To make him love you more every day, if that's possible."

"Sounds like the perfect plan to me, Master," she giggled, snuggling closer.

Sweet Anna. She thought that because a dozen or so boys had tasted her fruit, she was sexually experienced, worldly wise. But in terms of the world I was leading her into, she was a virgin.