Submission was demanded. I lay on the bed, face down, ass in the air as required. I felt slightly resentful, but knew that my obedience was not considered optional.
Perrin stood beside me. I’d broken a rule. A little thing, but as he told me I knew there was to be punishment. I listened to the sound of him removing his belt, and buried my face in the pillows, my hands clenched beneath my shoulders. When he began to beat me I hid inside my head. Counting the blows, curious how long he would continue. Wincing at the sharpest but struggling to stay still and quiet, to let the pain wash over me and away. I wondered at my lack of resistance. I was not in the mood for this I knew. There was no lustful delight, merely patient acceptance. I wondered if I should object, ask him, or even tell him to stop; but instead I stayed where I was, inside my head, letting my body bear his blows.
Then he paused, commanding me to count four more. The harshest, as I had known they would be.
I continued to lie quiescent, as he began to fuck me. Pushing my ass up to him as required. I could feel my pussy was wet, flooded, and yet I felt no sexual desire inside my head, merely submission to his will.
When he had finished I floated there, accepting. He began to play with me then, his fingers probing inside my cunt. A couple of times I felt a wave of pleasure, and I attempted to follow it to the orgasm I knew he desired for me. Still they passed away from me and I remained accepting, enjoying the sensations he provided for as long as he chose.
And I felt as though I could have remained there for hours. Accepting pain and pleasure with equal calmness. It wasn’t sexy, but it was submissive.