Silence

The online ad intrigued her. Eileen found herself coming back to it again and again. It offered the sale of submissive contracts. Since slavery was illegal and such contracts were basically unenforceable, she wondered exactly what one would get from such a purchase. She had been alone for a long time. The idea of a submissive male to cater to her and pleasure her made her wonder if she had the strength to be a dominant, to command a strong man to her will. And could she inflict punishment? She was not cruel by nature and the thought of deliberately hurting someone did not especially please her. Still, having a submissive man was intriguing.

She had several acquaintances in the D/s culture. She asked to be taken to the sale. She was open with her acquaintances. She was curious. She was seriously considering a sub, but was not sure she would actually...acquire one at this sale. She agreed to be blindfolded for the trip to the sale and allowed the search of her purse and her person to make sure she did not have any recording devices or cameras. The paranoia amused her. Yet, she could understand it. Tolerance only went so far in the mainstream of society. The truly different were not welcome.

The sale was held in a secluded, private house. The prospective buyers were shown to comfortable chairs and offered refreshments. A catalog of contracts was given to each of them. She was not interested in the females. Her tastes were completely heterosexual and there was no allure to having a female submissive.

The submissives were led in. All were nude and shackled. The buyers were encouraged to examine them closely. She matched the contract listings to the men before her. All were strong looking, handsome men of all races and sizes. Tall, short, thin, muscular. Most of them kept their eyes down, only watching from the corners of their eyes. Many bore evidence of punishment. Some had bruises. A few had an occasional scar. Her occasional question was answered with appropriate meekness. Some looked hopeful that she would be a harsh mistress. She was surprised to find that thought distressing.

Keeping her expression serene, she walked among them, occasionally touching a face or arm. Some flinched and blushed, usually earning a quick swat from the auctioneer. She finally came to a huge man standing silently, statue still, eyes wary. She had seen several other women approach him and handle him roughly. He never moved. His marks of punishment were many and severe. She looked up into his gray eyes. His gaze did not challenge yet did not flinch. He had an inner strength that intrigued her. And there was an odd fragility about him as well. His body was impressively muscled, his raven black hair loose around his broad shoulders, and his obvious endowment made her quiver just a little inside.

Just then, another dominant came by. His eyes suddenly went flat and cold. "No use talking to this one," said the other woman, "he won't talk." The woman sneered, her eyes raking up and down his body. "He's good," she admitted, " but he won't scream and beg and I can't have that. I require complete, total submission." She shrugged. "He's for sale." Eileen saw the deep sadness behind his cold gaze. "If his contract is not bought tonight, I will release him with prejudice," the woman continued. Eileen knew that meant he would be exiled from the D/s culture. The woman moved on. Eileen reached up and touched his cheek. He did not flinch, yet she felt him tense, as if he expected a slap.

"Ladies and gentlemen," came the announcement, "please place your bids." Eileen went back to her chair and wrote out her bid. There was some back and forth bidding on a few of the others, but eventually everyone made their choices.

The big man seemed surprised that Eileen had purchased his contract. She was given the key to his shackles and he was led over to her. He immediately knelt. She released the shackles, noting that they had been cruelly tight, leaving angry red marks on his wrists. She simply dropped the shackles and gently massaged his wrists to restore his circulation. She felt his tenseness, yet he made no sound.

"Do you have clothing?" she asked. He nodded. "Please get dressed." He rose, bowed and left her. He returned in a few minutes dressed in jeans, a denim shirt, and sneakers. He had a small suitcase with him. She finished the transaction just as he returned to her.

She took him home. He was the most silent person she had ever met. He moved with the silent grace of a huge cat. She gestured to a chair. He hesitated briefly, then settled gingerly in it. She considered him gravely, a little unsure how to proceed. He was her first submissive, and she had chosen a difficult one. The scars on his body spoke of harsh punishment, yet she felt a great sadness and need in him. She already suspected his muteness was a defense mechanism against the abuse he had suffered.

"Tell me about your safe word," she said, "and why you do not speak." He looked startled. She handed him a pad of paper and a pencil. He wrote quickly and neatly. When he stopped, he hesitated for a moment, then handed her the pad. She sat back to read.

'I became a submissive seven years ago. My first mistress taught me to pleasure her. She did not tolerate mistakes, so I was punished often and harshly. My safe word was hope. I tried very hard not to use it. One day, she became angry when I used her name in a moment of passion. She whipped me with the harshest lash she had. I took it for as long as I could and then longer, trying to please her with my submission to her punishment. When she did not stop, I used my safe word. She ignored me and kept punishing me. She broke me. I screamed and begged and she did not stop. She ignored my screams. She ignored our safe word. I do not know when she finally stopped. When I regained consciousness, I was still chained and bleeding. I never spoke again.'

Eileen kept her eyes on the pad until she was certain she could control her emotions. Finally, she looked up at him. "How much longer did you remain with her?"

His hands moved.

"Two more months?" she asked.

He nodded.

"And then?"

Sold, said his gestures. He reached tentatively for the pad. She handed it to him. He wrote more and handed it back to her.

'I loved her and would have married her if she wished it. I gave her my life. She asked for the contract and I agreed. The contract has no termination date. And she made sure each time I was sold, I had a very harsh mistress.'

Startled, she looked up at him. His gray eyes were steady on hers. She saw the expectation of harshness, the resignation in his calm gaze. He knew he would be forever owned. And pain and punishment was what he had been taught. She took out the contract she had bought and finally read it. His name was Jonah. She met his eyes again. "You have been sent to many harsh mistresses, haven't you?"

He nodded.

She leaned back in her chair. "Do you find pain...erotic?" She hoped he did not see her holding her breath. He studied her intently.

"Do not tell me what you may think I want to hear," she warned, "tell me the truth."

His head bowed briefly, then shook no.

She slowly exhaled in relief. She did not want to have to hurt him to have the passion she wished. "I will make you a promise," she said.

He looked a question at her.

"I will promise not to abuse you."

His expression asked, if?

She smiled gently. "There are no qualifications to that promise," she said. "I may punish you, but I will not, ever, abuse you."

Jonah slipped off the chair and went to his knees before her, his head lowered in submission. She smiled again and stroked his silky black hair. She stood up, motioning for him to stand. He rose gracefully to follow her. She took him to a bedroom.

"This is your room," she said. "It is your private place, your retreat. We will add to it later. For now, sleep well." She left him to settle in.

He quickly unpacked his few belongings, took a shower, and laid on the bed, nude. Thinking. She was not what he expected. He had been abused so much that he had forgotten what kindness felt like. And he feared it. Slowly, he fell asleep. Sometime during the night, the nightmare gripped him. He lay on his back, arms over his head and jerked from invisible blows.

She heard the bed creaking and peeked in on him. He was deeply asleep, thrashing in the throes of his dream. His body glistened with sweat. The only sound he made was a soft grunt as he jerked with each dream-dealt blow. As she watched, he arched, his mouth wide in a silent scream of agony. Then the dream released him and he collapsed on the bed. He lay still for a moment, then turned on his side, still asleep. She quietly closed the door. Sad and a bit angry, she went to bed.

Eileen woke the next morning to the smell of coffee. Pulling on a silk robe, she went to the kitchen. He had just finished setting her place at the table. He knelt as she came into the room.

"Good morning, Jonah," she said. His head bowed. She gestured for him to stand. She looked up into his gray eyes and smiled. "Set a place for yourself, please. I dislike eating alone."

He blinked in surprise and did as she directed. He served her breakfast and sat gingerly in his place, waiting for her to begin. They ate in companionable silence. She finished and sat sipping her coffee as he cleared things away.

"I think I will give you a new name," she said suddenly, her eyes twinkling. "I think I will call you Silence."

He smiled suddenly, surprised, appreciating her humor.

She put down her cup. "I think I would like you to help me with my shower," she said softly. He finished cleaning up quickly then followed her to her bathroom. He stripped quickly and eased her robe from her body. He turned on the water to steamy warmth, helping her into the shower. She handed him the soap. Grey eyes gleaming, he began to wash her with slow sensuality. She stood still, eyes half closed, as his hands caressed her body. He was becoming hugely aroused as he gently massaged her breasts. She trembled when his hand went between her legs and gently rubbed over her clitoris, back and forth, again and again, arousing her. She reached for him, pulling his head down to kiss him with hungry passion. Her hands began moving over his body as they continued kissing. The warm water poured over them, making their skin slippery and warm. His tongue teased hers as his thumb massaged her clitoris harder.

Moaning deep in her throat, her lips hard on his, she let the building pressure explode. His strong arms held her as her orgasm rippled through her. Her hands tightened on his massive erection as her body slowly relaxed. She leaned against the shower wall, tugging him towards her.

"Pleasure me, Silence," she moaned softly, "pleasure us both!"

He began pushing his steel hard penis into her. She spread her legs wider to try to accommodate his immense size. Slowly, he spread her, entering her. She was writhing as the sweet pain of his massive penis slowly filled her until he had penetrated her completely. He lifted her up, holding her against the was with his body, then allowed her to slip just a bit.

"Aaaaaahhhhh!" she moaned as he truly impaled her. Her hips rocked against him as the pleasure built in her again. He began moving slowly in her, the hot friction of his huge penis making her writhe in his arms as he took her higher and higher. Her body spasmed again and again. She looked up into his smoky gray eyes.

"Yes!" she moaned and he thrust harder into her as his orgasm exploded and his fiery ejaculate poured into her convulsing body. He held her tight as the quivers faded. Then he eased from her trembling body and washed her again.

He turned off the water and wrapped her in a huge towel, gently drying her.

She caressed his face, "Thank you, Silence," she whispered. He kissed her palm in reply. She allowed him to dress her, savoring the soft touches of his hands on her body. Then she had him get dressed. She took him shopping. Clothes, leathers, fitness equipment. Then she took him home. She left him to put his things away. She asked him to please remain nude in the house. He bowed and stripped. She watched him, thinking about him. He pleased her greatly. His size and strength kept her imagination in full gear. The morning shower had been...invigorating. She stood up and slowly stripped, watching him watch her. His penis surged to an immediate erection.

She smiled. "Again?"

He knelt before her and began kissing her body. His lips teased along her ribs, over her breasts. She caressed his silky hair, arching to his lips.

"Mmmmm," she whispered. She took him to her bed and laid back, allowing him to worship her body with his hands and lips. He caressed her, kissed her, teasing her nipples and clitoris until she arched in orgasm.

"More!" she moaned. He kissed and licked her to another orgasm. And another. The more he aroused her, the more she wanted him.

"Mount me!" she demanded, hoarsely, "Hard!" He did, plunging him massive penis completely into her in a single stroke. "Yes!" she cried as she arched into his thrust. "More! Hard!"

He rode her with savage thrusts, taking her to constant, intense orgasm, pounding into her for hours. She thrashed and convulsed, finally gasping, "Yes! Yes!" and he climaxed, pulsing jet after jet of fiery ejaculate deep into her writhing body. The intense orgasm finally faded. She lay limp under his heavy body, holding him tight, savoring the feel of his skin on hers. She kissed him gently.

"Please, Silence," she whispered, "let your orgasm come when it will. I may not always remember to give permission and I want you to feel as good as you make me feel."

A soft kiss in reply. He moved his hips against hers. He was still hugely hard in her.

"Aaahhh, yes!" And he began again. Long, slow movements that took them both higher and higher until another massive orgasm claimed them. He slowly eased his softening penis from her quivering body.

"Stay with me," she whispered as she fell asleep in his arms, content with her new acquisition. Life was certainly going to be more fun.