Read Online Fifty Shades of Submission by Loris James - Free Book Online
Authors: Loris James
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man with your beauty and virility. You seem so good and pure and innocent, and yet you have already been corrupted by base depravity. I must confess, it’s an intoxicating combination – your beautiful innocence on one hand, and your depraved wounded soul on the other.”
"Well then," I urged, "if this feeling is inherent in you, why not give in to your true nature? If I cannot have you as my wife, then be as cruel as you like to me and I will adore you unconditionally."
I was nervous from loss of sleep, and the proximity of this intoxicating woman was beginning to affect me like a fever. I kissed her hands and, kneeling on the ground before her, I raised her foot and put my neck under it in submission. She withdrew her foot quickly, and rose angrily.
"If you love me, Julian ," she said, her voice sharp and commanding, "you will never speak to me of this again. Do you understand me? Never ! Otherwise I might really…" She trailed off and sat down once again.
" Be tempted to give in to your true feelings?” I said urgently, half-raving. "I adore you so infinitely that I am willing to suffer anything from you!"
" Julian, I warn you- "
"Your warning is in vain. Do with me what you want - as long as you don't send me away."
" It’s dangerous for you to put yourself so completely in my power – in anyone’s power. How do you know that I won’t abuse your insane fantasies?"
" I trust you," I said simply. “I trust you with my life.”
" Don’t trust me! Absolute power over others can make people lose their heads."
" I don’t care!" I blurted, "Be as cruel as you like! Torture me as much as you want! I am yours to do with as you wish!"
Saskia put her arms around my neck, drew me close and looked deeply into my eyes. "I am afraid I can't be what you want me to be, Julian. I’m not that kind of woman. But I will try to do the things you want, to make you happy. I’m beginning to care for you very much. I think I may even be falling in love with you a little."
“Come and stand here, boy. Don’t be shy.”
It’s the first time I am alone with my new stepmother. My father left on a business trip the day before – this time he will be away for weeks.
Before leaving he had smiled at me. “Look after your mother while I’m away, Julian.”
“She’s not my mother,” I said defiantly. “My mother is dead.”
My father was annoyed. “Well, she’s my wife now. One of the reasons I married her was so that you could have a mother. You spend too much time alone. I want you to welcome her into our home and treat her with respect.”
And now, this evening, my ‘mother’ is sitting in my father’s favorite armchair next to the fireplace in the living room. The room is softly lit with a single table lamp so that the light from the fire plays on the high cheekbones of her haughty face. Her dark eyes are black and unfathomable. Her black hair, usually pulled up in a tight bun at the back of her head, now hangs loose about her shoulders and down her back – like a raven-haired witch, I cannot help thinking.
We had taken an instant dislike to each other the first moment we met.
“Come closer,” my stepmother says . “Come and stand here next to your mother.”
“You are not my mother,” I say stubbornly.
She stares at me for a long time without speaking, her dark eyes as black and impenetrable as smouldering coal. “If you fight me, you will regret it, believe me. How old are you, boy?”
“I am nine years old and my name is Julian - not boy.” I reply sullenly.
Her smile is chillingly cold . “So. We are to be enemies then, you and I. But not for long, I’ll wager.” She reaches out and rings the bell on the table next to her, summoning the maid. “Help me with this disobedient child,” she says when the maid enters. “I think it’s time he was taught a lesson.”
The maid, a big buxom woman, bears menacingly down on me. I try to dodge her but my stepmother leaps from her chair
"Well then," I urged, "if this feeling is inherent in you, why not give in to your true nature? If I cannot have you as my wife, then be as cruel as you like to me and I will adore you unconditionally."
I was nervous from loss of sleep, and the proximity of this intoxicating woman was beginning to affect me like a fever. I kissed her hands and, kneeling on the ground before her, I raised her foot and put my neck under it in submission. She withdrew her foot quickly, and rose angrily.
"If you love me, Julian ," she said, her voice sharp and commanding, "you will never speak to me of this again. Do you understand me? Never ! Otherwise I might really…" She trailed off and sat down once again.
" Be tempted to give in to your true feelings?” I said urgently, half-raving. "I adore you so infinitely that I am willing to suffer anything from you!"
" Julian, I warn you- "
"Your warning is in vain. Do with me what you want - as long as you don't send me away."
" It’s dangerous for you to put yourself so completely in my power – in anyone’s power. How do you know that I won’t abuse your insane fantasies?"
" I trust you," I said simply. “I trust you with my life.”
" Don’t trust me! Absolute power over others can make people lose their heads."
" I don’t care!" I blurted, "Be as cruel as you like! Torture me as much as you want! I am yours to do with as you wish!"
Saskia put her arms around my neck, drew me close and looked deeply into my eyes. "I am afraid I can't be what you want me to be, Julian. I’m not that kind of woman. But I will try to do the things you want, to make you happy. I’m beginning to care for you very much. I think I may even be falling in love with you a little."
“Come and stand here, boy. Don’t be shy.”
It’s the first time I am alone with my new stepmother. My father left on a business trip the day before – this time he will be away for weeks.
Before leaving he had smiled at me. “Look after your mother while I’m away, Julian.”
“She’s not my mother,” I said defiantly. “My mother is dead.”
My father was annoyed. “Well, she’s my wife now. One of the reasons I married her was so that you could have a mother. You spend too much time alone. I want you to welcome her into our home and treat her with respect.”
And now, this evening, my ‘mother’ is sitting in my father’s favorite armchair next to the fireplace in the living room. The room is softly lit with a single table lamp so that the light from the fire plays on the high cheekbones of her haughty face. Her dark eyes are black and unfathomable. Her black hair, usually pulled up in a tight bun at the back of her head, now hangs loose about her shoulders and down her back – like a raven-haired witch, I cannot help thinking.
We had taken an instant dislike to each other the first moment we met.
“Come closer,” my stepmother says . “Come and stand here next to your mother.”
“You are not my mother,” I say stubbornly.
She stares at me for a long time without speaking, her dark eyes as black and impenetrable as smouldering coal. “If you fight me, you will regret it, believe me. How old are you, boy?”
“I am nine years old and my name is Julian - not boy.” I reply sullenly.
Her smile is chillingly cold . “So. We are to be enemies then, you and I. But not for long, I’ll wager.” She reaches out and rings the bell on the table next to her, summoning the maid. “Help me with this disobedient child,” she says when the maid enters. “I think it’s time he was taught a lesson.”
The maid, a big buxom woman, bears menacingly down on me. I try to dodge her but my stepmother leaps from her chair
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