Latin Submission Read online

  '"And what if someone comes, bird-brain?" Jean said.

  '"See, you're chicken. Chicken!" I began to mock him relentlessly.

  '"Okay then, little girl, let's go," he said, pushing my shoulder.

  'I don't think he expected me to move. He was daring me, a kind of counter-bluff, a way of hiding his embarrassment, digging himself out of the hole that he had found himself in. I was a proud girl. I could not refuse. I could not back down, not after everything I had said. A lump came to my throat. He could see me hesitating.

  '"Who is chicken now?" he teased, knowing that - how do you say? - the tables were turning.

  'I looked at his stupid smug face. I had to do it. I walked straight inside the toilet, my head held high, followed by the astonished boys.'

  'What were you wearing?' I asked, wanting to try to visualise the teenage Beatrice leading the two virgin boys into the toilet.

  'I had a short pinafore dress, little ankle socks - oh, yes, and my hair was very, very long. I would never cut it. In those days it reached all the way down to my waist, but that day I think it was tied up in a chignon.' Beatrice paused for a moment and kissed my chest. 'Well, we entered the toilet and none of us really knew what to do. I think all three of us were terrified by this stupid game of dare.

  'I can remember the strong odour of detergent and the slightest whiff of urine coming from the aluminium trough. I caught my reflection in the long mirror above the wash-basins. The two boys were staring at me from a couple of metres away, their faces bright red under the glare of the neon light.

  'We seemed to stand there for an eternity. Jean though, smirked a little, seeing how nervous I was now inside the toilet. I think he expected me to run for the door at any moment. It made me angry; my contempt for that smirk emboldened me.

  '"Show me your cocks," I said, mustering as much defiance as I could, thinking that me being so, so...'

  'Brazen?' I offered.

  'Oui, brazen, that they would run away and I could laugh. I would have shut them up for good.

  'There was this awesome mingling of fear and excitement. I wanted to run outside, to be free from the game, to be normal again, but also somewhere inside me my curiosity would not rest. I could feel myself getting wet in my panties.'

  'Weren't they excited?' Which was how I was beginning to feel, listening to Beatrice's story.

  'Oh yes, I'm sure, but remember they were both virgins, and then there was the door. Maybe somebody might come in. They were teenage boys, and the thing that teenage boys fear most is losing face. This takes over everything, even their desire for sex.

  'They couldn't refuse to do what I said, not after the challenging look I gave them. If they had run away, they knew that I would have known their secret. I think that it was especially bad for Jean. How could he tell Albert about all the screwing he had done if a girl like me had made him run away?

  'After a lot more hesitation they eventually unzipped themselves and pulled out their cocks: Jean first, Albert following. They weren't erect, they were soft and limp. The boy before who had taken my virginity had let me touch him, but that was all. I was amazed at the sight of Albert and Jean's little cocks.

  'I didn't lose all my fear, but it subsided - two teenagers with limp pricks do not seem so frightening. They looked a little pathetic, suddenly so shy and embarrassed. So this was really what all that male bravado had been about, a few inches of soft flesh, I thought to myself.'

  'I was curious to look at their cocks. It is a strange sight for a young lady to look at males for the first time. I wanted to examine them, to see what they felt like.

  'I moved closer. First I took Albert's cock, maybe a little to annoy Jean, the more arrogant one. I stroked it, felt how hot it was between my fingers. Then I took Jean's cock with my other hand and began stroking both together. I was thrilled when I felt them start growing and stiffening in my hand.

  'I do not know where the idea came from. I suppose I just wanted to look at them more closely. I kneeled down and gazed at their lengthening cocks, saw how their semen made them shine under the neon light of the toilet. I looked at Albert's first. It pulsed in my hand. Suddenly, I had a desire to take it in my mouth. I pulled back his hood and licked the shiny head.

  'I looked at both boys' faces. They couldn't believe what I was doing to them. I am sure in the loneliness of their room they had dreamt about such a thing, but to have it happen to them then for the first time when they should have been studying geography, when nothing very exciting at all should have been happening, must have amazed them. I felt Albert harden in my mouth. His cock had been very little, which is why maybe the thought of kissing it had not been so frightening, but when he got his erection it was so much bigger.

  'At first I was a little scared. I thought that he might suffocate me, but my fear faded as I tasted it. For me it was like losing my virginity all over again, to have a penis in my mouth for the first time. And it was better, much more exciting. I peered up and could see Albert's face a little twisted, and then he started moaning.

  'I looked at Jean, his prick was quite big too in its erect state. I told you, I was a curious girl. I wanted to see if both tasted the same, so I let go of Albert's and pulled Jean's into my mouth, at the same time sliding my finger up and down Albert's. I thought he was going to come, so I pulled my hand away. It bounced before me, his erection making it spring up again.

  'I nibbled at the end of Jean's cock and then, curious again and no longer frightened, took as much of it in my mouth as I could until it touched my throat. Jean put his hands on the back of my head and moved me back and forward. The excitement was making me very wet too.

  'I was frightened that they would come, and I didn't want either of them to come without fucking me properly. I was enjoying the danger now. So that neither of them ejaculated, I took it in turns, sucking on Albert and then sucking on Jean, and when I thought that they were getting too excited, I would slide off one and suck the other.

  'I don't know how long this must have lasted. Time seemed to have stopped for us. Eventually I could not stand it any longer. I was so excited by what I was doing, and by them watching me, as I knelt down before them in the toilet. I wanted them to see me, to see everything.

  'Just then we heard some footsteps in the corridor outside and we began to panic. My heart beat so fast. The boys, in their fear, began to lose their erections. It was then that Antoine walked in. My heart sank in fear. Antoine was the school bully. Everybody was frightened of him, even some of the teachers. He was a big strong boy with rock-hard muscles, cropped hair, and the cruellest eyes I have ever seen on a human being.

  'When he saw what was happening, I saw his face broaden into a big, evil grin. "Ah, what have we here? Little Beatrice, learning to suck cocks. You're a very bad girl," he said, reaching his hand down to stroke the blushing cheek of my face as the other two moved out of his way.

  'I had never been so terrified in my life as I was at that moment. I had seen Antoine in action, beating up boys. I knew how strong he was. I knew how cruel.

  'He seemed to spend an age just looking at me, peering into my eyes, obviously wondering what pleasure he could have at my expense.

  '"Let's have some fun, Beatrice. Let's play a little game." He turned to the two chastened teenagers. "Tie her up," he said to them. I think they were as unsure as I was. They were rooted to the spot, their limp cocks looking very sad. "Tie her up, there," he repeated more harshly, pointing at the metal frame of a cubicle door.

  'Frightened though I was, I could have pushed past him. I could have screamed until someone came - but part of me did not want to resist. Part of me longed for his cruel treatment. I told you, I was a curious girl.

  'Antoine was becoming increasingly frustrated with the other two, who hovered uncertainly. "Take her!" he growled menacingly. Both of them took my arms and, removing their ties, fastened them around
my wrists as Antoine supervised them. "Tighter!" he bellowed at them. I felt the knot of each tie pulled tight around my skin.

  'Antoine went into one of the adjacent cubicles and climbed on top of the metal frame. There was at least a metre between the top of the door and the ceiling. "Lift her up." The two boys, their clumsy hands grabbing me by the thighs, lifted me up towards Antoine, who secured my wrists around the frame, until I dangled below. He climbed down and I was left with my back to the three of them, staring at the grey walls and the grey pipes inside the cubicle.'

  'The pain in my arms, in my wrists, and my shoulders, was intense. I felt Antoine's rough hands on my body, lifting up the pinafore dress, grasping my buttocks and then tugging down my panties, exposing my bottom to the chill of the toilet. Antoine hummed to himself as he inspected my body. The tip of a finger began to slide up and down my moist pussy lips. "See, the girl likes it. See how wet she is," I heard him say to the other two.

  'I was frightened and humiliated but, underneath both sensations, Antoine was right. I was excited, very excited at the idea of submitting to the will of this bully, to have these three boys see my most intimate places, and to feel that there was nothing that I could do to protect myself. The tickling sensation between my legs gathered intensity. That rude finger was terribly tantalising, brushing against my sex so relentlessly, awakening an itch that I could not soothe. I tried to wriggle down onto it, but it was impossible. Antoine knew exactly what he was doing; knew what sweet agony he was causing me. I clenched my teeth and tried to think of something else, but it was impossible. His finger moved so cleverly on me. The lightness of his touch was excruciating, paradoxically inflicting more pain than I had ever felt in my life. I desperately wanted him to stop, wanted not to be hanging there, but somewhere in my consciousness there was a sharp desire to feel this agony, to understand something of the limits of pain.

  'The tickling went on and on, his finger lightly brushing against me. Albert and Jean had been commanded to hold my legs so that there was absolutely no relief I could get from this cruellest of attentions.

  '"Stop, please stop," I begged, realising how stupid I was to plead with him, that my supplication would only encourage him to continue. I tried to propel my mind to a place where my body would not feel this tremendous pleasure, like some unquenchable thirst.

  'It was a relief to me when he grew bored with his torturous game and began to smack me on my naked bottom. Each stroke from his hand was a salve, a balm to my soul, to feel the hard precision of his palm on my flesh. It was an exact pain. It was satisfying, distracting from the aftermath of my tingling sex.

  'I was wet, very wet, invigorated by my humiliation, exhilarated by my exhibitionism, my bottom being flogged for the delectation of these teenagers. As Antoine continued to spank me, I heard him mutter something to Jean, who crept out of the toilet, to return a moment later. I felt both of my ankles being held firmly, and then something cold and metallic soothing my stinging flesh.

  '"Oh, we are going to have some fun now, Beatrice," Antoine said as I shuddered with pleasure at the cooling salve of the metal. He would smack me hard and then replace the pain with the ice-cool of the metal. I was almost delirious - with what? With pain? With pleasure? I no longer knew. My arms ached horribly. My bottom stung. The psychological torture of humiliation and submission made my clitoris throb.

  And then I felt the cold metal on my labia.

  "What you can do with a bicycle pump!" Antoine burst into a laugh.'

  'I don't remind you of Antoine, do I?' I asked, a little perturbed, wondering if it was the school bully that she had recalled after our bout of lovemaking.

  'No, not at all.' She smiled at me.

  'Anyway, back to the story.' I was enjoying the tale enormously.

  'Yes... ah, yes. I could feel the metal pushing hard on my pussy-lips, searching for the opening. I wanted to scream, so intense was the sensation. It filled me, inching further and further inside me. I could no longer distinguish between hot and cold. Both extremes seemed to merge to one overwhelming sensation. It was sending me to orgasm, but Antoine knew what he was doing. He knew that he had complete control over me - even my orgasm. If I was going to come, it would be when he decided.

  'The metal pump slid in and out of me. Antoine alternated between rapid thrusts and, when he thought I was becoming too excited, slow pushes.

  'Finally, and with Antoine's consent, I came, my whole body shuddering with pleasure as I hung there. I was unable to resist - even if I wanted to - so bound was I by the wrists, my ankles gripped by the other two, my sex impaled on the pump.

  'Then, as my pleasure passed, Antoine climbed up and freed my wrists. "Hold her!" he commanded the other boys, who held me so I would not fall. Antoine jumped down and stood before me. "Make her kneel!"

  'I was lowered to my knees while Antoine unzipped his flies and pulled out his enormous penis. Administering the punishment had obviously aroused him; his cock was very erect.

  '"Now suck me, Beatrice," he ordered.

  'I did as I was told. It seemed my willingness to submit to Antoine had encouraged the other two. No longer did they seem fearful of Antoine or shy with me. They touched my bottom and breasts. One of them knelt behind me, and a finger pressed between my sore buttocks and against my little opening. Two other fingers slid into my wet pussy.

  'Hands were all over me; on my face, my breasts, my bottom. A penis rubbed in my hair and another pushed between my thighs against my pussy as I closed my eyes and sucked Antoine as well as I could. We were all groaning and my lips slurped on the big cock. Whoever was behind me stabbed his hips and the tip of his cock lodged just inside me. I could not help but groan with delight. But none of us could last long; we were all too inexperienced.

  'Antoine ejaculated in my mouth. I felt his salty seed slide down my throat. It was delicious. I wanted more. I could feel myself coming again as the cock beneath my dress spurted too. Most of it coated my pubic hair and thighs. Then, as I flopped against Antoine's sturdy legs my limp hand was lifted and wrapped around the last cock. I heard another grunt and more sperm splattered through my fingers and onto the tiled floor.

  'And that was it. I heard them adjusting their clothing and then they left me alone on the floor. The door slammed and their mocking laughter receded down the echoing corridor.'

  I looked at Beatrice, impressed by the skill with which she had told her story. 'A good tale, Beatrice.'

  She smiled up at me. 'I am glad you enjoyed it.'

  'But you still haven't told me anything about the man you said I reminded you of.'

  'No, I haven't finished yet. Gerard was his name.'

  'What was so special about him, and what's the connection between him and me?'

  'Before I get to Gerard I have to go back to those three. They could have had me often - very often - if they had not been so stupid, because I had enjoyed the experience very much. But they could not keep their mouths closed, especially Antoine. He told the whole school about me, boasting about what a big man he was.

  'It made my life a misery, a nightmare. I tried to deny everything, but nobody would believe me. I could not walk down a corridor without somebody shouting out something about me, about what I'd done, shouting their filthy abuse at me, calling me a slut. I was the school whore. I am sure that even the teachers got to know about it, and I am sure they believed everything they heard about me, too.

  'It was intolerable. It was hell. Sartre said that hell was other people. I knew what that meant at seventeen. I lived it for five months until my final exams when I could leave that hellish place, when I could be known as somebody else other than the girl who let boys take her into the school toilets.

  'As I said, when the experience took place, I had taken great pleasure in it. I had enjoyed being submissive. I had enjoyed my humiliation. But for the protection of my sanity, I had to dismiss all positive t
houghts of the encounter. I could not separate the pleasure of being dominated from the aftermath of cruel gossip. I had to repress my natural sexual instinct, to deny the sharp sensation of sexual ecstasy I had felt while dangling from the doorframe, or I could not be the total victim of their perverse desires, and at that time I needed to believe I was a victim.

  'I became very shy, very withdrawn. From being a bright, lively and fun-loving teenager, I became introverted, suspicious of everyone. Even though nobody knew me in Paris when I went to the Sorbonne, I suspected that somebody, somehow, knew what I had done, or that they would soon find out. I found it difficult to be friendly with anyone. If any boys came close, I would brush them off. And I could not relate to other girls about anything.

  'The only thing that I could find refuge in were books, in poetry and literature. Mallarmé and Rimbaud, Proust and Flaubert became my soulmates. I was greedy for words. I devoured books, lived for them, hid myself away from all my shame and regret by burying myself between their pages. I told myself that I would dedicate myself to literature and that I would not let another man get close to me. But deep inside I was desperately unhappy. I had lost so much. Those boys had betrayed me in the worst possible way, and sometimes I would grow nostalgic for the innocent youth that I had been before, that I could never be again.'

  'This is, I suppose, where Gerard comes in?' I asked.

  'Yes. Gerard was a lecturer in literature. He was the opposite of everything that those boys were. He was kind and gentle, affectionate, sophisticated, intelligent, perceptive - and he was also sixty-three.'

  'Sixty-three!' I repeated, surprised.

  'Yes, but he was still a virile man. He was still very handsome, very distinguished. But it was not his looks. His looks were not important. He was, in the old-fashioned sense of the phrase, a man of letters. Before I had ever slept with him, I was in love with him, because this magician of words had seduced me. Listening to his lectures, listening to him speak intelligently about writing, about life, about everything, he seduced me - at least spiritually - without him even knowing.