Items related to Submission
A sophisticated and enticing French confessional erotic account in the tradition of La vie sexuelle de Catherine M.
Elodie is an attractive thirty-something lawyer who loves her husband, her son and the city in which she lives, Paris. Her friends, like her, are successful, fun-loving and wealthy.
One day in Court, however, her eyes meet the piercing gaze of a man and she finds herself unable to look away. The man begins to exercise an irresistible and diabolic spell over her, both pleasurable and excruciating. Under his spell, Elodie discovers the erotic hunger of the flesh and the commanding power of words as she enters into an obsessive, tormenting relationship. Thoughts of him invade her life, what he does to her, but even more, what he makes her do. She is mesmerized by his skin, his voice, his commands. Words chosen for her, words that burn like the crack of a whip. But how does he see her? As a lover, or a well-trained circus animal gifted with a human female anatomy.
In describing the sweet pain of his mastery over her, perhaps he will at last understand.
Elodie is an attractive thirty-something lawyer who loves her husband, her son and the city in which she lives, Paris. Her friends, like her, are successful, fun-loving and wealthy.
One day in Court, however, her eyes meet the piercing gaze of a man and she finds herself unable to look away. The man begins to exercise an irresistible and diabolic spell over her, both pleasurable and excruciating. Under his spell, Elodie discovers the erotic hunger of the flesh and the commanding power of words as she enters into an obsessive, tormenting relationship. Thoughts of him invade her life, what he does to her, but even more, what he makes her do. She is mesmerized by his skin, his voice, his commands. Words chosen for her, words that burn like the crack of a whip. But how does he see her? As a lover, or a well-trained circus animal gifted with a human female anatomy.
In describing the sweet pain of his mastery over her, perhaps he will at last understand.
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
About the Author:
Marthe Blau is an attractive, thirty-something lawyer who lives in Paris with her husband and child. This is her first novel.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
I
I'm outside the carriage entrance and my life is passing before me. There's a knot in my stomach and my legs sway on my heels. I can't go on.
All of a sudden, I feel very cold, or very hot, I'm not sure which. I think about my baby, my darling boy, my reason for living. I see again the look in his eyes when I left him in the arms of a babysitter he doesn't know very well. Where am I?
What am I doing here, shaved and scented, teetering on black stilettos with pointed toes and three-and-a-half-inch heels, and wearing an uncomfortable suspender belt and a G-string that cuts into my skin? My stomach hurts.
I think of leaving, running back to my wonderful son and hugging him and telling him how much I love him, how I'll never leave him, how I'll dedicate my life to him.
I see again the day he was born, the tears of joy when he came out, the emotion on his daddy's face, the vows we made, the loving kisses, the osmosis that binds the three of us.
And I punch in the entry code for the building.
He's here in front of me. He was waiting for me. He doesn't say hello, just kisses me on my right cheek and puts an arm round my shoulders and pulls me inside.
I'm shaking under my leather coat. I try to control it but can't. I can't speak either. All I can do is smile weakly. What's about to happen is going to change my life. I don't want to cheat on my husband, but I already know that in a little while, when I leave here, when I leave Him, I'll be a different person. I remember the night of my eighteenth birthday, my first boyfriend trying to explain what love is.
He doesn't say a word.
He just looks at me, keeps looking at me, staring at me.
His eyes are grey. I know He's unstoppable. But the last thing I want is for Him to stop.
Very slowly, He unbuttons my coat. The leather squeaks beneath His fingers.
I haven't moved an inch. The coat falling to the floor makes me jump.
He takes my hands in His, and for the first time our skins touch. He squeezes my fingers and I go dizzy with excitement.
I'd like to kiss Him. I don't dare.
I'd like Him to kiss me. He doesn't.
He just looks at me.
He still hasn't said a word.
Slowly, He squeezes my hands and pushes me towards the sofa.
Once on the sofa, I sit up very straight, with my knees together.
His eyes move over my body. I lower my head. The small of my back feels stiff because of the way I'm sitting.
My mouth is dry.
I see a bottle of water on the coffee table and reach out my hand. He stops me.
'No.'
It's the first word He's uttered, and His voice carries me away. I forget my thirst.
No sound comes from my throat. I can't take my eyes off His hands, or my mind. My body is already waiting for their touch. I say nothing. I savour the waiting, the waiting for Him.
His grey eyes again. He reaches out His hand to the back of my neck.
I think He's going to take me in His arms, but He doesn't.
His forefinger touches my skin, moves down my throat and lightly over my breast through the silk that's covering it and along the curve of my hip and down to my legs. With infinite slowness, He lifts the material and uncovers my black stockings, my white thighs.
My heart is pounding. I suck in air, hardly able to breathe. I lower my eyes. I listen to the silence.
A heavy, penetrating, all-pervasive silence, like the silence of a desert abandoned by every living thing. I'm a carcass of flesh at the mercy of a mad demon who's going to take me away on his red horse.
I watch Him as he lifts my dress above my stockings, as if I were no longer me. I no longer feel as if I'm me. I've lost possession of my strength, my will power, my consciousness. I'm no longer me.
I'm still sitting with my knees together.
I hear His breathing, faster now as the sight of my white skin excites Him. I'm afraid, and tortured with desire.
Nobody has ever looked at me like Him.
He's lifted the front of my dress as far as my hips.
He lets go of the material and takes a step back. I feel His eyes on me, focused between my legs, like an incision.
I savour those burning eyes on me, penetrating me.
I want Him. I'm His. From now on, I'm His and nobody else's.
I want Him to kiss me but He doesn't.
My body screams soundlessly for His hands but He doesn't touch me.
*
'Open.'
I jump.
'Open your legs.' His voice has got harder.
My knees are still stuck together.
'Obey now. Open your legs.'
Nobody has ever spoken to me like Him.
This time, my knees knock together and I can't stop the shaking.
'Open them! Open them or leave! I want to see you.'
The threat of being thrown out is like a jolt to my brain, and finally I obey. He stares at me for a while, then at last walks up to me and reaches out his hand to touch the black material over my swelling cunt.
He strokes the fabric with precise fingers.
I hear my heart.
I hear His breathing.
He's knelt in front of the sofa, between my spread legs, to touch me better.
I'd like Him to kiss me but He doesn't.
I'd like to feel His fingers on my skin but He doesn't touch me.
*
He stands, pulling me up with Him.
The dress slides back down my legs.
I look at Him.
He isn't looking into my eyes, but much lower.
Again very slowly, He slides the silk up over my legs, my hips, my waist, my back, my shoulders. I lift my arms and the dress falls to the ground.
I stay where I am, teetering on my stiletto heels, in my suspender belt and G-string and bra, all the same matt black colour, and feel more and more lost and more and more His. I don't like my body. It's too full, too round.
His eyes linger on my skin, unsettling me and arousing me.
I hear His breathing.
'You're gorgeous.'
I smile.
He takes my right hand in His and circles my waist with his other hand and turns me round, as if in a slow waltz.
I know He's giving me the once-over.
I know how beautiful His wife is, how tall and skinny . . . I saw her once at the Brasserie Lipp, but He doesn't know that. I lower my eyes.
Silence. Not a word from Him. I can't even hear His breathing any more.
Instinctively, I arch my back.
'Good,' He says.
*
I'm shaking.
He sits down and looks at me in silence.
Finally I see Him undo His tie. A black tie, thin and silky.
I take this to mean that He's going to undress. It's like a return to reality. I imagine His skin, how dark and soft and smooth it must be.
But He doesn't undress. He plays with His tie, sliding it between His fingers. He smiles at me. At last, He speaks.
'Nobody has ever treated you as I'm going to treat you.'
He moves His hands up towards my face. I wait for Him to stroke me. Instead, the tie goes over my eyes. I hear the silk rustle as He knots it behind my neck.
I'm shaking.
I'd like Him to kiss me but He doesn't.
I can't see a thing and I'm shaking.
I hear Him step back.
I'm lost, alone in this room I don't know, blind.
I'm shaking. He doesn't say a word.
I don't hear Him moving.
I don't know where He is now.
But I feel His eyes staring at my body.
I try to imagine what He's seeing, what He's thinking.
I see again my arched back above my excessively high, excessively pointed stilettos, reflected in the mirror of the lingerie shop near my office, where I rushed a few hours ago, anxious to follow His instructions: 'Go home and prepare your body for me. Oil yourself. All over. Dress in black, with stockings and high-heeled shoes.'
I'm shaking. The blindness makes my senses ten times sharper. I feel a mixture of fear and desire.
He's moving! I hear Him moving. I really think He's coming closer to me. I stretch out my right hand to where I think He is.
His voice stops me.
'No.'
My hand freezes in mid-air.
'Hands behind your back.'
I put my palms together against the small of my back, twisting and untwisting my fingers.
I've obeyed at once, without thinking.
'That's good. You're beautiful like that.'
At last, I feel His hand on me, brushing against the back of my neck, stroking it, moving down again to my breasts, which are barely held within my plunging bra.
He moves the material aside and takes my left breast in his open hand and pulls it out. Then he does the same with my right breast.
I'm conscious of my breasts rising towards Him, my nipples lifted towards His face, straining, demanding His fingers.
Now He lets go of me again and I feel lost.
I have a fierce desire to feel Him against me but I don't dare move.
*
When I hear His steps moving away, I feel as if I'm going to faint.
My whole body aches for His presence. There's a knot of pain in my stomach. I arch my back, as if that could grab His attention.
I hear Him breathing. He's much taller than me. I feel His breath on my forehead.
'Show me your tongue.'
I don't understand. Timidly, I stick my tongue out a little, holding it tight between my teeth.
What must I look like? I promise myself to check - as soon as I can.
'A bit more.'
I do as I'm told. I'm shaking.
Desire floods through me.
His tongue touches my tongue and He takes it into His mouth and His arms go round my shoulders and I abandon myself and kiss Him and suck His saliva and gorge myself on His mouth and kiss Him and kiss Him and kiss Him and my head explodes and I stagger, my legs buckling under the intensity of the desire going through my body.
I'm not shaking any more, my hands are responding, I hug Him as hard as I can and stroke His face, guessing at the contours, I cling to Him with all the passion I have in me, as if my body could be absorbed by His.
But already His mouth is leaving m...
I'm outside the carriage entrance and my life is passing before me. There's a knot in my stomach and my legs sway on my heels. I can't go on.
All of a sudden, I feel very cold, or very hot, I'm not sure which. I think about my baby, my darling boy, my reason for living. I see again the look in his eyes when I left him in the arms of a babysitter he doesn't know very well. Where am I?
What am I doing here, shaved and scented, teetering on black stilettos with pointed toes and three-and-a-half-inch heels, and wearing an uncomfortable suspender belt and a G-string that cuts into my skin? My stomach hurts.
I think of leaving, running back to my wonderful son and hugging him and telling him how much I love him, how I'll never leave him, how I'll dedicate my life to him.
I see again the day he was born, the tears of joy when he came out, the emotion on his daddy's face, the vows we made, the loving kisses, the osmosis that binds the three of us.
And I punch in the entry code for the building.
He's here in front of me. He was waiting for me. He doesn't say hello, just kisses me on my right cheek and puts an arm round my shoulders and pulls me inside.
I'm shaking under my leather coat. I try to control it but can't. I can't speak either. All I can do is smile weakly. What's about to happen is going to change my life. I don't want to cheat on my husband, but I already know that in a little while, when I leave here, when I leave Him, I'll be a different person. I remember the night of my eighteenth birthday, my first boyfriend trying to explain what love is.
He doesn't say a word.
He just looks at me, keeps looking at me, staring at me.
His eyes are grey. I know He's unstoppable. But the last thing I want is for Him to stop.
Very slowly, He unbuttons my coat. The leather squeaks beneath His fingers.
I haven't moved an inch. The coat falling to the floor makes me jump.
He takes my hands in His, and for the first time our skins touch. He squeezes my fingers and I go dizzy with excitement.
I'd like to kiss Him. I don't dare.
I'd like Him to kiss me. He doesn't.
He just looks at me.
He still hasn't said a word.
Slowly, He squeezes my hands and pushes me towards the sofa.
Once on the sofa, I sit up very straight, with my knees together.
His eyes move over my body. I lower my head. The small of my back feels stiff because of the way I'm sitting.
My mouth is dry.
I see a bottle of water on the coffee table and reach out my hand. He stops me.
'No.'
It's the first word He's uttered, and His voice carries me away. I forget my thirst.
No sound comes from my throat. I can't take my eyes off His hands, or my mind. My body is already waiting for their touch. I say nothing. I savour the waiting, the waiting for Him.
His grey eyes again. He reaches out His hand to the back of my neck.
I think He's going to take me in His arms, but He doesn't.
His forefinger touches my skin, moves down my throat and lightly over my breast through the silk that's covering it and along the curve of my hip and down to my legs. With infinite slowness, He lifts the material and uncovers my black stockings, my white thighs.
My heart is pounding. I suck in air, hardly able to breathe. I lower my eyes. I listen to the silence.
A heavy, penetrating, all-pervasive silence, like the silence of a desert abandoned by every living thing. I'm a carcass of flesh at the mercy of a mad demon who's going to take me away on his red horse.
I watch Him as he lifts my dress above my stockings, as if I were no longer me. I no longer feel as if I'm me. I've lost possession of my strength, my will power, my consciousness. I'm no longer me.
I'm still sitting with my knees together.
I hear His breathing, faster now as the sight of my white skin excites Him. I'm afraid, and tortured with desire.
Nobody has ever looked at me like Him.
He's lifted the front of my dress as far as my hips.
He lets go of the material and takes a step back. I feel His eyes on me, focused between my legs, like an incision.
I savour those burning eyes on me, penetrating me.
I want Him. I'm His. From now on, I'm His and nobody else's.
I want Him to kiss me but He doesn't.
My body screams soundlessly for His hands but He doesn't touch me.
*
'Open.'
I jump.
'Open your legs.' His voice has got harder.
My knees are still stuck together.
'Obey now. Open your legs.'
Nobody has ever spoken to me like Him.
This time, my knees knock together and I can't stop the shaking.
'Open them! Open them or leave! I want to see you.'
The threat of being thrown out is like a jolt to my brain, and finally I obey. He stares at me for a while, then at last walks up to me and reaches out his hand to touch the black material over my swelling cunt.
He strokes the fabric with precise fingers.
I hear my heart.
I hear His breathing.
He's knelt in front of the sofa, between my spread legs, to touch me better.
I'd like Him to kiss me but He doesn't.
I'd like to feel His fingers on my skin but He doesn't touch me.
*
He stands, pulling me up with Him.
The dress slides back down my legs.
I look at Him.
He isn't looking into my eyes, but much lower.
Again very slowly, He slides the silk up over my legs, my hips, my waist, my back, my shoulders. I lift my arms and the dress falls to the ground.
I stay where I am, teetering on my stiletto heels, in my suspender belt and G-string and bra, all the same matt black colour, and feel more and more lost and more and more His. I don't like my body. It's too full, too round.
His eyes linger on my skin, unsettling me and arousing me.
I hear His breathing.
'You're gorgeous.'
I smile.
He takes my right hand in His and circles my waist with his other hand and turns me round, as if in a slow waltz.
I know He's giving me the once-over.
I know how beautiful His wife is, how tall and skinny . . . I saw her once at the Brasserie Lipp, but He doesn't know that. I lower my eyes.
Silence. Not a word from Him. I can't even hear His breathing any more.
Instinctively, I arch my back.
'Good,' He says.
*
I'm shaking.
He sits down and looks at me in silence.
Finally I see Him undo His tie. A black tie, thin and silky.
I take this to mean that He's going to undress. It's like a return to reality. I imagine His skin, how dark and soft and smooth it must be.
But He doesn't undress. He plays with His tie, sliding it between His fingers. He smiles at me. At last, He speaks.
'Nobody has ever treated you as I'm going to treat you.'
He moves His hands up towards my face. I wait for Him to stroke me. Instead, the tie goes over my eyes. I hear the silk rustle as He knots it behind my neck.
I'm shaking.
I'd like Him to kiss me but He doesn't.
I can't see a thing and I'm shaking.
I hear Him step back.
I'm lost, alone in this room I don't know, blind.
I'm shaking. He doesn't say a word.
I don't hear Him moving.
I don't know where He is now.
But I feel His eyes staring at my body.
I try to imagine what He's seeing, what He's thinking.
I see again my arched back above my excessively high, excessively pointed stilettos, reflected in the mirror of the lingerie shop near my office, where I rushed a few hours ago, anxious to follow His instructions: 'Go home and prepare your body for me. Oil yourself. All over. Dress in black, with stockings and high-heeled shoes.'
I'm shaking. The blindness makes my senses ten times sharper. I feel a mixture of fear and desire.
He's moving! I hear Him moving. I really think He's coming closer to me. I stretch out my right hand to where I think He is.
His voice stops me.
'No.'
My hand freezes in mid-air.
'Hands behind your back.'
I put my palms together against the small of my back, twisting and untwisting my fingers.
I've obeyed at once, without thinking.
'That's good. You're beautiful like that.'
At last, I feel His hand on me, brushing against the back of my neck, stroking it, moving down again to my breasts, which are barely held within my plunging bra.
He moves the material aside and takes my left breast in his open hand and pulls it out. Then he does the same with my right breast.
I'm conscious of my breasts rising towards Him, my nipples lifted towards His face, straining, demanding His fingers.
Now He lets go of me again and I feel lost.
I have a fierce desire to feel Him against me but I don't dare move.
*
When I hear His steps moving away, I feel as if I'm going to faint.
My whole body aches for His presence. There's a knot of pain in my stomach. I arch my back, as if that could grab His attention.
I hear Him breathing. He's much taller than me. I feel His breath on my forehead.
'Show me your tongue.'
I don't understand. Timidly, I stick my tongue out a little, holding it tight between my teeth.
What must I look like? I promise myself to check - as soon as I can.
'A bit more.'
I do as I'm told. I'm shaking.
Desire floods through me.
His tongue touches my tongue and He takes it into His mouth and His arms go round my shoulders and I abandon myself and kiss Him and suck His saliva and gorge myself on His mouth and kiss Him and kiss Him and kiss Him and my head explodes and I stagger, my legs buckling under the intensity of the desire going through my body.
I'm not shaking any more, my hands are responding, I hug Him as hard as I can and stroke His face, guessing at the contours, I cling to Him with all the passion I have in me, as if my body could be absorbed by His.
But already His mouth is leaving m...
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.
- PublisherBlack Swan
- Publication date2005
- ISBN 10 0552772372
- ISBN 13 9780552772372
- BindingPaperback
- Number of pages289
- Rating
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Submission [Soft Cover ]
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Marthe Blau: Submission
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Book Description Condition: New. Dieser Artikel ist ein Print on Demand Artikel und wird nach Ihrer Bestellung fuer Sie gedruckt. Elodie is an attractive thirty-something lawyer who loves her husband, her son and the city she lives in, Paris. Her friends, like her, are successful, fun-loving and wealthy.Über den AutorrnrnMarthe Blau is a high-profile thirty-someth. Seller Inventory # 594774185
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