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Saturday, December 24, 2005
Day #7: Rope
She eyed him suspiciously when he walked through the door with a large, opaque plastic bag. Ignoring her hawk-eyed stares, he continued to the bedroom and emerged a moment later hands-free.
"Hi, baby," he said warmly, embracing her.
"Hello," she replied, enjoying the heat from his body as it surrounded her. She sighed quietly, holding on to him as if his touch made the rest of the world disappear into tiny fragments of dust.
---
He pressed her down onto the bed by placing a rigid palm squarely between her shoulder blades, bending her over face down but keeping her feet firmly planted on the floor. He reached for her wrists and pulled them together behind her back, quickly snapping handcuffs onto her before leaning over and whispering, "don't move, I have a little work to do."
The crisp rustling sounds of plastic echoed behind her as he fished through the plastic bag he had been carrying earlier. From the bag, he removed a small package of nylon rope and a leather belt. As he tore open the package, he aimlessly tossed the belt onto the bed. She flinched as it landed inches from her face, but still her body remained obediently still.
"I thought it might be nice to have one of those here," he said, nodding at the belt, "in case I'm not wearing one."
The rope was wound neatly into long loops. The surface of the nylon was smooth, but its small diameter caused it to dig into her skin as he started wrapping it tightly around her right ankle. He moved her feet about a meter apart, then wove the strands of the rope through the railing of the bed and over to her left ankle. She was now standing just barely on the balls of her feet, her calves straining to keep her from moving without his permission.
When he finished he stood and stepped back to admire his work. The curves of her body looked idyllic in the pale yellow light of the room. Her skin echoed a pure glow that seemed to form a halo around her, and her quiet, controlled breathing radiated a sense of practiced calm.
He stepped close behind her and ran his fingers down her back, watching goosebumps spread in waves over her. He could tell she was forcing herself not to shiver in the cold air and for a moment considered turning up the heat, but quickly decided she would soon be plenty warm.
"Can you move your legs?"
She tried raising the toes of her right foot off the floor, but felt the nylon rope press forcefully into her skin in resistance. She repeated this test with her left foot before answering, "no, Master."
"I love you in this position, slave," he said in a breathy voice as he leaned over her and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "There are so many things I can do with you." He looked straight into her eyes and received a carefully calculated stare. The daedal green of her eyes reflected the dim light of the room with a diffuse, gentle brilliance. He wasn't waiting for a response from her, and she wasn't planning to speak. It was a simple understanding they were both aware of as they studied one another. With his left hand her stroked the long blonde hair that lay strewn across her shoulders. After a brief moment, he spoke without breaking their eye contact.
"You have no idea how badly I want to beat you, humiliate you, torture you. Soon I'm going to see just how much you can take, girl."
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Day #8: Pain
"I suppose I better come up with something memorable tonight since you are flying home in the morning," he said as he reclined on the soft down comforter of her bed.
"It's always quite memorable to me," she said with a smirk as she lightly traced a finger between the faint bruises on her right forearm. He laughed softly at her response and kissed her forehead.
"I suppose so. But this time I really mean it. You'll be gone for a week and I want to give you a constant reminder of who owns you. Preferably a painful one."
--
He gently pulled the rubber tails of the whip across her prone body, watching her tense and relax her muscles as she tried to anticipate when the next strike would come. Whenever he raised his hand she would grasp at the rope that bound her wrists to opposite bedposts, but he would wait just a few moments until he saw her settle back down onto the bed ever so slightly before bringing the whip cracking down on her again. It was a different pain than anything else, with a hundred tiny stings spread across her flesh. Some of the strokes were lighter, others hit with a force so hard it felt like needles were driving into her. Still, she kept a slight smile on her face to let him know she could take it. After ten minutes or so of this he stepped closer to the bed to meet her gaze.
"It's hard to see you smiling like that after I whip you, slave. Where's the belt? You don't smile after that."
He walked off to the closet, leaving her helplessly bound to the bed. He'd tied her spread-eagled, face down on the soft down comforter and had been toying with her for the past hour. She couldn't move her limbs more than an inch in any direction, and she could see the red grooves that had formed on her skin when she managed to shift the nylon rope slightly. She felt tired and wide awake at the same time from his constant attention. She yearned for him to come back to her.
He watched her jump as without warning he touched the bare skin of her back with the leather belt. He wanted her to feel the weight of it as he dragged it across her body so slowly his arm barely moved. Her uncomplicated beauty was awe-inspiring to him, and he wanted to drink in every moment they had together.
At first when he started striking her with the belt she would jerk every time it touched her, but eventually they began to settle into a rhythm shared just between the two of them and her body became still, her fingers tightly entwined with the ropes tied about her wrists. She closed her eyes and fought to stay lucid as the she felt the lashes burning across her skin. Sometimes he would pause just long enough for the pain to dull to a subtle throbbing before he would bring the belt down, igniting a new fever pitch of agony.
She pressed her face down into the blanket below her and started to let out muffled cries. Hearing this, he abruptly grabbed a handful of her hair and jolted her head up.
"I want to hear you, bitch," he seethed at her, turning her face by wrenching her hair to the side. Her eyes were closed tightly, obvious distress spread across her face. Once more he brought the belt high above his head, just far enough to the side that she'd be able to see it in her peripheral vision. He saw her steal a glance at the weapon, and he waited several moments before he moved again, savoring the sight. Her straining muscles made clearly defined lines down her shoulders and across her back. Her skin was striped with crimson welts, and he could feel the heat radiating off of her.
The belt cracked down again, the tip landing so close to her face she felt the sharp whoosh of air as it made contact with the bed. She let out an involuntary yelp as the belt alit, and she heard him laugh softly from behind her.
"Okay girl, you can have a little break now," he said as he moved to the front of the bed and slid his body under hers just far enough so that her head could rest on his thigh. He ran his fingers through her hair as he listened to her deep breaths. Softly, he pressed his fingers into her scalp and gently massaged, continuing until he heard her breathing begin to come more smoothly and easily. When he was satisfied with her mental state he pushed her head between his legs, moving her lips to his now raging erection. He reclined against the curved glass headboard and enjoyed the warm sensations of her tongue sliding up and down him, swirling about at a tantalizing pace. After about five minutes her body began to shake noticeably with the exertion of bending her back upwards without the help of her arms to keep her upright.
"Lift your head up," he said calmly.
She obeyed without hesitation. A moment before her eyes reached his, she felt his hand whip across her face with a deafening smack. She was almost confused for a moment because she hadn't seen it coming, but had little time to react before he pushed her head to the side and pulled away from her. He slid off the bed and walked behind her to pick up the belt again. She trembled as the innocent clanging of the buckle reached her ears.
When he hit her a rush of adrenaline would flow in corkscrews throughout her body, the pain diffusing in waves from her very core to her fingertips. She felt as if she was being pushed closer and closer to the edge of a cliff, each stroke bringing her within inches of falling. The space surrounding her was empty, clear, blank.
'Sub-space, sub-space, sub-space' she repeated silently, as if the word itself would keep her fingernails deeply enough embedded in the present that she wouldn't fall.
She hardly noticed when he set the belt down and began to thrust himself into her from behind, but despite the raging anguish touching every last piece of her she began to derive a subtle sense of pleasure from deep within. The feeling continued to grow until her body froze and her breath caught, the intensity at its very pinnacle. Noticing this, he quickly withdrew himself and stepped back.
"Did you cum, slave?" he growled angrily.
"No," she answered through clenched teeth. She felt like she'd been suspended in midair for a moment, only to come crashing back down to the ground with no relief and no release.
"You don't cum without my permission, you know that," he said, his voice now flat and emotionless. The tone sent shivers down her spine.
He picked up the belt again and drove it into the soft, pale skin of her upper back three times with all of the strength he had. Her body became rigid and lifted inches off the bed as she pushed her elbows down into the mattress, but no sound could escape her lips. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the pain coursed through her nervous system, and she bit back the screams trapped in her throat as the tortuous waves reverberated within her. This went on in a seemingly never-ending cycle, leaving her thoughts a tangled incoherence.
He watched her from the foot of the bed, her face beaming a kaleidoscope of emotions. After a few minutes he climbed on top of her, careful not to brush against her fiery red skin, and whispered, "are you going to cry?"
"No," came a delayed, almost desperate response.
"I bet you are about to though, aren't you." It wasn't a question. She nodded, afraid that anymore words might release a torrent of emotion from her. He let the belt fall to the floor as he studied her face for a moment. To him, it was a work of art he had scultped over the past two hours - a perfect blend of deference, apprehension, and torment. So beautiful, so sublime. He knew he'd be holding onto this one for a long, long time.
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