Part VI
Looking at her, kneeling there, cuffed up and very much naked, so many thoughts
flitted through my mind...how creamy and soft her skin looked with the soft glow
of the firelight dancing upon it...how ripe her firm, small breasts appeared the
pink nipples semi erect, as if they couldn't make up their minds...how tempting
the area between her spread knees looked, smooth, clean, devoid of any hair that
might bother me during my travels... Oh yes...she was an angel sitting there,
soft, hazy, warm, lush... but more importantly, she was my angel, my little
submissive, my little slave, for as long as the dynamic held out, and if I
played my cards right tonight, hopefully that would be for a long time to come.
Mine. That was the singular thought I could grasp. Mine. She was mine...all of
her... was...mine. So what was I doing standing over here then? That was a good
question. She looked so good over there and she was mine...she was waiting for
me...waiting for me to make a move...waiting for me to take what was mine. And
if I knew one thing about the opposite sex...never keep them waiting.
I cop a squat in front of her, her head still lowered meekly and kiss her
lightly on the forehead, softly and lovingly I move my lips in a silent caress
tasting her skin, breathing in her scent for the first time. There wouldn't be
much gentleness or many tender gestures for a bit and I wanted her to have this,
to savor this moment, to feel how very much she did mean to me. Her knowing was
important to me; perhaps I couldn't say the words. I'm not a mushy man, but I
wanted, needed her to know. I put everything I felt into that soft kiss and
judging from the smile I felt rather than saw, she felt it, knew it, and echoed
it.
I was loath to break that contact, maybe, just maybe, I was more sentimental
than I gave myself credit for. However, reluctantly I did so, lifting my head
and regarding her. She was a treasure and a big part of me wonders if she can
even grasp that. I don't think so, but in time, I'll show her. For now, she's
mine and it's time to claim this treasure as my own, mark her heart and soul
with mine, possess her so completely that there's no room for anyone else.
My hand reaches out to stroke her cheek and my heart expands within my chest at
the involuntary subconscious movement of her head as she leans into it, into me.
This is the finest moment of my life, taking it beyond this is hard for that
same reason. It's perfect now, but what if in my inexperience I did something to
mar it? I do my best to put that thought out of my mind. I keep reminding myself
that she came to me, she made the decision and she was, is mine...perhaps only
for tonight, but she is mine.
I stroke her shoulders, run a hand down her arms, and tap a finger on the cuffs
binding her hands. I can feel her eyes watching my fingers. I feel the delicate
shudder of her body when I trace the steel circling her dainty wrists. That
ripple of awareness through her does more to strengthen me than perhaps anything
else could. She wants this, she wants what I can give her, do for her, to
her...she wants me...and that is patently clear.
The smell of her burgeoning arousal wafts up from between her spread knees and
encourages me, feeds the dominant beast that has laid dormant, expressed only
verbally or in text form for far too long. I hope that I can control it, it's
never been unleashed and even I don't know what it's capable of. I put my hands
under her arms, and rise from my squat.
"Stand, my slave." Aah. My slave. I like the sound of that. It has a nice ring
to it and I like the way it trips over my tongue, leaving a pleasant taste in my
mouth.
"Stand, and let your Master get a good look at you...my slave."
***
Steel. The cool steel is an interesting contrast to the heat of his gaze. I am
uncomfortable and unsure in the face of it. I pull at the cuffs discreetly,
aching inside as I feel the harsh restraint of them. It is a welcome distraction
from my thoughts.... Does he find me pleasing? Attractive? Sexy? Nice to look
at? Do my less than perfect dimensions turn him off? Are my breasts too small?
My hips too wide? My fanny too full? Does my less than rock hard thighs, thighs
that ripple and dimple in places with a bit of scattered cellulite sicken him?
What is he waiting for? What is wrong with me?
I am terrified of the answer as he approaches and lowers his body in front of
me. He leans forward and I am momentarily disarmed at the feel of his lips as
they hover across my brow. It is the gentlest of caresses, whisper soft and oh,
so tender and loving...and not what I was expecting. I didn't know what to
expect really, but that probably would not have been on my list had I made one.
Suddenly, I just feel that everything is ok, that I'm ok, that I'm what he wants
and I feel the smile sweep through me, lighting me up from inside.
His lips linger for a few and my hearts opens beneath the caress, unfolding for
him, letting him in. Everything is right in the world in that one
moment...everything. No doubts, no fears, no worries...only peace, safety and
love. Yes, love. I could admit that to myself, maybe not to him right now, but I
knew it, and for this second in time, I didn't care if he knew it, if he felt
it. I was not afraid.
His hands, soft, tentative, begin touching me, my shoulders, my arms, my wrists.
I watch in awed silence as they trace the cuffs, cuffs he had placed on me,
cuffs that represented all of my hopes and dreams...all of them, that is, until
the item on the mantle was brought down and put where it belonged. I hoped that
I was worthy, I really did.
His arms started pulling at me.
"Stand, my slave."
My breath catches...was it me, or was there an odd cant to his voice? I look at
him hesitantly.
"Stand and let your Master get a good look at you...my slave."
No, it wasn't me. I dazedly let him pull me to my feet. His voice had an odd
inflection, hoarse, deep, like it came from his very soul, as if more than his
mouth were saying the words. My knees were weak, my legs rubbery. It was a good
thing his arms were there to support me for I don't think I could have stood on
my own. I was tingling all over. I didn't know he could affect me so powerfully,
make me feel so very small and frail. But he could, he did. My whole body, my
whole being responded to something in him and I had never been more aware of
someone as I was him...never.
***
My hands couldn't stop my touching her, from drifting over her warm, creamy
skin. They were everywhere, stroking, touching, exploring. And I couldn't get
enough. I wanted no part of her ignored. I wanted to claim every inch of real
estate that was her, that was my submissive, that was my slave. My collar was
already upon her neck and the band of steel waiting patiently across the room
would just be the tangible proof of my claim on her, would just be something
physical that we could see, and feel and touch. But it wasn't necessary, not
really. She was already mine, probably had always been mine and all it had
required was me finding her, drawing her out and to my side. Yes, she had been
born to serve me as I had been born to lord over her, to protect and cherish her
sweet, pure soul and yes, to temper her fiery spirit.
God, my hands couldn't stop moving, my mouth itched to join in. I wanted to rub
my body against her, plunge so deeply inside her that tomorrow would cease to
exist. But I knew it did exist and that only by being careful tonight, did I
guarantee that tomorrow would be mine and every tomorrow after that. I reined
myself in, took a few deep, steadying breaths. I would do this right. I had to,
for I could never let her go...not now...not ever.
I help her to her feet, she is wobbly and I smile. I wrap my fingers around the
links of chain between the cuffs and pull her forward. She almost trips...I
almost let her, smiling evilly. I do so like the struggle. I steady her arm as
she pitches forward and set her back to rights. She flushes in embarrassment and
that only serves to inch my smile wider. I tug her forward, a step at a time,
letting her get her legs beneath her before walking more normally.
I lead her, like a prisoner, for that is what she is, a prisoner to my will, of
my desire, to the door that opens up into the master bedroom. As the door opens,
I can hear her shocked intake of breath...yes, the room is impressive, elegant
in its decor, massive in its scope. The bed sits center of the room, towering
four posters of the darkest ebony spiral upwards, reaching almost to the top of
the vaulted ceiling. Hunter green and gold bunting drapes the bed, flowing
gracefully from their lofty perch, drawn back by braided silk cords, leaving the
bed open, beckoning, inviting.
Rich, woven tapestries hang indolently from the walls. The floor is blanketed by
a thick Berber carpet and accented by Persian rugs thrown casually, yet
elegantly throughout the posh chamber. A soft, luxurious white fur rug rests in
front of the marble fireplace where even now, a few logs crackle warmly. Brass
sconces line the walls and lend their romantic glow to the firelight. The effect
is breath taking, even to one such as me, one who generally misses the finer
points and nuances of romance.
But I don't overlook all the details. I lead her further into the room, closer
and closer to the titanic bed, pulling her by the cuffs. Nearing the bed, I feel
her hesitate, and I pull her a bit more forcefully, compelling her forward. She
has seen the bed, the soon to be monument to our relationship. The flames
shimmer across the satiny sleekness of the burgundy brocade spread, skate over
the gold lace adorning the countless throw pillows, and glint off four thin
lengths of chain.
The chains, deceptively delicate in appearance, are carefully wrapped around
each of the four spiraling posters, a thick towel separating the chain from the
polished ebony that composes the bed. They lay on the coverlet, twinkling and
reflecting the glow of the firelight. Even to my own eyes they create a
seductive, erotic image as they reach outward towards the center of the bed
waiting, empty and lonely, waiting for someone to fill the void between them. I
can only guess what is going through her mind as she sees them.
I stop at the edge of the bed and place my hands on her shoulders, dropping her
cuffed hands. She is docile, lost in the moment and I seize the advantage,
turning her around and pressing her down to sit upon the bed, and further to
recline upon it. Her blue eyes blink up at me, her pink lips are parted and her
tongue nervously wets them. Panic can be seen in the perimeters of her gaze as I
push her towards the center of the bed, sliding her naked body along its rich,
textured surface.
I wonder what she's feeling at this moment, what she's feeling as I fasten one
ankle cuff, and chain it, and as I fasten the other ankle cuff, taking a moment
to cup her calf gently, and chain it. And as I stand at the head of the bed, as
I take her cuffed hands and chain them over her head, I wonder again what's
going through her mind, what thoughts she could be thinking. I regard her prone
figure stretched out before me, vulnerable to my gaze, to my touch...to me. Only
one thing is going through mine...only one thing repeats itself over and over
again....mine...mine...mine.
