Part VII
The room was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Sensual elegance dripped
from every square inch and there were a lot of them! It was in and of itself an
assault on the aesthetic tastes, starting first with the luxurious feel of my
feet on the carpet, continuing with the seductive lighting, the richness of the
decor. Everything was geared towards the senses and I was lost before I had even
fully entered.
It was not a room for fairy tales, though. It was darkly sensuous, tickling the
deeper, hidden desires. It was sultry, not light, and certainly not airy. It was
more of a tropical rain forest, misty, humid and lush than a field of daisies,
bright, warm and gay. And my body answered immediately. I felt the petals of my
own flower open, swell, surge, moisten. I could feel my eyes both widen and
narrow; my skin prickle and my breath grow tight.
Round one to Milord, I silently conceded, still reeling from the impact. There
was nothing about this room that didn't appeal to me and nothing about the man
that led me like a lamb to the slaughter that didn't set my soul on fire. I
began to worry that there was nothing that I wouldn't do for him, or at least
die trying to do. That thought alone should have sobered me, but it had the
opposite effect. I was drunk on my own submission. I wanted coffee and a cold
shower, anything to snap me out of it, anything to pull me up and stop my
descent into the unknown abyss that threatened to burn me alive, consume me
entirely.
He seemed so...so...assured now, so self possessed. It wasn't fair, my mind
silently raged. How could he act like this was nothing out of the
ordinary...Dear Lord...are those chains? I falter and nearly trip. He steadied
me and tugged me ever closer to the bed and yes, they are indeed chains...four
of them, wound around each corner post, draped on the bed...and they are not for
him.
I had let him get too close, let him know too many of my secrets. He was using
every kernel of knowledge he had ever gleaned about me to his advantage, turning
me inside out, stripping away any semblance of poise. How could I remain calm,
aloof, and distant in the face of this, the room, the fabrics, the lighting
bathing everything in languid passion, the chains shining and reflecting every
inner fantasy I ever had? I was making this far too easy. He should have to work
a bit harder. I should put up some sort of token resistance.
And yet I couldn't. My brain seemed to be severed from the rest of my body. I
shake my head, blinking rapidly as I stare and see the elegant green and gold
over hangs. I'm lying on the bed, not recalling how it happened, or even doing
it and I feel the rich texture of the spread beneath me as I am positioned in
the center of it. I am powerless to do anything. I am not even sure if I'm
breathing. Things are happening without me saying yea or nay.
My ankles are wrapped in a soft leather band, one at a time and then the chains
are lifted from the coverlet and locked to the supple calf's skin cuffs. I
twitch my ankles, testing...I have no play, there is no give. My legs are spread
wide and there is nothing I can do about it....and I had let it happen, had laid
here, watching his hands do their work, yet doing nothing to impede them. And
now I was here...legs spread...my most private parts wide open and
exposed...nothing to hide what I knew to be there...evidence that I couldn't
deny...proof that his formula was working...and working much to well.
I begin to felt the stirrings of panic, but once again, I seem to be lagging a
step behind. My hands have already been chained over my head, each of the two
remaining lengths of chain locked on the center links of the steel cuffs binding
my wrists. My breath comes in fast, choppy pants; fear is taking hold of
me...fear and something else.
Dear Lord, help me! I feel the steel bite into me as now my body responds to my
mental urgings and I start to struggle. He merely watches me. The weak pants and
whimpers...do you hear them? Help me! Let me loose! Please, oh please...let me
go...before...before...I choke back a sob...before I beg to remain.
I have worked myself into a frenzy and I feel tears of helplessness prick my
eyes. Why is he doing this to me? My eyes dart frantically seeing everything and
yet seeing nothing. It is too much for me to take in, to process. I close them,
tossing my head from side to side, tears now falling unchecked down my hot
cheeks, burning with shame, with embarrassment, with futility.
A soft touch on my brow causes me to jerk and raise wide eyes to his.
"Ssh. That's quite enough."
Quite enough? Quite enough? I haven't even started yet! I sob, unsure of the
reason, perhaps it's the feeling of vulnerability, I had never imagined this
depth, or perhaps it's more of me fighting to retain control, fighting a loosing
battle, an uphill battle against an overwhelming force and a battle that if I
were honest with myself I had no desire to win.
Whatever it is, I am weeping uncontrollably, incoherent, cast asea, adrift and
lost and looking for an anchor. Dear Lord, someone help me...please!
"Little one, ssh. I've got you. I'm here. It's ok."
***
Struggle finally set in...struggle and fear. I was stunned by the beauty of it.
My breath cut short. I was brought low by the sight. I shook with need, with
desire and yes, with power. It was a heady combination. I couldn't bear to look
and I couldn't bring myself to look away.
Her pleading, teary eyes nearly undid me. I should feel badly, feel shame for
reducing her to this, but I didn't. I just felt powerful, potent, manly. An
incredible surge of emotions, raw and unslaked poured into me. I should comfort
her, ease her fears, but I didn't. I stood immobile, struck still by the
splendor of my slave's struggle.
I had read about it, I had even written about it, but I had never been a part of
it, witnessed it, caused it. And damn me to a fiery hell, but I was in no hurry
to see it end. I wanted this fire to burn a little longer; I needed to feel her
internal turmoil. The beast within me demanded that this battle of wills play
out just a bit longer.
And so I watched silently, and did nothing to ease her discomfort. I noted her
every fearful glance, catalogued her every broken cry and absorbed her every
shattered, prideful tear drop until even I could stand no more, full to bursting
with my own need.
I stepped forward, pressing my things flush against the bed, bending slightly at
the waist and hovered a bit before placing my hand over her mouth. I know Dom's
are supposed to be in control at all times, but I nearly lost it when her lids
flew open and she turned her wonderfully panicked eyes my way. She tried to
shake my hand away and I didn't even bother to cover up the low groan that
rumbled through my chest. As I pressed my hand more firmly against her face,
feeling her teeth through the soft flesh of her lips, it was all I could do to
stave off impending climax...the raw lust and power surging through me was
almost more than I could bear and I was caught off guard by its intensity.
She blinked rapidly many times, her eyes pleading, scared and lost and her tiny
mewls tickled my palm. I felt her fast pants, the soft poof poof poof of the air
as it left her nostrils and blew across my hand. I knew she didn't realize that
I was breathing just as quickly as she was, or that I was just as lost to it,
mired as deeply in the moment as she was. But I trembled with it, shook to my
depths with it and I counted my blessings as I felt her mouth work furiously
behind my hand.
I enjoyed the view for several long moments before removing my hand from her
mouth to stroke the quivering heated surface of her face. She went to speak, but
I raised my hand as if to blanket her mouth once more and she quieted, settling
instead for a very small, plaintive whimper. My slave was a smart one, attuned
to my wants and desires and I was proud to call her mine in that moment...
***
His hand across my mouth was not expected...across my breasts, my tummy and
lower, really anywhere else would not have caught me so off guard. But my mouth?
I felt my stomach lurch as I realized his hand was not going anywhere. I could
feel every emotion I had floating towards my eyes. I cried against his hand,
tried to buck it off like a bull tries to dislodge a cowboy at a rodeo. No dice,
he merely pressed his hand harder against my face, so hard that I felt my lips
flatten against my teeth.
My eyes pleaded with him and in a way it was amazing because I could feel the
emotion in my eyes...it was almost painful. He bent low over me and gazed deeply
into my eyes and I could swear that his face softened, relaxed, his eyes warm
and tender. I felt his other hand stroke the sides of my neck and yet still his
hand remained firmly plastered over my mouth. I lost myself in his eyes and for
a few seconds, I felt disconnected from the moment. I didn't feel the chains, I
didn't feel the heavy pressure of his hand, I didn't feel fear or panic or even
confined...I felt free and I felt...loved.
The brief tranquil moment ended much too soon. He pulled away and removed his
hand from my mouth and immediately, everything I had been feeling just seconds
ago came flooding back. I went to speak, to beg, to plead but he shook his head
softly and raised a hand. No...not again! I closed my mouth and was distressed
to hear my own ragged whimper echo in the room. How pathetic I sounded...how
small...how weak...how utterly not like the me that I knew myself to be. What
was happening to me? Just who was this person lying on the bed, chained, open
and available to the man who stood inches away, coiled and ready to strike?
I felt the tremors ripple through my body...I felt cold, I felt hot, I felt out
of control. I can't even articulate the range of emotions that zipped through
me, crossed my mind and manifested themselves in goose bumps, in shivers, in
twitches, in moans and whimpers. My brain was in overdrive and I wanted it to
stop, to disengage, to free me. How long had I been here? I couldn't see a
clock...how much longer until I could leave?
My body arched off of the bed, arms and legs pulling against the restraints
causing the chains to jangle eerily in the expectant hush of the room as his
knuckles brushed my sternum, stroking the rapidly constricting flesh of the
sensitive valley between my breasts. I didn't think my breath could get any
faster, and yet it did. I didn't think my teeth could clench any tighter...and
yet they did. I didn't think my skin could get any hotter, any dry, and yet it
did. And I didn't think I could get...any wetter...and yet...I did and that was
the hardest thing of all to acknowledge...I was hot, wet and eager, even through
my fear, my panic, my terror...I wanted...I lusted...I thirsted...I craved...
I needed...
I started to cry...
I needed...
I didn't need anyone...
I turned my head away from your hand, the hand that was gently brushing away the
tell tale drops from my cheeks.
I had never needed anyone...
Until you...
