Part VIII
Her tears were not tears of joy and yet they filled me with it just the same. As
much as she had been worried about if she could please me, her self-doubt there
for the entire world to see, and even though mine had not been, that didn't mean
that I didn't share the same concerns, harbor the same fears, for I did. I was
afraid that I couldn't be the Dom that I had written myself to be, afraid that I
wasn't strong enough for her, afraid that in the presence of her tears, that I
would crumble, would end up coddling her instead of pushing her further, instead
of leading her to the place she needed so desperately to go.
There are plenty of recipes for dominance, but as with everything, it had to be
seasoned to taste. Her tears were the sign that I had managed to get a decent
flavor cooking and it strengthened me. I cradled those tears in my palm,
savoring them, drinking in the beauty of her quivering, slightly puffy lips, her
red rimmed, tremulous eyes, her flushed and heated cheeks. Other men could have
all the sultry Cindy Crawford types, all the delicate Heather Locklears, all the
cute Sarah Michelle Gellars out there. I had found what I was looking for, had
found what I needed to be complete and whole and in my eyes, there was nothing
more beautiful in all creation than her in this moment.
The soft skin between her breasts enticed me. The sounds the chains made as she
pulled, arching into me were the sweetest sounds I had ever heard. I was on fire
for her, for this and for so much more. I stroked lower and laid my palm flat on
her tummy, kneading and gently pushing her body back down upon the bed. I
massaged there for a moment, letting my thumb make soft circles around her belly
button and my eyes closed briefly as I heard a strangled sob come from her lips.
I dipped a finger deep into her navel and swirled it around.
I removed my other hand from her face and skimmed it down her neck, my fingers
tracing the line of her collar bone, walking down her chest. I brushed the tip
of an erect nipple and before she had time to process it, I trailed lower and
let it come to rest on the curve of her hips. I softly explored that flank, its
lush flaring from the tiny span of her waist irresistible to me.
I continued to touch her lightly, all the while thinking about what I wanted to
do next. All of the scripts I had envisioned were gone; they had deserted me,
leaving me with but a blank sheet of paper to draw out this little drama. She
had gentled some under my quiet exploration of her, her tears had stopped and
looking up at her, I noticed that her eyes were half closed and the blue of
those delectable orbs that remained visible, was dark and smoky.
I stepped back from her and walked quietly and slowly towards the closet, to the
bag of toys that I had brought along. I felt her eyes upon me, heard her head
move upon the pillows as she tried to catch a glimpse of what I was doing. My
little slave was a curious one. She always wanted to know everything. I vowed
not to be predictable.
***
I was being sucked under. There was no doubt about it. It was all I could do to
keep my head above water. I tried to concentrate on any thing other than what
was happening. I tried to distance my mind a bit, tried to gain some control of
the situation.
So I regarded him critically. He was pleasant enough to look at, crisp black
hair, twinkling hazel eyes, a slight five o'clock shadow darkening his cheeks
and chin. Yes, he was handsome in a non-threatening sort of way and he was not
what I ever imagined myself to end up with. And yet, it was under his hand that
I trembled and quivered, it was in his bonds that I strained and arched. The
power he wielded over me elevated him above all others and no matter how hard I
tried to put distance between us, that's all I saw, all I felt...his mastery,
his power, his control.
His kneading, firm hand pushing me flat against the bed, his other hand stroking
my hip, his hooded eyes observing my every reaction, they intoxicated me and
made distance impossible. In fact, I was more closely aligned to him than I had
ever been to another.
I felt his soul reach out and touch mine, felt his heart beat in time with my
own. There was no escaping. The connection had been made and like the cuffs
binding my wrists, it had been forged in steel. And this was only the first of
many fires that would temper and strengthen it. A chill swept through me at the
thought. How hot would this fire burn?
He stepped away from me and I took in a deep, steadying breath, glad for the
momentary reprieve. I watched him go to the closet, but I couldn't see anything
more than the broad expanse of his shoulders, couldn't hear much save for some
rustling and the continued snapping and crackling of the fire that burned in the
marble hearth.
The wait was an eternity in length, me relieving the night to this point several
times over, me imagining the rest of the evening with a wide array of endings.
What would actually transpire couldn't be worse than I imagined, could it? I
knew him. I mean, I really knew him. He was my friend first; my good friend and
we became more by accident, a strange series of events leading us to realize
other emotions simmering under the surface. He wouldn't hurt me, he couldn't.
I began to trust in that, to take comfort in my heretofore knowledge of him and
I calmed and quieted. My breathing was soft and normal by the time he turned
back around and began the short trip back to where I lay bound on the bed. He
walked much too slowly, carrying something, but holding it just below my line of
sight.
I strained hard to look, but it was no use. I surmised, by the sound it made
when he reached the bed and lowered it to the ground, that he had placed
whatever items he would be using against me in some sort of bag and then brought
it with him. It made a dull and hefty thud, even against the thick pile of the
carpet. I shivered at the sound. Just how much stuff had he crammed in there?
His eyes seemed to burn as they looked at me. I felt myself blinking back at
him, having accepted, by this point, that I was helpless against what would
happen, but reassured by my knowledge that he would never push me beyond what I
could handle.
How silly and naive I was. I hadn't yet learned or experienced that line, that
invisible line dividing what I could and could not deal with. Hell, looking back
now, I didn't even know for sure where that line was. Ready or not, I was about
to find out, about to discover just how far he could push...and just how far I
could bend.
***
I brought a bag full of goodies back to the bed. It contained everything I had
ever dreamed of using on her, every decadent item from a lifetime of fantasies.
Her face was calmer and her eyes were steady and clear as she looked at me. She
didn't know what was coming, but I could see she accepted it, accepted the fact
that she couldn't stop me, couldn't or wouldn't, I wasn't exactly sure which.
But I also noticed something else in her eyes, some hidden confidence. I
chuckled to myself. She had somehow managed to convince herself that it wouldn't
be too bad, perhaps that it would be easy, enjoyable, fun even. I quirked a
brow. I couldn't help myself. I looked at the bag at my feet. It definitely was
not going to be easy and I thought that there were parts she wouldn't find very
pleasant, or fun, but that was something that only she could decide later
on...much later.
She was still thinking of our times online or on the phone together...of how she
could manipulate me with a soft spoken word, a tiny, cute voice. I knew that I
bore a huge degree of responsibility for letting her get her way that often, for
not stepping up and punishing her when she clearly deserved it. I had been
hesitant, overly careful of scaring her away before we could share this moment.
But I wouldn't let her off that easily in person. There was too much riding on
this night for me to be that careless, that soft, that weak.
But she would learn that here in real life, things were different. They had to
be. I had to break her down, destroy all of her defenses, erase all of her
preconceived notions of how it would be, how I would be, what I was capable of.
I had to begin forcing my will and not letting hers take center stage. We
couldn't go forward until I did.
And yes, I was nervous. I didn't want to lose her, and yet I acknowledged that
if things continued the way they were, I would regardless. Someone with the
gumption to stand in the pocket and take the hit would come along and spirit her
away. It was only a matter of time. She was special, and everyone could see it.
Her submissive light shone so brightly. She was oblivious to it, yes, but the
rest of the world was not. She was mine and I was not going to let her go...not
without a fight. I just hoped that she would stand by my side and fight with me,
not run away out of fear, that she would stand and face her desires, her needs,
too...and trust in me to fill them.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her, looked at my slave, my
unawakened slave. This would be the last glimpse of her sweet, innocent
submission. After this, she would look at me differently, hopefully still
fondly, and hopefully as my slave...my collared slave. But it would not be the
same. I was not so foolish as to think otherwise. I enjoyed it for a moment,
memorizing every minute detail. I shook my head. She truly was exquisite, more
so because she didn't see it, didn't see herself as I saw her...as mine and mine
alone.
"Recite the first line of your mantra, my slave." I stroked her face, smiling
gently at the surprised look in her eyes. She hadn't expected this, but I knew
how her mantra affected her over the phone. I was curious to see if that effect
was magnified in person.
She nodded, wet her lips and haltingly began. "I am my Lord's slave." She paused
to lick her lips again and I nodded encouragingly. "He guides my will, my body,
and my life."
My whole face smiled back at her. "Again." I saw the slight tremor. She couldn't
hide anything from me. As she began, I reached down to the bag at my feet, still
looking at her, my hand searching blindly.
"I am my Lord's slave. He guides my will, my body and my life."
Another tremor, stronger than the first wracked her. My hands closed around the
desired item and I breathed deeply. "Again, slave."
"I am my Lord's slave. He guides my will, my body, and my life."
As her voice faded on the last word, her eyes dark and deep, I raised my free
hand to her face, lifted the ball gag I was holding in the other and popped it
in her mouth. She hadn't been ready and with only a small squeeze on her jaw, it
slid in easily and was seated behind the luscious, pink lips I loved so much.
"Again, my slave. Again."
I buckled the straps, the sound of her muffled recitation stirring things I had
only glimpsed inside of myself, things that took me finding the right one to
acknowledge, to give voice to, to give free rein to.
And I had found the right one. Now I just had to prove to her that she had found
the right one, too. I had all night...I would use it, every last minute, every
second of it. She was mine...but I was hers, too.
