Friday, November 25, 2005

Day #1: The first time

When she opened the door, he didn't seem very intimidating standing there. In fact, he smiled warmly at her, his eyes soft and disconcerting. He seemed very...safe.

...

She shook slightly as she stared at the floor, her knees burning from digging into the rough carpet. She knew what was coming. And then...three sharp snapping sounds as his hands whipped across her face from the right, then the left, then right again. He grabbed her chin and forced her head up. Tears streamed down her face as the pain radiated across her skin, but still she said nothing. "Look at me, slut," he said in a voice that was eerily calm. "I own you, and you will do anything I tell you to do." He paused for a moment to wipe some of her tears away. "Will you ever tell me no?"

"No, Master, never."

"Good girl. I went easy on you tonight because this was our first time, but trust me, there will be a lot more pain for you in the future. I'll never get tired of hearing you scream."

...

When he held her she felt completely surrounded by him. She was protected from anything that could hurt her. They had only just met, but she had meant every word she had spoken to him. When he looked down at her she saw the same soft smile she had seen when she first opened the door the night before. Wild thoughts raced through her mind, but she merely smiled back in the same benign manner. That was enough for now, more would certainly come later.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Day #2: Late Night Football

"Hello slave."

"Hello Master, it's good to see you again," she said in an almost whisper while looking meekly at her bare feet on the cold tile floor.

"It better be," he answered as he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. "I see you remembered to put your hair up, good girl."

"Thank you, Master."

…

Her breathing began to slow as her tired muscles relaxed into the comfort of her red satin sheets. She listened to him inhale and exhale methodically as the game continued in the background. Her mind wandered away from the present and slowly she drifted into a lucid sleep.

The quiet lasted only a few moments, as she awoke to him violently yanking her head back by her iridescent long blonde hair. "Don't forget who owns you, slave," he growled into her ear, "Turn over."

She turned quickly, fearing the consequences of a slow response. He grasped her slim waist and climbed on top of her. The light from the tv shone all around the outline of his body making his face dark and he seemed to tower over her. There was a muffled clambering of crowd noises and miscellaneous ambient sounds reminiscent of late night sports games filling the background of the room and she tried desperately to focus on anything but what was about to come.

But the next thing she heard was her own sharp scream as he forced himself into her. The grin on his face was hazy in the darkness but still unmistakable as he listened to her cries. He reached down and wove the fingers of his left hand around the dog collar cinched about her neck, pulling it tighter. She closed her eyes and held her breath when she saw him raise his right hand, and she heard the whoosh of the air as he brought it down across the side of her face and a loud cracking sound reverberated throughout the room. She didn't struggle or fight or turn her head away from his view, she only held as still as she could and listened for any instructions that might come.

"Your screaming makes you sound like the slut that you are, slave girl," he said, laughing. She cringed inwardly, trying not to let her face show him how much she hated that word.

He began using her collar like a harness as he thrust in and out of her.

"Do you like your master fucking you?"

All she could manage was a tiny squeak of a "yes" as he continued to yank on her collar.

"Yes, what?!" he demanded, backhanding her swiftly across the jaw.

"Master, yes, Master," she added quickly. The pain from the collar digging into her neck and now the radiating ache in her jaw was starting to be nearly unbearable. She reached for his free hand and intertwined her fingers with his, focusing all of her attention there. He looked down at her and studied her face for a moment. Her eyes were closed tightly, her pale, beautiful skin flushed red. He was hard on her, he knew, but that was the way he wanted it to be. He felt the desperation in her fingertips as she grasped for his hand. Little beads of sweat were beginning to form on her forehead and she seemed pale to him. He let his hand ease away from her collar and he swept a few stray hairs out of her face. She opened her glassy eyes and looked up at him. For a moment each of them stared, and heard nothing else but their own labored breaths, but the quiet silence was brief and eventually he let his eyes drift away from hers.

After a few more minutes a mumbled, "uhhgh, I'm gonna cum..." escaped his lips as he pulled out of her. "Swallow this, bitch," he said, forcing his cock into her mouth. She felt him jerk as the warm liquid ran down the back of her throat. When he'd finished he backed off of her slightly and smiled. "Good girl," he said, patting the side of face. She opened her mouth to say thank you, but was stopped sharply with an earsplitting slap across her cheek. "That's for forgetting earlier, little girl. Make sure you don't again," he said as he rolled off her.

The stinging in her face raged violently and she felt hot tears running onto the sheets underneath her as she curled up into a tiny ball. She covered her face as if it would make her disappear into the darkness that spread around her. It would be a long wait before she found sleep again.

Friday, December 02, 2005

Day #3: Ice

"Stay right there, don't move bitch," he said as he got up and walked out of the bedroom, leaving her kneeling on all fours. She shivered as cold air brushed across her naked skin. She gripped the leash attached to the collar around her neck as if holding on to it was the only thing keeping her from falling off the edge of the earth. From behind the bedroom door she could hear the faint noises of him rustling around in the kitchen. She supposed that he was getting another drink for the two of them, but when he returned with a glass holding only cubes of ice she realized exactly what he planned to do.

"All right slave, we're going to see just how badly you want to get fucked tonight," he said as he positioned himself behind her. He reached into the glass, pulled out one of the ice cubes and trailed it down her back. Goosebumps spread across her skin in waves almost immediately as she tried to hold herself still. He continued a lazy, progressive motion of the ice, down the outside of her hips, across the back of her knees, and then ever so slowly up between her thighs. When he reached her most sensitive area he paused. Within seconds the sensations turned from uncomfortably cold to an unimaginable searing pain. He pressed harder until the ice cube was completely inside her, and she screamed in agony and tried to pull away.

"Where are you going?" he asked, laughing slightly, as he picked up her leash and yanked her back toward him. He let the ice cube fall away from her and brought it to her lips. "Taste yourself, slut." She opened her mouth and took the ice away from him as he began to thrust two fingers in and out of her. She winced uncontrollably and clenched her hands. His touch was shear torture that grew in intensity as her skin began to warm again..

"Turn over," he ordered. As she did he reached for another ice cube and she gave him a terrified look. "Are you scared, slave girl?"

"No, Master."

"I've got three more of these for you to melt, do you think you can do it?"

"I'll do whatever you want, Master."

"If you can't do this, you're not getting fucked tonight."

She knew he'd be upset with her if she couldn't take it, and she'd be paying for it even more so later, so she simply closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Without warning he place another ice cube directly on her clit. For a brief moment it was only a moderate cold feeling, and then the true pain began. It was almost like a burning feeling that ran through her entire body. He pressed harder and harder as she screamed louder and louder. She didn't realize she was pushing herself away from him until he angrily grabbed her leash and pulled her forcefully back.

"Ask for more, bitch," he demanded.

She wanted to scream for him to stop, but between exasperated sobs she managed to beg him to press the ice farther inside of her. The intensity of her anguish seemed to grow exponentially as the seconds passed. With his free hand he grabbed the two remaining ice cubes and placed them in his palm against the other cube. He bent over her as he pressed all three pieces of ice against her, and he placed his lips gently to her ear as she writhed against his touch. Her back was arched and a cold sweat had spread across her skin. "Shhhhh," he whispered, "you're okay." She thought she was on the verge of loosing consciousness, his voice the only thing keeping her in the present. "Shhhh, baby girl, shhhh..."

Sunday, December 04, 2005

Day #4: Silence

"Get the fuck off the bed," he said as he kicked her away from him. Taken off guard at his sudden change of temperament she didn't have time to react before her body slammed into the floor at the foot of the bed. "What the fuck is the matter with you, slut? You're lucky I'm not beating your ass black and blue for the shit you just said to me."

Her head was spinning from the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream and she'd lost track of the number of drinks he'd fed to her long ago. She had a vague idea of what had happened in the last hour, but the details were beyond her reach. The bar, then home, they were eating sandwiches, she was at his feet as usual. Then the bedroom, they were drunk. She said something...he was angry.

"You don't ask me for sex, ever, got that bitch? I'll fuck you whenever and wherever I want to," he growled from over her shoulder.

She shivered.

"It's only cute for so long until you cross the line," he added.

She pulled her knees up into her chest to try to stop shaking. The last thing in the world she wanted was to disappoint him. She'd spent the day catering to him on her knees and had ruined it with words she couldn't pull back into reality. She felt like she'd been stabbed in the chest.

"Do you want to spend the whole night down there?" he demanded.

Her teeth chattered. She didn't answer.

"Slave!"

"No."

"Come here."

She tried to push herself up, but her arms wouldn't lift her. Her body crumpled back down to the floor and she was forced to give up trying.

"Damnit girl, you're really testing me tonight." He reached over the edge of the bed and pulled her up next to him. He could feel her body shaking. The bed was a twisted mess of blankets and pillows, scattered every which way from their recent bacchanalia. Trying to make some sense of the confusion, he managed to pull part of a blanket over her before turning over to sleep. She was still shivering, not from the cold now but from the aching disappointment running through her.

The next moment she remembered was waking to him forcing her legs apart. From over his shoulder she could see the blightly lit LED of her clock radio shining 6:13am. "You have got to be the luckiest slave ever," he said as he started thrusting into her. "You're still getting fucked even after all the shit you try to pull." She gritted her teeth and held on to him as tightly as she could manage. For the first time during sex with him she was absolutely silent except for the occasional hard exhale forced out of her. Part of her was fearful, part defiant. After a few hours of sleep she'd become more coherent, and she now felt a strong desire to show him her usual moans of extasy were not involuntary.

Sensing something wasn't right he grabbed her neck and pressed her head back into the bed. She could feel his grip on her getting tighter and tighter as her breath began to come in short gasps. He leaned over and pressing his lips against her ear he whispered softly, so terribly calmly, "Are you tired, baby? Do you want me to stop?"

Her eyes widened and she stared at him utterly confused. He had never asked her a question like that before, and she had no idea how to answer. He gave her no help with his blank stare, so she simply made an effort to nod against the chokehold grip he still had on her neck. After her affirmation she realized that his continued pressure on her neck should have been a clue that her answer had been a mistake.

His facial expression never changed once as he moved his hand from her neck and turned her gently onto her stomach. He pressed his index into the skin between her shoulder blades and traced it down her back. He watched the goosebumps raise on her skin as he touched her slowly and deliberately. Fear was beginning to build inside her as the silence continued, but she dared not to move. It would be a good fifteen minutes before he spoke again, and each second was torture for her.

When he did finally lean over to speak into her ear again, she held her breath and clenched her teeth together, waiting for his voice.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Day #5: A break from the norm

"It's not like you're going to beat me," she laughed as she frantically pressed the buttons on her wavebird remote.

"If I don't, I'll make you pay for it later," he answered with a suave but still devilish grin.

The two of them sat next to each other on her pale green couch, eyes squinted intently at the screen in front of them as their tiny flying cars sped around the track at breakneck speeds. Neither was too intent on the game not to notice that they were sitting just close enough that every once in a while their bodies would brush together ever so lightly. She could feel the heat radiating off him and could sense a subtle hint of cologne in the air. It was so different than with Him.

"FUCK!" he yelled, throwing down his controller, "I blew up..."

"It's all right hon, better luck next time," she teased.

He grumbled for a moment but then looked over at her smiling face. Their eyes locked and it was almost as if an instantaneous switch flipped inside of him. He pulled her across his lap and with a force she had nearly forgotten pressed his lips against hers. He never let go of the grip he had on her hair as he picked her up and carried her back to her bedroom. Fumbling in the dark he found the doorway and set her down gently, only to immediately slam her against the wall and press himself against her body.

For a time there were no words at all. Both knew exactly what the other wanted. Her anxious fingers undid the tiny buttons on his shirt in a hurried but steady fashion as his hands wandered across her skin. He slid her white satin pants down to her ankles and pulled her slinky t-shirt over her head. He always did make it a lot more difficult than she did. Once she had the buttons of his shirt undone she stole a glance at the tag and taunted, "your whole closet is full of pink shirts from Express, isn't it?" Saying the words almost made her wince as she realized that in most cases she'd receive a hard slap to the face for her acerbic comments. He only smiled, nodded, and let the shirt drop to the floor. Once she had the majority of his clothing off, he pushed her over to her bed and said sharply, "lay down on your back, hands over your head."

She didn't answer, only obeyed.

"I'm not going to let these handcuffs go to waste this time," he said, unlocking them from her headboard and snapping them around her tiny wrists. For a brief time he looked around the room, his eyes searching, before they finally locked on his seemingly benign brown leather belt. "This should work fine," he said as he looped it around the chain between the cuffs encircling her hands and tied the other end to the top of the headboard. "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere," he laughed while climbing off her and walking to the door.

As he closed the door behind him she had a moment alone to revel in her situation. There was no fear, no apprehension, no cold sweat on her forehead. She didn't know why it was this way with him or why she trusted him so. There had been so much between the two of them, none of which should have elicited these feelings. But still...

Her train of thought was cut short when he walked back into the room. He stopped when he reached the side of the bed and knelt down to look at her. For almost half a minute they each stared. He loved the look of her this way, completely under his control. He would have her begging for him by the end of the night. The two of them sweating, screaming, gasping for air. He reached over and pulled her hair, yanking her head back. Leaning over slightly he whispered into her ear, "I'm going to fuck you so hard tonight you won't be able to walk tomorrow." The words sent bolts of electricity through her and she bit her lip. Her heart pounded, and all she could think of was having as much of him as she could.

Sunday, December 18, 2005

Day #6: Four miles deep

"Why don't you put that collar on for me?" he said as he used his hands to rock her waist slowly back and forth on top of him. She'd had her head tilted back and her eyes closed, lost in a state of trance, but snapped to attention at the smooth, commanding sound of his voice. She reached over and pulled the pink dog collar off the chrome floor lamp standing next to her bed. A pale orange seeped in through her drawn shades and cast dewy shadows about the room. The colors danced on her skin as she fastened the collar around her neck, and she stared down at the hungry eyes looking back at her.

"That's a good girl, now get down on the floor," he said, pushing her to his right. He pulled the gleaming silver handcuffs off the bedpost and joined her at the side of the bed. "Hands and knees," he ordered and she jumped slightly at the harsher tone in his voice. Her compliance was immediate, and he quickly snapped the handcuffs around her wrists, making sure to lead the short chain connecting the cuffs around the back of the lamp post. He smiled now at her utter vulnerability, but from her position she couldn't see his demonic grin. Her hair streamed down the side of her face and brushed the carpet below her. A subtle hum from the heater permeated the air, and she shuddered as the still cold air began to strike her bare skin.

He came up behind her without warning and thrust into her, pushing her back down into the floor at the same time. She gripped the lamp post and watched as her knuckles turned white. He forearms dug roughly into the carpet as he slammed his hips against her. From her peripheral vision she saw him raise his left hand and her body tensed sharply. The pain wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't followed the strike immediately by several even harder blows. Her forehead was now pressed firmly against the base of the lamp, the cool metal a strange relief for her.

Once again without warning, he stopped and reached around her to unlock her handcuffs. As they fell to the floor, he hauled her up by wrapping several fingers around her collar and then pushed her over the bed. "Don't move," he said in that stone cold voice of his. He turned and picked up something from the floor behind her, but she dared not to turn to see what it was. When he turned back to her he let his hands wander across the smooth skin of her thighs. Heat radiated from where he'd been beating her, and he smiled to know there'd be some nice bruises tomorrow to remind her of him. His fingers slid between her legs and he laughed as he felt the wetness there. Leaning over her prone body he whispered into her ear, "I can feel how wet your cunt is for me, slut. You want it so bad, don't you?" Before she could answer he drove back into her and fucked her as hard as he could just to listen to her screams.

"What are you?!" he demanded, never stopping.

"Your slut," she returned automatically through gasping breaths.

"And what will you do when I give you an order?"

"Exactly that."

"Damn right," he said, once again raising his left hand and bringing it down on her delicate pale skin. But this time the pain was quite different. She realized immediately that he'd picked up his black leather belt from the floor as the sudden agony racked her body. After each contact of the leather with her skin she thought it'd be impossible to take another, but still the next would come. He watched the welts appear on her skin as he continued to fuck her, savoring the feeling of her jerks beneath him at every blow.

"I wanna see you come for me, slut, now," he barked. It wouldn't have mattered if he he'd said it or not, she didn't think she could hold it back any longer. She knew he was still he was still hitting her but now she had permission to let the pain turn into a tidal wave of euphoria washing through her. He grabbed her hair and wrenched her head to the side so he could see her more clearly. Her tortured screams were now altogether incomprehensible, and the look on her face was one of beautiful anguish.

When he felt the muscles of her body finally relax he pumped into her one last time before pulling out. Instinctively and without a thought she whipped her body around and fell to her knees in front of him, covering his cock with her mouth. He grabbed the back of her head and pressed himself into the back of her throat. "Ughh..." he mumbled as his head fell backwards, "god." Drops of sweat ran down his arms and onto the folded leather belt that he still gripped tightly in his left hand. She eyed it as she felt a stream of hot liquid hit the back of her tongue.

…

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked in an almost whisper. His sweet voice was warm and calm. His arms were wrapped tightly around her as they laid together underneath the satin sheets of her bed. Her back was pressed against his chest and she could feel his breath against her shoulder. She intermingled her legs with his and sighed deeply. From the mirror overhead he could see her wide smile.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed. Turning her onto her stomach, he traced a finger down her back, trailing lightly around all the raised crimson marks. "You look so sexy like this."

"Thank you," she said, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes seemed four miles deep to him, lucid and sparkling. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead lightly, pulling her close again. With her head against his chest she listened to his heart beating as she drifted off to sleep.

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.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Day #9: Affirmation

"I love causing you pain, slave girl," he said as they laid on the bed together. He was running his hand up and down her back and thighs, making her flinch every time he touched one of the spots where the whip had hit her. "I love the look on your face, and the sound of your cries. I love knowing that whatever I want to do to you you will take for me." he continued. Whenever he shifted his body she would recoil slightly, expecting another strike. He laughed whenever he saw her cringe, knowing that he had taught her to do that from their many previous times together.

He hadn't tied her up this time; he liked seeing the way she moved when the rubber tails of the whip struck her skin. Her face would twist up as she struggled to hold the position he'd put her in. He had learned to read the sounds that she made so that he would know when they were nearing her breaking point. Each time he pushed her just a little bit farther, a little bit closer. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more he'd be there, wrapped completely around her. She was always reaching for his hands, entwining their fingers together as the beating rained down. Now she was face down on the bed, he was straddling her lower back. It was a familiar position, but his imagination never failed to find some new torture for her.

"What are you?!" he yelled, reaching around to her chin and forcing her head back.

"Your slave," she answered quickly, her back arched to its limit.

"What is your purpose?"

"To please you." Soft whimpers where interspersed between her words.

"Will you ever tell me no?"

"No, Master."

They had this conversation often. It was somewhat of a reaffirmation for both of them, and each of them found a strange comfort in it.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Day #10: The Party

She saw him out of the corner of her eye - just a glimpse, once glance to feel him there, all around her. She always knew exactly where to find him if he was in the club. The baseball cap a dead giveaway, sports jacket, button-up shirt dominated by the color pink. Sometimes he'd come down nearer to her, but she liked it better when he stayed away from all the other girls. She couldn't stand knowing that he wasn't hers; sparks of jealousy easily ignited within her.
That night, however, she was doomed to be brazen.

"Happy New Year, baby," he said, turning to her, "You look pretty tonight."

"Thank you," she said, pausing. He seemed a little different, something not quite right. Then finally, "Can I take a picture with you?"

"Yeah, come sit on my lap," he said, reaching his hands out to her. She sat down and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head against his. She inhaled the scent of his familiar cologne deeply as if it was as life-giving as oxygen. As the flash of the picture went off she felt him pull her closer.

"Let's have a New Year's kiss," he said enthusiastically. The moment the words had escaped his lips she felt his mouth press against hers. She closed her eyes and watched tiny stars rearrange into scattered constellations behind her eyelids as his tongue parted her lips and delved into her mouth.
When she finally stood and retrieved her camera from a nearby friend, she felt dizzy and breathless.
"Are we still on for tomorrow?" she asked softly, leaning over to speak directly into his ear.
"Yes, I get off at ten."

"Okay." She walked away then, away from his touch as her heart screamed at her to stay with him. She missed the feeling of his warm embrace immediately. Sounds of the dance floor spiraled around her. People jumping, hands in the air. The floor beneath her was sticky and strewn with multi-colored confetti. She sighed, knowing the night would be good but not quite what she was looking for.

--
"Come downstairs with me," she said to him, reaching for his hand. He followed, not offering any resistance. They walked down the long, meandering hallways covered with matted red carpet and enclosed by white stuccoed walls peppered with graffiti.

"Where are we going?" he asked, not really looking for an answer. When they reached the point where their path split he spun her around and slammed her against the wall with his body. They kissed again, this time not because of love but because of reckless animal need. He forced her head back by yanking her hair down, and she felt some of the strands snap under his iron grip.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard tomorrow," he breathed into her ear as he pressed his hips against hers, "you better be ready for me. I want to hear you beg."

Her eyes widened as she listened to him speak. She drank in every word that he said to her, ready to fall to her knees at the slightest suggestion from him to do so.

Someday...someday, she thought, we'll be more than this.

The club that night was like a whirlwind, empty, dark, pulsing, panoptic. The floor tacky beneath all the painted toenails in high heeled sandals. She finished the drink in her hand and walked back upstairs. "Tomorrow," she murmured, "tomorrow maybe we'll be more than this.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Day #11: Tomorrow

She pointed her finger at him and beckoned him down the stairs toward her. He slid down a couple of steps and resumed smoking the half burned down cigarette between his fingers, looking at her out of the corner of his eye but still remaining silent.

"You still busy?" she asked, trying to get as close to him as she could.

"Why do you want two minutes to dance with me?" he replied, staring intently at the floor about six feet past her.

"I don't want to dance with you, I just want two minutes to talk to you."

"Ok."

"You gotta know how I feel about you right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Well..." she stumbled over the words, "we'd be great together, you know. I mean, how can people who have such great sex not be good together in everything else?"

"It's you," he answered, finally looking at her.

"What?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but I don't have very much confidence in myself. That's why I'm always dancing up here and not on the floor."

"I like it when you stay up here. When I see you dancing with other girls I do this kind of internal combustion thing..." she trailed off, not knowing if she was getting through to him.

"I've seen," he answered, smiling a little bit. "But it's okay for you to dance with other guys?"

"Whatever, I'm always over here begging for a second of your time, but you don't want to give it to me." She wanted to stop herself and just walk away to save the shreds of dignity that she might have had left, but the alcohol coursing through her system kept her feet firmly planted right next to him. "You know how I feel about you," she added, immediately rolling her eyes and realizing she'd been repeated that to him all night. "Just tell me the truth about how you feel."

"I told you. I told you two months ago."

"I know. I know you're busy. You can't talk to me like I don't know what busy is. I make time for the things that I want, and everything about you...that's all I've ever wanted in someone." She didn't know why she fought so hard for him. Maybe it was a dream, something she'd idealized him to be that wasn't truly there in reality. He just looked at her, his face completely void of emotion or expression.

"I'm leaving on Wednesday for six weeks," he finally said.

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you just telling me this now?"

"I just found out."

"Ok."

"Don't be like that."

"Can you come over tomorrow?"

"What is tomorrow? Sunday? Okay, I don't have to work."

"Good, I'll see you then."

He stood up and she reached out for his hand as he turned to walk back up the stairs. Their fingers touched, just for a brief second before he pulled his hand out of hers. She felt the loss flow from her like liquid as she circled the floor and returned to her friends. A good night again, but still not what she was hoping for.

 

 

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Day #12: Obedience

"Get down on your knees," he said as she met him at the door, "take off my shoes and tell me how much you missed me."

She fell to her knees almost before the words left his mouth. As she reached forward to untie the muddied laces of his sneakers she whispered, "I'm so glad you're here with me, Master, I missed you very much."

"Good slave," he said, looking down at her and stroking her golden hair. His voice sent shivers through her. The smooth sound of it was something that could never be matched on the phone or through emails.

When she'd finished with his shoes she stood and walked with him over to the couch, letting him lay down and taking her usual place on the floor.

"Take off your clothes," he said nonchalantly. She reached for the top button on her caramel hued khakis, but was stopped abruptly by his hand reaching out to grab her wrist. "No, stand up first." She obeyed, feeling a tinge of embarrassment run through her as she began to undress with the bright light of her torchiere illuminating her entire body. She pulled her pink, long-sleeved shirt over her head and let it drop through her fingers onto the floor. Her gaze locked on his eyes as she watched him explore her svelte body. She bent over all the way to the floor as she slid her pants off, giving him a uninhibited view of her slim profile. She reached to remove her tiny white cotton thong, the one that he'd instructed her to wear, but again he stopped her.

"Leave it on, it looks good on you," he said in that same intoxicating voice that made her completely his. "I want you to get some things for me. Go to the bedroom and get the rope, the handcuffs, the whip, and the belt."

"Yes, Master," she replied quickly, running off to get what he'd asked for. When she returned to him she saw that he'd brought over a chair from her dining room table and placed in about a foot in front of the couch. It was an armless chair made of brushed chrome and dark blue microfiber upholstery. He'd situated it such that the back of the chair was to the right. She was curious, but simply set down the equipment in front of him and waited for further instruction.

"Lay down on the chair, slave,"

She walked over to it, unsure of exactly what he wanted her to do.

"I want you facing away from me. Put your stomach down on it, reach down the other side and grab the bottom of the legs."

As she laid across it, he came around to the other side of her and began to tie her wrists to the chair legs. She could just barely press her palms to the floor and still have her knees touching the floor on the other side. When he'd finished, he asked, "can you move your arms?"

She tried squirming a little bit, but found herself tightly bound in place. She was resting her chin on the very edge of the padded seat, her hair flooding over her face so that all she could see was the carpet below her. Content that she was now his captive, he stood and walked behind her to sit on the couch. She realized he must have had quite a view of her, her ass in the air and her legs spread to keep her balance.

Then, to her surprise, he reached for the tv remote and flipped it on. She could hear the sounds of a football game just beginning. Her ears perked at the announcer's voice. Washington versus Tampa Bay, playoffs. It was quite another surprise when she felt him set his legs down on her back, relegating her to a footrest.

"Are you comfortable, slut?" he asked, his eyes remaining focused on the television.

"Yes, Master," she said without a thought. The truth was that the extra weight of his legs was pushing her hips almost unbearably into the chrome frame of the chair. Her wrists were bent back at ninety degrees to help her stay upright, and her hands were already beginning feel cold from the lack of circulation. She tried to find a comfortable way to rest her head, but the seat of the chair just wasn't large enough to support the length of her torso.

"Good bitch, I'm going to leave you like this for a while. You make a very good footrest for me."

"Thank you, Master," she replied, shifting a little from side to side still trying to relieve some of the aching in her body.

"Stop moving!" he yelled, pulling his feet back and bringing the whip cracking down on her upper back. She hadn't even realized he'd been holding it in his hand. She whimpered at the sudden blow, thrilling him. He loved the sound of her pain more than almost anything else. The delicious noises she made when he hit her only served to egg him on. He dragged the tails of the whip across her back and let them fall down her thighs and between her legs, watching her shiver. Every once in a while he would bring the whip up into the air, but would always wait an indefinite amount of time before bringing it down again, savoring the look of her tensed body as she tried to stay still for him.

When he'd striped her body with red welts to his satisfaction, he set the whip down at his side and bent down over her, covering her almost entirely.

"You love it when your master beats you, don't you, slut," he said into her ear, not giving the slightest hint that it was anything more than a statement of fact.

"Yes, Master."

He roamed his strong hands over her helplessly tied body, savoring the feel of her soft, silky skin. He stopped when he reached the tiny waistband of her thong and sighed, breathing into her ear. "You look so good in this, I think I'll just leave you tied to this chair for a while so I can look at your ass pointed up in the air for me any time I feel like it." He pulled his hand back and swatted her bare bottom fiercely. She yelped, trying desperately not to move. He leaned back as he watched the red outline of his hand appear. First a pale red eventually blending into a medley of dark, deep purples. He delighted in the way she bruised so easily for him.

He back off her again and drew the fingernails of his right hand up her inner thigh, leaving five crimson streaks in his wake. When he reached the top of her thigh, he slid two fingers underneath the skimpy fabric of her panties and began to stoke back and forth, covering his fingers in her slick juices.

"Mmmm slave," he moaned, "you're so wet for me already, you must really love this." He continued rubbing, his rhythmic motions sending her head spinning as he avoided all of the spots he knew were the most sensitive on her. She tried to press against his hand but could only grind her hips deeper into the metal frame of the chair. Her moans were thick with frustration as she sought just the slightest release from this new, spine-tingling torture.

"You've been a really good girl for me tonight, not even one complaint about the chair," he said in a deep, low voice. It was a tone that elicited complete and utter control over her every sensibility. He brought his hand around to her mouth and she eagerly licked it clean just the way he had taught her to do, tasting the sweetness of her own arousal. He felt himself start to become hard as her tongue glided over him. The sheer visual appeal of her desperate situation made it almost impossible for him to keep from fucking her immediately. But he knew he had to wait, there was so much more he wanted to do with her before the night was over. Pulling away from her, he resumed his seat on the couch and put his legs up on her back once again. She didn't understand why, but somehow this strange humiliation sent waves of desire through her.

An hour or so passed before he finally spoke to her again. By now her hands and legs were shaking, and a glossy sheen of sweat covered her forehead from the extra strain of breathing with her chest pressed down into the seat cushion by his legs.

"Are you uncomfortable, slut?"

"No, Master," came an instant reply.

"Good girl. I'm going to untie you now and I want you to crawl to the bedroom and lay down on the bed," he said as he knelt down in front of her and began to undo the knots about her wrists. He felt how cold her hands were and wondered if they were numb, but did not ask. When he'd removed the rope he gathered her long hair in one of his hands and yanked her head back. Without warning he laid a heavy slap on her cheek with his other hand, bringing forth a sharp cry through clenched teeth from her. He grabbed her chin and forced it up.

"Look at me," he said, staring into glassy eyes. "I'm going to beat the shit out of you tonight and you are going to love every minute of it, got that bitch?"

"Yes, Master, " she answered, now visibly shaking.

"Okay, now go do what I told you to do," he said as he stood and picked up the belt and the handcuffs from the couch. "Bring the rope too," he added.

She gathered the white nylon rope in her hands and quickly made her way to the bedroom on her hands and knees. She heard him walking up behind her as she passed through the doorway, and was about to get up to move onto the bed she felt the leather of the belt drive deep into the skin of her lower back. Her head immediately hit the floor as she collapsed with the weight of the completely unexpected strike, and a loud, low groan escaped her lips. For a moment she couldn't move, the pain completely encompassing her body and leaving her falling hopelessly into the depths of the most brutal anguish. He stood behind her sporting a broad smile and watching the beautiful agony on her face as she tried so hopelessly to pick herself back up off the floor. The belt now hung loosely, innocently from his left hand. He'd been winding up for the blow for several feet before he reached her, almost breaking out into a jog behind her to add a little extra momentum.

"Get the fuck off the floor, cunt. I told you to get on the bed!" he growled at her, reaching under her body and shoving her up toward the mattress.

As she landed on the soft plush blanket spread across her large bed, she was almost confused by the sudden feeling of comfort on her skin. But the confusion didn't last, however, as within a moment he was on top of her, ripping the nylon out of her hands and pulling loose the pieces that he would need. He wrapped a length of the rope around his waist, secured it with a knot, and then tied the other end around her wrists leaving about ten inches of length between her hands and his torso, and a long piece hanging loose at the end so that he could pull on her if he needed to. He rolled off of her onto his back and she scrambled to her knees to keep from being dragged by her wrists.

"Pull the thong off and get on top of me," he ordered, interested to see how she would fair in taking off her panties while her wrists bound to him as they were. She squirmed on the bed, eventually pulling the thin fabric down her thighs and using her feet to get them the rest of the way off. As she straddled him, he began to pump his cock inside her, drawing out a long series of moans from her.

"Fuck me," he said, bring his thrusting to a slow halt, "fuck your Master."

She began to bounce up and down, riding him almost uncontrollably as she began to feel pulsating waves of pleasure mount within her. Her thighs shook with the exertion of repeatedly lifting her body without her hands to help support her. After several minutes of this her muscles burned so badly she didn't think she could continue for much longer. Sensing her fatigue he pulled her toward him, pressing their chests together.

"Just lay for a minute," he whispered, "just lay."

She was breathing hard now, her aching limbs pleading with her to rest. She nuzzled her head up against his neck and felt him wrap his arms around her as she drew in long breaths. For a moment she thought she might have drifted into a shallow sleep, but was quickly reminded of what she was doing when he pulled her back up by her hair.

"Fuck, I'm getting soft," he snarled at her. "What's the matter with you, are you not a good fuck, girl? Can't even keep your master hard?"

With that last stabbing remark he brought his hands in violent slaps across the sweet skin of her face three times in succession, once from the left, then the right, then the left again. It something he hadn't done since the first night they were together, and it sent a torrent of electrifying pain through her. As she looked down at him, he thought she looked so sublime: on the verge of tears at her failure, willing to do anything to please him. He reached up for her and brought her face down next to his once again, his lips right up against her ear.

In the softest voice he could manage he whispered to her, "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, the only woman I ever want. When we aren't together you are always on my mind, always in my heart. I love you so much, baby." He granted her a brief moment to let the words sink in before he pushed her back up.

"Now try again cunt," he said, bringing her hips down on his cock again. They continued like this for a while until he'd exhausted every shred of resistance she might have had left in her. When he was satisfied he lifted her up and rolled on top of her. He picked up a black satin blindfold from the corner of the bed and fastened it around her head.

"Can you see?" he asked. She shook her head. "Good." Unfastening the knot at his waist, he pulled her off the bed and over to the bed room door. He looped the long free end of the rope over the top of the door and tied it to the knob on the other side., forcing her to stretch her arms high over her head and lift her heels off the floor. He shut the door and pressed her face first up against it. The sudden cold of of the wood against her skin sent a shock through her body making her suddenly more alert.

He backed away from her and surveyed his work. Her long arms were stretched above her, the muscles of her shoulders hazily outlined in the deep shadows draped over her from the dim light of the bedroom. He could see the amethyst colored slash on her lower back where he'd hit her with the belt. 'Beautiful,' he thought, but this canvas was still almost completely untouched. Several deep breaths helped him calm himself. He didn't want anything to happen too fast tonight. It would be a test of endurance for both of them.

She felt the smooth satin of the blindfold against her closed eyes, the icy wooden door pressing up against her bare skin, the nylon rope digging into her wrists and forcing her hands as high as she could possibly reach. She knew he was behind her somewhere, but couldn't make out his exact position. She wondered for a moment if not knowing what was coming was good or bad, easier or more difficult. All she could do was let go of herself and let it happen. Surrender.

"Every time I hit you I want you to say 'More please, Master," she heard him command from over her right shoulder. He was so close now that she could feel his breath on her neck. He didn't touch her but his smooth voice wrapped around her from every direction, holding her as tightly as the rope.

The force of the first blow took her by surprise, the balls of her feet digging into the floor to keep her balance as her body wracked against the pain.

"More please, Master," she said, her voice calm and stable. A practiced response.

Again and again and again the strokes of the belt came, and still she asked for more. Eventually the satin blindfold drifted it's way down until it settled around her neck, but she wasn't sure if this new sense was a gift or a curse. Out of the corner of her right eye she could see him winding up, and she couldn't help but tense up in anticipation.

"You know it hurts so much more when you tense like that. Do you need the blindfold again?"

"No, Master."

She stood defiant despite her desperate situation, despite the fact that they could could both feel her wearing down more and more each minute the assault continued.

"How much will you take for me, little girl?" he asked, standing next to her now but still being careful not to graze her skin and take away from the sensations of the red welts now covering most of her back and thighs.

"I'm less fragile than you think I am," she replied, shaking slightly.

He laughed at that, admiring her strong-willed attitude because he knew he could break it.

"You don't think you'd cry for me?"

There was a pause, then, "no, Master."

"Oh you will, you will cry. I've only just begun tearing you down tonight, slave."

With that he stepped back and sent the belt wailing through the air again, letting it wrap around her midsection and deliver most of its force at the very tip. He saw her face twist in pain, but before it could develop fully he had whipped the belt against her again, this time wrapping around her other side. She opened her mouth but no words came out, only gasping breaths tinged in absolute torment.

"I told you to ask for more!" he snapped. In one stride he was behind her, digging his fingernails into her upper back and dragging them down across the multitude of stripes and bruises cries-crossing her skin.

She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid at the same time that her acquiescence would cause him to continue or to stop. The pain raged through her like a wild-fire, unending and terrifying, but someone how she couldn't let it go, didn't want to let it go.

"M..more p..please...Master," she managed to eke out, stumbling over the words.

"Mmm, my little slut likes the pain so much she can hardly speak. How exquisite," he said as he reached for the doorknob and pulled the door back, causing her to jump. "We'll see how much you like what I have planned for you next."

He untied the rope from the other side of the door and brought the long strands back around to the front, pushing the door shut again and leading her toward the middle of the room.

"Put your arms up in the air," he said facing her as they stood next to the bed. He was still holding the belt, neatly folded in half and loosely hanging at his side. She obeyed, stretching her lithe body out as far as she could, but when she saw him bring the belt over his shoulder to hit her again, fear overpowered her and she stepped back, bringing her arms into her chest. The look he gave her then might have been worth the pain of the belt, she thought as she stared into his fiercely blue eyes. He didn't say a word.

"Sorry..." she trailed off, stepping cautiously forward again and replacing her hands in the air. Behind his stone cold stare he was laughing at her now, knowing that it wouldn't take much more.

When the belt struck her skin again, this time right between her breasts with a force that seemed to mimick a freight train, she found herself almost immediately on the ground. Her knees slammed into the carpet, her bound wrists between the floor and her forehead.

He set the belt down on the bed and bent down to pick her up, lifting her onto the bed and laying her on her back. She opened her eyes to look up at him and felt a tidal wave of lust flowing down onto her. She reached up to touch his face, her wrists still tied tightly together, but he caught her arms and forced them back over her head.

"Oh no, girl, you aren't done yet. Don't move," he said, reaching across the bed for another piece of rope. He wrapped it around her ankles several times and knotted it, then grabbed the strand connected to her wrists and began to tug them both toward him. As she slid across the bed she only had a moment to realize what was going to happen before she felt her body crash into the ground at the side of the bed. She heard him laugh sadistically as he lifted her legs high into the air and picked up the belt once more. Now she had full view of exactly what was happening to her, and decided instantly that the blindfold made things much easier to take. He brought the belt down on the back of her upper thighs, creating a spine-tingling, wrenching sensation throughout her entire body. Within moments of this new position she was a tangled mess of incoherent sobs, but still he didn't stop. From above her the belt rained down, digging further into her soul with every stoke.

It would be a good five minutes before he felt her try to kick her legs free of his grasp. He let go and she rolled over onto her side, curling into a ball and pressing her face against her hands.

"Please..." she begged him, her voice cracking, her cheeks now tear stained and red.

The belt dropped from his hand and he knelt down, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes before kissing her forehead. He laid down next to her and held her against his chest as the tears continued to stream down her face. She was shaking almost inconsolably, but seemed to be calming ever so slightly now that his arms were wrapped tightly around her.

"Amazing," he whispered to her, "simply amazing."

Even after all the time they'd spent together and everything they'd been through, she had never been more completely his than at that very moment. They slept together on floor that night, entangled so deeply in each other that nothing could have pulled them apart.

Monday, January 30, 2006

Day #13: Training

"Hello slave," he said as he stepped through the doorway. She knew immediately from the tone of his voice that he had a scene planned for her that night. It was heavy and the words seemed to hover in the air between them, cementing her feet to the floor. She studied his face and his crisp, almost formal appearance, his smooth features and his clearly defined jaw, his lightly tanned skin and short spiked blond hair. He stood before her like a statue, looking down at her with azure eyes divulging nothing.

As their eyes met he reached out his right hand grabbed her neck, pushing her back against the wall next to the closet. "Did I give you permission to look at me, slut?" he yelled.

Surprised but wary of her behavior, she resisted reflexively pulling away from the hand that was nearly choking her. "Sorry, Master, I...I didn't mean..." she faltered, her voice a mixture of awe and apprehension.

"How long have we been together now?" he asked, still pressing her against the wall.

"Two months, two months and two days."

"I don't feel we've had very much time to spend on your training. I can't have a slave that isn't properly trained, can I?"

She shook her head, being careful to keep her gaze no higher than his shoulders. He retracted his hand and pushed her over toward the living room couch. In three long strides he was in front of her again, his stare still burning down on her.

"Get down on your knees. Sit back, with the balls of your feet on the ground and your hands on your knees. Look down, not at me."

She obeyed, noticing how much more empowering this position was for him. He seemed miles above her, yet completely encompassing.

"Good girl, this is what I want you to do when I say 'kneel'. Now stand up."

As she stood he took great care in positioning her arms and legs just the way he preferred. Shoulders back, hands clasped behind her, feet ever so slightly spread apart.

"This is always how you still stand before me, slave. I won't accept anything else." Satisfied with her posture, he sat down on the couch to admire his property. She always looked so proud, so confident, but he didn't mind. He derived so much pleasure from tearing her apparent fearlessness away from her every night they spent together.

"Ok, kneel."

She was on her knees in an instant exactly the way he'd instructed her, then without thinking she looked up into his eyes to see if she'd pleased him with her quick response. The second she had done it she was immediately sorry. She saw his face harden and his hand pull back to strike her, but she fell backwards out of his reach and put her hands up over her face. Although he knew her recoil was purely instinctive, he was determined to break her of the annoying habit.

"I'm sorry, I'm-" she managed to squeak out, but was interrupted by his hand around her neck again and his body crushing down on her.

"Bitch, I told you not to look at me!" he said through clenched teeth. "And then you back away when I'm trying to punish you?"

He pressed her firmly into the carpet and held her head and neck in place with his vice-like grip. She squeezed her eyes shut as the open palm of his other hand smacked across her cheek, leaving a bright red mark in it's aftermath.

"Open your fucking eyes. This time I want you looking straight at me, don't close your eyes, and don't you dare think about moving," he said angrily, feeding off the fear now registered clearly on her face. She opened her eyes and saw his hand rise again, but an instant before it hit her she winced and jerked against him in anticipation.

"I can't!" she cried, the stinging in her face and the emotion tearing through her making her glassy eyes shine up at him. He felt a hint of regret for hitting her so hard when he saw the way she was looking at him, but he never would have let her see it.

He stood and pulled her to her feet by the collar of her shirt. Brushing her hair out of her face he said with as little inflection as possible, "go into the bedroom, take off your clothes, and kneel on the floor with your forehead up against the back wall. Don't move until I tell you you are allowed to. I'm going to give you at least an hour to think about how you can make your rude behavior up to me."

When he'd finished with her orders, the room had never seemed so silent. She simply nodded and turned to walk away, not daring to look up.

 

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Day #14: Captive

She heard him step into the room from over her shoulder, but kept her forehead pressed against the wall and her eyes lightly closed. Her hands were clasped behind her back and her legs folded neatly under her. In the midst of deep, concentrated breathes, she had lost track of how long she had been kneeling there waiting for him. His feet brushed against the thick carpet of the room as he walked, letting her know when he finally came up behind her and knelt down.

He felt the heat radiating off of her naked skin when he reached a hand out to pull a few strands of loose hair back behind her ear. Her figure remained still despite his nearness, an ivory cast before him.

"Did you miss me, slave?" he asked, his voice pouring over her like warm water.

"Yes, Master," she murmured, her lips barely in motion.

"Good girl, you've been in here an hour. Hopefully you learned your lesson."

She inhaled sharply as she felt cold metal pins press against the soft skin of her back, just to the left of her spine. The sensation trailed downward, then back up again, smoothly weaving from side to side. She shivered from the strange thrill it produced within her, so carefully calculated by his masterful hands as the pressure varied from feather-light to almost unbearably forceful.

He watched the goosebumps form on her skin as he roamed the pinwheel over her body, enraptured by the site of this willing captive under his complete control. When he'd had enough he set the pinwheel down and pulled her long, streaming blonde hair back behind her shoulders. She felt him wrap a smooth piece of leather around her neck and pull it tight, buckling it securely. He then attached a heavy, chain-link leash to a D-ring on the front of the collar. The cold metal made her shiver even more as it brushed her skin, and she felt the weight of it pressing down on her as if it were the weight of her own master's touch.

"Turn around and stand up," he ordered, grasping the braided nylon handle of the leash in his left hand. As she stood she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind him. The collar was white, delicate and wicked at the same time. Seeing it around her neck, the leash weaving loosely through his fingers, made her feel so unconditionally his. From the look in his eyes she knew he felt the same. He devoured her with his stare, a precursor of everything that was to come. Her gaze traced the contours of the muscles of his bare chest. Tan sweatpants hung lazily at his hips, only accentuating the toned form of his body.

He stepped toward her, so close that their faces nearly touched, and pulled the leash taught so that she would feel the pressure at her neck. In that moment they lost themselves in one another, their hands entwining, skin against skin. He kissed her then, letting his lips press down on hers with all of the raw emotion he felt for her.

His hands found their way up to her shoulders and pressed her backwards into the bed. He lifted her up and set her in the middle of the large expanse of blankets, climbing on top of her in an instant. His grip was now much higher on the leash, leaving only about a foot of length between his hand and her neck.

"Why are you my slave, bitch?" he growled, hardly able to contain himself now at the site of his slave wearing the newly purchased collar.

"Because I want to make you happy, Master," she answered, watching the motions of his hand as he pulled ever tighter on the chain.

"What if seeing you in pain makes me happy?"

"Then it makes me happy too, Master."

"Good girl," he said, smiling now. He surveyed her body spread out under him, noting a bright red spot on her knee that looked like a rug burn. "Did I do that?"

"Yes."

"Good. You deserve it. My slut deserves to be in pain, doesn't she," he said, slapping her across the face then grabbing her lower jaw and forcing her head back into the bed. The palm of his other hand pressed the cold metal of the leash into her chest. As he watched her wince and gasp for breath, he listened attentively and kept a close check of her breathing. He felt her cough slightly under the pressure, but she offered no resistance.

"Doesn't she, slut??" he repeated, lifting his hand from her chest and smacking it against her face repeatedly as he held her still by her chin. Her cheek turned a bright crimson almost immediately amidst the onslaught.

"Yes, Master," she whimpered, barely able to move her jaw enough to speak.

He let go of her chin and pushed the fingers of both of his hand between her neck and the collar, pulling it upwards and leaning down so that his face was up against hers.

"And you'll do anything I say, won't you, slave?"

She shook her head up and down, too stunned to speak.

"We'll see. Turn over, get on your knees and put your ass in the air."

As she obeyed he got off the bed and picked up from the floor the weapon that she feared most. Although she couldn't see it she knew from the sound of the gentle metal clanking of the buckle that it was the leather belt. So simple yet so brutal. As she waited for the first strike she felt weightless, somehow hovering between two worlds - one that was reality and one that would save her from the anguish she knew would come.

When the belt finally kissed her pale skin it came with a force so strong at first she felt nothing at all. The area was immediately numb. But then the waves of pain crashed over her as she buried her forehead deep into the blankets below her. She forced her arms to keep her from collapsing with the weight of the strike.

"That might have been the hardest I've ever hit you, slave. It's already making a really nice mark on your lower back. Are you ready for another one?"

"Yes, Master," she said quietly, trying to keep the words from being laced with trepidation.

Each time the belt came down it was the same. The thick leather pushed into her skin with the same force with every swing of his wrist. He always paused to watch the pain register on her face however long it took. He wanted her to feel every ounce of agony before he renewed it.

After the fourth stroke he came around to the side of the bed and pushed her down, rolling her over onto her back.

"Put your arms above your head," he instructed, his voice flooded with an intoxicating tone. As she stretched her arms up to the headboard of the bed he added, "Keep your eyes open. Watch the belt come down every time."

This was one of the orders she dreaded most. It always caused her body to tense before the strike, making the pain infinitely worse. She didn't know how many times he hit her - she let her mind become lucid and blank, only snapping back to reality the next time he spoke.

"One more," he said, knowing exactly what he was doing by pulling her out of her trance-like state. She saw the belt come down as his wrist snapped sharply, and the pain raged through her again, renewed in all it's intensity.

"I lied, this time one more."

The last strike hit her across her upper chest, cutting into her so fiercely she could no longer keep her arms stretched out. He watched her roll onto her side away from him and pull her arms into her chest. He knew she didn't want him to see her face, thinking she had disappointed him by not being able to withstand any more. Silently he stood towering over her, staring down with eagle-eyes at her exquisite form laying on the bed before him.

The soft, cool fabric of the white down comforter pressed lightly against her skin. She pulled labored breaths in through her mouth, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. She felt her warm breaths rushing over her hands and found respite in the gentle rhythmic sensation. Every so often a quiet moan would escape her lips, but eventually she began to pacify.

After a few minutes of watching her, he knelt down at the side of the bed and almost imperceptably began to stroke his hand through her hair.

"Baby, baby, baby," he whispered, "you make me so proud."

It was then and only then that she felt the tears begin to rush down her face. Everything that she had been holding inside her came out in torrents. As she began to shake uncontrollably she felt his arms wrap around her and his body cover hers. She'd been hanging on desperately to the edge of a cliff and just as the last finger slipped he was there pulling her back. She turned her head to look up at him and saw the genuine concern in his face. At that moment she was utterly captivated by him, held there more by his eyes staring down at her than his body wrapped around her, and wondering why it had taken her so long to realize what she was truly looking for.