She was trembling as she read the note. It was very brief, almost terse. It read
simply... "I am very disappointed in you. If you wish to make amends for your
misdeeds, you will present yourself to me at 5PM today. Do not be late." ...and
it was unsigned. She knew exactly what it meant, and the thought chilled her.
She scanned it over and over, searching for some sign of forgiveness, some
glimmer of gentleness, but there was none. She knew she was going to suffer, and
she trembled at the thought. She had disappointed him, of course. She understood
that. They had been at the restaurant, sitting side by side in the booth, eating
and chatting casually, and as he had turned away and scooped up his glass, she
saw his arm slip below the table and felt the brush of his light fingertips on
her thigh... moving slowly... stroking... The fingers drifted up under her skirt
and she had closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation of the slow, methodical
approach toward her sex... and just as they left the material of her stocking,
and began to tickle lightly, high up, over the skin of her thigh, bare inches
from her sex, the waiter was suddenly there before them, asking if everything
was all right. It was a reflex, she told herself, not willfulness. She didn't
mean to close her legs so suddenly... didn't mean to dart her own hand down and
take his wrist, pulling it from her skin, forbiddingly... didn't mean to push
her skirt back into place... didn't mean to blush and stammer a few confused
words which sent the waiter away with a puzzled but amused expression on his
face... it had just happened. When the waiter had gone and he slowly turned to
look at her, his eyes were like ice. She had instantly realized what she'd done,
had denied him, and her stomach crawled into a tight knot in a moment. It stayed
knotted all the rest of that silent meal, and the even more deadly silent drive
home... He was still ever the gentleman, opening her door to take her from the
car, but having walked her safely to her portal, he watched, passively, as she
unlocked it, and when she turned to beckon him inside, she had seen those cold
eyes once more. "Not tonight" he had said, simply, turned and walked back
towards the car, leaving her standing heart-wrenched and sick on her stoop. She
had spent a restless night, desperate to pick up the phone, to call and
apologize, to weep and beg his forgiveness, to do anything that would melt the
icy glare she had seen in his expression... but she knew that if she did, that
would only anger him more, so instead she resigned herself to a solitary night,
and went to bed, where she tossed and turned and whispered her apologies to the
darkness... The next morning... this morning... this bright, clear Saturday
morning, she had gone out to bring in the paper from the stoop and had seen the
envelop tucked into the doorjamb. She had opened it, removed the single folded
page and scanned it... and felt her breath catch in her throat... It had finally
happened. After all their months together... all their intimate moments, their
soaring joy, their bold explorations together... she had finally earned the
dreaded punishment he had been hinting she might someday bring down upon
herself... He had never said what, exactly, it would be. Only that it would be
something she would remember for a long, long time... and the tone of his voice
and the sparkle from the corner of his eye when he mentioned it always sent a
chill rushing down her spine... and now, at last, it was upon her... She had
dressed carefully, hoping that when she presented herself, she would be so
pleasing to him that he would forget all about it and sweep her into his arms
once more, lost in his natural and abundant passion for her. She chose that
"special" teddy he loved so much.... the terribly naughty one, with the small
openings which allowed her nipples to peek through, and the split in the
crotch... The thigh high stockings that clung to her legs like a second skin,
and made her feel more erotic... more comfortable... more in control... Over
this wicked ensemble she donned a simple print dress and low heeled shoes.
Glancing at herself in the mirror, she had to smile. No one who saw her would
have a clue as to what lurked beneath the terribly prim and proper, simple,
sensible dress... But when she stripped it off, and revealed herself and the
treasures beneath.... he would surely forgive her... surely... Her finger was
trembling as it reached out and pressed the doorbell button. She straightened
her back and drew in a deep breath, to steady herself, expelling it slowly...
and felt a bit calmer. He was certainly not serious about all this. After all,
it was such a little thing... a reflex... He couldn't possibly blame her for
having a reflex... There was a long pause and then she heard the doorknob turned
and the door opened, revealing him... and when her eyes fell on his face, her
heart sank. There, behind those lovely, brown eyes was that ice, as wintry and
forbidding as before... not the slightest glimmer of anything save the mere
recognition that she had arrived and was on time. He stood silently, his eyes
drilling into hers, for a long span of heartbeats, then he stepped back from the
door to allow her entrance. "Come in" he said, his voice dark and calm. She
stepped through the door and turned to watch him close it behind her, before
moving past her, towards the kitchen, as if she wasn't even there. She started
to open her mouth to say something, but he was through the doorway and gone from
sight before the words had even formed. She felt her heart sink even lower, all
hope now fled. This was a crystallizing moment between them, and she knew it.
She knew she could turn and walk out the door, get back into her car and drive
away... but that if she did so, she would never dare see or speak with him
again. Or she could swallow her pride and fear and submit to whatever he had
planned for her and know with equal certainty that after this ordeal, whatever
it was, had finished, they would go on, as if nothing had occurred. But she had
gone over just these same thoughts endless times since last evening, and always
the same unshakable conclusion appeared before her. She would do anything...
anything, to earn his forgiveness. He emerged from the kitchen carrying one of
the large, heavy, wooden chairs that ringed his kitchen table, and upon sighting
her immediately stopped, holding the chair before him, his gaze fixed on her in
a mix of surprise, coolness and disappointment. "And is this how you present
yourself now" he said simply, and stood, waiting for her reaction. At first she
was confused. What did he mean? Was she not there, as he had ordered? Was she
not delivering herself into his hands for God alone knew what sort of activity?
And then it struck her, like a thunderbolt, what he meant. Quickly she dropped
her purse to the floor beside her and sank down on her knees, pulling her back
straight, her head erect, her arms already moving to clasp behind her neck, her
elbows splayed, knees firmly planted wide apart. He stood a long moment, eyeing
her, then simply gave an almost imperceptible nod and moved into the center of
the room, setting the chair down where it would face the television nestled in
the corner. Without a further look in her direction, he turned and moved back
toward the doorway, disappearing into the kitchen once more. She remained
rooted, willing herself not to move, not to tremble, not to make the smallest
sound. And for the very first time she suddenly realized that she didn't feel at
all foolish in this posture... even though there was no one to see her in it.
Because it had a purpose... to please him... to please him even if he was not
there to witness and enjoy it. And she began to realize that somehow she was
starting to understand their games a bit more deeply... that perhaps what she
had first taken for harmless fun and nonsense was, after all, somehow
important... had a meaning behind it... a purpose... not just for his
amusement... but for her as well... for her soul... He returned from the
kitchen, this time carrying the long coils of rope that her body was so familiar
with. He moved to where the chair was placed and dropped them on the floor
beside it, then turned his attention to her, eyeing her once more. "Do you know
why you're here tonight" he said simply. She nodded, and felt the blood rush
into her face, causing a deep blush. She wanted to lower her gaze from his,
avoid his eyes, but she willed herself to stare at him, as he had instructed
her. For the first time she saw his face soften, the hard edge fleeing to some
quiet corner and he sighed, swinging a leg over the chair and settling into it,
facing it's back, his arms draping across the back, casually, as he leaned to
rest his weary chin upon them. "I knew this would happen someday" he said, his
voice distant, as if musing. "You're only human. And you just don't understand,
do you. This has all been just a big game to you. A lot of pretending. You like
what I can do for you... to you... to your body. You like it when I can make you
cum, over and over... drive you crazy. Fuck your brains out. But you just don't
get it." He stared at her a long moment, then sighed and continued. "My love,
when I gave you that collar, and you accepted it, I wasn't just pretending. It
wasn't just a game to me. It was something like a marriage... more than that. It
was a commitment. It was you, giving your body and soul to me, and my agreement
to take care them and love them and cherish them. And all you had to do, all I
ever asked of you is that you obey me. That's it. Simple. And just because I
don't have you wearing your collar twenty-four hours a day, doesn't mean that
commitment suddenly stops." He stared at her in silence and she felt like
something being examined by a disinterested observer, as if she was a piece of
fruit that might be suddenly and instantly rejected if the slightest bruise is
noticed. He straightened up in the chair and his voice became firmer, more
business-like. "Last night, you rejected me... my touch. I understand we were in
public, and I understand that I hadn't done that before. And I also know that
you were simply reacting instinctively. You didn't think about it. But I
suddenly realized that I've neglected that part of your training. Maybe I've
been having a little too much fun myself... been a little lax with you, I don't
know. But I understand now that you've still got those... instincts. Those
reservations... and if we're going to continue... if this is going to mean
anything... then we've got to break you of them. Who knows. Someday we may be
walking through a shopping mall, and I may suddenly become overwhelmed by my
love for you... I may want to push you against a store window and ravage you,
right there... in front of God and everybody. I can't have you fighting me, now
can I. What it all comes down to is this... either I own you... or I don't. So,
that's what we're both going to have to decide. Right now." He rose from the
chair and stepped away, stopping and turning to her once more. "I'm going
upstairs for a moment. When I come back... if you're still here.... then we'll
continue. If you're not... then I'll understand." He turned and moved through
the doorway and was gone from sight. Her mind swam with the implications of his
little speech. So, this was it, finally... this was the threshold moment that
they'd been building towards all these months. Now it was either time to end it,
or to make that commitment that they had both toyed with and tickled but never
truly embraced. Her body began to shake, torn with a mixture of terror,
excitement and dark confusion. Is this truly what she wanted? Stepping through
this dark doorway into some new life, new sense of herself and her world...
offering herself completely to him, in ways she could as yet never imagine...
And just as quickly, the answer rushed to the fore of her brain... yes... oh
God, yes... She rose and began unbuttoning her dress with trembling fingers,
practically ripping loose the last few buttons and pulling it over her head,
tossing it aside. She kicked off her shoes and stepped further into the room,
sinking down on her knees once more and assuming the position he had taught her,
feeling a rush of eagerness well through her. She was ready now... at long last,
after all the teasing and toying... she was finally ready. And in the rush of
the thrill, she felt her sex begin to moisten. He stepped through the doorway
and stopped upon seeing her in that favorite of her wicked garments... and she
saw the smile spread on his lips... a smile of relief, of satisfaction and of
pride. But quickly he stifled it, pulling on the mask of sternness once more and
moving toward the chair. "Come here" he said simply. She rose, keeping her hands
clasped behind her neck and moving toward him. He nodded at the chair. "Sit
down". She lowered herself onto the soft upholstered seat, sitting well forward,
her back straight, now desperate to please him. "Lean back". She let her back
curve until she felt the high, strong support of the chair behind her. The angle
was awkward, but she tensed her stomach and held it, waiting for his further
direction. Instead he turned, picked up the rope from beside the chair,
extracted a single, long strand and reached to pick up her thigh, draping it
over the arm of chair and setting to work, lashing it in place there. She
suddenly felt her sex clench and a fresh flow of excited fluids begin to run
inside her. It throbbed once more when he lifted her other thigh and draped it
over the other arm, carefully securing it as well. The gap between her lower
back and the chair put a strain on her stomach muscles and she consciously
tightened them, though she could feel herself beginning to sag a bit... bending
just a touch, the pressure on her shoulders and neck becoming harder as they
were forced, harder, against the high back of the chair. But she watched,
fascinated and excited, as he took up another strand of the fine, thick, soft
rope and felt it wound around her ankle, and her leg being drawn inwards, until
it touched the chair leg and was tied, tightly, in place. In short order, her
other ankle was likewise secured, and she was sure that he could smell her
excitement, even as the first drops of it leaked from between the bare lips of
her sex. Moments later, he was standing behind her, buckling the restraints,
first around one wrist, and then the other, carefully lifting her hair out of
the way so that he could slip the link between the rings and secure them
together. This was a pleasantly new sensation, since before he had always bound
her hands together behind her back, and she had been a bit worried that the wide
back of the chair would bite into her elbows. But her relief was short-lived, as
she felt the rope fed through the link between the wrist cuffs, and slowly
pulled downwards, causing her arms to be drawn down, slowly, between her
shoulders. Her back arched to compensate, but the way her legs were pinned so
firmly, the upper portion of her spine merely bowed slightly and the aching in
her stretched shoulders began. Now her breasts were thrust up and forward, her
body drawn tight, like a tensed bow as he tied the wrist rope off to the lower
rung of the chair behind her and stood back to survey his handiwork. She could
already feel the beginnings of the aching... in her shoulders, in her spine and
in her legs... it was not pain, exactly... merely the first dull complaints of
joints and muscles stretched and pulled into unfamiliar and odd
configurations... but she knew that it would grow... as each moment passed, the
complaint would turn angry and soon her body would be throbbing from a hundred
places, sending those strange and oddly delicious waves through her. She felt
her mind begin to detach, as it tended to do in these situations, crawling down
inside her flesh and toying with each of the sensations, closely examining it
and feeding on it. But before she could focus on them, she felt him step behind
her once more and saw the ball gag lowered before her face and moved against her
lips. She used to hate the thing... it, more than anything else, made her feel
truly helpless, for while she could speak, she always had a sense of some
power... power to use her mind, to say something... to break the spell with a
joke or a comment. Once this thing was fastened into her mouth, that power was
gone and all that was left to her were the moans and whimpers of a totally
helpless creature. She closed her eyes and willed herself to open her lips,
feeling the acrid taste of the ball as it slipped between them and was pulled
deep, forcing her jaws wider than was comfortable as it was buckled behind her
head. She sighed and opened her eyes, watching as he moved around in front of
her, the clamps dangling from his fingertips. She looked up into his face, and
saw there a strange and unfamiliar glow in his eyes... a kind of possession...
and suddenly she was frightened. Was he in control? Would he remember her
limits? Would he honor them? He reached down and a single fingertip brushed
against her nipple, which poked through the opening in her silky garment...
teasing it. Instantly it responded, drawing up into a tight knot and sending a
tingle through her throbbing chest. But before she could close her eyes and
enjoy the sensation, his hands moved and she felt the bite of the clamp as it
slid around the nub of flesh, capturing it and beginning to constrict. A wave of
pressure from the pressed and delicate nerve-endings rippled through her breast
and then, abruptly, was chased away by the rush of pain as he pressed the clamp
tighter, and tighter... She moaned in alarm, hoping that he would relent but the
wave continued to flow from the tormented nipple, like a dull electric current
suddenly coursing from the point of contact. Her other nipple had already
responded, tightening to an angry red knot and when that, too, was clamped the
entire front of her body erupted in throbs of overwhelming feelings. She could
feel her back beginning to twitch, tightening and loosening, as if attempting to
shake off the grip of the clamps, but of course it did no good. Finally it
seemed to give up the struggle and relaxed, her body sagging even deeper into
the gap between her spine and the upright of the chair. Her pelvis was rolled
flatter now, and she could see obscene opening in the crotch of her teddy
splayed wide, her hairless mons bulging through it, the lips of her sex
glistening with the droplets of her excitement. It was with a kind of
fascination that she watched him take up the chain that ran between the nipple
clamps and hold it against the exposed curve of the gag in her mouth... and she
realized that there must be some sort of loop there, for she would feel the
vibration of the links as they were fed through the hole and pulled... The slack
was quickly removed from the chain and she could just sense the first additional
pressure on her nipples when his fingers made small, delicate movements before
her mouth and tied the chain in place. She knew that she could raise her head
and the chain would pull up on her nipples, sending even more ripples through
her... but with all the other sensations assaulting her, she did not know if she
would be able to stand it, so she resolved to keep her head bent forward. That,
however, was not what he had planned. He moved behind her once more and she
whimpered in sudden alarm when she felt the headband slip down over her forehead
and secured behind her. Surely he didn't mean to... to... Then she felt her head
being pulled slowly back and up, the taut scraping of the rope attached to the
headband against the back of her neck as it was fed down through the top of the
chair back, one slow coiled strand at a time. Her head tilted upwards and the
chain attached to the gag drew her nipples along with it, stretching them,
lifting her breasts even further, pulling them tight. Just as the pain rolled
through her and she felt that she would have to scream behind the tormenting
gag, all movement ceased, and she felt the brush of his fingers as he tied off
the rope behind her. She was now bound more tightly, more securely and more
uncomfortably than she had even been in any of their previous games... Every
muscle hung, tense, knowing that if they should relax, that would only send
greater pressure into some tormented part of her elsewhere. But in spite of the
discomfort, in spite of the potential that her own body might inadvertently add
to her suffering, the overwhelming sense of it, the wickedness, the
helplessness, the sensation of being part of this inanimate collection of
objects... a piece of some diabolical work of art... caused her sex to clench
tightly and squeeze a small gush of fluids from her... which she felt leak down
and trickle over her naked lips and ass, pooling in the fabric of the chair
beneath her. He stepped around in front of her once more and crossed his arms,
like a craftsman surveying a nearly completed labor. Casually, he reached out
and let a finger curl around the chain which ran from one nipple to the gag, and
lightly plucked it, like a violin string. A shot of pain rippled through her,
first from the nipple closest to the touch, rushing through the gag and into the
other nipple. She even felt the faint sympathetic vibration of the rope from the
back of the headband. Jesus God, she thought, marveling... feeling her body now
a part of this monstrous contrivance... a conducting coil for the slightest
movement in any of its' parts. He nodded slowly to himself, satisfied, and
turned to the television set, flipping it on. The screen glowed blue and blank
as he reached up and turned on the VCR next to it, picking up a video tape and
feeding it into the door where it sank out of sight with a series of clicks. He
pressed the play button and stepped back, taking a place beside her, his
attention focused on the screen. The set leapt to life with a burst of snow,
then a picture quickly formed... and she instantly recognized it... it was this
very room... the curtains drawn tight over the windows... and there, on the
screen, she saw herself from... when was it.... two months ago?... kneeling,
facing the camera as he stepped from behind it, the restraints dangling from his
hand as he approached her. She moaned in remembrance of that sweet moment, the
first time he had slipped the same restraints over her wrists that now held her
tormented arms up and back over her head. She watched, fascinated, as the scene
from that long ago night was displayed before her... her slow, gentle binding...
the gathering of her limps together... the rolling over onto her stomach... the
pulling up and hogtieing.... his kneeling beside her and beginning his slow,
gentle, incessant exploration of her body... She wanted to turn to him, see his
face as he shared this memory with her, but the slight flinch of her head
towards him shot a new wash of pain through her nipples and she froze, allowing
it to ease. She was trapped, daring not to move. The scene suddenly flickered
and changed... now she was tied, spread eagle, on his four poster bed, and he
was atop her, kneeling beside her, his hand reaching down to stroke her sex
while with the other he firmly and steadily flicked the short flogger at her
chest, so that it's loose strands stung and tickled her breasts and stomach....
She could feel her sex throbbing now, with the memory of the pleasure he had
given her that night... working itself, straining to find a climax... Again, the
scene changed... and she saw herself suspended, her arms pulled high up over her
head, her legs held wide by the long spreader bar. And behind her swaying body
she could see the outline of his own, and recalled that at this moment, his cock
was slowly slipping into her ass for the very first time... filling and
stretching her... And as the image of that heady night poured into her eyes and
filled her soul, she suddenly felt the press of something against the tight bud
of her ass. She dropped her eyes, straining to look down and could see that his
hand was now there, holding the long, thin, jelly vibrator, pressing it against
her opening... and it was ice cold. Instinctively, her eyes flicked back to the
screen and as she watched her own violation, her own surrender... she felt the
vibrator nuzzle between the tight muscles and sink, steadily, into her, sending
a rush of chills and excitement deep into her body. When it was fully seated,
she felt it leap to life, a dull tingle from it's sweet dance rippling through
her insides and causing her entire frame to begin to tremble. She closed her
eyes, drinking in the waves of pleasure, seasoned with the aches of her
bindings, and when she opened them again, the scene before her had changed once
again... Now she was kneeling on the bed, above his prone body, her wrists
cuffed behind her, her body rising and falling, his cock sinking into her sex
and reappearing with each thrust of her legs as she fucked him, rode him,
swallowed him into herself... And his hand, reaching around behind her slapping
down hard upon her ass, his flat palm sending a resounding crack into her
delicate skin and driving her up with every blow.... And she felt the press of
something large and hard against the swollen lips of her sex, and knew without
looking that he was impaling her there as well... and felt the wide head of the
device parting her glistening, moist lips and sliding into her... and then the
shock as it too began to vibrate deep inside her. Her whole body was alive with
sensation now, tingling and aching and flashing and buffeted by sharp twinges
and dull throbs... and still the scenes continued to assault her eyes... every
wicked game they had ever played... every heady experiment upon her flesh...
every new and diabolical binding... all stripped of any subtlety and reduced to
their essence before her... her tearing apart... the flaying of her soul... the
rape of her heart and mind... the surrender of each tiny portion of her... her
slow, steady, deliberate, wonderful transformation.... Her body was screaming
now, aching and longing to cum.. needing to explode, to burst, to erupt from the
unceasing tension in her limbs and mind... But it could not. Instead it hung,
suspended, over a fiery, fluid pit, feeling the waves of its' heat, scorching
her, but she could not shake herself loose, tumble down, splash its surface and
be consumed... She was moaning now, a low, constant keening sound of frustration
and helplessness, like a whimpering animal... and tears were welling in her
eyes, overflowing and rolling down her cheeks... This was agony, beyond her
imagination... and ecstasy past all understanding... a blend of the two poles of
her sexuality, swirling together inside her, washing over her and staining every
nerve. Oh master, she thought as she felt her soul tearing free and beginning to
rise, drift and float above her trembling, sobbing, bound, helpless, tormented
body... Oh my beloved master... She only vaguely focused on him as he rose from
where he knelt beside her and turned toward the doorway behind and to her
left... and nodded. She was too distracted to make any sense of the gesture,
until the woman stepped around her other side and stood staring down at her. Oh
God, she suddenly realized.... Jen.... Her best friend... the lover of her
forbidden fantasies on many lonely nights... He looked down at her for a long
moment, the only sounds now those of her low, constant moan punctuated by the
shrill cries of her past orgasms echoing from the television... Then, very
quietly, he spoke. "One full hour. And remember... don't let her cum." And then
he stepped around behind her and she could sense him settling into the easy
chair off in the corner of the room, as Jen smiled wickedly down at her, and
raised her hands... one of which contained the long, thin candle... and the
other, in which her fingers toyed with the lighter...
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