by Shay Savage
She’s beautiful. The clothing she’d worn earlier had left her body covered, and this is the first chance I’ve had to really see her. Her pale flesh looks smooth, and she has only the faintest tan around her arms and legs, so it doesn’t disrupt the flow of her skin. She’s curved—really curved like a woman should be. She’s small in stature, and it accentuates the lovely shape of her thighs, ass, and breasts. Her arms and legs are toned in lean muscle, and I’m reminded of how well she stayed perfectly still.
Truly exquisite.
The black lingerie creates a stark contrast to her skin as I had hoped it would. The sheer robe leaves some mystery to her, covering her arms and back.
“Follow me,” I command, “on your hands and knees.”
I don’t watch but listen closely to her movements on the floor behind me. I keep my pace steady—not too slow but also not fast enough for her to have to fight to keep up. I’m going to go easy on her, at least in this respect. For now, anyway.
I turn and sit in my easy chair.
“In the refrigerator is a bowl of fruit. Retrieve it, and bring it here.”
I watch her move from the living room to the open kitchen beyond. She holds the bowl in her hands as she walks on her knees back to me and drops her ass to her heels as she positions herself in front of me.
“Put the bowl on the floor beside you,” I instruct. When she does, I stand and move around her. From my pocket, I pull out a long, silk scarf. I twist the black fabric into a smooth strand. “Place your hands behind your back, wrists crossed.”
I loop her wrists in a figure eight with the scarf, tying it neatly at her palms. I admire my work for a moment before returning to the chair. I lean back and spread my legs, placing one foot on either side of her thighs to give her room to work.
“Feed me.”
Yvette glances at the bowl. She licks her lips as she bends at the waist to retrieve a piece of fruit with her mouth. The angle is off, and she has to move the bowl with her chin to get it in the right position. Once she has the bowl where she needs it, she takes a strawberry between her teeth and rises. It isn’t an easy maneuver with her hands bound, but she manages to crawl up into my lap so she can reach me.
“You can look at me,” I tell her, and she moves her bright eyes to mine.
She leans forward with the berry between her lips, and I let the fruit graze my mouth before I open it and take a bite. Our lips touch as I do, and she presses the strawberry farther into my mouth. I take it, opening to her, and our tongues meet for the first time.
I don’t bite again; I just let my tongue move around the berry in her mouth, tasting both at the same time. She’s nearly as sweet as the fruit. When I finally take it from her mouth, she pulls back, and her eyes are bright. I chew slowly and then indicate the bowl with a nod of my head.
“Another.”
She has to lean her body against mine as she gets herself down from the chair. I control the desire to run my hands over her, enjoying the show as she clambers back down, gets a piece of juicy mango from the bowl and then makes her way back up again.
Eager for her mouth more than the fruit, I cover both with my lips as I slide my tongue back in her mouth. She presses forward with a little more force, her tongue meeting mine as the fruit slips between our mouths. I push it back into hers and then part from her.
“Eat it,” I command. “Then bring me another.”
She brings me a piece of honeydew from the bowl this time, and I lick at the juice as it runs down her chin and neck. We continue like this until the bowl is half empty, and I’ve had enough of the game.
Yvette sits back on her heels, and I reach out to stroke her cheek and neck.
“You did very well,” I tell her, and she smiles.
“Thank you, sir.”
I return the smile as I run my fingers over her neck and over the seam of the robe around her. Something on her shoulder, partially concealed by the sheer robe, catches my eye. I touch it gently with the tip of my finger and feel her stiffen. It’s a line…a mark of some kind…slightly lighter than her pale skin. I can’t tell what it is with the robe covering her.
“Turn around,” I say softly.
She quickly licks at her lips as her eyes close. She doesn’t speak but nods once before turning around, still on her knees in front of me. I reach out and touch the edge of the robe at her shoulders and then slowly pull it down her arms.
The white streaks of scar tissue across her back are unmistakable.
There isn’t just one or two of them—her back is nearly covered. There are a few on the backs of her arms and shoulders, like the one that first caught my eye, but they’re not as severe.
I close my eyes for a moment as I ball my hands into fists, and I’m relieved she can’t see my face. My body is trembling with the rage building inside of me. I’d hurt Lily, and even years later I can’t forgive myself. She had to go to the hospital, but she wasn’t left with scars like this.
Yvette used her safeword, and the bastard didn’t listen.
I tighten my fists, release them, and tighten them again. I breathe slowly and quietly to get back some control over myself. It takes a couple of minutes, but eventually I am able to open my eyes and look at the marks again.
Yvette’s shoulders are shaking slightly, and I know she’s crying.
“Scoot forward,” I say quietly, “just a bit.”
She complies, and I kneel behind her, spreading my knees out so they rest on the floor on either side of her hips. I reach around and encase her arms and body, crisscrossing my arms over her and pulling her against my chest. I place my head on top of hers as the first audible sob escapes her lips.
It is the first of many.
“Let it go,” I whisper in her ear.
Like every command I have given her, Yvette complies immediately. With her back pressed against my bare chest, her cries turn to sobs and her sobs to wails. Her body shudders to take in breath, and I hold her as tightly as I can. As she begins to shake, I toss one of my legs over both of hers, holding her legs still. With a long shudder, her cries lessen slightly.
I can feel every motion of her body—every muscle that tenses or relaxes, every slight movement of her fingers, and every gasp for breath. Holding her tightly has some effect, but it’s not enough. I know exactly what I need to do.
“I’m going to bind you,” I tell her.
She grabs my arms as I try to untangle myself from her, but I don’t chastise her or push her away. I let her cling to me as I stand and then hoist her up into my arms and carry her to my playroom.
With each loop of nylon rope, Yvette calms. As soon as her arms are bound behind her back with coils of rope running from her wrists half way up her biceps, her crying has ceased. I continue to loop, cinch, and wrap.
As the ropes form an intricate web across her back, I feel myself calm as well. I hadn’t questioned myself when I made the decision to restrain her, and I’m glad I was as correct in my assumptions as I was.
She needs this.
I test the tightness, making sure I can still slip my fingers between the rope and her skin, and check her fingers repeatedly to verify she’s not losing any circulation. As I move to her legs, her head drops against the black silk of the sheets on the bed. Her eyes are closed, and her breathing has returned to normal. In silence, I finish her legs, lock the knot between her ankles, and move up beside her head.
She doesn’t move as I stroke her hair away from her face. At first I think she’s fallen asleep, but as I caress her cheek again, I feel her press against my palm.
“You’re safe,” I tell her.
There’s a subtle nodding of her head but nothing more. I watch her carefully, monitor her breathing, and check her bindings. Eventually, she takes a slow, deep breath, and her eyes flutter open for a moment. I take the cue and begin to unbind her.
“Please,” she whispers, “can I stay?”
“Not now,” I respond quietly. “You’ve had enough for now
. We didn’t warm you up or stretch your muscles beforehand. I told you that you were safe, and I intend to keep you that way.”
She doesn’t argue, but I can sense her disappointment. I also know I’m right once the ropes have been removed, and I help her stand on shaky legs.
“Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?”
“I…I think I can walk.” She takes only a couple of steps before stumbling, and I lift her back into my arms. I carry her to her room and lay her on the bed as I draw a bath for her. When I come back, I stand her up and remove the bra and panties from her body.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her completely bare, and as much desire as I had felt for her when she was feeding me, I’m too focused on her aftercare to become aroused. I pick her up again and lower her into the tub. I remove my own clothing before lowering myself behind her.
“Lean back against me,” I say as I grab a washcloth from the edge of the tub and cover it with scented body wash. I stroke the cloth over each of her arms first, rubbing into the muscles to loosen them. I focus on her shoulders to work out the knots from being in the same position for so long and then move to her legs. She holds them up so I can reach down to her feet and sighs as her head rests against my chest.
I discard the washcloth and fill my hands with the soap. Slipping my arms under her shoulders, I wash her torso with my hands, slowly covering her in suds. She closes her eyes and sighs again.
“Do you like that, pet?” I ask.
“Yes, sir. Very much.”
“Good,” I respond. “I like it, too.”
I finish my work and then just wrap my arms around her again, holding her against my chest and relaxing back in the tub. I like the way she fits against me and give in to the feeling as we stay in the same position without speaking for some time. As the water begins to cool, Yvette speaks.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Yvette says as she looks up over her shoulder. She doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Why are you sorry?” I asked.
“Because I haven’t pleased you, sir.”
“How so?”
“I…” She takes a deep breath and starts over. “I’m supposed to be here to please you, and instead, I’ve been a burden.”
“Did I say you were a burden?”
“No, sir.”
“Don’t presume to know my mind, pet.”
“But I haven’t…I haven’t pleasured you.”
“Yvette,” I chuckle softly, “it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon. We have plenty of time, and you have pleased me.”
“I have?”
“Yes, pet,” I assure her. I consider telling her how much I enjoyed binding her, how much peace it brought to me as well, but I decide she needs to realize that herself. She needs to tune into me as much as I need to tune into her, and giving her all the answers isn’t going to help her learn. “How do you feel now?”
“Very good, sir,” she says as she turns up the corners of her mouth into a beautiful smile. “Peaceful.”
I like her choice of words.
“Then let’s get you out of here and into bed.”
I wrap a towel around my waist before helping Yvette from the tub and slowly drying her with a large towel. I towel dry her hair as well and then run a comb through it. I’d like to spend more time with her hair, but she needs to rest.
Not wanting to lose contact with her skin, I carry her back to the bed and lay her down on the sheets. I get in behind her, drag up the blankets, and pull her back to my chest. Closing my eyes, I tell my body to calm. It’s difficult to exercise the control when her warm, naked body is up against mine, but I fight the urge. Her care is what is most important now, not satisfying my base desires.
“Sleep now,” I say. “I’ll want you well-rested for this evening.”
“Yes, sir,” Yvette mumbles. She’s nearly asleep already.
“Good girl,” I whisper against her ear, but I don’t think she’s heard me.
I watch her sleep as I think about what has happened so far. As difficult as it was for her, I’m actually thrilled she broke down so soon. To lose oneself to such strong emotion so soon, and then to allow me to comfort her in such an intense way…I feel it has to be a good sign.
I’m comforted as well. We were still new to each other, but I had reacted based on my perceptions, and I had been right. I knew exactly what she needed, and I provided it for her. I’d cleansed her of the hurt she felt and gave her the security she needed.
I feel more confident, more in control. Actually, I feel proud of myself in a way I haven’t since that night with Lily. I’d misread her in the most horrible way and allowed her to be hurt. After that had happened, I’d lost my faith in myself as a Dom. Only now am I beginning to feel sure of myself again.
I let her sleep, wrapped up in my arms, until the daylight from the window begins to fade. When she stirs on her own, I place my lips at her neck and gently rouse her.
“Do you remember where the playroom is?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go there,” I instruct. “Kneel next to the door. I’ll be there shortly.”
I untangle her from my arms and get out of the bed, leaving without another word. In my own bedroom, I shut the door and stretch my muscles. When I’ve loosened up, I pull on only a pair of jeans, close my eyes, and focus myself.
When I open my eyes again, I’m ready to have her.
When I enter the playroom, she is exactly where she should be—on her knees, hands on her thighs, her head bowed. I stop for a moment just to look at her—the perfect depiction of a sub waiting for her Dom. She takes my breath away.
I admire her for some time, not speaking—just watching her—and then move over to the bench. Beside it, there’s a table with storage drawers underneath, and I open a drawer to pull out a few items to place on top of the table.
“On the bench, elbows and knees,” I command.
She moves quickly and without a word, positioning herself on the bench just as I have instructed her. There are cuffs on the front of the bench, and after I check the key in each, I fasten them to her wrists. Two small handholds on either side of the bench give her a place to hold on and steady herself as she is restrained.
Concentrating on the smooth curves of her body, I run my fingertips lightly over her skin as I walk around the bench. When I get back to the table, I pick up the riding crop and run the end of it over my palm, right in front of her face.
“Sir…please…” She’s starting to shake, and I haven’t touched her yet.
“I’m testing you, pet,” I tell her sternly. “I know your limits.”
She nods, but her arms still tremble. Starting with her shoulder, I drag the end of the riding crop over her flesh. I trace the scars on her back all the way down to her rounded ass. I circle each globe and then run the crop down the inside of her thigh.
I do this over and over again until she’s realized I have no intention of striking her with it. As she relaxes, I move back to stand in front of her, the crop still dangling from my grasp. I run it down the side of her face and then stop at the bottom of her chin. The slightest pressure directs her to lift her face to me.
“Open your mouth, pet,” I command. I begin to release the buttons of my jeans, one at a time, and then take my cock out with my free hand. “Kiss it, pet. Worship it.”
She reaches for me with her mouth, taking the tip between her lips as she looks up at me in sheer adoration. The look in her eyes stops my breath, and I’m lost in her irises. My cock twitches as she takes it in her mouth, slowly pulling it in as her tongue caresses the shaft.
For a moment, I start to give in to the feeling. She slides her tongue over me, circling the tip, and then takes most of my length into her mouth. She sucks hard, bringing me just to the back of her throat before she pulls back and licks at me again. Her eyes stay fixed on mine, the same look in them commanding me to lose control.
As glorious as it feels, it’s too soon, and I don’t want to co
me in her mouth this time. I pull back and stroke her hair from her face.
“Good girl.”
She stares up at me, her eyes bright with excitement, and she runs her tongue over her lips.
“You like the taste of my cock, slut?”
“Yes, sir,” she says.
“Are you hoping I’m going to fuck your mouth? Do you want to take a load of cum down your throat?”
“Yes…please.”
“Not yet, pet,” I say with a shake of my head. “I want a taste of that soaking wet pussy of yours. Eyes down.”
She drops her gaze, and I walk alongside of her, stroking her back as I go. I rest my hand on her ass and tell her to spread her legs more.
It’s a difficult position on the bench. There isn’t much room for her to spread her legs wide, and it leaves her in an awkward pose. It will take all her strength to hold position while I fuck her with my tongue.
I drop to my knees behind her, holding her thighs with my hands as I take a good look at the pink flower between her legs before I taste it.
Yvette moans as I run my tongue from her clit back to her opening. I feel her thighs tighten under my fingers, and I give them a little squeeze as I continue to lick at her. I circle the little nub, slide my tongue over the folds, and dive into her.
“Ohhh…sir…please!”
“Hold on, pet. Don’t you come yet.”
Her legs are starting to shake from the effort of holding herself open for me. I give her one more long lick before I back off and gently push her legs a little closer together to relieve the pressure. She’s panting, and I like the sound.
Reaching for the table, I take the small, oval-shaped vibrator and switch it on with the remote. She tenses in anticipation at the sound.
“Looking forward to this, aren’t you, slut?” I slide the vibrator up the inside of her thigh, not quite touching her pussy with it. She strains to get closer, and I grip her ass with my hand. “Not until I decide.”
She moans again, and the sound makes me smile. Sliding the little egg up the other thigh, I finally reach between her legs and hold it tight against her clit. She bucks against it, slowly grinding against my hand. I stop and remove the vibe.