Thursday, September 27, 2012

Scene: Blood

He woke with a groan, his memory of the night before hazy. He moved to sit up and his eyes snapped open. He attempted to raise his head to look and discover what was holding him down as panic bloomed in his breast like some kind of exotic flower. Metal bands over his wrists and upper arms, near the shoulder, held his upper body immobile. A similar band went about his hips, and then two more secured each leg. A single band went about his brow and forced him to stare up at the ceiling.

The metal table beneath him was cold, as was the room. He looked from side to side and saw only the sterile white walls and ceiling. The sound of footsteps on the tile floor clicked loudly in his ears. A tall, graceful woman with her hair bound up into an intricate knot wearing a white set of scrubs approached him. Her face was implacable and he suddenly wondered if he was in a hospital. The incongruity of the scrubs and the high heels he heard clicking on the floor took a long moment to connect.

A small wheeled cart was brought up on his left side, he could hear one of the wheels squeaking as it turned. “Hey,” he said, “What happened? Where am I?” Her flat expression moved to his face. Something in the utter lack of emotion told a primal part of his brain that he was in danger. “What's going on?” he said, unable to keep the fear from creeping into his voice. A small hand settled on his wrist as she turned her gaze to her watch. The fog in his mind suddenly became much more ominous as she turned away from him.

There was a small click and an electronic whirr of a tape recorder. The woman spoke quietly into it. “Subject 43 is conscious. He appears to have no ill effects from the sedative. No visible defect is apparent from confinement procedure.” she said emotionlessly, as though she were reading a grocery list. She clicked the tape recorder off and set it back on the tray. She turned her attention to the man restrained on the table before her. After a moment, she picked up a pen light and shined it into his eyes. “Open your mouth,” she said, wielding a tongue depressor.

Obedient to the 'nurse', he complied. She looked into his mouth and took the popsicle stick out. She put it aside and shuffled some items around. “What's going on? Did something happen?” he said anxiously. She looked over at him. After a moment, she gave a small, tired seeming sigh. He did a mental checklist, discovering that he didn't feel injured. He flexed his fingers and toes, finding them to be entirely under his command. She wheeled the cart away from him and walked out of the room, leaving her nude 'patient' in the middle of the room. He wracked his brain trying to determine how he landed himself in this position.

After what felt to be an eternity, she came back into the room. A small paper mask was over her face as she took up an item he couldn't identify at first. As she turned it in her hand, his eyes widened in horror. The scalpel glittered cold in the flourescent light. She brought it down and rested it flat on his chest. “Oh god,” he gasped, “I...” she looked at him, that cold, flat look in her eyes. She dragged the unsharpened side of the blade along his ribs. He let out a shriek of terror, certain that she was going to carve him to pieces. At his cry, she gave a low, sinister chuckle.

The cold steel wandered over his flesh, occasionally pressing harder and making him cry out in fear. She lifted it away and turned it around in her hand. Slowly, she lowered it down to his left cheek. Lightly, the sharpened edge whispered over his skin. Gradually, she applied pressure as his eyes rolled and he pissed himself in fear. A thin, stinging line was scored along his cheekbone before she lifted the scalpel away. She leaned back away from him, turning to the side with her menacing blade. She set it down upon the wheeled cart.

“I'll do what ever you want,” he gasped, “I...” She turned and walked out of the room. He screamed after her, “No! Don't leave me! Don't leave me here!” He writhed, attempting to free himself from his bonds. He only succeeded in exhausting himself. “Goddamn it!” he shouted, his voice nearly deafening in the small room, “Let me go!” As he gave up the fight against his metal bonds, she returned to the room still wearing her paper mask. She pushed the cart over to against the wall.

She picked up a hose from off the floor and began to hose him down, washing away the urine with ice cold water. He thrashed against his bonds, listening to the liquid drip down to the floor and then run down the drain positioned beneath the table. She put the hose aside and walked out of the room again. She returned with a bottle of isopropal alcohol and a handful of gauze. She set her supplies down on the cart across the room and looked over at him with a calculating expression. She picked up a q-tip and walked over.

Rolling it gently over his wound, she took a sample of his blood. She dropped this into a test tube when she returned to the cart. After a few minutes of rustling, he heard the click and whirr of the tape recorder. “Subject 43's blood type is O negative,” she said in her eerie, dispassionate tone, “There is reasonable speculation that the RNA type will be compatible. Additional testing is required.” She turned off the tape recorder before picking up a syringe. She approached him again and put a cold hand on his forearm. Ignoring his entreaties and pleas, she took a larger sample of his blood.

She took her syringe full of blood back to the cart and shuffled some things around. She then walked out of the room, leaving him alone again. Minutes ticked by and time seemed to lose meaning. He wept softly despite himself, worried that he was going to be murdered by the silent woman. As he was on the verge of giving up all hope, the door into the room opened again. There was a soft shuffling, as though someone was stumbling in slippers.

A masked woman in a hospital gown looked nervously towards the door. “Do what she wants,” she whispered, “Then she won't hurt you.” The masked woman looked around the room, her body speaking fear. “I'll come back again. Don't tell her,” she whispered. The masked woman shuffled out of the room as quickly as she could. Time ticked by and then the 'nurse' returned. She wheeled an IV stand into the room and with ruthless efficiency, she hooked him up to it. As the slow drip fed fluids into him, his heart began to hammer with panic.

The 'nurse' made a few notes on a clipboard which she rehung at his feet. She turned to the cart and picked up vial. As she put a syringe tip into it, his mouth went dry with fear. She filled it with a clear liquid. As she flicked the syringe and pushed the bubbles out of the needle, he began to thrash again. “Let me go,” he howled, “Let me go!” She walked over to the IV, ignoring his protestations, and put the fluid into his veins. Warmth spread from where it flowed. With the warmth came a deep relaxation of his muscles. His thoughts became confused and disjointed as the syringe's contents took full effect.

Suddenly, he felt comfortable and a tad tired. The fact that he was laying down seemed to make things all that much easier. And the quiet, ominous woman at his side, while disturbing, was no longer a source of utter terror. “You need rest,” she said primly, “You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.” She turned and took a blanket off of the lower portion of the cart and covered him with it in all the seeming tenderness of a mother's care for her child. She adjusted the bags of fluid hanging off the IV stand and brought a bed pan.

She unlocked the restraints holding his legs and hips down, lifting them with relative ease. She slipped the bedpan under him and left him to the drugs. As his body voided into the pan, he blinked owlishly, feeling his strength run out of him like water through a sieve. A part of him insisted that the situation had gone from bad to worse but he couldn't think of the reason why for the life of him.

When he woke, he was restrained again. The IV bag had been changed. He was hooked up to a catheter and a colostomy bag. A mask was strapped over his nose and mouth with a hose that snaked down over his chest. The quiet woman was back, writing notes on her clipboard. Groggy from the drugs, he looked around himself. He found no change to the room and groaned. She hung the clipboard from the foot of the table and turned back to the cart. She manipulated something and he could feel cool air blowing against his face from the mask.

He held his breath, determined to resist what ever she was doing. She walked around him, watching how his body tensed with his struggle. She looked him over and made a tsking sound. She walked back to the cart. She picked up something that looked unfamiliar and ominous. The tiny vise was cold on his fingers as she slipped it on to one of his hands. He opened and closed his fingers, attempting to resist in some small way. She took hold one of his fingers and wrenched it back.

He screamed in pain. That cold, distant look in her eye gave way to something hungry, but he had missed it. She gradually closed the vise over the first knuckle of his right index finger as he breathed hard, trying not to scream again. His left hand flexed and he pulled against his restraints as the crushing pressure reached excruciating degrees. She stopped as he made pained noises. She walked around the foot of the table and to the cart.

She picked up another set of thumbscrews and walked to his left side. “Oh god no,” he moaned, “No, please don't. No!” Her cold, cold hands applied the thumbscrews to his left hand, grinding down the horrible pressure against his fingers. Screaming hoarsely, he flailed against his bonds. As he did so, she watched him. The colostomy bag and the catheter did their jobs as terror went to work on his bladder and bowels.

The cold kiss of the scalpel's edge pressed against his throat. He went dead silent, eyes rolling in terror. She ran it down his throbbing vein and over his chest. With a lover's caress, she traced the lines of his body with the razor sharp blade, careful not to break the skin. While he couldn't see it, she was breathing faster and hunger made her gaze wild. She scored a long, shallow cut over his pectoral muscles.

As the blood welled up, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. It took all of her will not to rub her face in that ruby, salty sweet fluid. Her hand shook slightly as she struggled with the temptation to cut him again. She turned away, her harsh groan lost in the sobbing of her victim. Her control slipped as she turned back to face him. With a single, feather light touch, she dipped her fingers into the oozing blood. It burned hotly against her cold fingertips.

She turned away, determined not to let her victim see the look on her face. He was too busy crying in pain and fear, convinced that she was going to kill him. She put her bloody fingertips to her lips. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in, savoring the scent even as her tongue flicked out and gathered the few drops. With a small growl of frustration, she wiped her fingers on the white apron she wore and walked out of the room, her heels clicking a staccato beat.

He was blinded by pain, unable to tell how long had passed when the woman in the mask stole into the room. She looked him over for a moment. She then took the thumbscrews off of his fingers. At the sudden release of the relentless pressure, he wept. Feather light kisses landed on his bruising hands. “Oh, I'm so sorry,” she sighed, “I'm so, so sorry.” Her pity filled voice moved him to greater sobs. She lay light kisses over his face as she cast her arms about him.

The light in the room dimmed. She looked up suddenly, her eyes widening in what could be presumed to be fear. As she fled from the room, he wailed, “Don't leave me. Don't go.” She fled from the room, taking the thumbscrews with her. The door stood open wide and a cold breeze blew in. Outside of it, he could only hear the sound of feet on the floor until the slam of another door down some phantom hallway. Then came the sound of another door opening followed by the click of high heels. The slow pace stopped at the entrance into his room and his heart hammered.

She walked in, closing the door behind her. The white paper mask was replaced with another, this one with mint green elastic. Her apron was pristine white, not showing even a trace of his blood from her fingertips on it. One slender hand reached towards his face and he stared at her, paling. The thought of possibly biting her hand flew through his mind and then he realized he couldn't see her other hand. A wild vision of her slashing his throat open after biting the hand that was near his face made his blood run cold. He bit his lips and gave a silent prayer that this strange monster would just go away.

With a light touch, she looked his face over, carefully checking the bones of his cheeks and then moving along either side of his jaw. The temptation to bare his teeth was so strong that he wasn't sure if he did for a moment. As her free hand came up, he closed his eyes. She dragged her nails against the column of his throat. Beneath her mask, she licked her lips in a small, nervous gesture. She could feel his pulse throbbing, fluttering like a trapped bird beneath her fingertips. In the back of her mind, a small, quiet voice said she could just drug him again, rip all the equipment out, bundle him in clothes, and drop him in a bad part of town. It said that she could go back and let all of this be like some kind of awful dream.

The look in his eyes as he stared up at her fanned the hunger inside her. She struggled to maintain detachment as she continued to run her hands over him. When her fingertips came to the line of clotted blood where she had cut him, her control wavered and she dug them into the minor wound. He bared his teeth in a hiss of pain. She stared down at him, seemingly entranced by how his whole body vibrated with sudden tension. She pressed her nails down hard into the scratch, drawing blood again.

She slowly lifted her hand away, looking at it as though it belonged to someone else. With that same mute fascination, she turned and picked up the scalpel. He said in an angry voice, “Just kill me. That's what you're going to do isn't?” She looked over at him as though seeing him for the first time. While he couldn't see the beautiful smile that curved her lips, he could see hellfire that lit her eyes. She stepped up close to him.

She leaned down, her body heat warm against his nude side. Beneath the rustling paper mask, she again licked her lips as she brought her face close to his throat. She took in a deep breath, enjoying the musky scent of his body and the acrid tang of fear in his sweat. She stood there, her eyes closed and breathing. “C'mon,” he yelled at her, his tone wild with panic, “Just do it!” She moved her face until it was near his left ear.

Her voice was rich and sensual, just a touch breathy with excitement, as she said, “You are in no position to tell me what to do.” He thrashed against his restraints and gave a wordless scream. She looked him over, giving a soft growl as she set the scalpel down flat on his chest. At the cold, cold touch of steel, he froze. “I'm not going to kill you,” she whispered, “Though you may wish I had later.” She stood up and turned. As she walked out of the room, he realized that she left the scalpel laying on his chest. He struggled to think of some way to possibly manipulate his bonds or anything about the situation to free himself. When he realized that he was too securely fixed, he screamed. An angry, hoarse sound, it echoed in the room and nearly deafened him. He heard the sound of some sort of broken weeping, realizing in some abstract way that it was himself.

The room was plunged into darkness and he silently begged what ever gods that would hear him that all of this was a hellish nightmare. Trembling, he dropped into fitful sleep. When he woke the room was unchanged. As he dropped deeper into sleep, the lights gradually came on. She returned with a syringe and injected the sedative into his IV.

Hours later, he woke to his chest, arms, and legs feeling like they were on fire. He lifted his head, discovering that he was free from what ever strange place he had been. Shallow cuts crisscrossed his body. He ached all over and felt his gorge rising. He rolled onto his side and dry heaved before pulling the thin blanket over himself. Sitting in the corner was the masked woman with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. He looked at her in her thin hospital gown. He saw faded cuts healing on her arms and legs.

He slowly sat up on the cot, rubbing his aching brow. As he looked about the room, he realized that there was no window. He slipped out from beneath the blanket and moved to try the door, feeling unsteady on his feet. “It's locked,” the woman said in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. He looked over at her, despair in his eyes. She stepped up to him and put one of his arms over her shoulders. With greater strength then he had expected in her small frame, she helped him back to the cot. He pulled the blanket over his lap and sat with his head hanging down.

The masked woman's hands moved over his shoulders in a comforting gesture. At her kindness, he gave a sudden sob. “Oh no,” she gasped, “No, no, no, no.” Her hands shook when he took them suddenly in his own. He brought them to his lips. The sight of the 'nurse's' eyes burning with unholy lust rolled over his mind. He shuddered and turned away. The masked woman wrapped her arms around him, gently but firmly guiding his head to be pillowed against her breast.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, breathing in the scent of her and striving to forget the cold, antiseptic sterility of the chamber he had been held in earlier. The sudden rush of the fact that he was alive having seen what he was sure was his own death staring him in the face rolled over him like a wave of heat. He buried his face in the hollow of her neck, ignoring the musky sweetness of the leather mask and breathed in the heat of her skin. She moved against him, somehow knowing what he ached for.

In a smooth motion, she settled herself in his lap, taking his erection deep inside her. He leaned back against the cot, letting her take hold of his wrists and press them down firmly against his chest. With wild abandon, she rode him giving loud moans and groans that just heightened his arousal. When his orgasm finally came he shuddered from head to toe, surprised by the force of it. He collapsed back against the cot, dropping down into deep, dreamless sleep, exhausted by the horrors he had experienced and the desperate fucking that happened.

She stood and picked up the blanket that had fallen to the floor. She dropped it over him with a smile. As she turned and walked out of the room, she reached up and unbuckled the mask. She let the door swing shut and locked it before taking the mask off. She brought her fingers to her lips. Fresh blood from his pleasantly aggravated cuts clung to the heel of her hand and on the backs of her fingers. With a catlike expression, she licked the blood. She decided that she would bleed him again later, but first she wanted to rest.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

scene: assault

She held a hand over her head in an attempt to keep the rain off her face as she stepped out of the building. Doing her best to keep an air of confidence, she walked towards the parking lot. In the dim light of the broken streetlamp, a pair of eyes watched her as they had done for weeks. As she walked up to her car, the man came forward out of the shadows at a quick pace.

A hand reached forward and grabbed her shoulder. She moved to pull herself free when he leaned forward and gripped her around the waist with his other arm. She gave an angry shriek as he dragged her back. Kicking and flailing, she attempted to break free, losing a shoe in the process. He turned and used his momentum to throw her to the ground.

Her head struck the pavement hard enough that she saw stars. Her purse flew away from her and for a moment she hoped that he'd just take it and run. Then the man standing over her leaned down, grabbing at her throat. She gave a throaty scream, beating at his wrist and kicking like a wild horse. He expertly applied pressure to her throat, replacing her screaming with a wide eyed gasp of terror.

As he loomed over her, she looked about herself in some desperate hope for aid. In a sudden burst of courage, she slapped him across the face as he leaned close. He squeezed harder and she took a desperate breath in. Her eyes rolled in terror as his shadowed visage drew close to her. A tongue licked the tears rolling down as she said, "Oh god. Stop. Please... just stop. Let me go."

His voice was harsh in her ear as he growled, "Shut up." He looked quickly around them as she silently prayed that someone, anyone would see them and come to her aid. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her to her feet. He took her left wrist and twisted it up behind her back, putting her into a lock. He forced her ahead of him, shrugging his hoodie farther up over his face. She looked back at him, her face white with fear. When they reached a battered looking van, she had another burst of desperation.

She attempted to dig her feet in and resist him as he pushed her forward. She managed to twist herself free from his shoulder lock when he suddenly yanked her back as she attempted to bolt. She slammed into the side of the van, staggering after the initial impact. He backhanded her hard enough to drive her to her knees with a cry. He opened the door and shoved her in before slamming it shut. She frantically scrambled to the front, reaching to open a door when it flew open before her.

He looked up at her as she retreated before him. The dome light of the van clicked off as he got in and slammed the door. He picked up the roll of duct tape that sat on the seat as he made his way into the back of the van. She pulled desperately on the door handle, only to have him grab her from behind again. He threw her to the floor of the van and put a knee on her chest. She flailed as he ripped of a piece of tape and put it over her mouth. He then mercilessly bound her wrists and ankles despite her struggles.

Thus restrained, she lay helplessly on the floor of the van as he made his way to the driver's seat. She sobbed as she failed to free her wrists as the van began to move. Laying on her side, she tried not to think about what ever was going to happen next. She could hear miscellaneous items rolling around in the back of the van with her. She gave a pained noise as an aluminum baseball bat bounced across the back of the van and into her chest as he took a hard turn.

When they finally stopped, she had curled herself up into a ball in the back of the van. Her face was wet with tears and snot. She was shaking with terror as he got out of the van. When he opened the door to the back of the van, she cringed away from him. She looked past him and realized that they were somewhere unfamiliar. Rows of storage lockers awaited behind some shoddy chainlink fencing. He picked her up, carrying her on his shoulder, and pulled a key out of his pocket.

He unlocked the padlock on the gate and opened it. As he walked in, she raised her head and looked desperately towards the road. No signs of life before them, she sobbed harder. He put her down on the cold, damp concrete before turning and locking the padlock. Leaving her alone in the darkness, he walked towards one of the sheds. The cough of a generator starting sounded and she looked over. After what felt to be an eternity, he walked back over and with a grunt, he picked her up again.

She blinked at the sudden brilliance of the lights in the small space, giving a whimper. He put her into a hard chair with arms on it. As he turned away to the workbench nearby, she looked around the room. An array of dire looking items sat on the bench, some looking familiar like the butcher's knife, and some looking horrifyingly threatening, like the whip coiled beside it. On the wall above the workbench, she saw a series of photographs. At first, her mind wouldn't make sense of what she was seeing and then it crystallized, they were all photos of her.

Her blood ran cold as she realized that the photos were from various parts of her daily routine and different locations she frequented around the city. The sheer volume of photographs told her that he had been stalking her for quite some time. She looked from the photographs to the mattress laying on the floor and a second workbench along the other wall. Straps lay tangled on it that he was attending to neatening after he shut the door and barred it. After a long moment, he turned to the first workbench.

He picked up the butcher's knife and her eyes widened as the blood drained out of her face. The hood of his jacket fell back as he turned and she got her first clear view of his face. Blue eyes glittered like sapphires, hard and unrelenting, as he looked at her. Hunger burned in his gaze and she cringed away from him. Full lips curved into a cupid's bow of what almost looked to be amusement, if his gaze wasn't so emotionless. "Don't move," he said as she desperately tried to think of where she had seen him before.

He put the edge of the knife against her throat and she closed her eyes with a frightened sob. The cold steel glided over her wildly throbbing pulse, moving up until the tip was just below her ear. Slowly, it moved down her neck until the tip was just under the neckline of her blouse. Just barely brushing her skin, he made the slow circuit up and down her throat. He lifted the knife away from her throat and she opened her eyes.

She looked tearfully up at him, not daring to move or make a sound as he looked down at her with the knife in hand. He set it back on the bench before picking up a pair of handcuffs. He snapped one end onto the left arm of the chair. He picked up the knife again and she cringed away from him. Slipping the tip beneath the edge of the duct tape restraining her wrists, he noticed how she trembled. He cut the tape and dropped the knife, quickly grabbing her left wrist and slamming it down on the arm of the chair.

As she tried to pull it out of his grip, he snapped the free end of the handcuff about her wrist and cinched it down. He picked up the butcher's knife and pointed it at her. She froze, watching him as he turned and took the second set of handcuffs in hand. He secured his victim's right wrist to the right arm of the chair. He put the knife aside and picked up a pair of scissors.

As he walked up to her, she gave a muffled scream and struggled against her restraints. His hand crashed into her face, stilling her and leaving her shivering. He slipped the scissors under the neckline of her shirt and began to cut the fabric off her. When he was finished, she was nude from the waist up. He leaned down and pressed his face against her neck. As he moved his head to put his lips by her ear, he took in a deep breath, putting a shudder through her.

Quietly he whispered, "We're going to play a game. If you're good, you'll get to walk out of here. If you're bad, I'll punish you. Either way, you're going to scream for me." Softly, she began to weep again. He put his hands on her forearms, caressing lightly from her elbows to her wrists. He looked down at her breasts, noting how fear and the chill in the room combined to make her nipples stand at attention. He smiled. "I know you," he said, "every last little dark secret. Every line you've written in your journals. I know everything."

His breath curled hot against her neck, arousing her even as she rolled her eyes in terror. He smiled before burying his face in the hollow of her neck. He bared his teeth and nipped at her tender flesh as she tried to pull away from him. His large, warm hands slid up her arms to her shoulders. With a lover's gentleness, he caressed her. He ran his hands over her chest, toying with her breasts even as he kissed and nipped his way along her shoulders. As his relentless, skilled manipulation of her body left her in a confused state. A part of her was desperately afraid as another was growing soft and hungry for more.

He closed his mouth gently over her left breast. His tongue moved in lazy circles about her nipple, drawing a moan from his prisoner. His hands danced lightly along her sides, making her squirm and whimper. The faint note of fear in her whimpering was fading as he continued his gentle assault on her senses. He pressed his cheek to her thigh, taking in a deep breath, closing his eyes and savoring the smell of her sex through the fabric of her skirt. He slipped his hands up under the hem of the skirt and she began to pull at the restraints again, fear rising up and washing away arousal.

He looked up at her, the horrible emptiness in his eyes replaced with an equally distressing hunger. She kicked her legs out, catching him in the upper thigh with her bound ankles. He reached up as he rose up from his knees into a half crouch, closing his left hand about her throat. She gasped and went incredibly still. Hunger and the emptiness mingled together in his gaze as he looked at her. Slowly, he began to squeeze.

She tossed her head and struggled to pull her wrists free, giving a muffled scream of terror, convinced he was going to kill her. The world began to go gray and her screams gave way to sobs. The fight eased out of her as unconsciousness rolled over her. Her last waking thought was her utter certainty that she was as good as dead.

When she woke, she was flat on her back on the rough wooden worktable. Her wrists and ankles were strapped down. The world felt terribly cold, and that was when she realized that she was naked. She lifted her head and looked about the room, discovering that the bare bulb that lit the room was out. Plunged into utter darkness, naked, cold, and alone, she began to weep with fear again.

The door of the storage unit rattled as he unlocked it. He walked in, the wan light of the moon making him look even more ominous then he had in the shadows earlier. He set a small electric heater down beside the chair she had been in earlier. He flipped on the light switch before locking and barring the door into the unit. He turned to the worktable beside him and picked up what seemed to be a mass of wires attached to a box with electrodes hanging off it.

He walked over and set the box down beside her right hip and began applying electrodes to her. He picked up the power cord and plugged it into the extension cord laying on the floor. With that empty look, he powered the device on, ignoring her fearful crying. He turned a few dials and adjusted the settings to his liking. He then flicked a switch. Her world turned white with pain as the TENS unit made several of her major muscle groups knot painfully. She screamed and writhed, attempting to rip herself free of the leather bonds.

He watched her thrash and looked down at the TENS unit. Seconds ticked by until the first minute was done. Her screaming dropped down to sobbing as the unit complied with the program and dropped the intensity. This lasted for a few seconds before restoring the crippling pressure into her limbs. After five minutes of this, the unit switched off. She cringed as his hand went near the switch that powered the unit, expecting him to turn it on again. “Are you going to behave?” he said. Tearful, she nodded her head, her eyes begging him not to do more. “If that's a lie, you will get it again, twice as long.” Her eyes widened. “You're not lying to me, are you?” he asked. She shook her head.

Leaving the electrodes on her, he began to run his hands over her legs. Hunger began to show in his eyes again and he slipped a hand between her thighs. Gently, he tickled her labia, noting that fear left her dry. After a few moments of flicking her clit with a fingertip, he decided that he wanted to touch her inside. He lifted his hand away and walked over to the other table. The sharp scent of hand sanitizer wafted in the air as he stood with his back to her. He turned around, a bottle of lubricant in his hand.

He dropped a few fat drips onto his fingertips before he set the bottle down beside the TENS unit. He placed one hand on her abdomen before sliding his fingers deep into her. She tensed and would have jumped off the table if it weren't for the restraints. Slowly and firmly, he rubbed the inside of her vagina, paying special attention to the g-spot. After a while, his victim's fearful whimpers began to become replaced with sensual moans

As her juices began to flow, the rich scent of her sex tickled his nose. He dipped his head and took another deep breath in, making her gasp. Tension began to build in her thighs and she began to breathe faster. Deciding that she was aroused enough, he pulled his fingers out of her and brushed them on her thigh. Despite herself, she moaned for more and he smiled. As he turned away, she watched him, desperately attempting to figure out where she had seen him before.

He picked up a wide wooden spoon and turned it over in his hands before setting it aside. He picked up a black matte item, keeping it carefully out of her sight as he walked over. He turned on the vibrator and slipped it in her. She arched and flailed at the sudden violation. Holding it in her as she thrashed, he reached over with his free hand, turning on the TENS unit. She screamed and sobbed, blinded by the pain of her muscles knotting themselves up tightly. As she writhed, he moved the toy in and out of her. He noted how the dildo became even slicker, though his victim was in horrific pain.

The TENS unit cycled through the program and he continued to stimulate her. When it turned off, the slightest motion of the dildo shot through her and she arched suddenly. Her eyes were wide and staring up at the roof of the unit with shock. Slowly, he pushed her to the edge of climax, noting with satisfaction how her eyes rolled and she shuddered with pleasure with each thrust of the toy. When he stopped, she gave a muffled groan of frustration and confusion. He took the toy away and then disconnected the TENS unit. Each brush of his fingertips against her skin, his victim shivered.

He unsecured her ankles and she stared at him, dreading what he was going to do next. When he released her wrists, she lay still before him, to afraid to do anything else and convinced that he had something worse then the TENS unit waiting if she did. “Up,” he commanded. She sat up and he took hold of her left wrist. Half dragging her off the workbench, he guided her over to the wall farthest from the door. There, a pair of handcuffs were secured to a steel shackle spot welded to the iron support. He moved to secure her wrist and she hesitated to comply. “Do you want more?” he said quietly, “Because I have hours of power available.” She froze and looked at him.

He secured her wrists above her head, her back facing him. He walked about the edge of the mattress that she stood on. He picked up the whip on the workbench by the chair and turned to face her. The single tail cracked like thunder and she screamed in terror. Again, he cracked the whip, not making contact but letting her feel the air disturbed by it's passing. Again, she screamed and tried to press herself to the cold metal wall to avoid the lashes.

He brought the whip down in a sharp blow to her shoulders, giving a soft grunt with the effort. As the lash sent a line of burning fire through her senses, she twisted in her restraints. Again he struck her with the whip and again she tried to squirm out of her imprisonment. He painted more scarlet stripes across her white flesh, smiling at how she eventually gave up trying to escape and just sagged, her head bowed in defeat. He put the whip aside and walked up to her.

He breathed softly over the mark immediately before him. She shuddered and moaned. With a silken touch, he teased her angry, raw back. Soon, she arched and wept in unwilling pleasure. As he wrung noises of pleasure out of her, he let his hands move around to her front. He pressed himself against her back as he smoothed a hand over her abdomen.

Her head lolled back, eyes rolling. He bit her throat, gripping her hard in his arms. She shivered. As a hand moved to her sex, he put his lips close to her ear. “Sing for me, little bird,” he said. Her eyes flew open and she abruptly stiffened, all relaxation that had come with arousal chased away by her realization who he was. She suddenly began to pull against the restraints in a burst of terror. The man that she had been corresponding with on a dating website, the one that she had decided that morning to stop talking to because he was becoming disturbingly insistent on talking sex, was none other then her captor.

His calling her 'little bird' was a direct reference to a more explicit conversation that they had. She threw her head back as she flailed. He gave a dark little chuckle and pressed her hard against the wall. “Oh no,” he said in rich amusement, “the cat has caught you, little bird. You're not going anywhere.” He dragged his nails along her sides, digging into her skin. “Now, you're going to sing for me,” he purred. He reached up and ripped the tape off of her mouth. Incoherent words tumbled out of her mouth as he pulled her head back.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his right hand in her sex. His clever fingers brought her to a sudden climax as she clawed at the air. He wrenched a second and a third orgasm out of her, stopping when she was on the edge of another. She weakly pulled on the restraints, confused, frightened, and painfully aroused. He stepped away and picked up the wooden spoon he had eyed earlier.

The sharp smack of the spoon hitting her ass sent a shudder through her and a started yelp. He hit her again and she tried to squirm away. “I'll do worse,” he warned and she froze. Her ass, thighs, and shoulders all soon had bright red welts rising up as she hung limply from her wrists, weeping. In a light touch, he began to caress her developing bruises, making her gasp. He continued relentlessly, giving a smile at how her head hung down in utter defeat.

He reached up and unchained her wrists, catching her as she staggered. With unexpected care, he laid her down on the mattress. He spread her legs wide and blew softly on her labia. She gasped and arched, before meweling in pain at the way the fabric of the mattress scraped at her raw back. As his mouth closed over her sex, she gave a fearful whimper. This soon gave way to languid sighs and soft moans as he slaked his hunger for her pussy with enthusiasim.

Patiently, he brought her to orgasm. Once again, he brought her to the edge of another. This time, he stood up and slipped off his pants. Taking his turgid erection in hand, he knelt between her thighs. In a single smooth motion, he lifted her hips and buried himself within her. She gave a surprised cry that dropped down into a low, shuddering moan as he began to pump with in her. He breathed harder as he thrust vigorously, closing his eyes to focus more on the pleasure of her flesh. As his orgasm rose up and rolled over him, he listened to the various small, animalistic sounds of pleasure she made, delighting in how she shivered and climaxed beneath him.

She made a small, pained noise and fell silent as he loomed over her. He opened his eyes and found that his victim had succumbed to the weariness of the last few hours. Bruised and battered, she seemed smaller and more fragile before him. With an evil chuckle, he disentangled himself and then lifted her up. He placed her upon the worktable with the straps and secured her down. He took up a strap of duct tape and covered her mouth. She was so deeply unconscious that all she did was moan in protest.

Monday, September 24, 2012

Scene: Office

He walked into the office to find her sitting in his chair with her feet propped up on his desk. Idly toying with the letter opener, she watched him with a smirk. Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she set her feet down and swiveled to face him more directly. "I thought that I'd come talk to you about that proposal that came up in the meeting this morning," she said, her smirk becoming increasingly wicked.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. "Is that so?" he replied, keeping his expression neutral as he realized that she had unbuttoned several buttons on her blouse. While there had been moments where she had flirted with him on the sly, this more aggressive approach was definitely intriguing. "And you are sitting in my chair because...?" he said, mentally noting that she had picked the time to 'talk' a few hours after the last diehard in the office had left.

"It's comfortable," she answered, standing up and walking around the desk. She pressed the tip of the letter opener against her left index finger as she walked up to him. As she approached, she looked him over from head to toe. She looked thoughtfully at the letter opener as she stopped in front of him. As she looked up from the miniature samurai sword, she smirked again. "It's important to be ... comfortable, yes?" she said.

"So, what exactly did you want to talk about?" he asked, stepping away from the door and moving past her. As he walked, he slipped off his suit jacket. Looking out the window, he could see her reflection as she shut the door into the office. He turned on his desk lamp as she turned off the overhead lights. As he sat down in the chair, she walked across the room, tapping the letter opener lightly against her chin.

As she set it down on his desk, he reached forward and covered her hand with his. He kept is expression sober, though the thought of ripping her clothes off was becoming increasingly hard to resist. He let his gaze linger on the peek of her bra that was visible down her open blouse. She leaned forward. Her face just a hairsbreadth away from his, she took in a slow breath.

He wanted to bury his face in the hollow of her throat and breathe in the intoxicating mix of her perfume and her scent. His hands itched to grab her hair and drag her into a kiss. As she spoke in a breathy whisper, his erection throbbed and ached, straining against his clothes, "You. I want to talk about you." She leaned back away from him, her wicked smirk back and her gaze hungry. She moved to pull her hand out from beneath his, when he took hold of her wrist.

"Then talk," he said, his voice sounding more serious then he had intended. His lap hidden beneath the desk, she couldn't gauge fully his response. The intensity in his gaze gave her pause for a moment. She suddenly questioned if attempting to seduce him was a very, very bad idea. That falter and brief moment of insecurity, of fear, widened her eyes and revealed something vulnerable. Then he began to smile.

It spread slowly across his face and the simmering sexual tension between them heightened dramatically. "I don't think you came here to talk," he said, "If you did, you wouldn't have locked the door. And your shirt..." His free hand came up and traced the open collar of her blouse. "Well, it wouldn't be unbuttoned, now would it?" he said conversationally.

At his light touch, she gave a small gasp as her eyes fluttered closed. He let go of her hand and leaned back. He noticed how she ever so slightly leaned towards him as he took his hand away from her. She walked around the edge of the desk, attempting to recapture the upper hand by letting down her hair. He pushed his chair back and turned to face her. As she stepped up close to him, his expression turned more serious for a moment.

She paused. That was when he decided the moment was ripe. He reached up and took hold of the neckline of her blouse and pulled the fabric apart. The buttons popped off as he pulled and then shoved it partially down her arms. As she froze in shock, he picked up the letter opener and ran it lightly down along one of the straps of her bra. She gave a soft little moan as he slipped the tip under the elastic.

"One thing to remember about knives," he said, looking up into her face as she blinked slowly, "They're usually sharp." She looked confused and then shocked as he turned the letter opener and the strap parted before it. He cut the other strap and then slid the letter opener carefully between her breasts. "Don't move," he said firmly before cutting the band. As the bra fell off of her, he ran the unsharpened edge of the blade beneath the curve of one of her breasts. She gave a shuddering gasp, her eyes rolled in pleasure, and his smile turned into a grin.

He enjoyed the way her expression softened and became more yielding as he teased her with the letter opener. He liked how her nipples stood out and the way she struggled to restrain the tiny shivers that went through her as he moved the blade. He set the letter opener on the desk and sat forward. Wrapping an arm about her waist, he pulled her close and closed his mouth over her right breast. She sighed and started to attempt to shrug out of her shirt when he gripped the fabric in his fist.

He gave a low growl as she started to step back, wrapping his other arm around her waist. He reached up, grabbed a fistful of her long hair and pulled her head back as she yelped in surprise. She began to struggle a bit as he bit her again. He pulled harder on her hair, lifting his head to watch as she staggered and then fell to her knees. He let go of the ruined shirt and gripped her hair at the back of her head.

Her eyes stared at him in a heady mix of fear and lust. He pulled her hair again, pulling her head back enough that she arched her back. The bite marks on her breast stood out livid against her pale skin. With his freehand, he unzipped his pants and pulled his aching erection out. He let go of her head and she looked at him. As her gaze fell on his erection, he noticed that lust overrode any fear that was there.

She looked up at him as she gently closed her mouth over the head of his member. Slowly, she took him deep into her throat, closing her eyes as she did so. He put a hand at the back of her head, holding her still, savoring the warmth of her mouth. He moved his hand after a long moment. She pulled her head back, inhaling as she did so. Making a point to time her motion with her breathing, she managed to last for a few minutes in her languid and sensual blow job.

His hands resting on the arms of the chair and his head resting against the back, she had a moment where she thought that perhaps she could take the upper hand in their little game. She slipped her mouth off his rock hard cock and leaned back away. In a warning tone, he said, "I didn't tell you to stop." When she didn't resume, he opened his eyes and looked down at her.

His expression turned deceptively still when he saw the defiant flash in her eyes. He reached forward and took hold of her throat. The defiance vanished and horror replaced it as he slowly applied pressure. Her eyes darted around the room before locking with his. Then he saw the reason for her horrified response. As he gradually increased the pressure on her throat, the lust in her eyes grew. He stopped as her face began to flush. She began to panic, mentally and physically flailing as she began to see stars.

He let go with a shove, grinning as she fell backwards onto the floor. "You liked that, did you?" he said, menace and amusement in his voice. She began to scramble backwards, struggling to free herself from the ruined shirt constraining her arms as he stood. He stepped out of his pants as she was distracted by her shirt. He pounced on her like a cat seizing a mouse, knocking her back to the floor hard enough that her head bounced.

She gave a cry of pain that was quickly muffled by a hard kiss as his hands roughly gripped her hips. Her hands beat feebly at his chest in token resistance even as her thighs parted as he pressed his knee between her legs. He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her skirt, grinning as he discovered elastic. He leaned back, roughly pulling the skirt down her legs. He gave a chuckle when he discovered that aside from a garter belt and thigh high stockings, she was nude beneath the skirt and silky slip he pulled off her.

He threw the skirt aside as he slid forward. Settling his willing victim's legs against his chest, he brought her hips up to meet his. With another chuckle, he teased her labia with the head of his erection. She squirmed and shuddered, sighing. Fooled into thinking he was going to be more gentle, she relaxed and moaned softly. He then pushed two fingers deep into her warm, wet pussy. Surprised by the sudden penetration, she was tight and grew even tighter as she cried out and moved to squirm away from him.

He made a come hither gesture with his fingers, pressing hard against her g-spot. Again she made a noise of surprise.  Abruptly, he pulled his fingers out of her and slapped her across the face. She meweled and shuddered, so he slapped her again. He watched as she arched and gave a choked groan as an orgasm rolled over her. "You want me to hurt you," he said quietly, "Don't you?"

She opened her eyes and stared at him. Her legs spread wide and inviting were an entertaining juxtaposition to the horror that washed over her face. Her eyes were a contradiction of begging for more and terror of what that more would be. He reached forward and she cringed away. He cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, lightly running a thumb over her lips. She shivered and stared at him with that erotic, pleading look. "Say it," he prompted, "Admit it. And I'll give it to you."

Her eyes rolled. He moved his hand down to settle on her throat. He looked expectantly down at her. "I... I can't..." she started and he gave her throat a quick squeeze. She gasped and shivered. He leaned forward, pressing his face against hers, cheek to cheek. She began to breathe faster and tremble beneath him, her eyes rolling as his breath curled against her ear.

"Do you want more?" he breathed into her ear, enjoying the way she squirmed. "Just say yes," he whispered, "Say yes and I'll give it to you." She moaned weakly. He could feel the tension in her body beneath him. He knew she was resisting but he also knew he could still tempt her. He ground his hips against hers, making a noise of pleasure as his throbbing erection rubbed against her soft labia. At his soft groan, she sighed and squirmed.

"Oh god," she whimpered.

"I can do this to you all night. It's Friday," he whispered, "No one's going to be here until Monday morning. I'll get what I want, but you..." She whimpered again. "You won't get anything more," he added, amusement and predatory menace making his voice as intoxicating to her as the forbidden pleasure of his harshness. "Just say yes," he urged.

He pushed up onto his arms and looked down at her. Her cheeks were pink where he had slapped her, like a blush. Looming over her, his gaze held a terrible promise. She stared up at him and licked her lips. If he hadn't been looking, he had missed her tiny nod of assent. "No one can know," she finally whispered, her voice edged with fear. He smiled evilly. At his smile her eyes went wide again in sudden anxiety. "Oh god," she whispered, her voice filled with dread.

"God won't save you from me," he grinned. He lightly ran a fingertip down her cheek, enjoying the way her mouth fell open with a little moan as he traced the edges of the handprint on her face. He abruptly stood up and unbuttoned his shirt. She sat up as he walked back to the desk. She warily watched him as he picked up the letter opener. He looked over his shoulder at her, a thoughtful expression on his face.

He turned, tapping the blunt edge against his palm. He walked towards her as she sat up. Still tapping the letter opener against his hand, he walked slowly around her, sizing her up and deciding what he would do first. "Stand up," he said, his words ringing with authority. She slowly began to rise from the floor. He reached down and gripped her hair at the back of her head and pulled her yelping to her feet. She reached up, vainly attempting to get him to let go of her hair.

Then the letter opener was at her throat. She froze, her eyes the size of dinner plates and gasped. "There are rules to this game," he said, lightly gliding the sharpened edge against her skin as she trembled, scarcely daring to breathe. "Rule number one," he said, letting go of her hair, "You don't get to fight me." He stepped in front of her, changing his grip on the letter opener to his dominant hand. "Rule number two," he continued, "You are going to do exactly what I say." He flipped the letter opener over in his hand, pressing the blunt edge hard against her throat. She started to take a step back and then stopped.

He took the letter opener from her throat and lightly tapped the flat of it against her cheek. "Good," he said, his tone warm with praise. She blinked in confusion and tensed, struggling with the urge to retreat back away from him as another unfamiliar surge of arousal rose. He took a step forward. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders so that the hilt of the mini samurai sword pressed into her back, he held her firmly against himself.

She winced and squirmed. His free hand settled on her hip. "Hold still," he said. Slowly, he turned the letter opener until the sharpened edge was pressed to her shoulder. As he carefully and deliberately dragged it down her shoulder, she stiffened as a shocked and pained yelp escaped her. Blood began to well up where the shallow cut made its way down her back. He pulled the letter opener across her back, scoring another line in her skin.

Again she cried out, her voice a little louder and more breathy. Her head lolled back as he wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her face to his and kissed her hard, bruising her lips with the force of it. He broke the kiss and buried his face in her shoulder. As he bit her, she cried out and attempted to step back out of reflex. He stepped forward, forcing her back a pace.

He slapped the flat of the letter opener against the top of her ass. She yelped. As he forced her back another step, he bit her neck and dropped the letter opener to the side. Her self control shattered and she pushed against his chest. Waiting for this moment, he lifted his head and gripped her shoulders. He quickly forced her back a few more steps into the wall. Her head struck it and her eyes rolled even as she made a pained whimper.

She attempted to twist out of his grip and he shoved her into the wall again, growling softly. "I... I can't..." she wailed and he suddenly let go of her arms. His hand crashed against her cheek with what she found to be shocking force and she staggered. Her mouth was open in a small 'o' of surprise and her eyes were closed as she shivered.  He took hold of her shoulders and roughly turned her around as she reeled.

Pinning her against the wall, he dipped his head. Slowly, he ran his tongue the bloody line across her right shoulderblade. She shuddered, her hands clawing at the wall. He reached up and took her wrists in hand. In a smooth motion, he brought them behind her back and put her into a painful shoulder lock. "Oh..." she cried, tears welling up in her eyes. He straightened and gripped her around the neck with his free hand, forcing her back against the shoulder lock. Her fearful whimper stoked his hunger.

The taste of her blood on his lips, he decided he wanted to make her scream. He let go of her neck and dragged her back a few steps. Again, he turned her around suddenly, enjoying the way she stumbled in her disorientation, her arms reaching out in a desperate attempt to stabilize herself on her heels. He hooked her ankle with his foot and swept her feet out from beneath her. She gave a small shriek of surprise and it whet his appetite. He dropped to his knee and she moved to scramble back away from him as he picked up the letter opener.

She stared at him, curling her legs up and crossing her arms protectively over her breasts. "No, no, no, no, no," she babbled as he grabbed hold of one of her ankles. With a mighty pull, he dragged her forward and knocked her to her back. He glided the letter opener up the inside of her leg, noting how she relaxed despite herself and the softness that came over her expression even as she stared at him in horror. He slowed his motion up her leg, watching as her eyes rolled and she arched slightly.

"Oh god," she wailed as he moved the letter opener along the inside of her thigh, "Please... please..." she whimpered, sounding confused. She lay before him shivering and panting as he lifted the letter opener away. He spread her legs, taking in a deep breath of the scent of her sex. As he breathed against her, she moaned. Then he lightly dragged the flat of the letter opener over her clit. She gasped and froze as though someone had thrown ice water onto her. Carefully, he teased her labia with the tip of the letter opener, gradually working his way to the inner labia.

As he did so, she began to breathe faster and make small noises. The moment the tip of the letter opener touched the velvet folds of her inner labia, she gasped and shuddered hard with an orgasm. Slowly, he parted her labia and teased her with the cold steel. Her gasps gave way too loud moans as she spread her legs wider apart. Her back arched and she panted hard as another hard orgasm rocked her. He put the letter opener aside and slid his fingers deep into her.

Rubbing hard against her g-spot, he drew a small shriek of pleasure out of her. Mercilessly, he brought her to the edge of orgasm and stopped, making her weep. Her hands clawed at her breasts as she writhed for him. Her heels tapped against the floor to either side of his thighs as she flailed, getting louder in her moans and groans. He pulled her hips up to his and slid deeply into her. As he began to ride her hard, she wrapped her legs around him.

Holding her wrists down against the floor as he held himself up, he watched her face. He could feel her shuddering with her orgasms as he thrust deep into her. She arched beneath him, desperately attempting to press her breasts against his bare chest. Animalistic sounds came from her as she tossed her head wildly. Somewhere in the midst of her cries, she began to weep again. She flailed beneath him, driven wild with lust and desperately attempting to pull her arms free from his grip.

Her flailing stopped as she threw her head back and she arched with a particularly hard orgasm. In that moment, she gave a throaty scream of pure pleasure. She did it again, her hands grasping at the air, her whole body shuddering hard. She took a deep breath in and gave a third, keening cry as he slaked his lust between her thighs.

As his orgasm broke, she had her fourth hard orgasm. Her voice ringing in his ears, he spent himself deep inside her. As he stopped, she squirmed beneath him. He leaned back and gave her a final hard slap across the face. She shuddered and groaned, eyes rolling. As she fell still, he looked down at her. With a small, dark smile, he dressed and waited for his willing victim to wake. As he waited, he planned what they'd do next. He had decided to lead her down the labyrinthine and draw out more dark pleasures.

Scene: Hotel

He had laughed when she blurted out the idea. It wasn't brought up again. Then, one day, it came to life.

They giggled like kids when they checked into the hotel. She thought it was odd that they hadn't brought clothing for the couple of nights that they paid for, in advance. Then she just gave herself over to a fit of giggling at the idea of them lounging around in the hotel room for a few nights, living off room service. The idea was just silly to her. When they got to the room, he set down the small bag he had packed on the table.

He looked over at her and his expression moved from amused anticipation to something very still and calculating. She looked at him and her smile faded into a look of confusion. "We don't have long," he said, taking a moment to look at his watch. Still bewildered, she took a half step towards him. He did a quick, cursory glance around the room. And then he moved.

His sudden step towards her as he reached up and pulled the scarf off her head caught her by surprise. As she took a step back, his left hand came around and snarled in her short hair. With a mewling yelp of pain, she was dragged towards the bed. The bright pink fabric snapped in the air as he tossed it aside and turned his attention to her remaining clothes.

In silence, he stripped her with brisk efficiency. She stared at him in shock, instinctively moving to cover herself. He slapped her hands with a sudden, stinging blow that made her yelp as she dropped to her knee. "Don't move," he ordered as he turned away. When he turned back, he had a roll of packing tape in his hands. Ripping off a small section, he placed it over her mouth. "Now, be a good girl and don't hyperventilate," he admonished her, lightly placing a hand on her right cheek.

She looked up at him as his fingers lightly caressed her cheekbone. He couldn't help but smile. Such trust and smoldering lust burned in his lover's eyes. They silently begged him for something more, anything more. The smile widened. "Not yet," he said. He held up the roll of tape. "Hands," he said in a mild tone. Obediently, she held out her hands, wrists together. A couple of quick wraps and her wrists were secured.

He grabbed her by her bound wrists and pulled her up to her feet. As he set aside the tape, she tried to remember the details of that idea she suggested. Her mind, however, was increasingly fogged with lust with each moment. "Up you go," he said, helping her to kneel on the bed. As she struggled awkwardly to comply with his efforts to arrange her position, he chuckled.

He turned away from her and dropped the tape back into the bag. He made sure she could see the items as he pulled them out of the bag. A small flogger with a matte black handle was first out of the bag. Then a ball gag, one that she was of mixed feelings towards. On one hand it was exceptionally effective at it's job but it was just large enough that it made her jaw ache. As she briefly considered this, she almost missed the candle he set on the table in the ashtray. Finally, he took out a knife.

She couldn't help the quick intake of breath and sudden quickening of her pulse. The flogger was a delightful thing and she found fire play to be delicious, but the cold beauty of steel simply made her weak. He moved to set it down and then looked over at her. "Oh," he said, feigning surprise, "You like these, don't you?" She swallowed and switched her focus from the blade to his face.

Amusement sparkled in his eyes as he stepped over to her. Gently, tenderly, he glided the edge of the knife against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut and a shiver went through her. He turned the knife so that the flat of the blade pressed coldly against her skin. "You *do* like this," he said, lightly trailing the caress of the knife down her cheek, under her jaw and along her wildly throbbing pulse. He smiled with satisfaction at how goosebumps prickled and she struggled to suppress a shudder of pleasure.

With deliberate slowness, he teased her stiffening nipples with the flat of the knife, smiling at how she struggled not to move and the way she held her breath. He took the knife away and set it on the table. Slowly, she blinked and breathed. He looked over at her, giving her a soft, tender smile. "Now, be good and close your eyes," he said. Obediently, she closed them.

Within moments, her scarf had been folded and turned into an impromptu blindfold. Her hands resting primly on her knees as she sat back on her heels, she made a pleasant sight. She didn't realize it, but the blindfold had been a negotiated point. It was something of an artistic flourish and a functional tool to keep her in a heightened state of receptivity for her 'surprise.' Lightly, he patted her on the cheek in a reassuring gesture as she swayed slightly. "Don't go anywhere," he said with a chuckle as he turned and picked up the passkey off the table.

Left sitting/kneeling on the end of the bed, doing her best to remain still, she listened intently as he crossed the room, opened the door and left. The click of the lock seemed almost ghastly loud compared to the stillness of the room. Gradually, the coolness of the room seeped into her flesh, making her briefly pine for her shawl. Seconds ticked by, feeling longer and longer as she waited.

After what felt to be an eternity, she could hear the heavy noise of the door unlocking. Her heart leaped and she straightened her posture.She bowed her head slightly, furrowing her brow beneath the vibrant pink silk cloth as she strained to listen for every detail. The door whispered over the thick rug. A familiar but unexpected voice said, "Well, well. Very nice."

She stiffened in shock and her head whipped up. Beneath the blindfold her eyes struggled against the fabric to open wide in shock. She could hear the door noisly lock and then the even measure of his pace as he walked across the room. A single fingertip settled on her right collarbone and moved slowly down her chest to circle her nipple. She could feel him looming over her and his gaze was almost like a subtle touch.

Despite her efforts not to, she began to breathe faster as his fingertip traced its random path up to her neck and then to the tip of her chin. Feeling as though the world had contracted to where his touch lay, she shivered and gave a small, muffled whimper. His chuckle sent another thrill through her as he lightly moved his thumb over the tape covering her lips. "Cute touch," he said, his voice rich with amusement.

His fingertips softly moved against her cheek. She felt her resistance, her efforts to keep her wits sharp fail as the urge to press her face against the palm of his hand overwhelmed her. She moved her head slightly and the warmth of his full hand cradled the right side of her face. Slowly, she took a breath in, savoring the scent of his skin. Her body ached to feel more of his skin and as he moved his hand away, she felt a moment of disappointment.

He stepped closer, his chest close enough that she could smell the faint, crisp clean scent of the soap his shirt had been washed in, the spicy musk of his cologne, and, beneath that, the warm, rich scent of him. She felt a touch dizzy and weak in the knees as a rush of desire rocked her hard. As she was lost in this sensation, his deft hands untied the knot at the back of her head and pulled away the scarf.

As she opened her eyes and looked up at him, He smiled at the unabashed hunger that lit her gaze. At his smile, she turned shy and her gaze flicked away as she ducked her head slightly. He reached up and wound his fingers into her hair, firmly pull her head back so that her gaze met his. "Don't run away from me," he said. Her eyes darted around in sudden anxiety. He gave a slight shake and her eyes snapped to his face. "Do it again and everything stops," he quietly said, his tone deceptively soft. Her eyes widened. "Everything," he said, answering the sudden question that was there.

She paled but didn't break his gaze. His grip on her hair softened and he opened his hand, cradling the back of her head. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. She nodded, her expressive hazel eyes taking on a brief flicker of solemnity. His serious expression brightened as he let go of her and brought his hand forward. With a smile of mischief and a gaze of sparkling amusement, he pinched her nose. Her eyes widened again and his smile turned into a grin.

He watched as she struggled with the urge to pull her head back away from his hand. Her gaze darted about in a sudden burst of panic as his willing victim became short of breath. Her eyes locked with his as he playfully pinched harder. She gave a muffled whimper despite her efforts to keep her reactions from overwhelming her determined effort to stay some what in control. His smile of mischief turned darker as she started to squirm.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, his voice rich with amusement, "Careful, breathplay could kill you, you know." At the sound of his voice, the nearness of his presence, and the way his breath tickled her neck, she found herself unable to keep control and groaned. He let go of her nose and put his hand on her throat.

In a smooth motion, he pushed her back onto the bed as she struggled to breath deeply through her nose. Functionally pinning her by her neck, he looked down at her. Her eyes rolled with pleasure as he lightly increased the pressure. He could watch as a shiver moved through her, noting the way she struggled against the tape in a muffled moan. He reached over with his free hand and ripped the tape off.

Her eyes opened wide as she took a deep breath in, gulping air. "Didn't expect that, did you?" he said. He didn't bother waiting for an answer. He leaned down and kissed her. She moaned and squirmed on the bed beside him, struggling against her restraints in a vain attempt to reach for him. As he kissed her, she was struck with the dizzying sensation as though she was drowning. He knew that she hadn't caught her breath before he closed his mouth over hers and fiercely drove what little breath she had out of her with his hot kiss.

When he broke this kiss, she was a little woozy and she just stared at him dazedly. He pinched one of her nipples and she gasped. He smiled and pinched harder, twisting slightly. Her gasp turned into a small mew of pain and she tried to pull away. "No resisting," he chided, letting go and lightly flicking the mildly sore bit of flesh.

"I... I didn't mean to," she said, her voice breathy with lust, "I couldn't help it." His soft chuckle put a shudder through her as gaze snapped to his face. Dread and desperate need clashed within her, plainly written over her face. The hand resting on her throat slowly tightened. As he gradually squeezed, she began to breathe faster and a flush spread over her face. "Oh god," she whimpered and he grinned.

"Should I stop?" he asked lightly, amused by how her heart beat seemed to quicken with each word. He stopped squeezing, holding her throat just tight enough to let her feel the verge of being truly in distress. Her eyes rolled and she shuddered. Her legs kicked feebly and she pressed her wrists hard to her chest. Lightly, he shook her and she made a gutteral, animalistic sound of pleasure. "Is that so?" he mused.

Her mouth was open and small whimpers escaped as he shook her again, a touch harder. She arched up against his arm, parting her legs slightly with a long, low moan. He let go and she tossed her head with an almost pained noise. "What do you want?" he asked. She gave a ragged sob of frustration. He stood up and stepped away from the bed. She watched him, her eyes half wild with lust. "I can't give you what you want," he continued conversationally as he began to unbutton his shirt, "Unless you say something."

"I don't ... I don't know what I want," she wailed. He arched his eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest, shirt sleeves rolled up and the neck of his shirt unbuttoned. A measure of pain was in her voice as she struggled to a sitting position. "Please... I... I just want more..." she said, surprised by how her words thickened with sudden tears and the frustration that lashed her. She reached towards him with her bound wrists in a pleading gesture, her gaze begging him.

"More is very vague," he said slowly, savoring the look in her eye and the way she shivered at the sound of his voice. "Tell me what you want," he repeated, the firmness of his tone making the statement a command. He noticed how her breath caught in her throat and the quick moment where she froze in place. He turned and picked up the knife.

As he turned it in his hands, he watched how she stared at it with an almost unholy lust. "I... I can't say it," she whispered, shaking her head and vainly attempting to clear her clouded mind. He shook a finger and made a tsking sound. As he moved the knife, light glinted off it and her gaze was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. "I... I can't," she said, panic creeping into her voice.

"Then you won't get anything," he said, moving to set the knife on the table. Her eyes widened. Lust battled her self consciousness, setting a keen edge to her sudden panic. "Nothing at all," he said, putting the tip of the blade down on the varnished wood. She licked her lips in a sudden nervous gesture. She opened her mouth and then closed it, visibly struggling to find the words. She pressed her wrists down hard into her lap, balling her hands into fists as she looked down, breathing hard.

"The... the knife," she said hesitantly, her own voice sounding strange to her ears. He picked up the knife and stepped towards her. He crouched down, holding the blade out where she could see it. Her heart beat a little faster at the sight of the light glinting silver on the steel.

"This knife?" he said, enjoying the sight of her iron will crumbling. "This knife right here?" he asked, turning it, making sure that it flashed and winked at her. She nodded, her mouth going dry. "What about it?" he asked, suspecting he knew full well what she wanted but deciding that it was immensely more fun to make her say it.

"I... I want to feel it," she said in a whispered rush, looking ashamed and chastened. He turned the flat of the blade against her skin and her head whipped up as she took a sharp breath in. Slowly, he moved it up her shin and to her thigh.

"This?" he said, enjoying the way she struggled not to squirm. She moaned softly as the tip briefly touched where her thighs met just above her knees and then trailed away to the outside of her leg. Slowly, gently, he traced a zigzaging path up to about the middle of her right thigh. Each light touch of the steel was like electric, setting her blood afire.

Whimpers and moans just seemed to escape with each breath. When he stopped, she looked at him dazedly, confused as to why he stopped. He took her wrists in hand and her eyes widened. "Don't move," he said firmly. The cold kiss of steel parted the packing tape and lay nestled between her wrists, the dangerous edge pressed firmly by them. He stood up and resumed taking off his shirt, watching how she looked back and forth between him and the knife she held awkwardly. "Don't drop it," he said, setting his shirt over the back of a chair.

In her half fevered state, she couldn't help watching how he moved. She found herself seized with the powerful desire to feel his skin beneath her teeth, to bury her face in the hollow of his shoulder at the neck and to press her breasts against his chest. Lost in this train of thought, her awkward hold of the knife was compromised and it landed in her lap. He looked over and shook his head. "I told you not to drop it," he said.

She looked down and realized the knife was in her lap in sudden shock. She looked up to see him holding the flogger. Her eyes widened and she paled slightly. "Now what am I going to do with you?" he said, his tone sweet and yet ominous at the same time. Despite herself, she moved back on the bed. That was when he laughed. The knife lay nestled between her thighs, just close enough to brush her pubic hair and threaten future contact. As she squirmed back, it shifted and she froze. The look of surprised panic and utter lust made him laugh again. "We'll save that for later," he said, reaching over and picking up the knife.

"Take the tape off," he said, gesturing towards her wrists with the falls of the flogger. He noted how she gave a quick look at his hand, wary and yet excited. With a slight shake to her fingers, she peeled her makeshift restraints off of her wrists. As she was working on the last bit, he stepped around the corner of the bed. Just out of her peripheral vision, he lifted the flogger.

In a single fluid motion, he snapped the falls through the air. More noise then impact, the falls struck her left shoulder and brought a cry of surprise. She jumped and turned, eyes wide. A ribbon of tape clung to her left wrist as she brought her arms up to protectively cover her breasts as his gaze settled on them. "The tape," he said mildly. She looked down at the tape in confusion, as though it had just magically appeared in that moment. She pulled it off and flung it aside. He made a soft noise of disapproval. "Not on the floor," he chided.

She stood and stooped to pick it up. The flogger cracked again and a welt rose up on her ass. Again she yelped. "Hmm..." he mused, "I see now why he included that. Put it on." She looked over at him. She could see how his erection strained against his clothes. She stared at his groin, unable to stop herself from thinking about how good it would feel to swallow him down. The flogger snapped again and this time she saw the blow coming. Her eyes closed as a shudder went through her and she bit her lip, restraining another cry of pain.

He gestured towards the ball gag on the table. Reluctantly, she stood up. As she picked up the gag and put it on, she looked over at him. He knew that the silicon ball was the last thing she wanted in her mouth at that moment. He also knew that he wasn't done with the flogger. The last thing either of them wanted was someone interrupting their fun. Once properly gagged, she folded her hands in her lap and sat down primly on the end of the bed.

The demure tilt of her head and ever so proper way she composed herself, despite the fact that she was nude amused him. If she had been clothed, she would have looked the image of feminine propriety, with the exception of the gag. Instead, it was a pleasant burlesque of the image and made him briefly reconsider the aesthetics of the gag. Her composed image of calm shattered when he let fly with a stronger blow. The sting of earlier was replaced with a deeper percussive force that brought the beginnings of a bruise along the flat of her right shoulder blade. Her cry was muted. Her eyes were wide and her arms were flung open as she almost threw herself to her feet.

Something delightfully submissive and primal was in her eyes even as they rolled in pain. "Hold the back of the chair," he commanded. She stood and took hold of the top slat of the shaker style chair. She looked into the mirror across the room and watched as he lifted his arm. Her eyes closed in anticipation as the first in a flurry of moderate blows fell over her back. From her shoulders down to the back of her thighs, her skin seemed to burn. He tossed the flogger aside to the table and walked up to her. As he ran his hands over her bruising back, she arched and gave a strangled groan.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her hips back to his. He pressed a fingertip into the thicket of pubic hair between her thighs and smiled when he felt how damp she was. Slowly, he tickled her labia, enjoying the way her breathing came faster and harder. When he took his hand away, she groaned in protest. He reached up behind her head and unbuckled the gag. "Mmm," he sighed, burying his face in her hair as he embraced her, pressing her body hard against his.

One of her slender hands settled lightly against the side of his face as she gave a liquid sigh. She turned in his arms and took his face in her hands. She kissed him. Slowly at first and then with greater abandon as her self consciousness fell away. She pressed herself against him, moving her cool hands down from his cheeks, along his chest and down to his waist. He chuckled and took hold of her wrists. "Ah," he said with a wicked smile, "You can't just take what you want."

She gave a frustrated growl, not fully realizing that she did so as she attempted to pull her wrists out of his grip. "You must ask for it," he said, putting emphasis on every word as he looked her deeply in the eyes.

"Shut up and fuck me," she said, her words harsh with hunger. His eye brows arched and then he laughed. She tugged harder at his grip on her wrists. "Take off your damn pants and just ...." she started when he moved her wrists behind her back into a quick shoulder lock. Her words faded away into a gasping sigh of pleasure. He turned her around to face the bed, holding both her wrists with one hand.

"See that bed," he whispered in her ear, "You are going to lie down on it after you *ask* for what you want. Then, you *might* get it." She made an inarticulate noise of frustration that turned into a whimper as he applied more pressure to the lock. "Now, ask for it," he said firmly. He suddenly let go and stepped back. She turned and looked at him, her body quivering with need.

"Will you, please, fuck me?" she said, looking as though she was about to pounce on him and tear his pants to shreds. He picked up the knife and all of the simmering tension vanished. She stared at it as though entranced. He very carefully skimmed the edge of the blade down her cheek, watching as her eyes fluttered closed and the lines of her face softened.

With deliberate slowness, he traced a line down to the cleft between her breasts. She held her breath as he angled the knife so that the tip of the blade was against her skin. "Ask me again," he said, "like you mean it. Better yet, beg." Her eyes remained closed as a shiver went through her at the word 'beg'. He teased her breasts with the knife, watching as she attempted to form a cohesive thought.

"Please," she breathed, shuddering at each motion of the knife, "oh, please...." Her head lolled as she trembled. He watched as she sank slowly down onto the bed as she became weak with desire. "Oh... oh god...." she whimpered, "Please... please fuck me." He twitched the knife a little harder against her skin and she gave a thin, almost keening noise of agony and pleasure. "Please," she wailed, tears beginning to form as she threw her head back and thrust her breasts out.

He put the knife down on the table and stepped out of his pants. She looked at him, tearful in her desperation. He dipped his head and caught one of her full nipples in his mouth. As he sucked on it, he slipped a finger deep inside her. "Ahh..." she gasped, shuddering hard with a sudden orgasm. He smiled and rolled her nipple between her teeth, enjoying the way she gave little cries of pain and pleasure.

He stood up, and was about to turn and pick up the condom sitting on the table when she nearly made him stagger. Her mouth, soft, warm, and greedy, wrapped around his erection. He groaned as her tongue writhed over his phallus and she made a soft whimpering sound. With an almost ferice motion, she wrapped herself about his right leg and sucked eagerly on him.

While she attempted mightily to draw an orgasm out of him, it remained just tantilizingly out of reach. She made small noises of frustration as he gently, but firmly disentangled himself from her. He slipped the condom on and motioned to her to move back more on the bed. He lay down beside her and smiled. Carefully, he guided her to straddle him. As she sheathed him within herself, she shuddered with pleasure. With his guidance, she exuberantly rode him, whimpering and making other noises of pleasure.

Slowly his orgasm built. She, on the other hand, was increasingly incoherent and her vigorous motion began to slow as her own orgasms rocked her repeatedly. Frantic for more but too weak to continue, she put her head down on his chest and gave a small sob of frustration. With a light touch, he stroked her back, smiling at how she shuddered with pleasure. "What do you want?" he said, knowing the answer but enjoying how she struggled in her reply.

"I... I.. ahh..." she said, her voice just above a whisper as he pulled on her hair. "Oh..." she gasped as he teased her left breast with his free hand. He looked up into her face expectantly, enjoying the small, pained look as he let go of her and folded his hands on his chest. "Please... Please give me more," she plead.

"Mmm," he mused, "More of this?" He thrust his hips and her eyes rolled, her body freezing above him as she climaxed. "Or more of this?" he said before pulling her down against him and biting her neck. She gave a small cry of shock that turned into a low, sensual moan as he ground her skin between his teeth. He decided that he particularly enjoyed the sound she had just made and bit her again, this time wringing a shuddering gasp. The entire time, he could feel her body writhe with successive orgasms.

Firmly, he disentangled himself from her, smiling at her soft, pained sounding wail of protest. She reached for him and he took hold of her hands. As he tightened his grip and put her into a mild state of discomfort, she shivered. He arched an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he said. She stared at him from beneath heavy lidded eyes. Slowly, he bent her wrists back, watching her face. As pressure began to turn into pain, her eyes rolled and her mouth opened, giving tiny whimpers.

He let his grip move to her wrists as he knelt over her. Pressing her wrists down into the bed, gripping hard enough to make her squirm beneath him from the pain, he nudged her legs apart with a knee. She threw her head back and began to breathe faster as he switched his grip to holding both wrists above her head with one hand. She lifted her hips in a silent plea as he rubbed the head of his erection against her labia. He continued to tease her, watching as she tossed her head and made noises of agony.

Softly, she began to weep as she arched beneath him. "Please," she sobbed, "Oh, please.." His sudden thrust into her made her cry out. Caught up in a whirl of lust driven confusion, she wept as she made noises of pleasure. When she could find enough coherence to speak, she babbled in desperation, "Please don't stop. Oh god, please don't stop..." Enthusiastically, he sought his pleasure as she wept and begged for more. He let go of her wrists, supporting himself with his arms and he noted that she didn't move. Gradually, she became increasingly weak as he continued to fuck her.

When his orgasm stormed over him, he thrust faster and harder. Simply helpless beneath him, she could only manage to squirm as small shrieks of pleasure came with each thrust. Once he had spent himself, he became still. Where she had previously become frantic, she simply went fully limp. He looked down at her and realized that she had fainted. With a chuckle, he disentangled himself. He took the corner of the coverlet that had worked its way free in the midst of their fucking, and threw it over her as he turned to clean himself up.

With the beginnings of a plan for how to drive her into that utterly submissive and desperate state again, he walked to the bathroom, smirking at the soft snore that came from the bed.