Sunday, September 13, 2015

Lesson 2: Finding Words

I stood with my wrists tied to the St. Andrew's cross. The room was marginally brighter than the last time I had been here. I saw the vague shapes of the other pieces of equipment about the room. The place where I stood on my toes in bare feet was light by another bright light. If I raised my face, I knew my eyes would be dazzled by the light above me. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, I was more covered than the last time I had been here.

Time seemed to stop. My feet felt as though they were beginning to cramp and my arms had begun to protest the position they were in when he finally returned to the room. The black t-shirt was replaced with a black button down shirt. Then jeans and cowboy boots were unchanged. His long hair was tied in a messy braid that mirrored my own, even laying on his right shoulder like mine. The heels of his scuffed boots sounded loud in the stillness as he walked towards me.

He held in his right hand my heels, by the ankle straps. Idly, he swing his arm. "A bit harder to stand there with out them, isn't it?" he said lightly. Unsure what answer he was looking for, I remained quiet and watched him. A wicked smirk curved his lips as he tossed the shoes at my feet. "Why don't you step into them. I'm sure you'll be more comfortable," he said in that conversational tone. I tried to slip my toes into the left shoe, but it slid away from me. I gave it one more try, sticking out my leg but to no avail. I glared at the shoes that were maddening close and scowled in displeasure. "Ah, what a shame," he said, "They'd have looked nice."

My irritated glare turned to him. "I'm not supposed to have them, am I?" I asked tersely. The smirk became a grin. "I don't know why I came back here," I said. The moment the words were out my mouth, I realized my mistake.

"Are you of a habit of being curt with your hosts or is it just me?" he purred. A trickle of fear went down my spine as arousal suddenly bloomed in my awareness. "Such manners would get you into trouble with my friends," he said, halting just before me.

Again, recklessness won out over sense and I said dryly, "I don't see them here." He laughed. It was a rich sound that both satisfied me and made me hunger for more. He looked down at me, still having over a full inch of height on me though I stood on my toes. He reached forward and picked up the braid on my shoulder. Slipping the tie off the end, he began to unbraid it. The feeling of his hands in my hair made me shiver with pleasure.

As he worked, he said, "All you have to do is ask and I'll hurt you." My breath froze in my throat. He ran his fingers through my hair, spreading it so that it lay upon both my shoulders. "This game of sass and funishment gets boring after a while," he sighed. He pressed his hands over my forearms and leaned against the cross. His eyes came down to my level as he smiled.

"Tell me what you want and it will happen. I could never deny you when you're all tied up like this," he said dropping his gaze and then slowly raising it, clearly admiring what he saw. "With you at my mercy and all," he purred, "I would be horribly remiss if I hadn't listened to your desires, to your needs." I closed my eyes against the heat in his gaze. It was too much for me. It made my stomach flutter, my heart race, and my mind befuddled to see that raw hunger. "You can't hide," he said moving his face closer to mine, "Your efforts to delay are pointless. I could drag the answer from your pretty lips but that doesn't suit me tonight. Speak, girl."

"I... I don't know what I want," I stammered.

"Lies," he responded, suddenly gripping my forearms hard enough to dig his nails in. I gasped and opened my eyes in surprise. Slowly, he began to drag his nails down my arms to my elbows. As he did so, I closed my eyes with pleasure and sighed. "Confess what you want, sweetling," he said in a tone that was silken and suggestive, "I may even let you have it." I held still and shivered with my eyes closed. When words did not come tumbling out my mouth, he stepped back. Wanting to bast in the heat of his presence, I opened my eyes and silently plead for his closeness. "Soulful doe eyes do not get you what you want," he said coolly.

The chill in his voice made me stiffen as my eyes widened with anxiety. A smile slowly bloomed on his face. In that chilly tone, he said, "Speak your desires or nothing happens. You remain there bound with out even a step to ease your aching arms. Unless that is what you want. Tell me do you want to remain bound and have nothing happen to you?" I shook my head.

"I said speak!" he roared at me. I would have jumped with surprise if I had been able to. Instead, there was a noise of alarm and an expression to match. His face turned to a mask of frustration. His words were harsh as he said, "Must you be so damn stubborn? Must I beat it out of you?! Answer me!" Arousal warred with fear and anxiety.

"I'm sorry," I said in a small voice.

His voice turned arctic and the tone was filled with warning. "That is not an answer. Answer my question," he commanded. I swallowed past a lump in my throat.

"I... I don't know..." I started when his eyes narrowed and he looked intensely into my face.

"You're afraid," he said, all frustration dropping out of his voice and expression to be replaced with something inquisitive, "And not of me. You want to answer yes, but you're too afraid to."

I blanched. "I.. I didn't say that," I stammered. Panic began to raise even as arousal burned hotter. He smiled and stepped back, crossing his arms as he did so.

"You can't say it," he said with amusement, "You literally can not bring yourself to say it." I shook my head in a small nervous gesture. "Is a good beating what you need?" he asked as his tone turned mockingly compassionate, "Do you need someone to beat that mental block out of you so that you can speak?" I looked everywhere but at him. He laughed softly. "Oh, you poor repressed creature," he sighed, "You need someone to snap your chains."

"I'm not in chains," I squeaked nervously. He grinned wolfishly.

In a tone that was like a lover's caress, he said, "Lies."

"This is a bad idea," I babbled, "It could have problems. Bad problems." He made a noise of disbelief and stepped into the darkness. "I really don't think this is a good idea," I called after him. He reemerged from the darkness with a length of rope in his hand. He threw one end of it high in the air over my head as he held the other. It looped over something high above us and then fell to hang in front of me. He dropped the end he held. He stepped around the hanging rope and over to me.

With a smile, he said, "Come, let me ease your pain." He freed my left wrist and then my right. I stumbled into him as my wrist dropped. Wrapping his arms around me, he held me close. Gently, he kissed my brow. I closed my eyes and he placed feather light kisses on each one before covering my mouth with his own. I tasted spices and honey on his lips. The cinnamon and cloves mixed with the taste of his mouth filled me with hunger for deeper kisses. I tried to raise my hands to draw out a longer kiss but his arms tightened about me, pinning my arms at my sides.

I made a noise of frustration when he broke the kiss with a chuckle. "You have to ask for what you want, sweetling," he said in a tone that bubbled with amusement, "Not try to take it. That'll get your hand swatted." I stared up into his eyes, briefly overcome with the dizzying sensation that I was falling into them. I blinked and broke eye contact. He chuckled again. "Come now," he coaxed, "Say what you want, or I'll put you right back up on that cross."

"Kiss me," I said quietly, sounding half apologetic. He reached up suddenly and turned my face up towards his. My surprised gasp was muffled by the bruisingly forceful way he kissed me. The harshness of his kiss crushed the breath from me. I tried to break the kiss but he gave a low, feral growl and continued. When he broke the kiss, I was dizzy and weakened. I wasn't sure if it was from lust or breathlessness. As I blinked up at him, he gave me a hungry smile. His eyes lit with what some would have called an unholy light. My lips were tender from the force of his kiss and a small scratch on my lower lip throbbed and oozed a little blot. That taste of blood in the kiss seemed to have excited him but he did nothing except hold me and give me that intensely predatory stare.

"What do you want, sweetling?" he asked me in a tone full of temptation and lust.

"More," I said lamely, finding myself struggling with words. Slowly he pulled my hair and head back. The thrill of pain from my scalp made my knees weaken.

"Of this?" he asked, "Do you want more of this?" My eyes rolled with pleasure at the silken suggestiveness of his tone.

Speaking as though I was in a dream, I said with a sigh, "Yes." He pulled harder and I groaned.

"What about it do you want, little girl?" he demanded.

"The.." I started when the words stopped in my throat, choking me as he let go of my hair. I gave a little sob of frustration. I bowed my head, my brow touching his shoulder.

"Say it or nothing. You'll get nothing more," he said in a cool, implacable tone. Tears began to fall as I struggled to find words. "Confess it," he hiss in my ear, "Name your need."

"I want to feel," I wailed, "I want to feel it all. Oh god, please. Make me feel." I sobbed a little with the feelings painful frustration and shame for saying anything out loud.

"That is a step," he mused, "Not much of one, but a step none the less." I quietly began to weep as those awful feelings grew stronger. "No," he said firmly, "No tears." I gulped air and tried to stop myself from crying when he raked his nails down my back firmly. I gasped as though someone had thrown cold water on me. When he reached the bottom hem of my shirt, he grabbed it and pulled it off over my head in an almost violent motion that made me stumble.

With his right hand, he threw it aside while his left grasped a handful of my hair. He stepped back and pulled my forward by my hair, eliciting a yelp of protest. "Shut up," he snapped, "You like it or you'd have cried off." I stared at him, truly seeing the calculating coldness in his expression for the first time and struggling to reconcile it with the wildfire in his eyes. We stopped where the end of the rope lay on the floor. He let go of my hair and stooped to pick it up. In a sheath at the small of his back was a long knife. The very sight of it made my heart speed up.

He looked at me over his shoulder. Something about the expression on my face cracked that cold mask and he grinned. I blushed and dropped my gaze to the rope in his hands. "Arms out," he said, not bothering to hide his amusement. Overcome with a sudden wave of shyness, I slowly held out my arms with the wrists together as I kept my gaze on his hands. "Clever girl," he said approvingly as he turned to face me and bound my wrists together. The knots were painfully tight, which only brought pleasure.

He stepped behind me and did something with the rope. Soon, the upward pull of the rope was irresistible and my arms were forced over my head. Then, I was raised up to the tips of my toes. I pulled on the rope but to no avail. Behind me, he fixed the rope to something. I gave a small wine of frustration which became a cry of surprise when he stepped up behind me  and gripped me around the throat. He held me against him, his left arm holding my hips against his, as he slowly increased the pressure on my windpipe. I made a small noise of distress and kicked my feet, only to throw myself off balance and increase the strain on my shoulders.

"Mmm," he sighed in my ear as he ground his hips against me, "Fight me all you want. You'll lose. And you want to lose."

"I don't know what you're..." I started when he squeezed my throat harder. I gasped and squirmed, unable to resist the wave of arousal that came from it.

"Lies," he said in that sensual sigh, "Do you know what I do with little girls who lie to me?" I shivered and tried to pull my neck out of his grip. "Oh, no. No. No," he chided, bracing me against his shoulder, "You don't get to run away. Not tonight." I whimpered as he rand his hand down my chest. His hand seemed to burn my skin where it passed, making me shudder with pleasure. My head lolled against his shoulder. "What I do with girls who lie to me is I make them cry," he whispered in my ear, "I make them scream. I make them repent their errors." His hand slid lower to the waistband of my jeans. "And you want that," he said, "Or you wouldn't have lied to me."

"I didn't lie to you," I groaned as he slipped a finger between the denim and my skin.

He sighed in something that sounded like a strange cross between pleasure and disappointment. "Wicked girl," he chided, giving a tug at my pants. I gave a little shivering gasp of anticipation. "Next you'll say you don't enjoy this," he said with another laugh. He unbuttoned the fly of my pants before thrusting a hand into them and rubbing my clit through my underwear. I arched with pleasure. "If you're good," you'll get more," he said as I began to breath harder and wriggle my hips in an attempt to feel more of his touch. He pulled his hand out and I moaned in protest.

As he stepped away from me, he gave me a little shove. I struggled to maintain my precarious footing as he walked past me. In the dimness of the room, I struggled to watch him. The sudden sharp crack of a whip made me blanch as I recalled our last session. Moment's later, I heard him walking towards me and I shuddered with dread. The whip snapped before my face and I threw my head back with a shriek of fear, which only made me swing backwards. "I have your new favorite toy here," he said, "As you just noticed. Shall we give it a go?"

"No," I whimpered, "Please no." From the shadows before me, he chuckled.

"Come now," he said, "It's not so bad." The whip snapped at my legs cutting a line through the fabric covering my shins and raising an angry weal. I screamed in pain. It dropped down to a sob as he stood there watching me. He flicked again, snapping it in the air just over my breasts. I gave a wordless cry of fear and thrashed at the end of the rope, consumed by the desperate need to flee the whip. So consumed in my flight response, I didn't hear the whip being dropped. When the heavier blow of the flogger landed on my left side, I shrieked and sobbed as though the single tail had struck me.

"I'll be good," I wailed, "I'll be good."

"Oh," he said in mock disappointment, "And ruin my fun?"  A second blow from the flogger, this time on my right side, made me take a deep breath of shock as it registered that it wasn't the single tail whip hitting me. Walking around behind me, he randomly flicked it at me. The flogger made ominous sound but it didn't touch me. He stopped behind me. I guessed he was near the cross. I closed my eyes and lowered my head in an attempt to hear what he was doing.

The unexpected heavy blow of the flogger across my lower back made me stiffen with surprise, whipping my head upright with a little shriek of alarm coming out my mouth. "Close," he said thoughtfully, "But not close enough." He nit me again, this time harder. This time a genuine cry of pain came from me as I tried to escape and lost my footing. "There it is," he sighed happily. As I swung back towards him, he let fly with the flogger. The blow across my shoulders burned and I cried out again. He gave me three more blows, each one moving farther down my back. I shrieked and kicked with each one. I twisted and tried to pull myself free from the rope. He paused and watched me. "And still no safeword," he said with amusement.

"Maybe I'll beat that out of you," he said in a darkly suggestive tone, "Make you scream yourself hoarse so that you can only whisper it."

"No!" I wailed, "No, not that. Please not that." The flogger struck as I was speaking turning the final word of my plea into an agonized, keening cry.

"Oh, I like that," he said before raining a dozen blows on my back. I screamed and sobbed, eventually no longer writing at the end of the rope. He laughed. "Just give up," he said pleasantly, "The sooner you give up the fight, the greater your pleasure." I didn't have the presence of mind to say anything. I just moaned softly in a mixture of pain and pleasure. A series of light blows landed on my bruised back and I groaned with arousal. Slowly, he built up the intensity of his strikes as my sounds of pleasure grew louder. By the time he was whipping me with the full force of his strength, I was giving little screams with each blow as I orgasmed.

I lost track of time in the haze of pleasure and pain. I was dimly aware of the sound of his voice as he said something to me. Though no blows fell on my back, the skin was so tender and sensitive that the little breath of air that blew through the room set me to shuddering with smaller orgasms. I heard something fall to the ground behind me before he walked up behind me but couldn't fathom what it was through the blindly waves of pleasure rolling over me.

He grabbed hold of my hips and pulled them against his. "Ooh," I squealed, "Oh, please." He leaned forward some, the end of his braid brushing over my lower back. I gave another squeal of pleasure as he kissed my right shoulder and nipped my neck.

"Hmm," he said huskily in my ear, "Surrender looks good on you." He ground his hips against mine as I panted a little and leaned my head back. "So eager," he said with humor in his voice," What do you want, little girl?" He still held my hips hard against himself and I could feel his erection stiff against me through our clothes. He moved forward so that my back was against his chest.

"You," I gasped between trembling sighs of pleasure at the feeling of how the fabric of his shirt rasped against my back.

"Me?" he said, "Sweetling, you have to be more specific than that." I shut my eyes tightly and gave a choked sob of frustration. "Come on, you can say it. They're very simple little words. A clever girl like you knows all kinds of words," he whispered suggestively in my ear, "Just say it."

"I..." I started in a pained tone and he made an expectant noise as I faltered. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you in me," I said, sounding as though each word pained me to say.

"Good girl," he cooed, "Such a brave and very, very good girl." I wept a little feeling torn between arousal, anticipation, fear, and frustration. His hands began to wander over my body, washing away all of my thoughts with pure pleasure. There was only him, his light touch, and the way he made my body burn with lust in my awareness then. Gradually his hands came to my hips. He took hold of my pants and pulled them down with my underwear as he knelt. He tugged the pile of fabric out from beneath my feet and looked up hotly at me.

He stood, his warm hand sliding up the outside of my right leg. I closed my eyes and sighed with pleasure. His hand moved towards my abdomen as he stepped in front of me.  "Open your eyes," he commanded. I opened them and stared dazedly at him. In the dim half light, he loomed over me as a figure of stark contrasts. His hair was like shadows at midnight. A small, cruel smile played on his lips, an expression that made me blush as my heart hammered. His hand moved down between my thighs and I moaned wordlessly for more.

He ran a fingertip over my clit. His smile turned to a grin as he realized how wet I was. As he tickled my labia, my eyelids fluttered. He stopped. "No, keep your eyes open," he said.  With out waiting for my compliance or giving warning, he thrust his finger deep inside me. My eyes opened wide with shock and I gave a small gasp at his invasion. He moved his fingers within me, massaging my g-spot roughly. As the orgasm hit me, I screamed with pleasure and shook with the force of it. I opened my eyes briefly and shut them again as he ripped a second orgasmic scream from my lips. He brought me to the edge of a third and stopped.

I stared at him, confused and desperately hoping he was going to fuck me.  As he stepped back, I realized he wasn't going to do anything more. "Please," I begged, "Please, give me more." His expression, which had been one of close and careful attention as he stimulated me, turned again to that cruel mocking smile of earlier. "No," I whimpered, "No, I need it. Please, don't stop." He blew me a kiss. Then he brought his damp fingers to his lips and, staring intensely into my eyes, he began to suck my cum off his fingers. Tears formed in my eyes as the fact I was being denied the orgasm I so desperately wanted became real.

"Please," I said, my voice breaking a little as the first tears began to fall. Taking his fingers out of his mouth, he grinned at me.

"Cry for me," he said in a tone that was like a caress, "Weep. You're not getting more. Not until you stop lying to me, little girl." I sobbed.

"Please, I'll be good," I wept, twisting in sexual agony. I wept harder as he began to walk away.

"Maybe next time," he called over his shoulder in a tone full of sexual heat and promise, "If you're good and you don't lie to me." Blinded by my tears of frustration, I didn't see him walk out of the room. But I heard the door close and I screamed with my frustration and lust burning in my blood.

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