Cornered Z

'It's a state of control. You must obey. You must obey or you don't get his attention. It's a state of mind. You're only complete when he says you've done well in pleasing him. You have have to stay. The door is always there and with two thought out words will open to you. The sun will shine warmth on your face. You haven't done so far, you've stayed till you couldn't see anymore and somehow you wound up in your own bed. It's a dream that wakes you, presenting itself deep in between your thighs. You know this.'

She loved her Master very much. He was always kind, always cherishing her in ways she didn't think were possible. He took care of her and let her sleep in his bed every night. The things he bought for her were gifts and rewards for her obedience. She wanted nothing more to please him and in this he saw the need to help her grow. Delicate yet arrogant, she was a simple, single beautiful rose. Above average were her words of sincerity and the laughter that rang from her lips constantly tiptoed into his head. Even at work, he would think of her. He would crave she was near him, kneeling by his chair, resting her head on his knee. Every time he turned off his office's light, his strides were long and eager to return home to her naked body.

She loved the way her Master spoke to her. Like she was his lover, as well as his Pet. The looks he gave her made her melt and his smile made her thighs clench shyly. She touched him with caution, though, always with his permission, no matter the manner or occasion. She would follow a pace behind, letting him lead the way, her leash tight and looped around his hand. While she first struggled to crawl gracefully, she was now mistakenly prone to match his step. He would hit her, beyond furious. He would make her sleep in her own room for the next few nights, not let her touch him, nor even speak a word to her. He would let her wallow in her sadness and guilt until the day he would bring her up in his arms and carry her to his room.

She loved her Master so much that she worshiped every bit of attention, every piece of food, every kind touch that he would let her have and indulge in. He was a good Master, providing her with the necessities: shelter, water, food and human interaction when she was good. He was a passionate partner in bed, making her writhe and sob with pleasure until her multiple orgasms threatened to make her unconscious, but he was cruel, relentless and sadistic when he was displeased. He would make her cry, make welts all across her skin, crack a belt repeatedly over any surface that was yet to be red. He wouldn't stop until he drew blood and even then, he would pull her hair or slap her face until her body was swooning and swaying in her ceiling restraints.

She loved her Master very much. His punishments made her learn her lesson. The bruises marked her his. Tinted in age and intensity, they were placed lovingly all over her. She would stand in front of the mirror sometimes, admiring them. Her thoughts would drift in their color:

'He loves you with utmost respect. He saves the most vicious and violent of his strikes for the places where clothing can hide them. He makes you his canvas, his own twisted perception of art. You need to stay pretty for the world. You need to stay pretty for him.'

"I want you to stay tonight, pet," he'd say in her memory.

The sequence after that sentence commanded from her her body, mind and soul. It was with that, that she melted in his hands, finally finding the world he built just for the two of them. The morning she woke up next to him, she was dizzy with the fact that she was in his bed, where he slept every night, away from her before that night. He was right next to her, his eyes closed. He was beautiful in the naked fresh sunlight. How powerful he was and is, to make her body clench, even in his sleep. How his eyes closed instead of looking sternly down at her still made her face flush. He made her breathing lucid and her head swim with the desire to kiss his parted lips.