Closing her eyes against the darkness as though accepting blindness might help her see. The cloth light upon her face seems like it would hold nothing back from her and so she is sure the lights, too, have been turned off. The room is devoid of sound with the exception of the soft humming coming from a streetlamp just outside the window. With nothing left to focus on she seeks the sanity of that simple sound, letting it ground her into the here and now rather than daring to lose herself... at least not yet.
Each limb is held down to the little cushion the old mattress holds. The springs push up and into her back and bite at her elbows. There is a piece of her, quite aware that soon even those little annoyances will go unnoticed and she tenses a bit with the knowledge, yet a smile burgeons on her lips, daring to mock the fear in her heart. The fear is not that which leaves one helpless, but escalates them to a new high. The fear of the unknown in the hands of one most trusted is something else all together and she finds herself relishing it, reveling in the taste it leaves in her mouth.
A hint of bare feet light on the tiled floor; an echo of breath humming near her ear and she knows he is here and the desperate ache within, begging for his touch grows more desperate, hungrier and louder in her mind. Tugging at the ropes that bind her, keeping her held to the mattress she is given a quick reminder of her predicament, yet how willingly she laid there and allowed them to be placed. How wondrous the feeling of having her legs pulled apart ill hips resisted. It seemed like ages ago... perhaps an hour, two... how long had he left her here she did not know. She only knew the humming of the light, the resistance in her limbs the heaviness of her breath.
A sudden slap rakes over her breast, the red handprint vibrant in her mind, glowing on tender skin. She doesn't cry out, but rather hisses through clenched teeth. He answers only with a matching thrash to her other breast, sending the two globes thrashing against one another, lifting from her chest only to fall again. Again, another handprint glows in the darkness of her mind, then another and another. The blows diffused only by the silence held behind them, the blur of time that seems to lose itself within each stark movement.
She can almost hear them coming, anticipate their fall, but held down as she is the best she can do is suck in her chest in an effort to run from the massive assault. Chest heaving and face red with her fight against the cries that stick in her throat, pain flaring in all directions from her chest, she pants heavily, again the blows come and just as suddenly they are gone, an errant hand digging into her cunt, checking for her wetness, met by what she knows is a grin of satisfaction.
A thick piece of leather is drawn under her head, slid about her neck with the end slide through the metal hoop about an inch down the other end. Tightened till it just fits like a collar she can feel her trachea press against the thick leather as she swallows, twisting her head, adjusting the new adornment. It tightens a bit more. Not enough to choke or hinder, just enough to remind her of its power as powerful hands begin slapping at her thighs, leaving more imprints, marking her in a methodical fashion.
Sweat dampening her skin, honey spilling from her cunt to soil the mattress she squirms helplessly, trying to get away from his angry hands, the loop about her neck seeming to tighten even though she is aware it hasn't... she is simply breathing faster, the movement clear and obvious against the mild tightness.
