His Kitten Again 01

Note- This story is my first attempt at writing something like this, so any constructive criticism is welcome! I also don't jump right into sex, so if you're just looking to get off, you've come to the wrong place. I hope you enjoy Chapter One of His Kitten Again!

~ShySubmissiveGirl~

Chapter One

I wandered outside, enjoying the feel of the sun warming my skin. Its gentle rays snaked down, kissing everything in its path. A light breeze slipped past me, eliciting a soft sigh from my lips. How did I get so lucky as to spend every morning like this?

I stood on the patio for a few more minutes, stretching and rumpling my sleep-styled hair, before I headed back in to get ready for the day. I dressed quickly, finger-combed my hair, and made my cup of coffee as usual. I'd just sat down to eat my breakfast and read the newspaper, when I felt a little prickled at the base of my scalp.

I stood up, leaving my breakfast on the table, and headed out my front door. Right outside was an open plaza, which had often been a source of many celebrations and gatherings. There were several benches, and trees grew in luscious groves, providing shade to passerby's.

The plaza was mostly empty because of the early morning, but there were a few people walking through. My neighbor was starting his morning run with his wife, a teenage girl was walking her dog, and a young lady was huddled on one of the benches.

Nothing seemed too out of place. A movement at the corner of the plaza caught my eye. A man came hustling out into the open, cussing loudly and gesturing wildly with his hands. He ran over to the woman on the bench, and slapped her right across the face.

I raised a shocked eyebrow, and stepped out of my doorway more, ready to help if he reached for her again. The woman was trembling, retreating into a ball where she sat. Everyone else fled from the plaza, unwilling to confront the man, who stood, screaming at the woman.

I took another step out as he grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head up to look at him. Tears streaked down her face, and sobs escaped her lips as she shrieked in pain and terror. The man shook her roughly, then shoved her roughly off the bench and onto the ground. "Good luck getting home, bitch!" He screamed as he stormed across the plaza.

I wanted to go and smack the man, shove him against a wall and pound into him. But the woman needed my help, and she needed it now. Forcing my ego down my throat, I jogged over to her. She hadn't moved yet. "Miss?"

No response. I reached out my hand and checked for a pulse. She had one, a strong one, but that didn't mean that she was okay. She needed to rest, get some Tylenol, something. The hospital was several miles away, and I knew they wouldn't do much for her. Plus, if she'd been a recipient of domestic abuse, then she would need a calm presence to reassure her. Throwing her into a hospital wasn't the way to do that.

Making up my mind, I knelt to the ground, and pulled the woman into my arms. Her face fell forward into my chest, and something inside of me stirred. Watch yourself, Alex. She's been traumatized. She doesn't need some man she doesn't know feeling her up, just because you haven't had a good lay in too long.

I carried her into my house and up the stairs, to my bedroom. I laid her on my bed, took off her shoes and socks, and started tucking her in. Her face rolled towards me, and my breath caught. Underneath several bruises, there was someone I recognized.

Emma.

~

Ow.

Ow. Ow.

Oh shit. OW!

I let out a soft whimper, rolling around, trying to get away. No! Please no! Jordan, you can't. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Why wasn't he listening? Jordan please! I'm begging you. Please! I was sobbing now, and I felt my hand flutter down to try and appease the pain flaring up in my stomach. Something was seriously wrong. Jordan! I felt a scream tear from my lips, and a mind-blowing pain seared through me. I screamed again, and everything went black.

~

Ow.

Ow. Ow.

The pain was different this time. A sucking emptiness that destroyed everything in its path. The doctor patted my back and told me that it was okay to cry, but I couldn't. My tears were all used up. Everything felt hollow and unreal.

They didn't know how I'd managed to drive myself all the way here without killing someone. I'd been bleeding heavily by the time I arrived, and the pain would have been indescribable. I'd done it though, because I knew something was wrong.

Then, when I woke up on a cold and clinical table, they'd told me that one ugly word. That one word that changes everything and made the cold settle in.

Miscarriage.

I wanted to scream, but everything felt so empty. So cold. So fake. The tears, the screams, the ache, they didn't come. I felt nothing.

The doctor squeezed my shoulder gently, trying to reassure me. "You couldn't stop yourself from falling. It wasn't your fault. There was nothing that you could have done. It was all just an accident. I'm sure you and your husband will get pregnant again soon. I can recommend a therapist for you and your spouse to go visit, to talk about your loss. I'm sure he'll be just as heartbroken as you. Make sure you tell him to let you rest and relax. Tell him to pamper you, it'll give him something to do, and you need it anyway. I can prescribe some..."

I tuned out at that point. They didn't understand, and they never would. My husband. HA! When it'd started out, Jordan was my Master. That changed into Master and boyfriend. Then I got pregnant. He told me he loved me, and I believed him. I knew we couldn't keep things up like we had, and I told him that. I told him the pain play had to stop, and I told him the constant bondage had to stop as well. Just until I had the baby.

He seemed fine with it at first, and he coddled me and loved me more than he ever had before. Then he grew impatient. I made mistakes, and he wanted nothing more than to take out his crop and punish me. I reminded him of our agreement, and he'd get aggressive with me.

The first time he did, I only got a few bruises. I was upset, but there was nothing I could do. On the whole, it was harmless. He apologized fiercely, begged for my forgiveness, and went back to being the doting boyfriend that he'd been before.

Then I messed up again.

And it got worse.

He kept the bruises mostly hidden. If I dressed strategically, no one would know the difference. And he never once touched anywhere near my baby bump. He always told me afterwards that even when he was upset with me, he would never lay a hand on the baby. He would plant kisses all along my stomach, and talk to him, and he went shopping with me to get a crib and a car seat and everything else that a baby could ever need.

But the beatings continued. Finally, I broke down. I told Jordan that he couldn't lay a hand on me until I had the baby. I was only a few months along, so he got very angry. He told me that I didn't have the right to dictate that. That even though I was pregnant, he was still my Master.

That was the night.

The pain was so exquisite and sharp, and I'd never felt anything like it before. Even when I wasn't pregnant, Jordan had never been that hard on me. And he'd always stopped when I begged him. This time, he didn't. He didn't let up, and when the searing pain came, he stormed away, blaming me for everything. It took everything that I was to not believe him.

I left the hospital as soon as they let me go. The doctor ordered me to rest, telling me that my body needed time to adjust. He told me that I would probably be emotionally unstable for the next while, but that if it went past a couple of weeks, that I needed to contact him and get some emotional support in order to make it through.

I didn't pay much attention to anything he told me beyond that, but I smiled and nodded and told him that I was fine to drive myself home when he offered to call my "Husband" to come get me. He seemed a bit puzzled by that, but I was in a good enough condition to be able to do so, so he waved a goodbye and got on with the rest of his paperwork and patients.

The least of his worries was a girl that seemed slightly emotionally unstable after a miscarriage.

~

I got home to find my bags packed. At first I thought Jordan was kicking me out, but he appeared in the door of our bedroom carrying his own suitcase. He gripped my forearm tightly, making me wince. The multitude of bruises he'd given me were still very sore, and his touch only served to reignite the burn of pain he'd originally caused me.

"I'm sorry Emma."

I wouldn't look him in the eyes, so he jerked my chin up to look him right in the eyes.

"I said, I'm sorry Emma. Do you remember what you're supposed to say back."

I swallowed. There was no way that I was going to push his anger. "There's nothing to be sorry about Master. I'm yours, and you can hurt me any way that you like. I'm a slut, and I only deserve to be hurt. I should be grateful to you for hurting me, Master. Thank you for hurting me."

"Good girl. Now, go get dressed in something more... flattering. You look terrible. Get cleaned up, get on some decent clothes, and then get out in the car. Remember, I'm waiting, so unless you want to be punished more, you better hurry your ass up."

He slapped my ass hard, then waited for me to leave before he resumed packing things up. I numbly made my way up the stairs, and over to the bathroom.

At first, I didn't recognize myself. Things were so cold and empty, and it took me several long moments to gather myself enough to realize that it was me that I was seeing. Jordan was right in one aspect—I looked terrible. My hair was mussed and knotted like it had never been before, and it looked dead as opposed to the shininess it normally carried. Under my eyes were dark, black circles. My cheeks were pale, and my eyes looked dead. Everywhere I looked, I could see a new bruise. I sighed. Even if I wore a turtleneck, I would need extra makeup to hide the small bruises that dotted my face.

Fleetingly, I wondered why the doctor hadn't questioned those. It's not like they weren't obvious. Shrugging, I slipped off my blouse and pants, my hand running absently over my stomach. The tears pricked again at my eyes, but I pushed them away. I didn't want to let anyone know that I had been crying, and Jordan had this way of knowing, even when it didn't show physically.

I stepped into the shower, and turned the water on as hot as it went. I finally started warming up, some of the numbness fading away under the hot rivulets of water. Taking shampoo and conditioner, I steadily worked the knots out of my hair. I knew that Jordan was waiting, and I knew that he would be upset that I was taking so long, but I knew that his anger would be worse if I didn't look presentable. So I spent my time getting myself cleaned up—shaving the way he liked it, blow-drying my hair back to its normal shine once I got out of the shower, and putting on a thin layer of makeup to accentuate my face. Everything just how he liked it. I had to cake the foundation on a little bit thicker than normal in order to cover the bruises, but I knew that Jordan would be more upset if they were still apparent.

I dressed in a light and airy dress that was laid on the bed for me. It was one of Jordan's favorites, so I had no doubt that he'd placed it there himself. I kept my hair down, how Jordan liked it, and slipped on the sandals that were left at the foot of the bed. Even though I felt better physically, the emptiness still remained.

I walked down the stairs, into the garage, and slid into the passenger seat. Jordan sat gripping the steering wheel, his dark eyes staring forward. He was angry. "You're late. I told you I was waiting, and you dawdled upstairs and took your sweet time, while I sat down here and waited and waited. Do I mean that little to you?"

I cowered into my seat a little, afraid of what he was going to do to me. He let out a big sigh. "Turn your face, and don't you dare try and stop me."

I sat on my hands, terrified, but still feeling empty. Jordan reached over and smacked my face hard, several times, cussing at me the whole time. "Bitch, you think you can fucking keep your Master waiting. You little fucking cunt."

It hurt, oh god it hurt. I couldn't stop the tears from leaking out of my eyes as he kept slapping me, again and again. I was ready to stop thinking, to go into my blackness, when he stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief, whimpering in my seat. Jordan smirked. "Got you all wet, did I know, whore?"

No. He didn't. These type of things used to, but it took a certain degree of trust for me to enjoy them. I felt no level of trust with him. He'd killed my child, and he'd killed me when he did so. But, to make him happy, I nodded.

He laughed, and tweaked one of my nipples. I groaned, pretending that he'd gone and aroused me more. He hadn't. His touch did nothing for me now, and if anything, I felt even more turned off than before. Jordan took my hand in his, as if nothing had happened between us, and off we drove. We drove fast and far, making me wonder where we were going. We'd passed any of the restaurants that we normally ate at on special nights, and there was nothing else in this direction except... the airport. I sat up with a start.

"Where are we going?"

He jerked my wrist hard, making me cry out in pain. "Where are we going, Master?" I tried again.

"A good slave would know better than to ask. When we get there, I'll punish you for it. For your information, I'm taking you on vacation with me. I have a business trip, and I don't trust you enough to be a good girl while I'm gone. So I'm taking you with me so I can keep an eye on you. Not that you deserve to go on a vacation. But I had no other choice. I'll be doing my best to make it as unpleasant for you as possible, understood slut?"

I nodded softly, lowering my head. Thoughts were whirring through my mind. Maybe I'll be able to get away. It's a business trip, so he'll be distracted a lot of the time. I could use that to my advantage. Here, there's no way I'd make it more than a few blocks. He knows people all over town, and they'd get me if he didn't. But there... wherever there is... I have a chance. And that chance is the best one that I'm ever going to have. I'll never let him hurt me like that again. This is my one chance.

The rest of the drive to the airport, I started making plans. I didn't know where we were going, but if this dress was any indication, it would be somewhere warm. Jordan liked warm places too, so he would have requested that over a frigid place. My mind raced, trying to think of warm places around the world, and what I would do to get out of each place.

We finally got to the airport, and I stayed in my seat until Jordan pulled me out. He loaded me with baggage, leaving himself to carry the very lightest of the items he'd packed. "I packed everything, even though that should have been your job, and your my slave, so you need to pull your weight. You should know better than to even question it."

I hadn't questioned it. I'd merely let out a small sigh. But he'd pounced on that one small thing, and chosen to exploit it. That fact frustrated me, but I knew that I couldn't do anything. I knew that I needed to make him as happy as I possibly could right now, otherwise he would know that something was up, and he'd keep too close of an eye on me when we got there.

I needed him to think I was going to be a perfect little slave for him, otherwise this would never work. So I gave him an apologetic smile, said, "Yes Master," and lugged the heavy suitcases behind me while he walked ahead of me, carrying only his laptop bag.

By the time we got to the check-in line, my hands were aching from pulling the luggage. It was heavy, and one of the wheels was broken on the heaviest bag, so I had to quite literally pull it behind me. We waited in line, finally reaching the front.

They took the heaviest of the bags to check onto the plane, and I whimpered in relief. Jordan gave me his laptop bag to carry, and I had one other bag, but that was it. I rolled my shoulders while he checked us in, listening closely to hear where we were going.

I couldn't figure it out, and Jordan insisted on carrying the tickets. "We need to hurry, we were late getting here because of you, and they're going to be boarding by the time we get there." He gripped my elbow tightly, dragging me behind him.

We got through security quickly, and Jordan continued to yank me through the airport. I could feel the eyes on us, the whispered words about the crazy man with the scared woman behind him. We got to our gate, and I was very out of breath. The workers ushered us onto the plane without a second glance, closing the doors behind us before I could even think.

Jordan sat me in my seat, buckled my belt for me, then took the seat next to me. It wasn't until I was buckled in tightly, with no way of getting off, that I heard where we were going.

It brought an enormous flood of memories wafting into my mind.

Him.

~

When I first turned eighteen, I began to explore my sexuality. I looked on erotica sights, watched porn, bought my first toys, all in a desperate search to find out who I was, what I liked, everything. I was on a chat sight one night when I finally figured things out.

I met a guy.

Alex.

He was my first everything, as far as I was concerned. We lived too far apart to ever meet, so I never gave him my virginity in that sense. But in a figurative sense, I did. He taught me everything, gently teaching me what I needed to do to please him. He introduced me into a lifestyle that brought me every bit of pleasure I could possibly imagine. I loved him.

When it ended, I was devastated. I was upset that he was limiting himself to someone he would never actually be able to be with. At least not for a long time. I told him that he needed to move on, and find someone he could have a real relationship with. The argument escalated, and I yelled at him, and we've never spoken since.

My heart ached when I heard the name of where we were going. I had the name imprinted into my mind, and I always had, from the first time I ever talked to him. I tried to convince myself that he'd probably moved by now, and that either way, he'd forgotten me by now. But there was a part of me, deep inside, that begged for him to be there. For him to remember the times that we'd spent together, and for him to remember the bond that we had.

The memory overwhelmed me before I could stop it. The very first time that I ever cammed for him. He told me that I needed to do it, to prove to him that I was real. I was a virgin, I'd never even kissed a boy, and I could only dream of the things that he would demand of me. I wasn't ready to do everything for him yet, but his gentle smile reassured me. He promised that he would be a gentleman this first time, and every time until I was ready. We talked, and he made me laugh and smile more than I ever had, before he noticed the time, and told me that he needed to go to sleep.

I was shy, and couldn't even say the words aloud, so I had to type them. He raised his eyebrows and grinned, then told me in that deep, firm voice of his to take off my shirt. It sent a shiver down my spine, and I raced with fumbling fingers to obey him. I'd always been proud of my breasts, and I wanted to show him them, in hopes that he would like them. I cupped my breasts through my bra for him for a few minutes before we turned off the cam. I was so turned on, every bit of me alive with desire. I reached a finger down to touch myself, just as I got a message from him telling me that I better not. I remember spending the night, dreaming of things he could do to me. I never came again without his permission. We spent six blissful months together, him teaching me how I could please him, what things I needed to go, and finally fucking myself on cam with a toy for him, before the fateful night when we fought and everything ended.