She awakens slowly.
Somehow, she is standing, her wrists cuffed, hands pulled above her. Her arms strained, stretched almost painfully tight by the weight of her own body. She finds minor relief for her arms by standing on the tips of her toes, but soon discovers that standing on her tiptoes slowly and inexorably brings aching discomfort to the muscles in her legs and back. No matter how she stands, some part of her hurts. She fidgets, unsuccessfully trying to find any position that would bring comfort. In her movements, she realizes the comforting weight of clothing is missing. Her breaths quicken to pants as her predicament, and the fact that she cannot escape, becomes obvious through the drug-induced fog.
She couldn't remember where she was, or how she got there. The last memory she had was at the local bar, celebrating her 21st birthday with a couple of close friends...the night before? Two nights ago? She just couldn't remember.
Things started out well that night, everybody having fun and drinking. As the night wore on, though, her girlfriends slowly drifted away, talking with men they had picked up over the course of the evening. Eventually, she found herself sitting alone at the bar, watching the happenings around her and wondering exactly why she was there. She remembered spending some time chatting with a gentleman that approached her as she sat alone on the barstool. He made it quite clear he was interested in her, and he was handsome enough, in the cliché dark-haired and mysterious sort of way. He seemed nice enough, and was intelligent and witty. She had had fun chatting with him, so she accepted his offer to buy her a drink. Everything after that seemed...fuzzy.
A small sound behind her and to her right brings her head up quickly, and her attention back to current circumstances. The sound of distant movement, a soft click. A door? She frantically attempts to see through the blackness that blinds her. She tries to call out, but is still too drowsy for her voice to produce more than a soft whimper. The gentle touch of a hand on her cheek, and a soft chuckle of amusement when she jerks her head away, brings a quickly indrawn breath with the realization that she is not alone in the darkness. Desperate, she again tries to call out, eliciting only small, panicked sounds.
"Now, now, love. We can't have you bringing unwanted attention to us, can we?" His voice was soft and gentle, almost comforting if not for the words he spoke. She heard more movement, muted footsteps on thick carpeting, clinks and jingles, other sounds she couldn't fully identify. Tears finally overflow, spilling out from under the blindfold. A hand on her chin slowly draws her face upwards, surprisingly gentle, though strong and inescapable. A soft touch of warm lips upon hers, tasting her sweet tears, and then the taste of rubber as something round pushed between her lips, slipping between her teeth and pushing her jaws apart, putting an end to further thoughts of crying out for help. "There, that's better. Isn't it sweetheart?" He chuckles again at the muffled, jumbled response his question gets.
"Now...What to do, what to do..." Her head follows the muted sounds of his footsteps as he circles her, the image of a shark circling its prey vividly flashing behind her blinded eyes. Hands caress her shoulders, running across the tense muscles, down her back and out towards her hips. "There is so much to choose from, so much...But we have all the time in the world now, my pretty. You are mine, and before the night's end, you will say so, and believe it." A finger wipes away a tear as it trails across her cheek. "You are afraid, now, but soon you will thank me. Tonight will be difficult for you little one, but once you understand you belong to me, it will get easier. You will find that life as my possession will be much easier, much happier, for you. You must only admit you belong to me. Now what do you say?"
A frantic shake of her head gives the answer she desperately thinks, "No! No! I am a woman! An adult! I belong to nobody! I am not property!"
A soft sigh caresses over her arm and cheek as he leans against her back. "Very well, love. We must do this the difficult way. It begins."
With the last words, his voice becomes brusque, all business. He steps away quickly, and the loud "SLAP!" of leather against skin fills the silence of the room. Her head snaps upwards and she cries out involuntarily at the unexpected shock of pain. A hand gently caresses her ribs, moving around to her breasts as he leans in against her back again. "This is only the crop, pretty, and is gentle compared to many of my toys. You will learn to love all of my toys. You will learn to love your Master." He kneaded her right breast, tweaking the nipple as it stood erect, and she moaned softly through her tears.
He kissed her neck, nibbling softly at her ear as she moaned, until she began to jerk at her bonds, attempting to flee his attentions.
Again, the hard SLAP! of the crop against the tender skin of her buttocks. She wriggled and squirmed, shaking and trying to swing herself away from the pain. The welts raised by the crop burned and stung, but the attention to her breasts and the soft kisses on her neck were strongly erotic. To her dismay and confusion, her body immediately responded to his touches.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Over and over again, the crop came down upon the ivory skin, playing over her shoulders, buttocks and thighs, until she sagged in the bonds, her energies exhausted from her struggles. He moved in front of her, watching as she regained her breath in sobbing pants. Again, his hands played over ribs, coming to rest on her breasts, gently caressing, kneading, fingertips flicking across her erect nipples. Again, she moved away from him, crying out her fear around the gag in her mouth.
He smiles, enjoying her struggles to comprehend the link he was building between pain and erotic pleasure, and enjoying the building of that link. As she again begins to struggle against his gentle caresses, he steps back and swings the crop around, bringing it down hard upon one of her full, beautiful, breasts, above her nipple, sparing her that particular pain. For now. Ten more lashes later, he speaks again. "If you have not already figured it out, little one, struggling against my will brings you pain, submitting, pleasure. It is your choice."
As she hangs, panting, he reaches out to her again. He pulls her against him. She remains still, and he holds her gently, feeling the pounding of her heart, like a trapped bird fluttering against the bars of her cage. He comforts her, offering soft words of consolation and endearment as her tears fall hotly onto his bare chest.
Slowly, her tears cease and breathing quiets, weariness overcoming her fear. He uncuffs her wrists, holding her arms above her as he slowly lowers her to the softly carpeted floor. Once on the floor, he slowly lowers her arms, her tears renewed as muscles cramp from the release of long tension. He gently massages the muscles of her arms and shoulders, relieving the painful cramping as she settles against him, unable to hold herself up. He pulls a blanket over her, covering her nakedness, providing warmth and comfort. He softly strokes her long blonde hair as she lies against him. Exhausted, she finally slept.
She awoke suddenly, fully alert and aware as sunlight struck across her eyes. The realization that she could see again was an intense relief. As she took note of her surroundings, she was surprised to learn the gag had been removed and she was not bound. She was on her side, held in the arms of a stranger. Slowly, the memories of the last few hours returned, and with them, her fear. As she tried to slip away, the arms around her tightened. Remembering the lesson of the night before, she stopped struggling and let him hold her. Tense and afraid, not knowing what to expect, she lay there next to the stranger that was molding her into she knew not what.
Slowly his hands began to explore, running up her arm and across her shoulder, gently brushing the hair away from her neck. He leaned closer and kissed her neck, up towards her chin and then back down to her shoulder. Her skin shivered and prickled under his touch, responding to the feel of his lips upon her skin. He watched amusedly as she tried to hide the fact that she was becoming breathless, only to be betrayed by the flush of arousal, which brought a rosy glow to the flawless ivory of her face and upper chest.
He slid his hand down her shoulder, across to her chest, gently rubbing small, comforting circles across her upper chest. When he was satisfied that she was not going to struggle, he moved slowly down to her breasts, caressing and kneading as he had the night before. He expected her to resist, but was pleased when she did not. "Good girl. My pretty is a fast learner. That is a becoming trait, and will serve you well."
Her muscles were tense springs, awaiting release, but still she did not fight him as he began to softly pinch her nipples, rolling them between his fingers and tugging gently. She moaned softly, and her voice came out in a husky whisper, "Please...Please, no. Don't do this, please. Just let me go!"
"Little dove, this IS going to happen. I can make it pleasing for you, if you will only let me. And when you address me, you will call me Master. Relax, little one, and let me please you." His voice was soft and soothing, his hands gentle but inexorable. She began to cry once again as he rolled her onto her back, exploring every mountain and valley of her body with hands and lips.
