Remembering Him

PROLOGUE

She stood in front of the mirror...again. She gazed at her body, her eyes slowly moving up and down as she took in the image reflecting back at her, still shaken, still in wonder at the events of just four days ago.

The welts from where he'd whipped her still raised lines on her skin, the bruising that that outlined the edges of each mark just starting to fade. It amazed her that only 12 stripes could have brought such intense physical pain and pleasure, and such a deep emotional reaction.

She was struggling to understand her response to him, to his touch, to his whip. He had taken her there, yes. She had felt the whip, the crop, the paddle, anything that could bring pain and the blessed escape into the haze of pain and sexual need she craved. But he had taken her there in way she had never imagined, never contemplated. She had been aware of every nerve in her body, every thought, every second of the time she had spent with him.

Yes. Him. It was always Him she saw when she looked in the mirror.

Her right hand left her side and moved upward, across her body toward her left shoulder, her fingertips finally resting near her left shoulder, touching the end of the welt that was first to be raised upon her skin. Her finger slowly moved along the mark, diagonally downward, across the rise at the top of her left breast, through the gap between her tits, under her right breast, downward toward her right hip.

Her eyes stared her reflection in the mirror, watching her finger trace the line, knowing she would trace every mark he'd left on her body before she moved away from the mirror. She had repeated this ritual countless times in the last four days.

But even as her finger followed his whip, and eyes watched the slow progress downward, she was not seeing herself in the mirror. She was back THERE. With HIM.

Remembering...

ARRIVAL

She trembled as she stood before his door, knowing why she was here, knowing what would happen. Yet somehow knowing her life was about to change.

She reached for the doorbell with a shaking hand and pressed the button, her stomach tightening as she heard the chime sound from inside. She dropped her hands to her side as instructed and waited.

It seemed like an hour to her as she stood on the doorstep. He knew it was only 10 minutes as he opened the door and stepped into the doorframe before her.

It was all she could do to stand still, to not step back, as he stood inches from her, slightly above her on the threshold step. He gazed down upon her for a few seconds -- minutes to her thinking -- and watched her struggle to keep her eyes downcast. He understood her struggle. She was desperate to see him, to see his eyes, after all this time on-line and on the phone. But that moment would wait, until he was ready, until she would show him her soul with her very first glance into his eyes.

"Follow me", he said, and turned around, striding quickly into the house.

Her eyes came up briefly, catching a glimpse of his back as he strode away. Her breath catching in her throat, stomach churning more quickly, she all but ran after him, fearful of the mistake that would deny her this moment, turn him away from her.

They moved rapidly through the house, his steps filled with purpose, hers with an effort to move quickly yet gracefully as she struggled to keep pace. She caught glimpses of rooms to her right and left as they walked down a simple hallway toward a door, sunlight showing through the window in the upper half of the exit way.

He grasped the door handle and pushed the door open, stepping through it without pause. She had to reach up and catch the door to keep it open as she raced to keep pace with him.

Her eyes took in an expanse of green grass, fenced in, the fence softened by dozens of beautiful rose bushes. The grass was split neatly in two by a simple brick sidewalk that led straight across the yard to a small outbuilding, its door painted bright green and centered precisely on the front of the building.

He reached the outbuilding and without pause opened the door, stepping inside and turned to hold the door open for her. His body language made it clear what he expected.

She stepped through the door into the center of a small room, perhaps 15 by 15 feet square. She jumped when she heard the door close behind her.

The room had no windows. Just bare walls on two sides, a third bare wall broken up by the door behind her. The wall in front of her was different...a wall of cabinets. They were beautiful dark mahogany cabinets from floor to ceiling. Every door closed, hiding its contents. The roof was peaked, an A-frame like shape, perhaps 12 feet high, with soft cloth covering the hard ceiling and lending an almost theatrical feeling to the room.

She gasped when she heard the door close and fought her every instinct to run and remained in place, eyes still downcast. She felt him move behind her, open a case or door she hadn't noticed. Then he was in front of her. She could see his body from his chest down, fought to keep her eyes lowered. Waited. Waited.... Waited.

BINDING

Her heart beat against her ribs when she saw what he held in his hands. Simple, stout leather wrist cuffs, only a simple buckle and D-ring on each. Not fancy or spectacular. Quite ordinary bindings in fact. But, as she knew and would learn again, very, very effective.

He reached for her left hand and she wanted to scream as he calmly raised it toward him and with easy, practiced movements buckled the cuff about her wrist and then let if fall.

He repeated the motions on her right wrist, and then allowed her stand for a moment, waiting, before he took both hands from her sides and brought them together in front of her at her waist.

His hand pressed the cuffs together and she understood she was to hold them there as he let go. She pursed her lips and drew air inside as she watched one hand reach behind him and bring out a short length of chain with an open padlock on one end. In seconds the lock had passed through the D-rings on her cuffs and been aligned. She gasped loudly, breaking the rule, when he pressed the hasp of the lock down. The "click" of the lock closing was the loudest sound she had ever heard.

"Stand," he ordered. And she did, shuddering in fear and breaking out in a sweat as she felt her already moist pussy flood in arousal.

He walked to the side and slightly behind her, reaching upward for something, then guiding it back toward her. She could hear the sound of chain rattling as he moved, then again jumped when she felt chain brush over her right shoulder. His hand came into her vision, holding the end of the chain flowing across her shoulder. This chain too had a padlock hanging open. He reached down and took the chain holding her wrists together and with a simple movement, locked the two chains together.

In an instant she heard a motor start and the chain lying on her shoulder began to slide. She broke her posture and stepped back, trying to flee, as she realized the chain was moving upward and that her hands would soon follow.

"No," she gasped, even as the chain lifted off her shoulder and she felt the first tug on her wrists.

"Please," she pleaded. "Wait." Her hands reaching eye level as she sought him, looking for him, wanting out. Now. But he was not to be found.

Her wrists passed the top of her head and as suddenly as it had started, the motor stopped.

She spun around desperately, never more afraid of anything in her life, only to realize that he was gone. And she was utterly alone. No one knew where she was. Or why she was here, chained to the ceiling of this man's building. But she had asked for no mercy and he had promised it.

Her breathing was heavy and fast; sweat forming on her brow, as she waited for his return. Seconds became minutes, minutes adding up, and he did not return. Her breathing calmed. She tested her bonds. Thrashed against them. Even called for him and begged him for release. Nothing but silence greeted her.

Her arms grew heavy; her legs weary, and still no sign of him.

Slowly. Very slowly, she accepted her fate and her reality. Realized she had sought this, sought one like him. And found arousal mixing with her fear.

SUSPENSION

She still screamed with surprise when the door opened without warning and he stepped through. She wanted to speak but fought the urge.

He moved quickly, efficiently.

A pair of large, sharp scissors appeared and in just a few snips she was naked, shaking, and somehow aroused as never before. He bent down and attached cuffs to her ankles, then opened small hatches in the floor, uncoiling rope and securing her legs about two feet apart.

She didn't understand why he left slack in the rope...until the motor restarted and the chains started moving upward again. This time they pulled her hands over her head, straight up, and lifted her into the air. Her body pulling upward, her feet leaving the floor, then with a small jerk her upward movement stopping as the slack in the rope at her ankles ran out, her toes a mere 3 inches off the floor. Upward the chain pulled, stretching her body until a small groan escaped her throat.

When the motor shut down her panicked breathing made it impossible for her to think.

After a few moments she was able to process what had happened and realized that she hanging, stretched, from the rafters of the this man's ceiling, helpless, completely vulnerable, and remembering her challenge to him to break her, to addict her to him.

She licked her lips nervously, looking for him, calling him. In time she realized he'd again left her alone.

After a few minutes the pain set in as her shoulders, stretched upward and supporting her weight, began to ache, then burn with pain. Sweat began to pour from her body with the strain, her breathing again increasing into a shallow, rapid sound of pain and fear.

She knew what he wanted...to hear her plead for relief. So she fought the pain, tried to hold out and remain silent. But her failure was inevitable and when she broke, she did so with a strangled cry of agony. And still he did not return.

She was aware enough to know he would return on his schedule, and for a time she sobbed quietly through the pain, thinking and realizing that he not really touched her yet, understanding that he was waiting for her to pass through some threshold of pain and surrender that she did not yet understand.

Each second became an hour as she hung there. A few times she pleaded, begged for him to just let her down, to relieve the pressure on her shoulders for just a minute. But her every sound was greeted by silence.

She was startled when she heard a voice that sounded much like her own, only pain-racked, guttural, desperate, screaming, "MASTER, MASTER. BEAT ME, WHIP ME, MAKE ME BLEED, ANYTHING YOU WISH IS YOURS. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. I BEG. LET ME DOWN!"

"PLEASE."

"Please."

She sobbed in pain.

HEAT

Through her pain she heard the door open and she sighed in relief, thinking "Yes, he heard."

But nothing happened. She felt him standing behind her, admiring her from behind as her body shook with pain. Nothing had prepared her for this.

"PPPPLLLLEEEEAAAASSSSEEEE," she screamed suddenly, shrilly. She shuddered when she heard him laugh out loud at her plight.

Before another thought could register he was in front her, looking at her, clearly enjoying the pained expression on her face, the glazed, pain-filled lack of focus in her eyes.

He stepped forward and reached his right hand toward her, palm up. She looked down and somehow watched with fascination as his hand moved between her legs. Her stretched body shuddered with a sexual sensation that ignited every nerve in her body when he roughly jammed three fingers deep into her cunt. One hard, brutal thrust as he filled her, his thumb finding her clit and pressing down, rubbing up and down it quickly.

Her eyes went wide with the pain and brutality of his action. Somehow she understood that her pussy was a seeping, flooded sea of her lava, his fingers parting the wetness, her cunt offering no resistance as he drove into her.

And then she came. Screaming, swearing, gasping, pleading for more, pleading to stop, pleading for relief, begging, screaming, drooling, panting, asking, demanding, and the pitch of her voice rising and lowering across octaves as she came.

Her orgasm seared her, burned her nerve paths with the hottest, most intense sexual heat she had ever known. Her body shook, thrashing within the limited movements her bonds allowed her, her muscles rippling even as they remained bound and stretched. The animal desire his touch unleashed in her created strength, strength enough that she was able to arch her pussy forward to pull his fingers even deeper into her.

And then she was empty. Bereft. A gaping, seething hole remained where his fingers had been, a hole that felt like her body was empty and hollow. She gasped but a single word, "NO!," as her eyes widened and her hips moved seeking his fingers, his beautiful, magical, orgasm-inducing fingers. To her it felt that she was thrusting her hips freely. As he watched her seek him he smiled, understanding that her muscles reacting instinctively to a need for more stimulation.

Her eyes closed, she thrust hungrily, searching for something to quench the fire he had ignited. She had never known such an orgasm, and had never known such need for another...and another...and another. Somewhere in her lust addled brain she knew she was now addicted to something more powerful than any drug. And wondered what else he would draw from her body today.

Her body continued to shudder through wave after wave of its orgasm, a simple, mindless animal at work, stimulated by nothing but her own intense desire, as he stepped to the side to prepare her for the next stage. Through the dim haze of her orgasm-muddled mind she heard him mutter, "Amazing. What an amazing slut."

TABLED

He worked steadily, not dallying, while she hung stretched from the ceiling, her body shuddering through mini-orgasms as it slowly calmed.

She felt something brush against the back of her calves, then slide upward until it pressed against the back of her knee. He tightly strapped her ankles and shins, just below the knee, to some kind of upright post. Then he released her ankle cuffs, leaving her legs secured to the posts

Her hands moved backward, pulled in some way by the chains from which she hung. Her body bent at the knee and her spine stretched as her calves remained in place. Then she felt something along the back of her legs, something hard and unforgiving. Leather straps secured her thighs, holding them tight against whatever the object was.

Step by step her body was strapped tightly in place against the object. Her ass touched, then her back, straps across her waist and chest securing her in place. She was frightened when the wide, thick strap passed over her neck, scooping around her chin to hold her head in place. But he quickly refocused her when he removed her wrist cuffs and stretched her arms above her head, securing them at the wrist, above and below the elbow and at her shoulder.

He stepped back to be admire his work, and to watch her eyes dart about as she took in what had happened. She was secured to a table, her body spread into a large X, unable to move any part of her body, her head motionless, seeing only the ceiling.

This time he walked over to her, placed himself between her legs and reached for her tits with her hand. She braced for pain and instead received the most tender, gentle touch of his fingertips. Her over stimulated body reacted instantly, her mind a whirlwind of confused thoughts, sensations and emotions as he teased ever so gently, running the tips of his fingers around the base of her tits, then climbing her tits to barely caress her nipples, making them harden and ache for more of any sensation.

And that was how he treated her for the next several hours. She lay motionless, unable to affect anything, forced into silence by the collar about her neck, He could have beaten her, bruised her, used her body in any way imaginable. Yet his choice was gentleness.

He explored her. He touched her everywhere. He caressed along the straps which held her, reminding her of her helplessness. He stroked her face, caressed her eyes, tickled her inner thighs, rubbed her feet, and caressed her pussy lips.

He was patient. He was relentless. She moaned into her collar, wanting to ask him to stop, to press harder, to hurt her, to do something to end what had become torture for her.

His touch was expert. He knew a woman's body well, and he was learning hers with each passing moment. He found nerve endings she didn't know she had, and ways to touch them and stimulate them that went straight to her pussy.

Her cunt had been an ocean when he'd filled her with his fingers as she hung. Now it was a lake filled with hot lava. She could feel her moisture dripping across her asshole and onto the floor. She could feel her heat, like a blast from a sauna, over her stomach and seemingly scorching the base of her tits.

She wanted to cum. Again. She was desperate to cum. Her body ached, her pussy weeping at the gentle torture his expert touch was applying. She tried to beg and plead, to open her mouth against the collar that secured her jaw, but it held firm.

She needed to cum, wanted to cum, had to come. She need to release so badly that she knew physical pain more intense than the slash of a knife. She knew would endure anything to cum, and she knew that was his plan and she helpless to change its outcome.

Slowly she sank into a place of overwhelming erotic sensation and thought...a dreamy, trance-like state. Deeper and deeper, almost accepting that this was her reward instead of orgasm, when she realized that something had changed.

He was gone! The room was completely dark. No light at all. She had no idea how long he'd been gone, when he'd stopped touching her. Her body was arousing itself, his touch so ingrained in her sub conscious that he was unnecessary.

As she slowly came out of her trance-like state she felt her need and heat again. Bound to the table, aroused and teased to an unimagined level, her body and her mind needed to cum, and she could do nothing to provide the final stimulation that would take her there.

And so she lay, smoldering, an animal in heat, trapped and unable to release herself. Slowly her mind and body quieted and she fell into a different trance, a more needing, quietly painful sensation running through her body.

All she wanted for him to return, to finish what he'd started. Whatever that was.