The Canyon

She stepped out of the house into the predawn light, bare feet moving silently, the straps of her heels dangling from her fingers. She made every effort to leave the house without a sound, not wanting to wake the occupant who dwelled within. Her long raven curls, styled so elegantly the night before, hung in a wild mass down her back. Her makeup was smudged and her cheeks were pale. She had the look of a woman in desperate need of sleep. She turned to pull the door closed behind her and gave a gasp of surprise when she heard a voice coming from the driveway.

"I don't believe this." She turned with a hand to her chest, her heart thudding wildly, releasing her quick intake of breath when she recognized the voice.

"Michael," relief gave way to confusion at seeing him there. "What are you doing here?"

She heard the anger in his voice when he replied, only adding to her confusion. "I could ask the same question of you. Look at you. Sneaking out of some man's house at dawn like a cheap slut. You know, when Chloe told me I would find you here, I laughed at her; told her she was crazy; that you would never betray me like that. And here I find you. God I am such a fool."

Confusion gave way to shock, followed by anger. Her words of denial died unspoken on her lips. That he could think she was capable of anything like what he was insinuating cut into her deeply and she refused to defend herself to him. Her words dripped ice as she spoke, "Yes. You are a fool. And one day you will realize how much of one." With that single sentence, she turned and walked down the driveway to her car, flinching as a rain of curses fell on her. Only when she was in the car and driving away did she allow the tears to course down her cheeks.

She drove home blindly, slamming the door behind her. She collapsed on the floor just inside the door, sobbing brokenly. After an interval that seemed like hours, she dragged herself up and made her way to the shower, shedding her clothes in a trail behind her. She turned the shower as hot as she could stand it and just stood under the water, her desperate sobs now quieted, tears continuing to fall silently down her cheeks. Her thoughts raced. She needed to get out of here, to get away and figure all of this madness out. At once her mind settled on the canyon. It was where she always went when she needed to find some peace. With resolve, she turned off the shower, dried off and got dressed. Hastily she packed her climbing gear, a bedroll, and enough supplies for a few days. She threw everything into the back of her truck and set off.

The miles were eaten up quickly. The time passed almost without her notice until she found herself pulling onto a barely noticeable dirt road. Ten miles later she was deep in the canyon. She parked and unloaded the truck. Her camping gear was stowed in a spare pack that she would haul up with a guide rope when she reached the top. She got into her harness and got her climbing equipment set then started the climb. It was nearly 200 feet up the nearly sheer rock face. She would need all her concentration to make it, which was exactly what she needed, to focus on something other than the pain settling into her chest.

With a determined set to her mouth, she began her climb, her fingers and toes seeking out the almost unnoticeable grips to pull herself up. As she lost herself in the physical demands of the climb, she was completely unaware of the silent tears that streaked unceasingly down her cheeks, mingling with the dirt and the dust from the climb. At last she felt her fingers scrabbling for purchase at the top of the canyon wall. She dug her feet in and pushed, collapsing in exhaustion when at last she lay on the rock at the top of the cliff. For several long minutes she lay there unmoving, panting heavily, her skin gleaming with the exertion of the climb.

She rolled and lifted to a sitting position, fingers seeking the canteen at her waist, lifting it to her lips and taking a long drink of the icy cold liquid before dumping the rest over her head. She gasped as the water ran rivers down her back and chest. She stood and looked over the edge of the canyon. She saw her pack sitting far below her and with a groan, began to pull it up to her location. After the climb she was nearly exhausted but she managed to get the heavy gear up. She made camp quickly, next to a large boulder that sat in the clearing. From experience she knew there was a runoff stream about a mile away and all she wanted at the moment was to soak herself in the refreshing waters.

After everything was set up and her food stores were stowed away, she grabbed a towel and a bar of soap and headed for the stream. She returned some time later, her skin pink and glowing from the frigid water. She dropped naked onto her bedroll and closed her eyes. She knew she should eat something and gather some firewood but she was so worn out from the climb and the events of the morning. She would just take a bit of a nap before performing the rest of her chores. She didn't bother to clothe herself. In all of her years of coming here, she had never seen another living soul up here and the sun felt so warm on her skin. With effort, she banished thoughts of Michael, needing the rest and solace that sleep offered. In no time she fell into a deep dreamless sleep, the physical exhaustion offering her peace from her troubled thoughts.

She woke suddenly to a hand cupping her breast and a voice whispering softly in her ear, "I thought I would find you here." As panic gave way to recognition of both the touch and the voice, she sat up abruptly, belatedly realizing she was still naked. Trying to cover herself, she scooted away from him, his name a whisper on her lips, "Michael."

He reached for her and she recoiled from him, the events of the morning flooding back into her consciousness. Pain and anger filled her eyes, turning them from the deep green that she was named for to a bright gleaming emerald. Contempt dripped from her voice as she spoke again, "You had no right to come here. You gave up that right this morning."

He both saw and heard the pain in her voice and winced at the knowledge that he was responsible for putting it there. Softening his voice and trying not to be distracted by her nudity he tried to placate her anger. "Please Jade. Let's just talk about this. We can work this out."

His words gave her a sense of incredulity. Their relationship flashed through her mind. From their first meeting to the night that in the darkness she first formed the word "Master" on her lips. He had taken her to the darkest places of her soul and brought light. All the desires she had hidden, he had exposed and she had put her complete trust in him. What had happened this morning was all the evidence she needed that that trust was one-sided. She didn't think that she could ever forgive him for that. And at the moment, she wasn't even sure she wanted to. Her voice was filled with condescension as she stifled the pain and fed on the rage filling her.

"Work it out? Why would you want to work anything out with a whore? Why even speak to a slut that would betray you for one night's lust? No. There is nothing to talk about Michael. It's done. I thought we had finally moved past the point where we hurt each other, but it's obvious now that we never will. As they say in Vegas, it's time to cut our losses." Bitterness crept into her voice, "And to think I called you 'Master'. You are no Master. Never again will you see me kneeling at your feet, gazing up at you in adoration and submission. I told you this morning that you would one day realize what a fool you are. Seems I was right. What kind of man chases after a woman he believes to be a faithless slut?" She stepped forward and swung her arm, her hand smacking across his face with a resounding crack. "Now go away Michael. Leave me alone and just go away."

She turned her back so he couldn't see the tears that shimmered in her eyes. He would never know what that little speech had cost her. Her heart longed to go to him, to kneel before him, to find a way out of this mess he had created. She didn't realize she was shaking with silent sobs. She bent forward and picked up a blanket to wrap around herself.

He was tempted to leave. He hated seeing her in so much pain, and hated even more that he was the cause of it. Then his hand lifted to his cheek, rubbing thoughtfully at the warm mark where her hand had struck. A coldness crept into his eyes as he watched her trembling in the blanket. No. He would not accept this. She was his. His lover...his friend...his slut. There was also the added impetus of watching her bend over naked. The sight of her creamy rounded ass cheeks, so inviting and so exposed, lit a fire in his blood.

He reached his decision and crossed the space between them in two long strides. He reached out his hand and snatched the blanket from her, his other hand twining in her hair and pulling her head back. She barely had a chance to draw a gasp of surprise before his lips crashed down on hers. The hand in her hair tightened painfully. He took advantage of her lips being parted in shock, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She twisted around, her hands pushing at his chest. Finally he broke off the kiss, his eyes glittering dangerously. She wrenched herself free of his hand in her hair and backed away until her back was pressed against the boulder near where she made camp. There was hurt and confusion in the depths of her eyes.

"What the hell do you think you are doing Michael," she silently cursed the tremor in her voice and the heat rising in her. It was always the same. No matter what happened, no matter how they fought, how angry she was with him, one touch and her blood turned to molten heat. He knew how he affected her and he used it against her, crashing through her defenses until she was once again begging for him. She reached down inside herself; trying to find a resolve she wasn't sure existed for the strength to resist him. "Not this time," she told herself silently. This time she would not give in. The hurt was too much, overriding the love she felt for him and her always present desire to submit to him.

"Michael now is it? I will hear Master falling from your lips before the sun sets this day I think. As to what I am doing. I am showing you the error of your ways. We will discuss what happened this morning later. For now, I think what is going to happen is that I am going to remind you of all the reasons you stay with me. And to return the lovely mark you left on my face." His fingers reached up to graze over his cheek, noting with satisfaction how her face paled at his words. His words were velvety soft, masking the steely purpose in his movements as he strode close to her.

She held her hand out in front of her, her voice strong despite the ashen color of her cheeks, "Michael. Don't. It's bad enough to end things this way. Don't make it worse." She hoped her words were getting through to him.

"Worse?" He laughed coldly. Once again his hand shot out, knocking away the hand she held up so feebly as a defense against him. In the process he grabbed her wrist and yanked her against him, barely holding back a groan as her warm nakedness rested against him. His free hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so he could see her eyes. "Oh you haven't even begun to see worse yet." He lowered his lips to her ear and whispered softly, "but you will my love...you will."

She struggled in his grip...panic filling her. The look in his eyes was one she had never seen before and suddenly she was afraid for the first time since she had met him. He hooked his foot behind her calf and she found herself face down on her sleeping bag. Calmly he reached for some of her climbing rope, winding it around her wrists and tying it off tightly. He left one end of the rope long, winding it around his wrist for the time being. He spoke almost casually, "I wouldn't struggle too much if I were you. This rope seems like it would chafe quite severely."

She heard his words but struggled anyway, twisting her wrists in the rope until arcs of pain shot up her arms. She collapsed limply. The whole time she was struggling, he simply sat next to her, one leg draped across her thighs to keep her from getting up. When she ceased her squirming, he smiled icily, one hand softly caressing the cheeks of her ass, admiring the creamy whiteness of the twin globes. With the other hand he unfastened his belt and slid it from the loops of his jeans. He had not thought to bring anything with him, so he would make do with what was available.

He pulled his leg from across her thighs and sat next to her, then dragged her over his lap. Upon hearing the sound of his belt whisking from its loops, she had renewed her struggles, ignoring the rope biting painfully into her wrists. He brought his hand down on her ass cheeks with a loud crack. She whimpered and cursed him simultaneously. He laughed, "Careful my dear. You don't want to add to your punishment now do you?"

She twisted and looked up at him, eyes glaring daggers at him. "I am not your dear. Not anymore." However, she wisely held her tongue when the next slap cracked across her cheeks. Instead she focused her energy on resisting the fire his touch, even his sharp smacks, lit inside her. She closed her eyes, trying to find a quiet place within her. He saw what she was doing and quickly decided to up the ante. He grabbed the belt and doubled it up; careful to make sure the buckle was secure in his palm. He wanted to get through to her, not seriously damage her in any way. She heard the belt whistle through the air a moment before it cracked against her asscheeks. The unforgiving leather lit a fire of pain in her flesh. Her back arched as she cried out in pain, the single lash bringing tears to her eyes immediately.

He rained blows down on her, varying the pattern as he watched her try and brace herself against the belt. She squirmed madly, twisting her hips to avoid the slashing belt. Her entire ass now burned and she was sure it was crimson. After a time, her cries died away to hoarse whimpers. She flushed pink when she realized that she was no longer attempting to move away from his strokes with the belt. Instead her ass was now rising to meet it and the sounds emanating from her lips were melting into soft moans. She heard his satisfied chuckle as he too noticed the change in her. He tossed the belt aside and spoke softly, "Now, what do you call me my little slut?"

Her pride reared up and she turned to look directly into his eyes, "Nothing has changed, Michael." Derision dripped from her lips. "You may know all the keys to my body; you may know how to provoke any kind of reaction you desire from it. But my mind and heart are closed to you." She laughed scornfully. "Do whatever you want to me. It doesn't change anything Michael. It doesn't change anything." The pain in her heart was glaringly obvious in her last sentence. Regardless of how strong she wished to appear, she heard it and Michael did too.

With a growl of rage, he stood. As he rose he twisted his hand through her curls and dragged her up with him, ignoring her whimpers of pain. He strode over to a nearby tree, pulling her along with him. When he reached the tree, he untied her hands from behind her back and moved to retie them in front of her. When she fought him, he coolly slapped her across the face, momentarily stunning her. He finished binding her wrists and lifted them up and over a broken branch, pulling her onto her tiptoes. Her attention was now focused on keeping her balance and not putting her weight on her shoulders. His cool gray eyes scanned the tree rapidly, settling on a thin whippy looking branch. He retrieved a knife from her gear and cut the branch. Standing in front of her, he tested the springiness of the branch by whipping it through the air. He watched how she fought to remain cool and seemingly unconcerned. He knew her too well to be deceived by her calm façade however, knowing that inside she was a mass of churning emotion. He stepped closer to her and suddenly thrust his fingers between her thighs, taking her by surprise.

He smiled knowingly at her when his fingers slipped easily into the wetness he found there. She was right about one thing. He did know how to play her body, and he intended to use that knowledge to his advantage. He would break the defenses she had gathered around herself until once again she knelt before him humbly. Only then would he gather her to him and tell her he was sorry for this morning. Then he would tell her everything that happened after she stormed off. He returned to the situation at hand when she broke his reverie with a soft moan. Her hips were thrusting against his hand. His fingers having unknowingly pushed into her heated core, he was stroking her rhythmically.

He removed his hand, enjoying her soft groan of frustration. "Not yet mine. No pleasure for you yet. It's still time to pay for your disrespect and your disobedience."

He stepped back and swung the switch, landing it with unerring accuracy across her nipples, never hesitating before bring it back to slash across her breasts over and over. Her cries of earlier were no comparison to the agonized screams that shattered the peace of the clearing now. When her voice grew hoarse and her head drooped down, her dropped the improvised switch and unbuttoned his pants. He let them pool around his ankles. His cock was hard and aching when it sprang free. He stepped closer and grabbed her legs, wrapping them around his waist and driving his cock into her hot depths with a deep groan. Her eyes fluttered but did not open. However, he felt her legs tighten around him and her hips lurch forward welcomingly. He began to thrust deeply inside her, his lust overriding everything else. Her hands twisted in the ropes and she moaned, her body rocked by each thrust. He drove into her faster and harder, animalistic grunts echoing in the clearing. It was not long before he felt his cock tightening. Knowing that his release was only a moment away, he thrust savagely into her, speaking through gritted teeth, "Come for me slut."

She cried out as tremors rocked her slender body, hating his hold over her. His name danced on her lips and he gave an exultant cry as he heard her soft whisper, "Master." He emptied himself into her depths. He held there for a moment, both of their bodies trembling uncontrollably. He eased himself from her, tenderly taking her from the branch and carrying her to her sleeping bag. He felt shame and cursed himself when he cut the rope that bound her wrists and saw the raw and torn skin. He nestled her against his chest, stroking her hair.

She began to sob quietly, shaking against him. He sat her up and brushed his fingers over the tears streaking down her cheeks. "Hey now. What's all this? Don't cry my love. We are together my love and everything is perfect." She shook her head and continued to cry, speaking in low broken tones.

"Nothing is okay, and it certainly isn't perfect. This doesn't change anything. All it does is make it harder to walk away."

"No one is walking away from anything," his voice hardened for a moment before resuming its gentle soothing tone. "That is actually the reason why I came here. This morning, after you stormed off, I spoke with Kieran. Apparently, all the yelling woke him." He flashed her a wry grin before continuing, "He invited me in and told me everything. Everything. Like how you and him had been friends for years. And how you went over there last night because he called you needing to talk. And...how he is gay. You should have just told me love."

"I couldn't tell you. You were so ready to believe the worst of me. It hurt so bad that you would listen to that witch Chloe. Did it ever occur to you to wonder how she knew where I was? I told you a long time ago that the only reason she was nice to me was so she could find a way to come between us. And still, she tells you something vicious about me, and you rush right over believing the worst. After everything we have been through, you still believed I would throw it all away for a cheap one-night stand. It seemed to me that if you found it so easy to believe, it was better to walk away."