The Red-Haired Woman

Captive

She awoke with a start, surrounded by the warmth of bedding, plush and comforting. Her eyes widened, recalling the events that had led her to be in this bed, her fingers gliding over the fading welts marking her belly. Glancing about the room, she saw she was alone as pale, pink-tinged light filtered through lace curtains drawn over a sliding glass door. Beyond the door she saw what appeared to be a large balcony extending beyond both edges of the door frame, the foot of a chaise lounge visible to the right and another with matching hassock to the left. Taking stock of her immediate surroundings she found herself in a queen-sized four poster bed that seemed to be made of the same dark wood as the table she'd lain on during her whipping. There was a bathroom and closet set into the left wall, she could see into both as they had no doors.

On the right wall she saw eye-bolts and pulleys with nylon lines threaded through them protruding from the oak paneling and she shuddered. There were two sets placed high, near the junction of the wall and the open beamed ceiling, and another pair set low near the floorboard. More ominously, as she took in more details, she noticed the leather buckled cuffs attached to snap swivels tied at each line's end. And between the bed and that deviant wall was a low, padded foot rest, one clearly designed with something other than feet in mind. The center sported an upholstered triangular hump, steeply rising over a foot in the air, then gently sloping towards the other end. More eye-bolts and rings were screwed into the carved wood along the side, the tremors passing through her belly increased with each new feature she beheld. Instinctively, she knew she would become more than intimately acquainted with each mutely depraved object she saw.

She wanted to huddle further into the comforter and blankets but her body began begging for relief from basic needs. She rushed to the bathroom, intent on relieving the pressure in her bladder but halted at her reflection in the oval mirror set above the upright sink. The ache of the welts might have faded but their angry march across her torso sent a shiver down her spine. She felt along the receding ridges, the tenderness reminding her of how he'd marked her with quick, precisely placed flicks, and how each stinging blow had ramped up her arousal to heights she'd never thought herself capable of. In the mirror's reflection she saw her cheeks begin to redden as the night's events played in shameless vignettes before her mind's eye.

Casting her eyes downward, as if to avoid facing the recriminations that would surely follow the evening's madness; she turned on the water and splashed the coolness over her burning features. Blinking, she reached for the towel hanging next to the mirror, blotting the droplets from her skin. She held the towel scrunched against her face, and continued to stare at her reflection, wondering at the creature who looked back at her with a gaze seemingly composed of equal parts of vulnerability, defiance, and...awe. Turning, she sat on the commode and bent over her knees, holding her face in her hands.

"Did you sleep well?"

His deeply resonant voice snapped her head up and she nearly bolted from the seat but held as she realized she couldn't stop her flow. Her arms rose, trying to hide her breasts as she paled, then blushed furiously. He stood in the doorway, dressed in grey sweatpants, calmly regarding her as she tried to tamp down her embarrassment. He raised an eyebrow as she sought to formulate a reply.

"Did you?" he repeated.

"I...I..." she stammered.

"It's a simple question."

"I...yes, I'm not...I don't...how..." it seemed that a dam had broken with his words and questions wanted to pour out of her. He stepped forward and grasped her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face as he bent forward until there were scant inches between their gazes.

"You're mine."

The finality of his statement caused her nostrils to flare as she drew in a breath, her pupils dilating and goose bumps surfacing on her arms, across her breasts, and over her thighs. His possession slid into her again, as it had last night, a rapier skewering her soul. Her breath escaped in a soft sigh as the dark comfort of her submission settled about her consciousness. Her eyelids fell as well as her hands, as she leaned into his fingers, holding herself alight for whatever he would do next. She heard him pulling tissue from the roll hanging on the wall, and felt him guide her to an upright position.

"Open."

Her knees fell apart and she felt him release her chin as he reached under her to blot her wetness. Her blush deepened at the intimacy of Him gently wiping the soft pad over her opened cunt. He dropped the dampened tissue into the bowl then brought his fingers back into contact with her blossomed lips.

She brought her eyes to his as heat pooled in her belly. He took his time, running his fingers along each delicate surface, exploring, learning, and memorizing every nuance of her folds. She felt herself begin to slicken, her outer lips swelling, the inner ones flowering open under His caresses. Her eyes closed as she felt her body arch toward him, her pelvis flaring wider and her nipples spiking into twin rubies as she offered herself to Him. She wanted to reach out for his arms, his waist, his hips, anything...but she could not get her arms to move. It felt as if her body knew to wait for his permission to give in to the demands of her growing desire.

He slid a fingertip around the turgid nub that centered her arousal and excruciating pressure made her hips jerk with want. Her lower lip trembled as she drew in one shuddering breath after another. The slightly textured surface of the tile gave purchase for her toes to curl against as her loins subtly pulsed into his fingers. She felt his gaze traveling over her skin, studying her reactions with a deep and almost clinical intensity.

She gasped softly as he penetrated her with two fingers, stretching her channel, testing her tightness while probing her readiness. She knew she was more than ready as the tide of her rising need flooded throughout her body. She moaned as his fingers curled within her snug hollow. Her hips sped up; she felt her rump shifting on the seat with each small thrust against his fingers. She sensed him kneeling closer, his other hand circling around to press at the small of her back. Her hands sought his shoulders to steady herself as she threw her head back giving herself wholly over to the sensations of his tender assault. Her cries and whimpers grew louder, the pitch rising with the fevered throbs pulsing up her spine.

She was so close; she knew it would take only a tiny push, a prod, just one more swipe across her straining clit to give her release. She pushed harder against his hand, nearly wailing in frustration as she felt his palm give beneath her grinding roll, maintaining pressure but not allowing the extra friction that would send her over into climax. Her eyes flew open to find His intent upon hers, and she knew he would keep her at this torturous plateau, her wave of need cresting but not allowed to spill over into rapture. He'd brought her to orgasm so quickly last night with those wicked strokes from the crop, how could He now be so tenderly cruel?

Tears began to well along her lower eyelids as she jerked her sex futilely against his hand, caresses that had once been so enticing, now tormented. She implored with her eyes, pleaded with the grip of her fingers on his shoulders, beseeched with the wanton wider spread of her thighs, but to no avail as he deliberately slowed the twists of his fingers within her. She didn't know how much longer she could dance along the knife's edge of her lust. It grew within her, twisting into a malevolence that burned along her nerves until she could no longer discern if He was bringing her pleasure or pain. Pain...would she have to succumb like an addict if she wanted release? Was this to be the lesson of her submission?

"Please..." she mewled brokenly.

"Patience," He murmured. The hand on her back slipped around to her front, gliding fingertips only adding to her sweet misery. He knelt fully before her and she felt how strange it was for her head to be above His, while also feeling so subservient to the dancing want he so easily wrought upon her body. He brought those fingers up to capture her turgid right nipple. Rolling it gently between his thumb and index finger, once, twice...then suddenly crushing down on it with pressure that threatened to split the skin. Her hands flew to his shoulders, permission be damned, and her fingernails dug into the solid muscle she found there, but if he felt anything his expression did not change.

He continued to study her face as a tortured groan slipped through her gritted teeth as she looked back through eyes narrowed by the pain. Suddenly she felt a connection snap from her crushed nipple to the almost forgotten desire flushing her loins as the fingers of his other hand curled within her flooded channel rubbing with measure strokes against an area that woke to the caresses as if attached directly to her clit. He lessened the pressure on her breast's peak and the blood surging back into the abused flesh sent fresh jolts down her spine to her cunt. She jerked with each heartbeat pulse and then miraculously she fell over the edge shuddering with spasms as an orgasm even more powerful than last night's tore through her.

Again, she felt the heightening of her senses as her emotions and the sensations melded and peaked. Her mind registered the darkness of his hair and the matching shadow that slid down his cheeks and under his jaw. She saw the contrast between his tanned skin and the whiteness of hers, highlighted where the scarlet that adorned her nails pressed creases into his shoulders. She felt his blood rush back in under his skin as she uncurled her fingers in alarm, but found her hands would not relinquish their hold on his flesh. They settled about his upper arms with a grip only firm enough to steady her as her hips bucked against his hand, her cunt muscles clenching her sheath around his invading fingers.

At that, a part of her marveled at his ability to hold her there as she came, the waves of her desire crashing against his walls of control. She could hear the deeper undertones of the groan that mixed with the higher register of the whimper that left her throat in a sound of pure release.

"Good girl." His murmured praise sent her heart soaring, and her cunt made a lewd squelching noise as she contracted around his fingers again. His eyes bored into hers as the last of her breathy moans washed over his face and her breathing slowed, settling into that same calm she'd felt last night. Of being bound. Of being freer than she'd ever felt. Of being His.

"I'm yours."