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Part 3
He gave me some advice and helped me set up what he called a classically romantic scene for when David got home. I cooked and dressed and waited. He came back on time and headed up to his room to shower and change as he usually did when he got back. While he did that, I set the table and served dinner. I poured the wine Mort has suggested and didn’t have long to wait. He came down within twenty minutes, dressed in house clothes and looking tired; his eyes grew as he saw the candles and the dinner and wine. He smiled
“You’re not twenty-one.” he smiled and sat, swishing the wine in the glass.
“No, but Siobhan O’Donnchadha is.” I laughed.
“That’s right, Mort found you an identity. Congratulations, Siobhan.” He raised his glass and I met mine with his. We ate quietly and if I do say so myself it was good food and when we’d finished I dragged him out into the sitting room and started the music.
“I feel foolish.” he whined, gesturing at his pjs. I just smiled and pulled him to me as the music started. I took Mort’s advice again in this and there were three songs on the cd. The first one of moderate speed, the second fast and the last slow. At the first, we spun and danced close, during the second we jumped about like crazies but on the last, with us both breathing hard and leaning on each other we swayed and held each other close. As the music slowed for the end he reached up, brushed my now crazy hair out of my face and cupped my cheek with his hand. I leaned into it without even tensing and I tossed my arms around his neck as he drew me up to his lips.
While the night didn’t go precisely as planned, it went well. I had planned to make it upstairs to the bed, either of them really; we didn’t even make it to the door. Off came the skimpy dress with nothing under it, off came the pj’s and down went us rolling and laughing on our small pile of discarded clothes. He kissed me passionately, over and over sweeping and claiming my mouth with his and I just let my hands wander, everywhere I could touch and taste there went my hands and mouth. It was so different an experience than all I was used to. Love and choice, badly maimed as I was it was nothing I expected, from all I’d known as a child. But here it was. He took my aching breasts in his mouth and sucked and licked gently on the turgid nipples. Finally, he came back up and with him came his penis, prodding at my nether regions. Finding it wet and inviting he pushed in slowly, seemingly confused at finding it so tight. Slowly, gently he worked himself back and forth again, every time a little deeper. Until one small thrust broke through something. I tensed and grunted a bit in pain and he froze, confused.
“You’re a virgin?” he wondered, bemused, I nodded.
“For a lot of the buyers, virginity is a must so they kept us so.” I explained.
“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, “I’d have warned you if I known.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I groaned and ground my hips against his, “Don’t stop.” He complied a little more careful now but he couldn’t be careful for long. God only knew how long he’d been chaste and with me around teasing every nerve ending in him his mind shut down and his body took over. In and out, in and out settling into a savage rhythm; yes it hurt, but I was so far gone by that point I met every thrust with a lewd thrust of my own hips matching his rhythm with enthusiasm.
I went into overload and gave a screaming climax like none I’d known and when the haze passed he was still driving, fingers and lips plying my flesh first letting me down and then bringing me back up without even a brief rest. In and out, in and out, higher and higher until I was there again, soaring with the clouds and he was there with me. I came back down with difficulty, breathing hard and sprawled over him. He smiled down at me and laughed a bit at the amazement on my face.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” he murmured, kissing the top of my head gently.
“Thank you, Master, that was wonderful.” he tensed under me and looked at me sadly.
“Nay lass, not master, just David remember?” he reminded, gently.
“You don’t mean that.” I cried, sitting up and looking down at his prone form.
“Of course I do, I can’t take you on as a slave as you are. You don’t recognize that there is another way to be.” he explained as if to an infant.
“Oh, you’re a bloody fool and a blind one.” I spat, drawing the flimsy dress back over my person, “You’re the one who doesn’t recognize things as they are, I haven’t bloody got PTSD. The night terrors didn’t get better because we talked about them, they got worse and I’m not submissive because I was trained to be I’m submissive because I was born that way, no matter how questionable the birthing might have been.” I stalked off, furious, truly furious for the first time.
“How do you know all that, I never mentioned . . .” I spun around to face him, still naked and gorgeous but I wasn’t seeing that at the moment.
“I’ve finished that shelf, David,” I spat, making the name an insult with my tone, “I know what you were trying to do, but I’m not ill, I just had a very bad sheltered childhood. Don’t bloody treat me like a china doll and don’t pretend for a moment that all this anxious waiting is all for my sake. You’re afraid, afraid of someone leaving you as she did, afraid to bear your heart again. Naught but a bloody coward.” I turned to leave again but he grabbed my arm.
“I’m giving you a choice . . .” he argued but I cut him off.
“I’ve made my choice,” my eyes raked unkindly over him, “Or I had, but I suppose you know what’s best for me and apparently its not you?”
“You don’t understand . . .” he began and I slapped him. His head snapped to the left and he slowly brought it back around in absolute shock.
“It’s not I who doesn’t understand. My life was naught but pain and silence, always pain and silence. You’ve brought me knowledge and a little relief and for that alone I could love you but I know what I would face in this world. For one such as me, you’re the best the world has to offer. And no matter what you seem to think about it, I enjoy being submissive, I can’t help it and it’s not training, it’s breeding, same as what makes you dom, if a little less legitimately done. I can’t help what I grew up in but neither can you and for you to take that blame on your shoulders is idiocy, and to deny something we both want for them, makes them strong. It means they’ve won. I love you, you blind bloody coward, now you either must do somewhat about it or stand aside.” I hadn’t noticed during my rant that his hand had gripped my wrist tighter until it hurt a bit but I had been watching the eyes and they glinted with rage. I didn’t tense. He said he never struck in anger, and I knew he wouldn’t. He’d been naught but true to his word, but now I was pushing and if he was really the dom I needed he would rise to the challenge. I’d called him names, insulted his intelligence, he couldn’t afford to take that lightly, not in the precarious position we were in.
“So you want to be a slave? My slave?” he hissed, “You want me to punish you for that sass? Want me to hold the end of your leash and dictate your life even though you just escaped just that?” he asked. He laid his hand, the one that wasn’t bruising my wrist, over the back of my throat and gave it a gentle shake, “Well?”
“Yes David, the difference being I trust you to do it out of love, or at least like, as opposed to profit and psychopathic sadism.” I replied.
“Fine then.” he said shortly. He dragged me over to the metal and glass coffee table in the center of the room, ripping the simple slip off me as he strode. He forced me down onto the table widthwise so my breasts pressed on the glass. He wrapped my arms around the legs forcing them apart and pressed shackles that had been cleverly disguised by the table around them so I was bound fast. He kicked my knees apart forcing my chest to lean further onto the table and shackled my knees to the opposite legs so they were spread wide, almost wider than I could stand. He walked away then, leaving me uncomfortable and bound. He came back a few minutes later, calm now, almost serene and he sat in front of me so that I might see him.
“You didn’t flinch. I raised my voice, I was furious and might have taken a hand to you but you didn’t even flinch.” he mentioned.
“You said you would never hit me in anger.” I answered. He nodded and moved away, shuffling around, making preparations. When he came back into my view he held two short, lit tapers and slowly, so that I saw what he was doing, he fit them into slots made for them in the table directly under my nipples. They were far enough so they would not cause damage but it was clear they were going to heat the glass to an uncomfortable level. I cursed at his ingenuity but he was far from done. He walked off again, but only moved behind me to the couch to watch as the candles began to work. As soon as my low moaning and fruitless struggles had reached the level he wanted, he was back and I felt the strap he held graze my bottom.
“I’m going to give you thirty strokes, lass, five for every time you called me a coward and twenty for striking me. You will thank me for every one, each time you do not thank me you will earn another two. Is all this clear?” he asked.
“Yes Master.” I gasped, leaning as far away from the uncomfortably warm glass. Much as I was expecting it, the first stroke threw me off guard. I was driven into the hot glass and jumped in my bonds, struggling fruitlessly against the ties about my wrists. I let out a low gasp, less from the pain, because it was not a terrible hit, and not because of the warmth of the table, but of the rushing warmth I felt from within. Damn him if he wasn’t right, I was enjoying this.
“That’s an extra two, don’t forget to thank me.” he reminded. After two more blows, one of which I forgot to thank him again, I found it was easier to press myself against the table no matter the discomfort, it was far easier doing that than being pushed onto it again and again.
After another ten my arse ached and he was hitting harder. Another twenty and I was an unattractive mess crying constantly as the strap continued to rain against my bottom and thighs. Then it was over and he gently removed my hands and knees from their straps and rubbed my wrists and knees where I’d bucked so much the strap had rubbed my skin. He held me then, whispering soft endearments to me and rubbing my hot aching flesh. The very touch of his hand dismissed the pain and ignited another want.
“Master,” I whispered, leaning into him and begging with my eyes. He moved his hand and let it dip between my legs finding it a hot forge that was ready to welcome him. He rose in response to my need and sat me gingerly on his lap, allowing me to ride him. This was in no way the position of power it would normally be. He firmly grasped my hips and moved me as he chose. Choosing the pace and the rhythm, using my willing body for his maximum pleasure. Up and down and the feeling built and built and built until I exploded from the sheer ecstasy and still he moved me. Working me harder and faster keeping me swirling in ecstasy until he too reached his own completion and I collapsed against him. With infinite care, he tried to tuck me into bed but as he moved away I grasped his arm tightly and he smiled and climbed in beside me. He moved my limp body against him and I obligingly snuggled against his beautiful chest, tossing a leg carelessly over his. A few moments of steady breathing and me on the very verge of oblivion he kissed my forehead gently.
“My beautiful slave.” he whispered and I smiled into his chest and dropped off.
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