Blood

She stood frozen in front of the Ticket Office, the simple knowledge that by uttering her destination to the assistant would make this whole experience real. Until this moment the whole thing had simply been something to keep her awake, excited, aroused, and wet at night. Now the utterance of a single word would make it real. The urge to flee was so overwhelming, it was a challenge to simply stand still, let alone opening her mouth to utter that word to someone.

Suddenly the fear of it all got the better of her she turned, and walked from the station, got back to her car, extracted the key fob from her pocket and stood looking at it. She knew that if she pressed that key fob button, got back into her car, she would feel comfortable again. The pain of these fears would melt away, and she would be back to her old life. That was the problem though, she was doing this because her old life sucked. She was safe and unchallenged in her old life, which is probably why she remained so single, because nobody could challenge her, let alone someone who could challenge her and arouse her, Damn! That was probably never going to happen. But here was someone that did, someone who pushed her thoughts, made her question her own prejudices, made her question herself. And here she was, standing by her car, running away from him. She thought about phoning him and making an excuse to put it off, but she knew she would only end up back in this situation whenever she did decide to do it.

She needed to decide whether to walk away from the whole thing, or to jump in head first and simply have the experience. Her mind flipped between the two a thousand times a second. Do it, go home, you need it, to be safe, don't be scared, don't be stupid, don't, do,

So here she was, trapped between a Ticket Office and a key fob, not quite a rock and a hard place, but the pressure was as good as. She decided that she needed to do it, she couldn't run away from everything that scared her. She forced the keys to the bottom of her bag, as if to silence their protestations. It didn't work.

She walked back to the ticket office hoping they had changed the assistant since she just made a complete idiot of herself in front of the last one. Of course, they hadn't. She walked up to him, feeling sheepish, made some feeble excuse about forgetting her purse, and awkwardness of that situation she completely forgot to be scared of saying the word to him. He also informed her that the train she wanted was just pulling in so she had better run for it.

So by the time she realised what was happening she was sat on a train, going to meet a man for, for want of a better definition, sex. She laughed at the reaction of her mother if she knew. Before the realisation of what she was doing started causing more storms in her thoughts, she got her laptop out and started doing some work instead. Though trying to decipher legalese probably wasn't what she should have chosen to do, it usually took 100% of her concentration, and she definitely didn't have 100% concentration for anything at the moment. Before she knew it though, the announcement of her station came over the speakers. This would be the hard part.

She collected her things, and started to pep talk herself, just stand up, stand by the doors at least, I don't have to get off, just stand by the doors, its fine. Its fine. She felt the eyes of the woman across the isle from her burning, she looked up to meet them, she felt embarrassed by how stupid she was being, although the woman couldn't see it, she hated the thought of being seen to be weak, and this was her being her weakest. With that piece of motivation she stood up and marched to the doors. The vestibule area was packed with people waiting to get off, she squeezed between them to the corner as more people squeezed around her. She moved to a place where she could stay put if she didn't have the, whatever it was she needed, to get off. She felt the panic building in her, cold and tangible, suddenly as the train was almost stopping she realised she couldn't do it, the panic was just too extreme. She turned to flee down the other carriage, slamming into another passenger in the process, he turned to let her past, accepted her apology, in a very polite society kind of way. Which left her completely unprepared for the arm that then slid around her waist, and the force with which her body was slammed back into his, as she started to protest, as the panic was suddenly replaced with shear anger. As her body twisted to be free from his grip she heard a familiar voice in her ear, a voice she had fell asleep to a thousand times, a voice that calmed and settled her, a voice that always brought her back to being the soft gentle girl she was before she found her voice. Suddenly she was calm, her muscles had stopped fighting to be free, her throat had silenced and she relaxed into his grip. Relaxed into his words telling her to be calm, and step off the train, but not to turn around, not to look at him. Instead walk away from the train, to the station cafe, and order two teas, then find a seat on the edge of the room, and then to wait for him. With that he removed his arm, and was lost in the multitude of passengers.

She did as she told, of course she did as she was told, for reasons she never fully comprehended she always did what he told her to, no matter how bizarre, naughty or dirty, she always did his bidding, and she always felt good doing it. She sat down with the drinks, poured her own tea from the tea pot, wondered whether to pour his, thought she probably shouldn't have poured hers in the first place, but too late now, she'd do his when he got there so it didn't go cold. She knew he was probably watching her from somewhere, she wondered if she could see him so carefully scanned the room. Though she had no idea what he looked like, she thought he had a blue jacket on. There were a couple of people in blue jackets, but one was sat with a young woman, the other was sat using a laptop and she as sure he was there when she came in. She checked her watch, nearly fifteen minutes had passed since she sat down, the tea had clearly gone cold, and he had disappeared. Maybe he didn't like what he found when he saw her in the flesh, maybe he'd just been playing games with her this whole time. Then she knew this was all just a game for him, she started to accept that she had been stood up, all he had ever given her was words, and she knew that words are easy, they don't really mean anything. Even so she felt stupid for believing him for allowing herself to be so easily led. She wondered how long she should wait here for. Instantly she knew the absurdity of the question, she had been told to wait, and she couldn't leave until she had permission to do so. Maybe if she hadn't actually been touched by him she would have left by now, but now, it was real, he was real, so here she was. For the first time in her life, completely powerless to another person, absolutely under their authority, all she had to do now was wait and see what he would do with that power, whether he really would do the things he had said he would. Part of her still expected him to just want sex, to take her virtue and never speak again, the rest of her didn't care what he did to her as long as he came and gave his attention again.

The clock hands turned, and she waited, an hour passed, even more of her confidence drained away, even more certainty that she had been stood up, but her resoluteness not to move didn't sway, this wasn't about what he did, it wasn't about his instructions, it was about her, it was her allowing herself to bend to another's will. It was examining her strength of character, seeing if she was strong enough to go against all of her own desires simply because she was under instruction. After three full pots of tea came and went, she was looking at the clock thinking that at a quarter past she would text him and find out what had happened.

Then that voice was back in her ear again, telling her she had done well, that he was proud of his girl. All of the doubts she had collected over the last two hours were suddenly flipped around, producing their binary opposite emotion. The reward for her strength in waiting there, his strong hands slipped around her neck and throat twisting her head around so he could kiss her cheek. He moved around to sit down, and told her to go and get some more tea, for the first time she looked into his eyes, saw the depths that he had shown her through all of the conversations they'd had previously. She stood and went and got more tea, came back, poured one for him, then her own. She could feel the nervous panic back in the pit of her stomach, she kept catching herself nervously fidgeting. Telling herself to leave her hair alone, to keep her hands away from themselves, to keep her feet still, but something was always moving. He was laughing at her nerves, which only compounded the feelings of helplessness he instilled in her. He took her hands, and pressed them firmly in his, telling her to stop worrying, that everything was going to be fine.

They spent a while talking, drinking tea, him holding her hands strongly in his, then she felt him firmly pinching her right index finger, she tried to yank her hand back with the shock of the pain, as the sensations settled she realised what he had done, as she saw the first spot of blood drip from back of his hand onto the white paper table cloth. All the time he held her gaze, while with the other hand he put the cover back over the blade of the short handled scalpel, and slipped it back into his jacket pocket. She couldn't take her eyes off the dripping off his hands, gently he pulled her hand to his mouth, put her cut finger between his lips and gently sucked on the wound. Both of their hands both clearly covered in blood, it was obvious what he was doing to her, well, it was obvious what he was physically doing to her. What he was doing to her mind and emotions was an entirely different matter. They had spoken a couple of times of a scene like this, but she never really believed it, it was simply some story to get her aroused at night. Now it was real, there was blood and pain, and the soft rough feel of his tongue massaging the blood from her wound. As his thoughts and mind gently massaged her deepest darkest erotic fantasies the arousal between her legs, and in her stomach was unbearable. The inside of her legs felt like she had peed herself. Her stomach was full of snakes. Her mind was simply blank, she was incapable of thought her emotional circuitry had been overwhelmed and now just lay limp and abandoned in the face of the torrent of power he had over her.

He continued to suck the blood from her finger for five minutes, occasionally stopping to drag her to him so she could kiss his bloodied mouth, the taste of her own blood, mixed with the force of his mouth against hers, the urgency of with which his tongue pushed the mix of her blood and his saliva into her mouth, the taste of the two, the taste of him overpowering the taste of her. She had never in her life felt so aroused, or so fulfilled, all of the doubts of playing this scene disappeared, it felt more powerful and perfect than she had ever imagined it could. As the bleeding subsided, he put a small bandage on it, and they left their now bloody table and went to get a taxi to his house.

Once there, he took her bag and coat, put her in the centre of the lounge and told her to strip to her underwear. He went upstairs, she could hear him walking around, but couldn't catch any hint of what he might be doing. So she stood there in silence, trying not to fidget, failing in trying not to fidget. Swimming in the anticipation of what was happening to her, in what he had done to her in the cafe, knowing how much more he was going to do to her. Wondering if they would do that as well.

He came back downstairs, having changed clothes, now dressed in a white t-shirt and shorts, he placed a large white flannel sheet over the sofa. Sat down, and looked at her, shouted at her to stop fidgeting, which stopped it immediately, and sat looking at her for a few minutes. She felt nervous and exposed and vulnerable, but at least she had her underwear on, which she knew wouldn't last much longer but she was glad he was allowing her that mercy. He asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue, that they could do it again another day if she preferred, she nodded and said she was ok. He told her to step closer to him, and he gently pulled down her panties, she stepped out of them, he knew how conscious she was of her breasts, although he had tried to convince her otherwise she had always thought they lacked the shape and definition that most women's seemed to have, they felt like they had been added as an afterthought to her. He stood up, and told her he was going to take her bra off now, she shook her head, knowing he would ignore it. Once naked he sat down and told her to straddle him. He told her to pass him the scalpel from the side of the sofa, she offered it to him, he shook his head, telling her that he wanted her to put a small cut below each of her nipples. She shook her head, saying she couldn't. He sat back, and looked at her in silence. After a little while she took the sheath off the scalpel and held her left breast in her left hand and guided the scalpel to her skin, but couldn't find the strength to push the blade into her flesh. He whispered it was ok, and slipped a hand between her legs to distract her thoughts. Aware of the reason she was doing this, aware of the desire she had carried for so long, a different side of her consciousness took the blade and slowly sliced into her flesh just below her left breast, then held her right breast and did the same. She smiled at the grin on his face as he told her to put the blade back on the side.

She leant over again and put the scalpel back where she got it from, then she saw the image that would remain with her whenever she remembered this day, the first drop of her blood landing on that bright white sheet, the sensation of it gathering at the end of her nipple, growing heavier and heavier until it had the weight to pull itself from her nipple, she watched in slow motion as it tore itself away from her and delicately flew through the air exploding onto that white expanse, of all of the things they would do that day, it was that image that would come to signify this encounter.

She sat up again, and he took one breast in his hand, and the other into his mouth again. Massaging the cut and her breast with his tongue, while his hand smeared the blood from her other breast around her body, occasionally taking it up to her mouth to taste, and down between her legs to mix with her juices. For the next two hours he fed on her, sometimes he would cut her, sometimes he would tell her where to cut herself. Sometimes he would feed on the wound, sometimes he would use the blood to paint her body. For two hours she was gorged upon. Through all of her fantasies she never imagined it would feel so erotic, so empowering. To let go of the social graces of what was proper conduct and simply let go and do what she desired, with someone who could help her to express those desires.

They took a break, he checked her cuts to make sure none were anything more than superficial, he cleaned each one, the sting of the antiseptic thrilled her. She put a robe on, he made her a drink, and spent a while chatting, holding her and bringing her back to a calm state again.

They talked about the next steps, and made sure it was still desired, then went upstairs. Where she was tied to the bed sideways, so her head was hanging off the side, spread-eagled, he then blindfolded her and lay next to her stroking and caressing her body, slowly bringing her state of arousal back up, making occasional small cuts for her to return to the state she had been previously. Moving between her legs, he put two cuts so the blood would flow between her lips tasting the mix of blood and juices. They had discussed beforehand that she would not be allowed to orgasm, that she desired simply to be kept on the edge of getting their through the entire time, and as he got better at reading her state of arousal he was able to push her closer and closer the precipice. All she wanted now was to orgasm for him to continue for that second longer and allow her to get there. She only had a dozen small cuts across her body but the net effect of the sensations felt like her skin had been shredded. Everything was amplified by the arousal she had, she would find herself begging to be allowed to cum, without even realising it was her voice, she would surprise herself at hearing it, thinking it was someone else in the room, she was so far removed from her own consciousness. She knew what was coming next, they had spoken of it enough, she had masturbated to it enough, she would feel him entering her, she would feel the pain and stretch for that first time. She felt an undertone of fear and panic wash over her, but it wasn't strong enough to match the arousal she felt. Again she surprised herself at hearing her own voice, then she surprised herself by what she was saying, she was screaming at him to fuck her, wrenching against her bonds, trying to aggravate him into being annoyed at her so he would just take her, just force himself into her. He responded in kind, with a hand around her neck and a burning pain between her legs. Staring into her eyes, hand tight around her neck, she struggled to scream with the myriad of emotions that were flooding her. She felt his body tense, and waited to taste the mix of semen, blood and her juices on her lips.

He slowly brought her back down again, as her fresh wounds dried, he tended them for her, dressed them so in case they bled again. She washed her face and hair, leaving the dried blood on her body then dressed. He took her to the station, he kissed her, she walked onto the train wondering if she would ever do that again, wondered if she would see him again. She knew the answers to both, she knew a lot today.

Golden Rules

She received his text message, as usual, as he got off the motorway giving her her usual eighteen minutes to make sure the house was perfectly presented. She would spend the next six minutes, wiping a cloth over the surfaces to collect any dust that had gathered since she had cleaned that morning. Two minutes would be spent wiping the wooden floors to the same effect. Then she would go upstairs, check her hair, undress, put on fresh underwear, go back down stairs, make his tea and place it on the occasional table next to the sofa. Go into the hall and kneel by the front door, she would usually be there for two minutes before he walked in.

As soon as her knees touched the hard wooden floor of the hall, a panic would sweep through her, a panic at having missed something. A panic that she wouldn't reach his expectations in her, so she would run through her tasks of the day, mentally ticking them off, she would take account of the surfaces she had wiped, making sure she hadn't missed any. She never, ever, missed a single one, but she always feared that she would. It wasn't a fear born out of anything he would do to her, in fact he had never once checked, she doubted he would even notice if she didn't. The reason she never missed a single one was a fear born simply from a comment he had made to her shortly after taking ownership of her, he had said he enjoyed the thought of her running around wiping all the surfaces just prior to him getting home. For this reason, and this reason alone, she did so every night for him, because it was a thought he enjoyed.

It was as she was smiling to herself, enjoying the feeling of being close to him again, enjoying that he would touch her soon, enjoying that he enjoyed the panic she was feeling now, it was as she was smiling to herself, feeling proud of his ownership of her, that the realisation of what she had missed struck her, she rationalised it, by saying that she had had to do what she had done, because of his meeting in the morning. Knowing that his meeting was far more important than that, but also knowing that he had given her explicit instructions that nothing else was to interfere with that instruction. He left her very few instructions that were that explicit, he understood that sometimes events make tasks impossible. Most instructions he left had a force majeure clause in them, that she was allowed some autonomy in their execution. This instruction and a few others were explicit and absolute.

Suddenly a wave of disappointment flooded her thoughts, she felt tears building up in her eyes. Her mind raced through reasons and excuses. Knowing full well she could not use either, she knew she had done wrong, she knew he would be disappointed in her, how stupid she had been, how could she allow herself to forget one of those rules. She feared the anger he would unleash upon her when he discovered what she had done, and in the same breath she wanted, and needed, him to be severe with her to take away the pain of the disappointment she felt in herself. She could see the disappointment in his eyes that displeased look on his face, she hated that she had failed him, and she began to cry.

As the tears rolled down her face the door opened, and he walked in, his first look, as always, was at her in the place that she always waited for him in. A smile spread across his face at seeing her, a smile that usually made her heart jump with joy, in that millisecond of him seeing her, and smiling her entire life made sense, all of the contradictions she felt about being his property evaporated, simply because she knew how much joy she brought to him, in that single, beautiful smile her life was complete. Today however, before the smile could be completed he had caught sight of her tears, and it disappeared. Which only proved to deepen her sadness, and strengthen her sobbing, she wanted him to tell her to stand, to take his coat, but he didn't. Instead he took his own coat off, and hung it on the peg. Went and put his briefcase in the study, and came back to her when all of the tasks that she should have done were completed. She felt so sad and lost because he wasn't asking her to do those things, the pain of the rejection proving only to accentuate the tears and disappointment in herself.

He was back stood in front of her, he placed his hand under her chin and pulled her up to him. Regardless of what was coming she had missed his touch, it soothed her tears instantly, she knew he was going to punish her badly when he found out what she had done. It was a golden rule she had broken, she had never broken one before, but she had been punished severely for breaking lesser rules. She felt her muscles tense with the pain of the memories. She kept her eyes looking down, she knew he was looking into hers, but she couldn't look at him the shame of her deed was too great. He yanked her chin up to bring her eyes to his, she sobbed as she was forced to look at him. He held her gaze for what seemed like hours, standing there, in silence examining her soul. She felt him looking at all of her, he didn't need her words he understood what she had done. With the slightest shake of his head, he turned her around and put his strong hand around the back off her neck, which was their mutual sign that she was to be punished. Whenever his hand touched the back of her neck in that place she knew she was displeasing him. It was a place he could touch in the busiest of places that would stop her dead in her tracks. It meant all of that because of what it meant now, that she was to be punished, so he wrapped his strong hand around her neck, pushing his strong fingers into the pressure points there. He marched her through his study, into the patio, where he removed her bra and yanked off her panties. Then with his hand around the back of her neck again he marched her into the centre of their rear garden. Putting her hands behind her head, she instinctively interlocked her fingers. He kicked her legs apart, and went back into the house.

It was a cool summer's evening, so she was feeling slightly cold, but not too much she was uncomfortable. The breeze snapped and thrashed around her skin, heightening her senses, making her skin tingle. If she didn't feel so sad and disappointed she knew this would have her highly aroused now. Her mind jumped between the pain of her actions and the pleasure of the wind's gentle fingers caressing her. As much as she knew she was being punished, as much as she was sad at how she had ended up here, the cool licks of wind across her body made her heart pound as her excitement build, mixed with the slow burning of the lactic acid building in her arms and legs, was only proving to continue to push her state of arousal further. As the first spots of rain spat onto her breast she felt the first involuntary spasm of her hips squirming in an attempt to gain some friction. Occasionally she would snap her mind back to the reason she was there, as punishment for her wrong doing, but she couldn't sustain the thought for longer than a few seconds as the rain and wind conspired against her. Pushing her closer and closer to where she wasn't allowed to go. So again she would push her mind to how badly she had treated her master, and feel the guilt deep in her soul, but the barrage of sensations now enflaming every inch of her skin was too much to keep at bay with thoughts. As the rain got heavier, and the night got cooler, and the wind got stronger, so did her arousal. She closed her eyes and rode the tidal waves of sensations washing through her body.

In one of the moments the wind took respite, she opened her eyes, and was so startled to see him standing in front of her that she lost her balance and had to readjust her step to compensate. He was looking at her calmly, she wondered how long he had stood there, wondered whether he knew what she was feeling and then realised how stupid the thought was he knew her far too intimately and could obviously see exactly where she currently was. He moved her arms back to her side, and took hold of her neck again, however when he tried to move her, the weakness caused by the time she had stood there and her continued state of arousal made her almost fall as she attempted to walk. He moved around and gently wrapped his arm around her, pulled her into him and helped her into the house. His scent flooded her senses, she felt she was home again, she felt safe and protected and wonderful. She remembered why she was there, and yearned for his touch however he might wish to administer that, she needed him and would be whatever he required of her. As she walked through his study, she spotted the clock on the wall, she had been outside for ninety minutes. He walked her upstairs to the bathroom, sat her on the edge of the bath. Told her to take a shower, calm herself down a little, get dressed and come down to him so they could deal with what she had done.

She stood in the hot shower for five minutes allowing the hot water to wash the chill from her bones. The chill returned though as she remembered the last time he had allowed her time to relax before dealing with her. She still feared the man she had brought out in him that night. The pure detached calmness of his actions, she still felt the pain his words and actions had caused. She cried once more with the fear of seeing that man again tonight.

She dressed in the small chemise and shorts he had laid out for her, and went downstairs to him. Scared and nervous of what he had planned for her, but excited at finally receiving his attention. He gestured to her to come and kneel by the side of the sofa, and in his calm, solid, quiet voice he asked her what she had done wrong. She explained that she had failed to go to the park for her weekly timeout. That she hadn't taken her book and iPod and enjoyed her time alone. She started to explain about his suit, but he cut her off explaining that he knew what she had done, and why she had done it. But he had given her those rules, and made that a golden rule, because he knew how much she needed her time alone. He knew how much she had always enjoyed those afternoons of reflecting on her life before she had met him, and it was important to him that she keeps time for herself and her thoughts. He explained that if she would prefer to do something else with her time then they could discuss alternatives. But it was critically important to him that she takes this personal time, because it kept her thoughts clear, it kept her focused on being the woman she wanted to be, on the woman he wanted her to be. During the whole conversation he kept her gaze firmly locked. She felt sad at what she had done, at the disappointment she had clearly caused in him. She was scared by how calm he was, he very rarely shouted at her, but he was rarely this calm, she sensed in the tone of his voice that man she feared, but couldn't quite place him.

He then went on to explain that he was sure that she knew that because it was a golden rule she had broken, that he was sure she knew how badly she would need to be punished to make sure she didn't forget the lesson. As her lip quivered, and the tears began to stream again she nodded that she understood, and started to apologise to him, which only provoked the tears even more. He reached out and put a finger on her lip. This stopped her crying immediately as his touch brought a joy to her whole body, he told her that they would start simply, and leaned back and patted his knee which she understood to mean she would be spanked. She stood, pulled down her shorts, pulled the chemise up her back and put herself over his knee. She felt a glow as he caressed her bum, she knew he was smiling as he did so, he had always commented on what a pretty little bottom she had, and no matter how angry he was at her, whenever he spanked her he would always caress it first, she always sensed it was an apology for what he was going to do, she couldn't explain why, but the worse he was going to spank her the more gently he would caress her before and after.

He asked her if she was sure she understood why she was being punished, she nodded, and said yes she did. As once again the tears started as she prepared herself for the start of an evening of punishment. With that he lightly slapped her upper thigh, and lifting her slightly up gently kissed each cheek of her bum. He told her to stand and pull her shorts up. Confused she did so. He then pulled her onto his knee and explained that he could see she was sorry for what she had done and was sure that she wouldn't do the same thing again. Because of that she did not need any further punishment. He pulled her into him and held her, and her sobs began again. But this time they were with glee and devotion for him. He held her tightly until her sobs subsided. He told her he had been and got some salmon and made her favourite lemon saffron rice, and she should go and put it out for them, then they would have an early night.

She leapt off his knee, with a bitter sweet mix of emotions, she knew she deserved to be punished for what she had done, but she felt so loved by what he had done, so with a great dirty grin on her face, knowing the power of the orgasm she knew he would allow her tonight, she went and prepared their dinner.

Hope

3 days, 13 hours, 6 minutes.

It was the end of a long week, and she was finally home, she’d been at work for twelve hours, far too much of it on her feet. She wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the sofa with a nice cold drink. But she couldn’t do that, she had to her tasks to do first. She put her bags down, and rifled through her handbag to find her phone. She sent him a text message saying she was now home. She looked at her watch, knowing she had five minutes to be ready. She rushed into the bedroom and undressed, she stood in front of the mirror and looked at her nakedness, as instructed, she was fat, untoned, she could swear her tits were starting to sag, her hair was a mess, God she was getting wrinkles ever likely he hated her. However could he be attracted to that? But he said she was beautiful, and he’d promised to always be honest with her. Though he also said those other things too, one of them had to be a lie. She knew she was just a plaything for him, a bed to sleep in when he couldn’t get anything else. She realised her thoughts and checked them, she closed her eyes, reset the emotions. Opened them and started again. She held her breasts squeezed her nipples feeling the sensation.(definitely sagging) Trying her best to enjoy it. Her hand stroked across her stomach (fat fat fat) she checked between her legs, making sure she didn’t touch anything to produce arousal, ensuring she was smoothly shaven. This self-inspection always aroused her, it was her ritual that brought her close to him. She imagined it was his rough hands pushing her. She felt the moisture escaping from her lips onto her leg. She was acutely aware of her own smell. The smell of her own juices, the smell of not having showered since the previous morning, yet another instruction, to only bath or shower every other day, he said he liked her smell of sex, sweat and need, which made her like it too.

3 days, 13 hours, 10 minutes.

She looked at her watch, Shit, less than a minute left. She rushed to the drawers, pulled the top drawer open and rummaged for the underwear she wanted. When she had moved into this house, he had made her discard all of her old underwear, and for the next month they had spent time shopping replacing it with his choosing. It was his constant connection to her, whenever she was feeling lost and needed his presence she touched her panties or bra, and felt him holding her she drew strength from the connection. She chose a light green silk set, with white bows and lace. Instantly feeling good as she put them on, she hated being naked because she didn’t feel this connection. She checked her hair, quickly let it down and brushed it. On the way out of the bedroom she lingered by the silk kimono, stroking it enjoying the texture as she decided whether it was cold enough to wear it, she decided against.

3 days, 13 hours, 11 minutes.

She went to the kitchen, in her underwear, a burn of shame as she had to stand at the window to draw the blinds. She poured some juice, and made a cup of tea for him, as she always did when she made a drink for herself. Took them and sat down on her sofa, to relax at last. Or as relaxed as she could get, one of the first things he did when she moved into this house was install a series of cameras and microphones. That allowed him access to her every move within that house. She was constantly exposed to him, but then she had always been exposed to him, ever since the first time he spoke to her. That exposure, that sense of being constantly watched, kept her in a constant state of arousal always conscious of her own body, her senses her sexuality. She found herself hoping he would come to her tonight. She wanted to feel his touch, however he wished to give that. She drank his tea, she hated tea, the taste repulsed her, but she craved the strength of emotion, she needed to feel things because she had spent so much of her life dead. He brought her such a myriad of emotions, every single one of was pushed and probed to breaking point. There were no bad emotions, only bad interpretations of emotions. He always taught her that, she understood it all so clearly in the times she was in his arms. This is why she liked the cameras, and underwear and other controls, it helped her to focus on what was important in her life. It stopped her getting lost like she was before she met him.

3 days, 17 hours, 39 minutes.

So she sat alone through the night, on edge in case he arrived, the TV was on, but barely audible she needed to keep it quiet so she could hear his key in the lock, her life now was one of constantly waiting for the next moment he would give her his company. She knew how abnormal this relationship was, but equally she knew how hollow normal relationships left her feeling, and she knew how alive she had felt since he found her. She craved simply being with him constantly, but also knew that if she was she would miss the highs and lows of how he treated her now. So for four hours 28 minutes she sat there, taking 24 minutes of that to make and eat dinner. It had been 3 days, 17 hours 39 minutes since he kissed her softly on the lips and walked out of the door. Although she was sure she saw him outside her office 1 day, six hours, 12 minutes ago.

3 days, 17 hours, 51 minutes.

Her heart stopped. The tumblers in the lock engaged with a key. In one swift composed move, she picked up her compact from the side, checked and brushed her hair, put them back on the side, straightened her underwear, and knelt on the rug in the middle of the room. She heard the door open, a wave of excitement washed through her, but that was quickly replaced by shock, fear, hatred and jealousy as the voice of a woman filled her house. They were both slightly drunk, intimately laughing with each other. They had talked about doing this a few weeks ago, at that time the idea excited her. Right now she hated it though.

0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes

They walked into the room, both well dressed, he’d obviously taken her somewhere nice, she was tall, God she was tall, and she knew how much he loved tall girls, she wore a bright crimson corset, with long flowing white skirt that showed off a fabulous figure, unconsciously she felt herself suck her stomach in. Both completely ignored her. Neither looked at her, he directed her to sit down where she had been, and asked if she wanted a drink. Suddenly her heart was flying, he would tell her to make it for them. Preparing her muscles to stand, he was asking what she wanted, agreed on wine, she waited for his instruction, but why wasn’t he sat down? Why was he heading for the kitchen? Since she’d been there he’d probably been in the kitchen three times. She heard him filling the kettle and turning it on. What was he doing? Why wasn’t she doing that? He was rummaging in cupboards finally finding mugs and glasses. While he was doing that the woman stood and started browsing through her CD’s she shouted to him about the lousy music collection, to which he agreed. Her heart sank, she wondered what she should have, what would make him happy, this wasn’t fun anymore. This wasn’t exciting. In the kitchen he opened the fridge, poured wine, made tea and came back. All the time she didn’t move. On her knees, hands behind her back, looking at the floor immediately in front of her.

0 days, 0 hours, 30 minutes

Still kneeling, listening to them laughing, kissing, touching. Still ignored. Every second a new set of emotions invaded her. She started complaining about her feet being sore, he offered to rub them for her. It took a moment to realise that he was now speaking to her, telling her to rub the woman’s feet. She was appalled at the idea, but she couldn’t refuse. She rose, collected a cushion from the chair, moved to her feet, and kneeled again. The woman offered her left foot first, she unfastened her very pretty shoes, placing it by the side of the sofa. Then began slowly and gently stroked her foot, before placing it on the cushion. The woman gently offered her right foot, she repeated the process and continued to rub. She liked that she was gentle to her, she could see why he was so obviously attracted to her. She wondered how much time she would have left with him now he’d found such a beautiful woman to be with instead of her. He asked the woman if she would like her feet kissed, she didn’t hear her answer, but he told her to kiss her feet too. So she moved slightly back, leaned forward and began gently kissing the woman’s feet.

0 days, 1 hours, 8 minutes

He stood and asked if the woman wanted another drink, then on the way to the kitchen, asked if she’d like to put something more comfortable on. Without waiting for a response he went and fetched her silk kimono put it over the back of the sofa, held his hand out for the woman to stand, she stood, he turned her slowly around. Exploring her curves with his eyes and hands. He left the woman in the middle of the floor, and told her to undress Beatrice, the woman’s name, and put the kimono on her. With that he went back to the kitchen.

0 days, 1 hours, 10 minutes

She started to untie Beatrice’s Corset, she had such soft olive skin, she hoped the corset was there to hold a figure in that would make her feel less inferior, but she knew it wasn’t, she could tell by how loosely the corset was tied that it wasn’t doing much of a job to enhance her perfect figure. Once the corset was removed she untied and unbuttoned the skirt and slipped it down her smooth long legs. Gently applying pressure to Beatrice’s shin to lift her leg out of, she folded them and placed them on the chair. When she turned she caught sight of her standing there in a pretty pair of French knickers tall, toned, and perfect, she knew her days with him were numbered now he had found her. She went to pick up her Kimono but he said from the door to take her knickers off too, she hadn’t been aware he had been watching, she looked at him briefly her heart sunk as she saw the string dangling from his hand, knowing what it meant. She knelt in front of Beatrice and slid her knickers off, repeating the manoeuvre to raise her leg and remove them, they were then placed on top of the other clothes. She helped her into the kimono and fastened it in a lose bow at the front. He opened his hand to her, she collected the contents from it and walked out of the room.

0 days, 1 hours, 24 minutes

She slid the key into the lock, guided the string under the door, positioned the key in the lock so it was just engaging the mechanism pulling the string that was connected to the lever bolted to the key to ensure it turned the key. She went into the room, and gently pulled the string so the door locked. At which point she curled into a ball in the corner of the room and cried into the hard wooden floor.

0 days, 1 hours, 56 minutes

She heard them pass her door and go into the bedroom. She sobbed again.

0 days, 2 hours, 34 minutes

Her sobs stopped as she heard the slow soft noises of him making love to her, this wasn’t him fucking, it was him making love to a woman, she wanted to cry to drown out the noise, but she couldn’t breathe, she was choking on her thoughts. Suddenly the air rushed back into her lungs as she gasped for air. In the exhale she let out a choking sob. She was trying to pick out the sounds again, when the lock on the door turned and he came into her. As terrified as she was at what he was about to do to her. She loved the fact that he was there to give her some attention, she looked at him and knew she was beaming with joy. She knew she saw the unmistakable look of pride on his face as she did so. He quickly covered it up again, but she knew he enjoyed how much she enjoyed seeing him. She knew he was about to hurt her, but she didn’t care she just wanted his touch. He lunged at her, dragging her to her feet by the hair, sliding a hand around her throat and lifted her off the ground with it, telling her she had been warned to stay quiet when in this room. With that he gave her three hard slaps across the face and threw her across the room. She landed hard on her hip letting out a yelp as she did so. He walked over to her and sharply kicked her in the stomach, once again taking her ability to breath. He pushed his foot into her face, she could feel something sharp in the sole of his foot which made her think she needed to vacuum the bedroom, he rolled her head around with his foot, so he could see her face, she looked at him, still grinning from his attention, he asked if she would be quiet now. She nodded and said Yes Sir. She saw that unconscious pride in him again just as he turned to walk out the door, the door locked and she was alone once more in pain from the kick and the landing. She didn’t move, and fell asleep in the exact spot he had left her content and happy.

0 days, 10 hours, 48 minutes.

He unlocked the door, came in, told her to make them boiled eggs, toast, and croissants and to serve it to them in bed, and to be naked.

0 days, 11 hours, 10 minutes.

She came into the room to see Beatrice straddling him, he was lying back with his hands behind his head enjoying the experience. She was unsure what to do, she felt awkward being there with him doing that, she felt exposed being naked, not having her underwear made her feel less connected to him. So she stood in the doorway awkwardly watching her writhing on top of him, until they both came. She remained in the doorway, not moving as they both recovered. Shortly after he told her to put the tray on the side and come to him. She stood by the side of the bed, hands behind her back, looking down.

0 days, 11 hours, 15 minutes.

She stood still while they kissed and fondled. Eventually Beatrice looked up at her, the first time she had actually looked at her, she felt her face flood red, she slowly inspected her with her eyes, then said to him, “is this what you’ve had to be fucking lately suga? You must be glad to finally be getting a real woman then”

“and what a woman you are! But yes, you know needs must, she’s a pleasant enough girl, does as she’s told, tries hard’

“she’s a bit flabby though isn’t she, couldn’t you get her to have worked that off, a bit of tone would be good, well you’re going to have to get rid of that if you want me suga.”

She was determined not to show any reaction to what she said, it took every ounce of will power to prevent the tears, she distracted her mind by thinking of the wetness between her legs, thinking how stupid it was that she was aroused, tried to convince herself that it was simply being near him, rather than being due to what was being said. The defences against the tears fell though as she heard him promise her that it would be gone within the week. She started to sob again, he told her to be quiet, then pulled the bedding back, and told her to clean Beatrice’s juices from his cock. She dropped to her knees, and concentrated on doing as she was told. Using that concentration to block out what they were saying about her. Tears were streaming down her face as licked him.

0 days, 11 hours, 20 minutes.

He took a handful of hair and dragged her off him, pulled the bedding back, and told her to get breakfast, while she was getting it he asked Beatrice if she needed cleaning, as she put the breakfast tray over his knee she made some comment about it saving on toilet paper and nodded. He instructed her to get under the covers and to clean Beatrice’s pussy too.

0 days, 11 hours, 22 minutes.

With a mixture of excitement and horror she crawled under the covers at the end of the bed. Up in between Beatrice’s long legs there wasn’t much light so she had to feel her way around, Beatrice moved her hips around to give her better access and she started kissing and licking another woman, she tasted him seeping out of her, it reminded her she was doing this for him, that this was his cum and it made her feel good to think it was now in her.

0 days, 11 hours, 40 minutes.

She was told to move, and to go and stand in the corner, facing the wall, while they finished breakfast. All she could think about was his promise to her, the tears were still streaming down her face at the thought of losing him, she didn’t know what she would do without his calming influence on her life. She didn’t want to be lost again.

0 days, 12 hours, 2 minutes.

Beatrice asked if she could take a shower, and if he wouldn’t mind getting her overnight bag out of the car. He asked the details and then told her to go and have a wash, put a robe on, and go collect her bag.

0 days, 12 hours, 10 minutes.

She returned with the bag, and took it into the en-suite as directed. Then returned to him in the bedroom, he was out of bed putting on a robe, he walked up to her, lifted her gaze with her chin, and told her to go and take a shower, because they needed to talk. She knew that this was it, he was going to tell her that they needed to end their relationship. He went to her wardrobe and took her favourite lilac satin chemise and handed it to her, telling her to put that one afterwards. He just wanted her feeling good when he told her he was dumping her for Beatrice. She showered and cried until she found a little composure and returned to the bedroom to him. She was sitting at her makeup table, doing her hair, dressed in jeans and high heels, that even sat down made her legs look amazing. She saw her, and found she was actually glad for him, that he had found someone so stunning.

0 days, 12 hours, 30 minutes.

He indicated her to sit by his side, on the bed, he looked solemn, even this cheered her up at least he was sad about losing her. He started talking about how much he enjoyed their time together, she wondered why she had to be here for this, she wanted to be alone with him, she wanted him to touch her just one more time. To kiss her and say he loved her just once more. She was openly crying again, he passed some tissues and waited for it to subside. He was explaining how much better she was now, how much she had improved in her feelings about herself, and how she could easily live on her own now, as she had come so far since they met. Just as he was reaching the part where he would say they should split, Beatrice stood up and said that it was about time she was at work. She came across and gave him a kiss on the cheek, he told her to go show her out.

0 days, 12 hours, 53 minutes.

By the front door, Beatrice gave her a hug, and told her that she was actually a really beautiful girl, and she wished her all the luck for them in future, saying that she hoped they could meet properly sometime soon. She closed the front door behind her and tried to comprehend what she meant. What did she mean them? She was the one who had just made her lose the only man she had ever truly loved. She cursed her under her breath and went back up to him.

0 days, 12 hours, 57 minutes.

He was lying on the bed, as she came into the room crying again, he got up, came to her, and wrapped his arms around her. It felt so good being in his arms that the crying dried up almost immediately but then started again as she thought that this might be the last time. He collected some tissues, he almost knelt down in front of her so he could see her eyes to wipe the tears from them. She collected herself and started explaining that she had heard what he’d said, and she promised that she wouldn’t cause him any trouble, she understood everything perfectly. She said this in the perfect wife voice of her old facade she even gave a perfect smile at the end of it. He laughed at her. He smiled and laughed. She felt the facade crack under the weight of his laughter. He told her to come sit on his knee, the place where she always felt the safest with him. The most connected to his thoughts. He explained to her that Beatrice was an ex of his that had been living in Italy, and had come over specially to see him to have this evening with them. He explained that they had dated for a few months but it lacked the spark to keep it going and that it didn’t have any where like the magic that their relationship had, and it was that magic that they both desired. So they decided to end it so they could seek the relationships they both really wanted. He explained that he had found that relationship in her. With that he held his hand to her cheek and kissed her. Then lifted her up, and lay her on the bed and told her to wait there for him.

0 days, 13 hours, 25 minutes.

He came back in the room with a tray, with a cup of tea, a glass of her black current juice, a single rose, and some more croissants. He told her to eat them while he drank his tea. Then they could spend the rest of the day in bed making love.

0 days, 13 hours, 26 minutes.

With her man at her side, they sat in silence, and in every word that wasn’t said she adored him more, in all the time she had been with him she had never been so happy that he was at her side. That she was his baby girl. In that moment she knew she truly belonged to him, and knew he would never leave her side.

In The Club

Her night started as any other night out with friends, a few drinks in bars, on the way to the club. Once inside, the five of used their feminine ways to persuade a group of lads to give up a table next to the dance floor then spent the rest of the night, watching, teasing and generally provoking the men. She felt good tonight, and it showed in the attention she was getting, she enjoyed the attention because she knew that he enjoyed her getting it. She caught herself looking around on a few occasions seeing if she could spot him lurking in the dark corners of the club, watching her, seeing her looking for him, knowing he’d never make it obvious enough to see, until he wanted her to see him. It comforted her to think he was around, she enjoyed the attention he gave her, especially this sort of attention, the secretive dark attention that was special to them. She knew these games were his special thing with her, it was what he did for her. As she sat in the club, with a drink in hand, a thousand sweaty bodies dancing around her, the heavy thuds of bass stirring her stomach. As she sat there, she was suddenly alone in the thoughts of him, of their games, and she knew he was there somewhere, she felt his presence and with that thought it was no longer the bass stirring her stomach but that all too familiar feeling of arousal. She felt her pelvis involuntarily squirm back and then forward stretching the material of her knickers across her already sensitive clitoris she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation for a moment. As she opened them the people and music slowly filtered back into the room. She felt her wetness against the inside of her leg, remembering the names he’d called her that morning when he’d found her similarly wet for no real reason but then he knew he didn’t have to do anything to get this state in her. A word, a look, a touch were all enough to bring her to this state. She hated that he could do that so easily. This morning had been much simpler. She was wet in the time it took for him to force his hand from the top of her tight jeans down between her lips to find it. She rubbed her leg against the stool to feel the bruise he had left as he kicked her legs apart to allow his big hands access. Her mind suddenly jumped to the humiliation of standing naked in front of him trying to keep up with drying the torrent of wetness as he laughed at her and called her names for the state he got her she got herself into.

In a bid to distract herself from the torrent that had once again started between her legs, she put her drink down, grabbed her friends wrist, took her drink out of her hand and took her to the dance floor. As she walked to the dance floor she squeezed her thighs together to feel her stickiness smearing itself across her skin. To thank him, she decided to put a show on. As she and her friend reached the centre of the dance floor, she stood in front of friend, stroked her hand up her back, took a fistful of hair and dragged her in to kiss her. As her other hand slowly explored her body from upper thigh across her arse, up her midrift, finally resting underneath her top against her firm slight breasts. The exploration was reciprocated, the kiss was reciprocated. She hoped the wetness was also reciprocated. So for the next hour or so they kissed and danced and caressed around the dance floor. A circle of men followed them as they danced enjoying the show she was putting on. She knew he would be enjoying them being there, seeing what only he could have.

She hoped he was there tonight, she prayed that the game he had in mind would be dragging her to the toilet and fucking her. God she needed to feel him inside her now, to feel his rough hands around her throat as he forced his way through her tightness. If he didn’t drag her to the toilet she was sure she would be able to make him fuck her in the car park. Then in the second breath she hoped she wouldn’t. She wanted to beg him to fuck her. She wanted to hear him laughing at her again as the tears stung her face in desperation. Damn, how the fuck had any man got her so fucked up. Fucking bastard. Fucking FUCKING bastard. She needed a drink.

At the bar she stood trying to locate the best position to get through the crowds, as the men who had been encircling her on the dance floor had come to try their luck. She spoke to some, as she was allowed (FUCKING BASTARD – how dare you tell me how I talk – but then did it anyway) she told them she was single, as was his standing instruction. Trying to shoo them away with the tone of her voice.

She was about to force away the hand that had brushed up her cheek, but she recognised the skin, she recognised the gentle firmness of his hand as his scent filled her. She heard complaints from the men, he had obviously upset some of them by barging in to get to her. But her ears were soon filled with his voice. Though the words took a while to comprehend.

“Take a second, take a breath, and slap me, hard across the face”

She didn’t understand for a minute, the words seemed such alien things in her thoughts, she would happily hit any man in any way she could think of. But this was him, and she couldn’t. She shouldn’t. A million thoughts raced through her head. A gallon of juices were dumped into her knickers. Her legs weakened as an impending orgasm began to send waves through her. How the Fuck did he do this to her. She looked up and caught his gaze. He was wearing his smug grin. The one that said that he knew exactly what was happening to her. She could see that he could see she was close to orgasm. He looked at her, not moving with that fucking smug grin. How many times had she wanted to knock it off his fucking face and here he was telling her to do it. Suddenly the orgasm was gone. Suddenly it was rage in her. Rage as the woman she was before he came into her life. She would fucking show him, I’ll take your fucking head off. She felt her arm let loose, it was going to be a hard one, Fuck, he was going to punish her for this, there’s no way he’s going to let this go. For he briefest of moments she remembered the woman she was before he came into her life and in the instant before her palm made contact with his cheek she felt the ferocity of it fade. She pulled back to reduce the strength of the blow.

She made contact, a really good firm contact, that knocked him off his feet a little. He took a couple of steps to take the weight shift and to put himself back on the same spot, all the while he never broke his gaze. He never broke his gaze as his tongue pushed into the corner of his mouth, he never broke his gaze as his left index finger pushed between his lips and was removed again with a crimson stain. She saw the blood and her heart stopped. Fuck she was scared. What was he going to do now. She wanted to rush into him, to kiss him to taste his blood from his mouth. Fuck, the orgasm was coming again. Fucking hell she was wet. Fuck Fuck Fuck.

He stood there for an eternity, looking into her eyes, she wanted to look away, she wanted to see what all of the gathered men were making of this game. But she knew she couldn’t she couldn’t because they didn’t exist. In these moments nothing existed except him. Except him and her own absolute vulnerability towards him. Except him and the total state of arousal she felt, she knew that whatever he did next she would probably orgasm from it. So she waited swimming in the ecstatic sea he created for her. Hoping it would never end. She wanted to die in these seas, in these moments. Then it was gone, the next thing she knew he had his hand around her throat, his big fingers pushing into the pressure points beneath her ears. Almost lifting her off her feet, his other hand was in her hair. A firm fistful holding her head upright, she felt herself pushed past bodies behind her, then pushed firmly into a wall. The restricted breathing, the pain of the pull of her hair, the sharpness of the pain of the wall against her back all conspired to push her orgasm past the event horizon. She screamed into his mouth as he kissed her, if he hadn’t got her pinned against a wall she would have surely fell because she didn’t have the capacity left to stand, as the orgasm subsided she started to kiss him back, and was surprised to find the taste of blood, and was confused as she couldn’t feel were it was from, and the taste wasn’t her own. As the realisation came to her, as the memory of what had happened five seconds before came back, another orgasm screamed out of her body, he pulled back from her kiss and buried her head into his shoulder, as the waves crashed into her she bit down into his shoulder to temper her cries. As her body relaxed so did his pressure against her body until she was learning into him, one arm around her, his other in her hair, resting her head into his shoulders. She floated there in the emotions and her devotion until he was ready to move. At which point he wrapped his hand around her wrist and dragged her out of the club. Past the gatherers, she felt herself grin at them, she felt dirty and delicious, she licked her lips hoping to taste his blood again, most of them were staring at her, at him, their jaws limp flags of disbelief. She felt pity for them, because she knew they would never be capable of evoking this feeling, of reaching this height. As she continued floating in that feeling, she felt herself yanked back to earth as he dragged her along, her legs still hadn’t fully recovered and it took all her concentration just to stay upright. But her concentration had a different agenda, that wanted to languish in her feelings, so she stumbled a few times on the way out, and he would shout at her to keep up, she found herself stumbling purposely just so he would get angry at her. She wanted him to hurt her, to feel more of the pain that had brought her here.

In the cold night air, he continued to drag her to the car, he leaned against the bonnet and pulled her to him. Standing there holding her for a moment. She could feel his malevolent grin behind her back, she felt the cogs in his mind turning while he hatched his next deed for her. Eventually he pulled her face from his chest, put his hand roughly around her jaw, and started to chastise her for biting him. His voice wasn’t particularly raised, but it had a coldness that sent a shiver through her. She was scared at what he might do because of that. She looked into his eyes and could see the schemes forming. He told her would punish her firstly, by biting her back. She wondered where, he clearly meant now, because they were talking leaned against the car. She felt a yearning for it to be her nipple. She wanted him to make her expose her tits so he could bite them both. She suspected it would be because he had parked the car in a semi-concealed place, out of sight of the cameras. He told her he was going to bite her lip, inside she winced in pain, and wondered how he would make her stand. She wondered, and hoped, that he would punish her for being so wet, As the permutations raced through her mind the hand around her jaw loosened, spreading out across her cheek, he leaned in and kissed her, slowly, tenderly, passionately, as he stopped he pulled her bottom lip out, and inflicted the slightest amount of pain in his teeth. As he pulled away from her face he told her that they were now even. It took a moment to comprehend this initially she felt disappointment at not being exposed, but as he pulled her back to his chest, and held her, she understood that while she wanted to continue the pain and violence, she actually needed to just be held. She got her doses of violence at other times, right now she just felt an incredible wave of contentment wash through her. He whispered that he was going to take her home and slowly make love to her until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. She stroked his cheek and kissed him, remembering the taste of his blood, followed by that all too familiar arousal and another orgasm stirring in her stomach.