Savaged

by Shay Savage

  “Did I say you could rub up against that as if you’re in heat?” I scold. “You wait until I tell you to do that.”

  She stills, and I hold the vibrator to her clit again, slowly moving it up and down over her sensitive flesh. I watch her legs and ass as they clench, and I pull it away.

  “Do you want to come, pet?”

  “Please, sir…please!”

  “Do you want to come on this toy or my cock?”

  She gasps and her arms shake a little.

  “Your…your cock, please, sir.”

  I turn the vibrator off and toss both it and the remote on the table beside the bench. I stand between her legs, my cock in my hand. It’s twitching, as if it knows what’s right before it. I don’t pause to tease her any longer—I know how close to the edge she is.

  I ease into her halfway, grasp her hips, and slam myself home as her body jumps beneath me. I reach out and find her clit with two fingers, pressing against it as I move inside of her. Every muscle of her body tightens, and she gasps.

  “Let go, pet,” I say. “Come when you please.”

  “Aahhh!” she calls out as she pushes back against me. I rub her faster, circling and pressing her center as I press into her deeply with every stroke.

  As I feel her clench around me, she doesn’t hold back her cries. I thrust into her again and again, feeling the tightness in my muscles as the tingling in my cock increases. The slick feeling of her pussy over my shaft focuses the sensations, and with a final penetration, I unload inside of her.

  I stroke her back with my hand, feeling the ridges of the scar tissue beneath my fingertips. I caress each one, silently telling her that I accept her as she is.

  Cleansing Bonds: Chapter 4

  The weekend has gone by way too quickly.

  Yvette had woken up before I had and had made me an omelet and seasoned potatoes for breakfast. She knelt quietly on the floor as I ate and fed her from my plate. She took each piece as she looked up at me with adoration.

  The idea of having her here like that every morning was definitely starting to appeal to me. In fact, I couldn’t stop the images from crowding my mind. I took her back to the playroom and rewarded her with rope and orgasms.

  Now I hold her in my lap with her head resting against my shoulder. I caress her bare skin, enjoying the softness under my fingers. She reaches out and kisses the side of my neck as she sighs, content in my arms.

  “It’s nearly time for you to go,” I inform her. I hate the sound of the words as I speak them. I don’t want her to leave, but I know it’s the right thing to do.

  “I don’t want to go,” she says, echoing my thoughts. She tightens her grip on my shoulders. “Please, sir. I want to stay with you. I don’t want this to end.”

  “Silence, Yvette. We aren’t done unless you want to be. I just want you to spend the week reflecting. I want you to consider everything that has happened and come to your own conclusions about what you want.”

  I turn her body so she’s looking at me and place my hand on the side of her face.

  “I’ve never had a woman with me all the time. I need to do some research and make sure I understand everything I will need to do if you are here living with me and wearing my collar. I need to understand my own limits as well as yours.”

  “I already know I want to come back,” Yvette insisted. “I want this.”

  I take her chin between my fingers and stare at her, hard.

  “You are defying me,” I state. “If and when you return, I’m going to punish you for that. I’ve given you your instructions. You are to think about this, and think about this seriously.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says as she bows her head.

  Beautiful.

  *****

  During the week, I speak to Holly on the phone several times to discuss my weekend with Yvette. Holly is obviously pleased with herself and her matchmaking abilities, and I roll my eyes. She tells me about her talk with Yvette.

  “She said she has never felt so safe,” Holly tells me. “She’s quite enamored with you, Paul.”

  “You should have told me about the scars,” I say. “A little preparation on my part might have suited her better. I was nearly in shock when I first saw them.”

  “Yes, I know,” Holly says with a sigh. “I thought about it, Paul—I did. But I know you, and I thought you needed to see them for yourself without prior knowledge, for several reasons.”

  “What reasons?” I ask.

  “Because you might not have agreed at all if you had known about them,” she says. “I needed you to realize what happened between you and Lily was a terrible mistake, but that you aren’t a monster. The man Yvette was with? He’s a monster, and he’s in jail now because of it. I thought seeing the aftermath firsthand would bring out that fierce protective side of you, and I was right. You knew exactly what to do for her.”

  I place my head down against the palm of my hand with my elbow on top of my desk and sigh.

  “She wants to be collared,” I tell Holly.

  “Are you considering it?”

  “I bought one,” I admit.

  “That’s a yes, then.”

  “I suppose it is.” I lean back in my chair and spin it around to face the window. “She wants a full-time relationship. I’m not sure I’m prepared for that.”

  “That’s a huge commitment,” Holly agrees. “I know you’ll think about it carefully.”

  We chat a bit more and then say our goodbyes. I have a lot to accomplish before the weekend arrives, and I busy myself in my job to make sure I won’t have any interruptions after Friday. At home I prepare, and when Saturday finally arrives, I am as ready as I will ever be.

  On the dresser in Yvette’s room is a long, thin box from Tiffany’s. Inside is a choker-style chain necklace with a diamond covered, heart-shaped pendant. The pendant bears a lock, but I have removed the ornate key that came with it. It’s on a longer chain around my neck.

  I’m pushing my luck, trying to fulfill her request to collar her so soon, but I can’t help but be intrigued by it. I don’t know how it will change how I feel, but I want to find out. I want the symbol of my ownership plainly displayed on her. I want her to know she’s safe, cared for, protected.

  Mine.

  At the same time, I know part of protecting her is protecting her from herself. She thinks she wants this, but she’s being impetuous. She can’t know yet. She hasn’t seen me in action, so to speak.

  When she arrives at my door, I take her to her room immediately. Deep red lingerie is laid out on the bed, and I instruct her to put it on and wait for me. When I return, I take her hand and lead her over to the dresser. I take the small, blue box and place it in her hands.

  “Open it.”

  Yvette carefully removes the white ribbon from the box and grips it between her fingers as she lifts the lid. She opens her mouth and gasps.

  “It’s beautiful, sir.”

  “Do you still want to wear it?” There’s a small part of me that wants her to say no because of my own uncertainty.

  “Yes, sir,” she says with confidence. “Please.”

  “Kneel,” I command.

  Yvette drops to the floor and holds the small box across her knees. I reach behind me and take the soft hairbrush laid out on the vanity and begin to brush her hair away from her face.

  I don’t know what it is about hair brushing, but it’s something I’ve always enjoyed doing with my subs. I don’t just brush through it a couple of times and call it done, either. I spend a lot of time, dragging the brush through her hair until it’s shining against my hands. Every woman I’ve been with has practically come from the attention, and it seems to relax even the most nervous sub.

  Yvette is no different. After only a couple of minutes, she closes her eyes and leans back against the motion of the brush. Her hair is nearly black from a distance, but up close I can see shining strands of lighter brown and gold weaved through her locks.

  When I’m d
one, I consider braiding her hair down her back but decide I like it best hanging free. I deposit the brush back on the vanity and instruct Yvette to hold her hair up off her neck as I take the chain from the box.

  I’ve attended the occasional collaring ceremony, and I know what I’m doing wouldn’t be considered proper by many in the community. I’m quite sure Holly wouldn’t approve of the action at all because it is far too soon, but I feel how right it is. I feel how much she needs this, even before we truly begin.

  For her, it is not a symbol of her submission to me but my willingness to accept her as my submissive. It’s not a statement of love but the beginning of a bond of trust. She needs to know that I will keep her safe, and I need to show her I can live up to the trust she offers me.

  Reaching out with one finger, I stroke the side of her neck where the collar will lie against her skin. Her skin is warm, and I realize the metal collar will be cold when I place it on her. I take my hand back and rub the chain between my palms, warming it with friction as I speak.

  “This collar is a representation of my promise to you,” I say. “As long as you wear it, I will protect you and guide you. I will keep you safe—always. I will never punish you without reason and your clear understanding of that reason. It is also a symbol of the trust you put in me to fulfill my role as your Dominant and Master.”

  As much as I want to appear self-assured, I really have no idea if I’m doing this correctly or even if there is a correct approach at all. Maybe there is, and I’m screwing it up, but I don’t think I am. I mean what I tell her—I will protect her as long as she is in my service.

  I need to.

  “What does this collar mean to you, Yvette?”

  Her fingers clench on her thighs for a moment before she answers.

  “Wearing your collar is a symbol of my submission to you,” she starts. “In exchange for your protection, I offer you my service in any way I am capable of performing. I will serve you, honor you, and place my trust in your guidance.”

  “Are you ready?” I ask softly.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I wrap the warmed metal around her throat and clasp it at the back of her neck. Yvette reaches up and fingers the diamond heart hanging at the base of her throat, and I see her smile.

  “Stand up and turn around,” I instruct. She stands quickly, but her fingers remain pressed against the heart. “Unbutton my shirt.”

  She reaches forward with both hands and releases the top few buttons before I stop her.

  “Do you see the chain there? Take it out.”

  Yvette obeys, and her fingers trace the edge of the key at the end of the chain.

  “This key will only leave my neck under two circumstances,” I say. “Either I remove it myself and release you from my service, or you ask me for it, and I give it to you, allowing you to release yourself. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I raise an eyebrow, and her expressive eyes widen.

  “Yes, Master,” she says quickly to correct herself.

  “At the end of the weekend, I’m going to release you from that collar,” I tell her. As she opens her mouth, presumably to protest, I place my finger over her lips. “Then we will talk openly. We’ll decide then if you want to put it back on or not.”

  “If I put it back on,” she asks, “does that mean I’ll stay here, Master? Will I stay here with you and not go home?”

  “If you put it back on, this will be your home.”

  She’s pleased with the answer.

  I lead her to the kitchen, and she cooks for me. I let her decide what to make, interested in what she will prepare without prompting. It takes her some time to decide—she second-guesses herself as she removes something from the refrigerator and then replaces it again only to choose something else. I can see that this is an area where she will need to be pushed. She needs to be able to make some decisions on her own without hesitation.

  “I wouldn’t have bought it if I didn’t like it,” I remind her as I sit at the breakfast bar and watch.

  “Yes, Master,” she responds. “Of course.”

  She finalizes her choices and prepares a delicious meal. I stroke her hair as I eat, providing her with bites from my fork. As I’m finishing, I notice that she keeps looking up at the counter. There’s a small, silver bowl with some of the candy left over from the office Halloween party—fun-sized Snickers and Butterfingers.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Yvette nods at the candy bowl.

  “Do you like Butterfingers, Master?”

  “I do,” I say with a smile. “Why do you ask?”

  She blushes and looks away.

  “They’re my favorites, Master.”

  “Are they now? I’ll have to remember that. I’m going to take a shower now. When you’ve finished cleaning up from lunch, meet me in the playroom.”

  The shower relaxes me and helps me focus. I think about the scene I want to create with Yvette, and I’m still keeping it simple for now. At this point, I need to trust myself as much as she needs to trust me. I’ll build on it as we move forward.

  I pull on my jeans and smile as I think about the bowl of candy. Before I go to the playroom, I return to the kitchen and take a couple of the Butterfingers and slip them into my pocket. She’s waiting for me, posed beautifully in her submission to my will, the collar around her neck, sparkling in the candlelight. It excites me immediately.

  Moving next to the large bed, I place the candy near the candles on the nightstand. I don’t want them melting in my pocket, and I plan to have her on the bed today. I take out several strands of nylon cording and lay them out on top of the black sheets.

  “Come here, pet,” I command. She crawls over to me and kneels at my side. “Hands up above your head.”

  I wrap each of her wrists, test the tightness, and coil the rope into a knot between her hands. I leave a loop at the top and then coax her onto the bed. I restrain her wrists by the loop in the rope to a release clamp attached to the headboard.

  “Are you comfortable, pet?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Any tingling?”

  “No, Master.”

  “If you start to feel any tingling or numbness, tell me immediately. You don’t need to use your safeword unless you want to be released. Just tell me which hand or foot is bothering you. I’ll make the adjustment.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Good girl.”

  I take out a blindfold and cover her eyes. It’s deep red like the lacy underwear she’s wearing.

  Moving to one foot, I wrap her ankle in a way similar to her wrists—simple loops over about three inches of skin. I slip my finger between the rope and her flesh and nod to myself before attaching the rope to the bedpost and moving to her other leg.

  I move back to her head, breathe deeply, and begin to work on her body.

  The first strand goes around the back of her neck, right up against her collar, and loops down under her shoulders to give me an anchor. I knot the ropes right above her breasts, then down the center of her body, leaving a decorative knot between her breasts, above and below her navel. I pull cords around her back to intertwine with the front.

  It’s not an easy or a quick task, but I want it to last. I take my time with each knot, paying close attention to her skin tone as I work. Each movement centers and relaxes me as Yvette sinks against the mattress.

  When I’m finished, the crisscrossed design over her body is simple but beautiful. It’s a symbol of her trust and my control. I stand on the side of the bed and admire her for several minutes before I lower my jeans and crawl onto the bed with her.

  I run my hands over the rope around her wrists and then down her arms. I trace the patterns I’ve made on her body, and her nipples harden to my touch. I lean over and lick one of them. Yvette’s back arches to my touch, and I take the other nipple between my fingers and pinch it gently before I run my hand back down her body, over the ropes, and between her legs
.

  I nip and suck at each of her breasts as my fingers slip into her. I use my thumb against her clit, rotating slowly as I increase the pressure of my fingers inside her walls. The ropes have made her so sensitive to every movement, it’s not long before she’s panting beneath me.

  “You can let go, pet,” I tell her. She lifts her hips against my hand, grinding against me until she’s gasping. A tiny cry escapes her, and she drops back to the mattress, her skin flushed and warm.

  I rise up and straddle her chest, sitting lightly against her breasts as I stroke my cock in front of her face. I can feel her anticipation as I press the tip to her lips, and she opens to me. The warmth of her mouth is intoxicating, and I lean my head back and close my eyes as I briefly give in to the feeling. I’m glad she’s blindfolded so she can’t see the way I want to lose myself in her.

  Looking back down, I watch my cock enter her mouth. It’s a beautiful sight, and I almost get caught up in it. Stroking my hand down the side of her face, I pull out and look to the nightstand.

  Grabbing the candy I had placed there, I slowly take the Butterfinger out of its wrapper, trying to be as quiet as possible. The paper still makes some noise, and Yvette turns her head slightly toward the sound.

  “Stay still, pet.”

  With the wrapper out of the way, I raise myself up on my knees in front of her face, and slowly draw the end of the chocolate across her lips—first the top lip and then the bottom. It’s warm in the room, and the chocolate is already starting to melt.

  “Open your mouth,” I say softly. She complies, and I place the chocolate against her tongue. She smiles as she licks at it, and I tell her to take it with her teeth. “Bite down, but don’t chew it.”

  She does, and I lay the rest of the Butterfinger on the nightstand and take my cock with my hand. I run the tip over her lips, and she immediately opens her mouth to me. She starts to moan and hum around my cock as I slide it in her mouth. I can feel the Butterfinger in there with me, running along the side of my shaft. It’s an odd feeling but also pleasurable.