Savaged

by Shay Savage

  I’m pleased that the corners of her mouth are still turned up as she sucks on me, my taste mingling with the candy. I wrap my hand around the back of her head, controlling my penetrations into her mouth until I feel the Butterfinger melt around me. She uses her tongue over the tip as I pull back and slides it up my length as I move back in.

  I keep watching. It’s a mistake because it looks so good. I try to move slowly, but her mouth is so warm, and every time she sucks me in, my balls tighten. I brace myself with my free hand and push back farther into her throat but pull back when I realize she’s taken as much as she can.

  “I’m going to come in your mouth,” I warn her.

  She doesn’t slow her movements. If anything, she quickens them. Moments later, I can’t hold back.

  “Oh…yeah…” I moan as I empty onto her tongue. “That’s my girl.”

  I stroke a few more times as she keeps licking me. Finally, I release the back of her head and remove my cock, letting it slide over her chin and down to her chest. I rest for a moment as I caress the side of her face in silent thanks. I reach up to her arms and shoulders, too—testing the bonds to make sure they haven’t tightened too much.

  I lie beside her before removing the blindfold but keeping her bound.

  “Do you like the taste of cum?” I ask as I stroke her cheek.

  She blushes slightly and then shakes her head.

  “No, Master. It’s not terrible, but I don’t like it. I don’t mind, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…because it feels like you’re marking me. It makes me more yours.”

  I kiss her lightly on the forehead.

  “I’m glad you answered honestly,” I say. I pick up the remaining half of the Butterfinger bar and slip it into her mouth. “I’ll keep these on hand for when you’ve pleased me.”

  “Thank you, Master,” she says when she’s finished it. “That helps a lot.”

  I let my fingers wander over the ropes across her body.

  “You look beautiful like this,” I tell her. “Exquisite. Like I’ve turned you into a wonderful work of art.”

  “I feel like art, Master.” She smiles and looks at my face. “You are a master artist.”

  “Thank you, pet,” I say as I return her smile. “I’m glad you approve.”

  Cleansing Bonds: Chapter 5

  It’s Sunday evening, and though I see the protest in her eyes, I have Yvette kneel in front of me so I can remove her collar.

  “Come here, Yvette,” I say as I sit in my chair and pat my thighs with my hands. She crawls up into my lap and lays her head against my shoulder. She sighs as she reaches her arms up around my neck, and I coil mine around her back. “How are you feeling?”

  “Elated,” she says without pause. “Wonderful.”

  “I take it you enjoyed the weekend?”

  “I did,” she confirms.

  “Was there anything you didn’t like?”

  She hesitates long enough that I know she’s holding back.

  “Answer me truthfully,” I command sternly.

  “The blindfold,” she admits. “I don’t like to be blindfolded very much.”

  “Why not?”

  “When I can’t see what you’re doing, my mind starts to think you’re going to do something that will hurt me. I don’t really think you will, but the thoughts are still there.”

  “That’s something I’ll want to work on with you,” I say. “Do you understand my meaning?”

  “That you’ll blindfold me again.”

  “Frequently,” I confirm. “Both because I like it and because it tests your limits. Over time, those thoughts should go away, but I’ll want to talk to you about it after each scene where your sight is eliminated.”

  She nods as I stroke her cheek.

  “We should talk about what comes next,” I say. “I won’t begrudge you another week to think things over. This relationship is still new to us both.”

  We talk some more about our expectations of each other. I tell her plainly that some aspects of a fulltime sub concern me. I still have more research to do, and we both agree to take things one step at a time. Yvette is still adamant that she wants the steady relationship though, and I’m agreeing with her more and more.

  “What hesitations do you have?” I ask.

  “I’m afraid I won’t know what to do when you aren’t here,” Yvette said. “When I’m alone at my apartment, I think about all the unpleasant things that have happened in my life, and I get depressed.”

  I consider her words and realize I will have to make sure she has enough tasks to complete every day before I come home from work. Routine would be very important for her, and I will have to provide that. I will need to make sure she can focus on pleasing me and not on what has happened in her past, even when I’m not here for her to serve.

  At the same time, I need to help her heal from those old wounds.

  “Let me worry about that,” I say as I take her chin in my hand. “If you are here with me, I’m responsible for keeping you from having the time to dwell on those things. I will also expect you to confront those feelings when I decide it’s the right time. You can’t just bury them.”

  There’s fear in her eyes as she looks at me, and I understand.

  “Will you…will you tie me before we talk about it?”

  “At first,” I say as I think about it. “Eventually, you will need to be able to talk about it without the bondage as your crutch. I’ll know when you need it, and I’ll push your limits to do as much as you can without it. You’ve been hurt, and that isn’t something I can let you ignore.”

  Yvette nods. I can’t tell by her expression whether she’s agreeing with me or simply acquiescing. It will be hard for her either way.

  “You’ve been hurt, too,” she says softly.

  “I hurt someone,” I correct.

  Looking into my eyes, she smiles sadly.

  “Your scars are on the inside.” I blink as I look at her, and she drops her gaze from my eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have-”

  “No,” I interrupt, “you’re right. We are speaking freely now, and I want you to say what’s on your mind.”

  “I just meant that maybe I can help you, too.”

  I stroke down the side of her neck and then back up to cup her cheek.

  “You already have.”

  She leans into my touch and closes her eyes as she places her hand over mine.

  “I don’t want to go,” she says.

  “I don’t want you to.”

  She opens her eyes and looks at me.

  “Will you put it back on?” she asks.

  My stomach tightens. I’m hesitant, but I don’t think it’s her. I think it’s just me. I’m not completely sure what makes me afraid, if it’s the idea of having to provide for her all the time, the responsibility it places on me to be in charge of healing this woman, or just plain fear of failing her.

  If I don’t help her, who will?

  I touch the side of her face and push her long hair off her shoulder. The smaller scars are plainly visible there, and I trace one with my finger.

  “Yes,” I tell her. “If you are sure you want to try this, I’ll put it back on.”

  “I’m sure.”

  I pull the chain from my pocket, and Yvette kneels in front of me. I pull her hair back, stroke her throat, and clasp the collar around her neck.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  Yvette is practically giddy. It’s the first time I’ve seen her unable to hold herself still. She keeps reaching up and touching the collar on her neck even though it had been there most of the weekend.

  “I’m starting to think those Butterfingers make you hyper,” I tease.

  “I’m sorry, Master,” Yvette says as she stills and bows her head. “I’m just…happy.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy,” I tell her. I take her chin in my hand and kiss her firmly.

  Yvette’s hands rest against my che
st, and I can feel her fingering the key at my neck. I kiss her once more before taking her by her hand.

  “Come along, pet,” I say with a smile. “It’s time for bed.”

  I lead her to the hallway and feel her pause at her room. I pull gently at her hand and take her further down the hall to my own bedroom.

  “Master?”

  “You sleep with me tonight,” I say simply. I can tell she’s pleased with the idea but still hesitant. “What are you thinking, Yvette?”

  “Your room, Master,” she says quietly, “the place reserved for the most personal things a man has. I’m…curious.”

  “Then exercise your curiosity, pet,” I respond.

  I release her hand, and she walks to my dresser. The framed pictures have caught her eye, and she runs her finger over the edge of the first one.

  “My parents and I from when I graduated college,” I tell her. As she moves down the line, I explain each picture to her. “My grandparents. They’re both gone now. That’s me and John, my college roommate.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Yvette asks as she gets to the last picture.

  “No,” I say, “just me.”

  “Were you lonely as a child?”

  “I never felt that way. Sometimes I wished I had a sibling like my friends did, but most of the time I was glad to have all the attention.” I chuckle.

  “I have a lot of siblings,” Yvette says, “but I still felt lonely at times.”

  “You had too much responsibility when you were young,” I say, and she nods.

  “Where do your parents live?” she asks.

  “My mother lives in Sacramento,” I say. “My father is here in New York. They split up when I was in high school, but they’re very civil with each other. My mother lives with a couple of friends she made when she worked as a paralegal. They’re all divorced, and they call themselves the new Golden Girls.”

  Yvette smiles broadly and almost laughs. It makes me realize I haven’t heard her laugh, not once. I don’t even know what her laugh sounds like.

  “Where is your family, Yvette?” I ask. “Are your brothers and sisters in the area?”

  She looks down at the floor and shakes her head.

  “They live in Indiana, last I knew.”

  “Last you knew?”

  “I…I told them about my chosen lifestyle,” Yvette says. “They don’t approve, and we’ve since lost contact.”

  She looks up at me, and I can see tears in the corners of her eyes.

  “They say I’m sick. They don’t speak to me anymore.”

  I step forward and push her hair back behind her ears.

  “There’s nothing wrong with your choices,” I tell her. “There will always be those who don’t understand or approve.”

  “I know,” she says, “but it still hurts.”

  I wrap my arms around her and pull her against my chest. My own fears have kept me from ever mentioning my choices to my family, and I realize how strong Yvette really is. She’d done what I have always been afraid to do and has suffered because of it.

  I take her to bed and lie down facing her. I caress her cheek and neck, trailing my finger over her collar as she closes her eyes and smiles slightly. I feel tense, and I’m not sure why. I’ve rewarded other subs with sleeping in my bed, so that’s not it. The feeling in my stomach reminds me of my trip to the Grand Canyon when I had stepped up to a precarious point and stared at the valley far, far below.

  I run my finger over her lips and then lean in to kiss her. It only magnifies the feeling, and my head is starting to spin with the implications. I don’t know what to call this; I only know my body is reacting in an unusual way. It’s beyond just wanting my cock in her—far beyond it. It’s not for the sake of possessing her or even healing her.

  The ledge I feel like I’ve been teetering on gives way, and I roll over on top of her. In this moment, I don’t care about her submission or my dominance over her—I only want her.

  I deepen the kiss, running my tongue over hers as I groan into her mouth. The need inside of me grows, and I use my knee to part her legs. I take my cock in my hand and position it against her, pushing slowly until I’m buried deeply. I run my hand up her side and brush the edge of her breast. Yvette’s arms are positioned above her head, her wrists crossed as if she’s still bound.

  I want to feel her hands on me.

  “Touch me,” I whisper. “Touch me anywhere you want.”

  She opens her eyes and blinks at me before lowering her hands to my shoulders.

  I begin to move in a slow, calculated rhythm. Every thrust of my hips buries my cock in slow waves of sensation, and the buildup is quick. I’m surprised by how soon I want to come in her, and I have to slow down.

  She explores me with her hands, running them down my sides, up to my shoulder blades, and then down to grip my ass tightly. It spurs my movements, and I grind against her as she sets the rhythm with her hands and hips.

  Yvette locks her ankles around my thighs and pushes hard against me, crying out and shuddering. I pound into her faster, feeling myself approaching the point of no return.

  “Yvette, oh…fuck…” I can’t hold back any more, and I slam into her only a few more times before my balls tighten and electric sensations shoot down my shaft. I squeeze my eyes shut and grunt as I fill her.

  Dropping my head to her shoulder, I pant against her skin. Her arms are locked behind my back, holding me to her chest so I can feel her heart beating rapidly against mine. My muscles are still tensed. I don’t move, and neither does she.

  I can’t understand what’s happening inside my head.

  This time was so powerful, my need so unexpected. I don’t know what to think of it. I slow my breath as I roll to my side, bringing her to me and resting her head against my chest. The feelings inside of me are indescribable. Elation. Satisfaction. Conflict. Fear.

  I don’t do vanilla sex.

  Even before I’d lost my virginity, my interests had been in bondage and control. At sixteen, sitting in my best friend’s basement with a porno we’d acquired, I hadn’t been overly excited by the mundane acts of the amateur participants as they fucked in missionary position on top of light blue sheets. Everyone else crouched around the VCR had been enthralled. At the end of the tape, there had been a woman, handcuffed to the bed and blindfolded. That one got my attention.

  What is happening to me?

  I hadn’t just enjoyed it; I’d loved it. I felt as satiated as I had with every scene we’d done over the past two weekends. Yvette is now relaxed in my arms, warm and heavily draped over my body. I tighten my grip on her and bury my face in her hair.

  I kiss her forehead, and though I want to speak—to tell her what’s happening to me—I don’t have any words that will suffice. I can only hold her and try to make sense of it myself. Maybe with time, I’ll figure it out.

  With the arrangement we’re diving into, I should have plenty of time to try to understand.

  I don’t know if I’m up for this task, but I want to be. As we learn more about each other, Yvette will test my strength just as I test hers. Since before I met her, I was looking for a way to cleanse my mind of everything that had happened with Lily—searching for a way to atone for what I had done to her. Perhaps as Yvette begins to let go of the pain she endured in the past, I can find my own peace.

  As I drag my nose up the back of her neck and feel Yvette relax against me, I know we can make this work. I will be her savior, and she will be my salvation.

  ~The End~

  Encounter

  I’ve been waiting for this.

  Blood pumps adrenaline through my system as I wait and watch. I’ve never felt so alert, so electrified. My palms sweat, and I keep licking my lips in nervous anticipation of what I’m about to do. I can’t seem to keep my feet still, and I’ve practically dug a hole with the toe of my shoe in the loose dirt beneath me.

  It’s late—just after one in the morning. Melissa’s been at t
he Uptown Bar all evening with some other girls from her sociology class, but according to Twitter¸ she’s on her way home. She could be here any minute.

  I’ve known Melissa since high school. I remember watching her in the cafeteria, hanging out with the captain of the football team like every cheerleader did and never giving any of the rest of us the time of day. We both ended up at the same local college after graduation, and she now lives in a little duplex apartment just off campus with her roommate, Gretchen.

  But Gretchen’s not here. She’s spending the next two weeks studying in Italy, and the apartment is empty.

  The perfect opportunity.

  I still live on campus, but it’s not far from Melissa’s place. I find myself here nearly every day after my classes are over. There’s a big tree in a decorative median right near the front entrance, which is where I am now. Waiting. Hiding. The bark keeps catching on my jacket, making slight scratching noises in the calm, quiet night.

  Movement to my left demands my attention, and I feel myself tense even more as I see a figure walking down the sidewalk toward the duplex. I don’t have to see Melissa’s face to know it’s her. I’d recognize the way she walks from blocks away.

  She’s wearing the light blue jacket she always wears when the weather’s a little iffy. It’s good for rain and the chill night can bring. It also brings out the color in her eyes. I can see her long, highlighted brown hair swinging across her back. She reaches up and tucks a lock of it behind her ear.

  I love it when she does that. There’s something simple and sexy about the movement. It’s such a casual gesture, but it always gets me going.

  I duck around the tree as she gets closer, careful not to let the bark catch me again. Her form is out of my sight for a few moments, but I can still hear her approaching footsteps. When I’m sure she has to be close, I look around the tree. Her back is to me as she heads up the short walkway to the front door.

  Time to act.

  I look left, right, and over my shoulder. Yeah, it’s in the wee hours of the night, but it’s a college campus on the weekend, and you never know who’s going to be around, and I don’t want to be seen. Melissa lives at the end of the block on a quiet street, so I don’t see anyone else on the street, and the other side of the duplex is dark.