Chapter 9

Memories of sultry summers scudded though my mind like hot afternoon clouds. Dim recollections of wafting mosquito netting fought with the smell of sun showers for my attention. Without opening my eyes, I knew the side of my face was stuck to the training table. The dull ache of my ass felt a million miles away. In fact, it felt good.

"Mmmmm," I murmured, as it throbbed in time with my heart. The egg inside me was quiet now, in harmony with the rest of the room. Rousing myself, I blinked my eyes open. Before me tiny beads of moisture were sparkling on my upper arm, shimmering and cooling as I exhaled over them. Goosebumps broke out on the back of my arms and the outside of my lewdly spread thighs. I swallowed, breathing hard through my nose as the image of myself invaded my mind. Groaning inwardly, I shifted a little, feeling my bindings and reminding myself of where I was. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed my back into a deep arch, my ass up and exposed, knees widely spread, calves and forearms strapped down.

I wondered if my punishment was finished. It hadn't really been that bad. Sure, it hurt. But I'm no pain slut. I don't revel in being beaten or tortured. But by comparison, I'd had worse just last weekend. As I was smiling, a bizarre thought crossed my mind.

I need more.

From somewhere in the recesses of my submission, questions bubbled to the surface before popping and dissipating in the air. What was I thinking! Just let him decide! God, why was it so difficult for me to relinquish complete control? If my punishment was ended, had I really learnt anything? Ugh! On the one hand, I wanted to be led. On the other, I couldn't let go. Could I ever give all of myself? Could I ever be happy? "Ohh..."

Cool fingertips gently touched my warm ass and my body jerked with surprise. "Just relax, pet," Andrew said, his voice near and soothing. Leaning back in the straps, I hoped he wouldn't stop. Like a dark curtain around my head, my hair afforded me some privacy, and I kissed the leather as I arched my back further. "Oh, so you like that, do you?"

"Mmmm," I whispered, rocking gently back and forth as his fingers lightly caressed my skin. The feather-light pressure he applied was perfect. Gradually more of the pads of each fingertip were introduced, and he made his way slowly all over my back and ass, and up and down the back of my thighs. Sitting on the edge of the table directly behind me, he soon introduced both hands, moving as mirror images of each other. He flattened them, using his palms and fingers to lightly massage my hot, oiled skin. Gradually they became insistent, moving in shifting pre-school figure eights. It felt delicious and his hands became my world.

Andrew has large, sinuous, long-fingered hands. They are muscular and at the midpoint between knuckles, on the back of each finger, there are a few soft dark hairs. His palms are silky, but deeply lined, like he'd laboured at some time in his life. I am always amazed by the difference in the size of our hands. His are almost exactly twice the size of mine. I like to examine them and massage them. They are the instruments of my submission.

Smoothly and effortlessly they slid over the skin of my ass. His thumbs were massaging slightly more firmly, drawing slowly up, gliding on a thin film of replenished oil. In utter bliss, I sighed again as they began moving in large circular shapes around and around my ass.

Every now and again he would change the angle of his hands, bringing his fingertips maddeningly close to my pussy. Before long I found myself gripping that damned inert egg with every near miss. All I could think of was the points at which our bodies met. My skin and his hands. Jubilantly I waded into the stream of my subspace, deeper and deeper, immersing myself in the moment. His large warm smooth hands caressed me, bringing everything that mattered into focus. I would do anything for his touch. I just wanted him to keep touching me. He knows just how to touch me. Please, keep touching me. Keep teaching me.

Keep me.

One of his hands had come to rest on the top of my ass, and I felt his fingers of his other hand slide around the base of the butt plug. "Relax, Dominique," he said, and he slowly dragged it out.

"Uuugghhh..."

Slap.

"Ooohhh," I gasped.

Andrew chuckled, smacking my other cheek just as gently.

Slap.

"Mmmmmm."

Slap!

"Oooohhhh!" It wasn't that hard, but my ass was hot and sensitive already!

Andrew whispered, "Who said you could cum, slut?"

Slap!

"Ohh!"

"Listen to me!" I lifted my head quickly and looked at him imploringly. "Who gave you permission to cum, Dominique?" His eyes were blazing. "Speak!"

"I'm sorry Sir... I... I... didn't mean to... I mean I..."

Slap!

"Ughhh."

Slap!

"Ooohhhh, Sir! Oohhhhhh!"

"Naughty, naughty girl."

"I'm sorry! Oohhhhh."

Slap!

"Ughhhhhhh..."

Suddenly he was gone, headed for the toy box. I clenched my teeth, my body trembling with adrenaline. This was NOT over. Closing my eyes tightly and steeling myself, shooting stars criss-crossed the inside of my eyelids. As my chest heaved, perspiration and oil dripped down the tender insides of my arms and legs.

God, I thought. I hadn't even considered trying not to cum. There was no way I could have stopped it, but I hadn't even thought to ask. It was that damned egg's fault. I took a deep breath, calming myself.

It was so quiet, I wondered if Paul and Kate were still there. I looked around toward the lounge area and couldn't see either of them. Hearing Kate's muffled moan coming from almost directly behind me made me smile. At least she wasn't getting off Scot-free, even if I couldn't see what was going on. I bit my lip. She was kind of mean to me, but kind of nice too. And she seemed so much more comfortable with herself.

Would I ever be like that?

Then I heard Andrew's footsteps. He was coming back.

Dominique's eyes met mine. She had the power to stop me in my tracks.

I had introduced Dominique to many things, rolling back her limits, letting her explore her subspace. She had been taken to places she only dreamed about. Dominique knew she could stop whatever I was doing at any given moment. She knew it. She was regularly reminded of the fact.

But she had never used her safe word. She had protested and complained. She had cried out in pain. But in over a year, she had never said red.

Did that make me a good Master, or a bad Master? Should I have explored her limits right up to the edge, regularly bumping into them? Or should one play safely within them, letting them evolve with experience? Clearly it depends on the context, ie. whether one is punishing or playing. But also what one wants from a relationship has a bearing on how another is treated. And that goes for both sides. Another angle is how quickly one reaches a submissive's limit. Pacing can be very important.

It's true that simply knowing they have disappointed their Master is a submissive's worst punishment. I hadn't tried to make her use her safe word. Not once had I tried to find exactly where a limit lay. I have always been mindful of her inexperience, of her innocence. Perhaps it was a paternalistic protectiveness, born of the day I first saw her. Or maybe it was something else. I have pushed her though. But never pushed her right to the edge. I've never pushed too hard. Why did this all occur to me now? Because I had to do it for her. I had to take her there, to show her.

She needed to know that ultimately, she was in control of her own destiny.

It was time. I looked up at the wall and scanned the various choices I had, and made up my mind. It was time to push too hard.

When I heard my Master's footsteps, I swung my head around to see him, and his piercing eyes caught mine. I couldn't tear my gaze from them. The look on his face was of sheer determination, of such concentrated conviction, that I almost gasped as I drew breath.

Without looking down to his hands, I knew he was holding things. I was afraid to look. I was getting scared. I moaned softly as I exhaled. The skin down my arms prickled. Submit!

"Paul, can you give me a hand here?" my Master asked.

"Sure," came Paul's reply and his footsteps approached me.

"Let's get her off here. Take off her nipple clamps first."

Oh, the nipple clamps! My nipples were so numb I hadn't even thought about them. Oh god. I braced myself as Paul's hands came around my body, one on each side. I gritted my teeth in anticipation. He squeezed his hands gently around my breasts and he whispered in my ear, "Both at once, nice and quick."

I hissed between my teeth as the pain flooded outward from my nipples and through my breasts. It felt like every muscle in my body became taut and it seemed like an eternity before the pain ebbed and my need to breathe took over again. Before I knew it I was being lifted from the training table. I hadn't even felt the straps come loose. I found my feet and my Master turned me toward him. His strong hands were around my shoulders. Paul was somewhere behind me.

"I am going to prepare you for your punishment now, Dominique. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Speak when you are asked a question."

I found my voice. "Y... Yes, Sir."

"Kneel."

I knelt and saw Kate. My jaw dropped.

"Look up at me, pet." I looked up at Andrew. "I've been thinking and have changed my mind about something. I realise that I too have been making decisions without discussing them with you. I've taken responsibility for everything Dominique, and I've let you meander. I want you to take your submission back, Dominique. I want you to take responsibility. I am going to take you to your limit, pet, and I want you to decide your destiny. Do you understand?"

"Y... Yes, Sir," I nodded slowly, trembling. "Y... You want me to say 'red'."

"That's right. I want you to use of your safe word when you can stand it no longer. I want you to decide."

"Th... Thank you, Sir." I don't know what made me thank him. I chewed my lip and concentrated. He moved close and I was looking almost straight up at him.

"You should not be so quick to thank me, pet. I am going to make you use it. Do you understand? Make you. I am going to punish you until you say 'red'. Am I making myself clear?"

"Y... Yes, Sir."

"Bracelets, pet." Bowing my head, I offered my wrists to my Master. "Good girl," he whispered. My heart pounded and my breathing quickened as he closed the ratchet around my left wrist. I tried to keep up when he dragged me over to the whipping post. I could see Kate clearly, and I could hardly believe it. Then Andrew spoke again. "Your punishment will be deemed complete when you say 'red'. Understood?"

"Y... Yes, Sir," I said, my voice catching in my chest. "Th... This girl understands, Sir."

"Hug the post." On my knees and watching his eyes, I wrapped my arms around the dark, roughly hewn post, the smell of oil and varnish distracting me momentarily. Andrew stepped to the opposite side of it, somehow fixing the handcuff chain to a bolt embedded at waist-height. He took my right wrist to the cuff and in moments the second ratchet sounded. "Dominique," he said quietly, looking down on me and caressing my arm. "You will decide when your punishment is complete. Once again, do you understand?"

I swallowed and looked him right in the eye, setting my jaw. "This girl will make you proud."

It's easy to miss the most important moments in our lives. Sometimes they are subtle and fleeting. They are the 'memory' moments. It's often not until much later that it occurs to us that something important happened at exactly that time. And the reason for that was not solely because of what was before my eyes. It was also because of what went through my mind.

I looked down on Dominique. Her lithe frame and tanned skin reflected flickers of candlelight in the darkened room. She had tossed her long black hair over one shoulder and had turned her face sideways up at me. Some strands had stuck across her forehead. Her head was against the post, her chin resting on her shoulder. She was determined. "This girl will make you proud."