Finding Mr. Wright Ch. 18-Epilogue

"When a man truly loves a woman she becomes his weakness. When a woman truly loves a man he becomes her strength."--Anonymous

CHAPTER 18 & EPILOGUE

Aaron! Oh my, it was Aaron! My mind whirled. To say I was stunned would be the understatement of the century. I froze in place for I don't know how long, unable to move, unable to even fathom what was going on, what this meant. When I saw Aaron coming up to the stage, I shook myself free of this mental block and came back to my senses, but only partially. I was finally able to see his face. He was still the same gorgeous man that I knew and remembered, and the shock and anger and hurt of our last encounter came rushing back into me. It was overwhelming.

I turned quickly to look at Miss M, trying to gauge someone else's reaction, anyone else's reaction other than my own. She looked just as surprised I was, maybe even more so. What I didn't know, though, was whether she was shocked to see him, or shocked that he just paid five million dollars for me. Five million dollars! That number was absolutely staggering. It wasn't even anywhere near the closest bid, so why did he offer so much? There had to be more to it than just bidding for me. Maybe he just wanted to donate to this charity. Wait, if he wanted to just donate it to charity, he could have done that easily enough, directly to the charity, on his own. He could have won this auction for a fraction of that amount, too. So why did he pay so much? Was he trying to make a statement about me to others? If so, whatever could that be??

I looked at him as he walked up the stage towards Miss M. I stared at him as he did so, trying to hide my emotions, but probably failing miserably. As he approached, he completely ignored me, no expression on his face whatsoever, going straight toward Miss M. He handed her a sealed envelope with what I was guessing contained either a check or bank wire instructions for payment, or something to that effect. She simply nodded and said, "Thank you, Mr. A." With that, she took my leash and walked behind me, untying my hands, then handed the leash to Aaron.

He took the leash in his hand and, still without looking me in the face, turned and pulled it tight, walking slowly away. He didn't jerk the leash or pull me abruptly, showing at least some compassion there. He gave me a chance to gauge what he wanted in order to signal me to follow him. He made no effort to grab the robe or cover me, or even untie my hands as he led me down the stage, right past everyone in the audience.

By this point, there were hushed voices from all over the room, whispers discussing what had just happened. I wondered what they were saying, but try as I might, I couldn't make anything out. I could imagine them asking each other 'why so much?', 'Do you think she is worth it?', 'What was Mr. A doing?', 'Is this real, did he really pay that much?'. I knew that regardless of the outcome tonight, that this would be something that they would be talking about for some time. Maybe his goal was that simple, just to give them something to talk about. Maybe, but even as I thought that, I doubted it. No one would pay five million dollars just to give people something to talk about, something they couldn't reveal in public due to their own vows of silence about the Society. As it was, I had no idea what Aaron could be up to.

I followed him out of the gathering room to an elevator. As he entered it, I followed him inside, my hands still tied behind my back with the belt from the robe, still wearing the harness, still basically nude for him to see. Right then and there, I had a sudden urge to cover myself. I didn't want him to see me like this, not this vulnerable. At the same time, I wanted to explode, to force him to tell me what happened before, to explain why he abandoned me, what I did that hurt him, and why he hurt be so badly. I resisted the urge to demand that from him, though, and remained still, hoping that I was able to hide the emotions from appearing in my face. Then, for the first time tonight, he turned and looked at me.

"My you are a beautiful sight, Elizabeth," he said.

That, too, caught me off guard. I guess I was expecting a much harsher Aaron, like the person he was when we last parted. I didn't know how to respond, as I was completely taken aback at his change in demeanor. Again repressing my desire for an explanation from him, I responded with a simple, "thank you, Mr. A." I said it very politely, but I was defiant in how I addressed him, how I spoke those words.

I couldn't meet his gaze as he stared at me, right into my eyes, so I looked away, my resolve weakening. Neither of us said anything else as the elevator brought us upstairs. I didn't know what else I could say. I couldn't come up with any words, any questions. The silence was deafening. After a few moments, I looked up, as I had gathered my strength, thinking of something simple, like a compliment for him, or a simple question, anything to break the silence and start us talking. I was about to say something, but when I looked at him to do so, he seemed like he was going speak, so I instead remained silent. Just then, the elevator chimed, indicating the door was opening, so neither of us said anything further as we moved off the elevator.

He moved slowly again, waiting for me to turn and follow him, making sure he wasn't pulling me off balance by pulling the leash too abruptly, allowing me to follow at my own pace. He led me down several halls and back to the room I was in the night we parted. I wondered if this was coincidence, or something more significant. I guess I would find out soon enough.

I entered behind him and he turned and moved in close to me. His hands came up to my neck and he released the leash from my collar, leaving the collar in place. He tossed the leash somewhere behind me, as I heard it clank on the floor as it came to rest. As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the room, I noticed it had changed. Gone was all the furniture that I remembered. Instead, there were two things and two things alone in the room. The first was a large four post bed, draped in deep amber colored, luxurious sheets, with a sitting bench near the foot of the bed. The second was an even larger wooden structure reaching up to the ceiling. Made of dark cherry wood, it looked every bit like a gallows used for hanging people in less modern times. Here, instead of a noose, there was a large metal hook dangling from some very thick, twisted rope.

"I think you've chosen the perfect attire for tonight, Elizabeth," Aaron spoke, breaking the silence.

I couldn't tell his demeanor from the say he spoke. It had a hint of sarcasm in it, but not of anger or outrage. Aaron was still a mystery to me tonight. Again, I didn't want to ruin anything, still in something of a shock at the turn of events, so I responded with a simple nod, saying, "Thank you, Mr. A." I was still surprised that I was here with him like this, and had no idea what was in store for the evening. Gone were all my thoughts of telling the winning dominant about my requirements, what I desired from the evening, and everything else I thought of before I heard Aaron place his bid. I still didn't know where he was going with this, whether he was the normal Aaron or the mean one that had released me so callously, so I didn't want to provoke him.

He came up to me and stood in front of me. I had on only the harness that I had picked to wear, so basically I was naked in front of him. He looked closely at the harness. I followed his eyes as they looked over every strap, following the contours of my body. He didn't linger on any of my private areas, focusing more on the straps of the harness themselves, how they lay across my body. He was looking and studying them, not like a man looking at a naked woman, but more like an architect studying the lines of a building. It was a bit perplexing, and even more so when he spun me around and did the same, looking at my back and bottom and legs.

After a few moments, he moved to the right side of me, still studying me, and I could see him faintly out of the corner of my eye. He stood there again for a bit before I heard him grunt, almost like an acknowledgement, and he nodded his head to himself. He reached out and spun me around again.

"Give me your hands," he ordered. His tone was commanding, but still, there was none of the cruelty to it that I heard during our last meeting. This served only to surprise and confuse me even more.

I didn't respond vocally this time, but I did raise my arms towards him, which he took and held. He placed my wrists in one of his hands as he reached behind his back, pulling something from behind him with his other hand. As the objects came into view, I saw it was two leather wrist cuffs, something I had by now become somewhat accustomed to wearing.

He bound my wrists in each cuff, taking his time in doing so, making sure they were snug but not too tight, before pulling my arms up over my head. He guided my wrists to the dangling hook, fastening the cuffs together just as he draped them over the hook. As he did so, our bodies came surprisingly close, almost touching, our faces even closer.

I looked into his eyes as he studied the bonds holding my wrists, his arms up over his head similar to mine, though he was taller than me and not as stretched out as I was, with my arms and body up above me. This gave me a few moments to look at him and study him, and to be honest, I became lost in the moment. All the time I spent trying to forget him, forget how I felt about him, forget how hurt I felt, all became washed away as I just looked at him. I couldn't tell him this, could never tell him how I felt, how much he meant to me. I could never tell him, as I couldn't open myself up to that level of hurt again. Though I desperately wanted to say something, completely open up to him, to say something, anything to break the silence, my words escaped me.

Before long, he was content that the hook and bindings were secure but not so tight as to cut off my circulation or hold me in too uncomfortable a position. He then dropped his gaze, not realizing I was looking up at him, and our eyes met. He held me there, frozen, our eyes locked on each other. I desperately wanted him to kiss me, to say everything was alright, to say anything, just to break the tension and let me know where we stood with each other, let me know what was happening, what he was planning!

Instead, we stood there, staring together at each other for what seemed like hours. I tried to read his face, his eyes, his countenance, searching for an answer to the single question that was on my lips ... why? ... but before I could work up the nerve to finally give voice to it, he reached up, grabbing my shoulders, and spun me around again, facing me away from him.

Again, before I could say or do or hear anything else, a black rolled up cloth came over my head, settling on my neck. It looked like a rolled up bandana, but just as I saw it, he pulled it higher, placing it over my eyes and around my head, turning it into what he intended it to be from the beginning ... a blindfold.

I was initially surprised and a little scared. My fear of being masked came back suddenly, gripping me, tearing at my mind, as the memory of my childhood incident of the boy throwing the blanket over me came rushing back. I was eight years old again and I had an overwhelming desire to flee in terror. I started to panic. I found myself pulling at my restraints, my body and subconscious mind taking over, the 'flight or fight' syndrome instantly kicking in as I pulled and tried to run, to get away, to unbuckle myself and flee, run till I escaped this trap!

That's when I felt Aaron's hands reach around me and hold me tightly, firmly, one arm just under my chest, the other around me near my waist. They were firm but not aggressive as he whispered in my ear, "Relax ... I don't mean to scare you ... you have nothing to fear from me ... I only mean to heighten your other senses by taking away your sight." His words were soft and soothing, and they had their desired effect as I relaxed slightly, focusing past the blindfold. It took me a few moments, but I calmed down, focusing on my breathing, helping me return to my somewhat normal self. My breathing was still racing, but I was now more in control of my anxiety of being blindfolded.

"It's okay, Elizabeth ... you can trust me," he spoke again, emphasizing the 'me', but more asking than stating, almost pleading with me to trust him. He certainly didn't give me any reason to trust him, not after what he had done to me, what he put me through emotionally. Inwardly, though, with some trepidation, I relinquished. I really wanted to trust him, even after what he had done, so I forced myself. I relaxed my mind as well as my body, giving in and giving myself over to him. It was not an easy task. I had to convince myself that this was only a blindfold, and if I needed to, I could break it all apart in one split second by uttering the word, 'zebra.' I repressed the urge to say it. That helped me resume some form of control, since I knew if I said that word, all would come to an end and I would be free. However, it would still leave me wondering about Aaron, so I convinced myself, I had to see this through.

Aaron held me, his arms around me, for a few more moments. His grip was softer now, not as firm as when I started to panic. He rested his chin on my shoulder, the side of his head resting against mine. It was almost a loving embrace as he held me like that, unmoving. I felt the skin of his chest against my back, revealing that he had taken off his shirt. What's more, I could sense something in him, like he was thinking, working himself up to doing something, not sure of himself, deciding on what his next course of action would be. I genuinely wondered this myself. Though I desperately wanted to, I again resisted the urge to talk, to ask him, to say anything. I just stood there, suspended like I was, totally exposed in the harness I wore, his arms around me. To be honest, I would have enjoyed staying like that for the whole evening.

Eventually, though, I felt his arms tighten around me briefly in a quick hug, as if he had resolved his question. He relaxed his arms around me, and released his grip. He didn't say anything as he stepped back. I heard him moving away, somewhere behind me then, moving different objects, maybe placing some things on the bed, but since I couldn't see, I wasn't sure.

I felt him come up behind me and touch my back, lightly rubbing his hands up and down my skin. He gave me goosebumps wherever he touched, tracing down my spine, moving down, over my bottom, down my legs, down my thighs, down below to my calves (he had to have crouched down to reach that low). He traced upwards again, repeating the same soft touch, mimicking the same path he had just followed down my body, but going upwards this time. When he reached my shoulders, he began touching my skin left to right, moving across my back and slowing going down, again down to my bottom, but this time, stopping with my upper thighs, before moving and repeating his motions upward, back up to my shoulders.

With my eyes bound, closed under the blindfold, I focused on the touch, how sensual and sensitive it felt. Aaron was right, with the the blindfold over my eyes, all my other senses were heightened. I was forced to use my hearing to try to tell what he was doing, what object he was touching or moving behind me, not just absentmindedly listening when I would be looking at something at the same time if I were not blindfolded. Now, focusing on my hearing and especially my sense of touch, I could make out the subtle sounds of his movements, the subtle contact with my skin, something that normally would have gone unnoticed. It gave me something to perceive in my mind, as well as to wonder where this was leading. He stopped and moved backward, picking up something behind me before returning.

He still didn't say anything or announce what he was doing, or what he was about to do. Instead, I felt the edge of something rough, leathery, moving around and over my shoulders, up and down my arms. I listened and could hear Aaron's breathing several feet behind me, not right up against me like he was before, so whatever he had was on the end of something he held in his hand. He rubbed the end up and down my body, similar to what he did with his hands, but this time he focused more on my bottom, my thighs, my shoulders and my back. It was a more forceful touch than what he did with his hands, almost scraping, but it wasn't painful.

It wasn't long before he began lightly slapping me with the end of what he held. Once he did, I realized he was using something similar to a riding crop. I felt the leather end strike me on my bottom first, quite lightly, more like a tapping than a true slap. He did the same, tapping all over my bottom, my back, my shoulders, my thighs. My skin was starting to tingle, to warm up, as he moved up and down my body. As he did so, the tapping became harder. At this point, it became a light slap. It still didn't hurt or sting, but the sensation started to become stronger.

I began to have that same feeling that I do when this type of activity occurs to me. Ever since that first time with Brooke, and with every time since, the desire slowly arose in me to feel the strike, the slap, the sting of the impact. I wanted to know what it felt like, whether I could take it, what it would do to me. I actually yearned for it. The silence, the waiting, not knowing what was coming next, not knowing what was happening, all added to the adrenaline in the moment, building for me. The desire to feel it became almost unbearable. This is the point where I should have said something, where I would have said something, had this been anyone but Aaron. However, I still couldn't bring myself to say anything and break whatever Aaron was trying to do, trying to build in me.

Then, everything stopped. Aaron no longer made any contact, or any movement whatsoever. All I could hear came from me and me alone. The stretching of the leather of my cuffs, the tension in the rope above, my own slight movements as I was suspended, even my own breathing, all of it made me more aware that I was helpless and knew nothing about what Aaron was doing or what was going to happen. Something needed to happen, something to break the silence, and I became keenly aware of how much I needed him to hit me. Wait, I couldn't believe what I had just thought to myself ... I needed to be hit!

I was about to speak, about to ask him to do it, about to beg and plead for him to do it, when the first hard strike landed across my bottom. I let out a yelp in surprise. I felt the sting, the slight burn. It hurt, but it wasn't intense or unbearable, but oh my it was so welcome! It wasn't anywhere near Aaron's full strength, but it was more than anything had he had done so far tonight, or any time before.

I felt Aaron touching me lightly with the end of the crop again, right on the spot where he had struck me. He was rubbing it, dragging it across my skin, no doubt tracing the red area that was emerging on my bottom. He didn't hit hard enough to cause a welt, but I knew that my bottom was definitely red. I wondered what it looked like. Then, whack!, another strike, and another small yelp from me, this time on my other cheek. He followed this with another gentle touch, rubbing the end of the crop over the same impact site.

I was breathing rapidly now, anticipating the touch, the building of the pain and excitement. It would have been better had Aaron told me what he was going to do, so I knew what to expect. Maybe, though, this was his intent. By blindfolding me, by keeping me in the dark, both visually and mentally, he was enhancing what he was doing.