Inspirati Scientia

Fully clothed, I stood behind her naked form, then put my hands on her belly and pulled her close to me and inhaled. Her natural scent, slightly sweaty and uncluttered by any perfume, was wonderful.

"I've missed you so much, angel," I whispered in her ear. She softly moaned in pleasure as I ran my hands down her body, then asked her as I squeezed her ass cheeks, "Have you missed me, my darling?"

"Yes, Sir, very much," she responded, adding "you're very handsome in your suit." She turned to kiss me, reaching up to put her arms around me. I gently pushed them aside.

"I'm sorry, angel, but you're not allowed to touch me. That's a privilege you have to earn."

I held her in my embrace, kissing her passionately for a while. Her hands remained obediently at her sides, but her lips were doing an outstanding job expressing her passion. As for me, I had missed her terribly and wanted to take her to bed right away, but that would circumvent my careful fractionation plans. That would just not do, oh no. Instead, I guided her upstairs to my second bedroom.

Once in the room, her eyes went wide at the sight of a 36" long black suspension bar dangling on a cable that ran through a pulley in the center-most ceiling beam. From the pulley, the cable then went to a winch mounted on the wall.

I put two wide leather wrist cuffs on her arms, then, using rock climbing carabiners, clipped the D-rings on the cuffs to the O-rings on the suspension bar. "Have no fear, angel," I reassured her, "you'll be perfectly safe; the carabiners are rated at 1700 pounds, the suspension bar is rated at 350 pounds, the cable is rated at 1100 pounds, and the winch has a 1500 pound rating." I reached over and hit the winch control, lifting her hands and arms above her head, stretching her up just far enough to keep her feet planted on the ground so her arms didn't bear her full weight.

Next, I held up a small pink ball gag, about the size of a golf ball. "Open wide, angel," I commanded, and she obeyed. As I tied the strap around the back of her head I told her, "There's an air hole in this so you'll be able to breathe easily, plus a bonus. It's peach-flavored, so it won't leave a bad taste in your mouth. You may thank me now."

"Fanmk u, Fir" she said.

"Now, obviously with this gag, you can't speak, so I will stop if you shake your head or if you make a 'W' with your fingers. Do you understand?"

Rachel nodded, her eyes wide.

"Can you show me what to do if you want to stop?"

Rachel shook her head and spread her fingers in a 'W' shape. "Good girl," I praised her.

"Next up, we have a spreader bar for you," I lectured as I attached ankle cuffs just above her feet, installing the 36" bar between them. This left her delicious pink cleft open and exposed. Unable to resist, I knelt before her, taking her ass cheeks in my hands and pulling her vulnerable pussy to my face. As I painted it with several strokes of my tongue, my angel shuddered and moaned softly behind the ball gag.

"I've missed doing this so much," I whispered after a minute, "I can't resist this delicious pussy. Do you love me eating you?" I looked up, and she was nodding her head. Sadly, I realized my pleasure was distracting me from the process, so I stood up, the tone of my voice now cruel.

"You hurt me badly, angel. Are you ready for your punishment?"

Keeping her eyes downward, she nodded her head. "Remember your hand signal, three fingers in a 'W' shape if you want me to stop," I reminded her, "I'll stop immediately, and we'll be done. You'll be free of me forever. Understood?"

She nodded to indicate she agreed, not that I was really expecting her to use the signal. When I'd explained the incident with her ex to Mr. Voronin, he'd told me that she might be the type who would never set her own limits. That's why it was so important that I was setting the limits now. "You indicated your submission to Nichols began when he grabbed your tits, so that's where we'll start."

I pulled out two extra-large rubber bands from a pocket in my suitcoat. They were stretchy, but very thick and strong, and most importantly, designed and sized specifically for this purpose. I pulled a couple of these bands over each of her tits, until they rested tightly at the base. The bands squeezed her breasts so the flesh was no longer soft and pliable, instead they were taut, like two well-filled balloons. It set the stage nicely for the next item, a medium-sized rubber band. Stretching it between my finger and thumb, I let it snap repeatedly against Rachel's firm tit flesh.

Each snap brought a small squeal, so I knew I had her attention. After a couple of minutes of this, I lifted each tit upwards, examining the marks I'd left. There were several red splotches forming, but nothing that would cause a bruise. Unlike her asshole ex, I wasn't interested in damaging Rachel's skin. That was the point of the rubber bands, to make her more sensitive to less damaging stimulation. I noticed a light sheen of sweat was forming on her shoulders and chest area, and realized it was sexy as hell. I decided I liked her sweaty. So far, so good.

"Your tits are wicked," I scolded, "they opened the door for your ex, so I have something special for them." From my right suitcoat pocket, I removed two nipple clamps with half-inch silver jingle bells attached.

Holding them several inches in front of her face, I shook them, and they jingled happily. "These are adjustable nipple clamps," I explained, "once I clamp them on you, I can tighten them by turning a tiny tensioner screw."

Leaning down, I kissed each distended nipple, then attached a belled clamp, Rachel shrieking at this new debasement. Glancing quickly at her hands, I saw no fingers extended. I examined her face carefully, making eye-contact with Rachel, checking to make sure she hadn't zoned out and didn't seem to be in too much pain. I flicked each of her tits to hear the bells, and as I did saw tears begin to flow down Rachel's cheeks but yet, no fingers extended. I wanted to believe that meant she was determined to atone, but I knew it might just mean she was very masochistic. Either way, my purpose would be served. I would be the person she imagined when the desire for pain overcame her, not that other bastard.

"Are these tight enough, angel?" I asked, and she nodded quite emphatically.

"I disagree," I told her, then turned each tensioner a half-turn, resulting in more gag-muffled shrieks.

Walking over to a small table, I opened a drawer and pulled out a 24" riding crop, one with a nice flat leather tongue on it. "Now that we've got bells on these wicked tits of yours, it's time for them to really be punished, don't you think?" She shook her head 'no', as if it would somehow spare her. No such luck.

I began by lifting each pendulous breast and giving it a half-dozen or so light slaps on the underside, then lowered it and blanketed the top with as many or more. Mr. Voronin had taught me well, I was flicking the crop using just enough force to sting her flesh and make the bells sing their merry tune, but not enough to bruise my angel.

After a few minutes of this, I put the crop back in the drawer, and pulled out a wicked-looking device resembling the Wartenberg pinwheel, which was originally used by doctors to test for nerve damage and sensitivity. With a six-inch handle, it was made of stainless steel. Unlike the original single-wheeled spikey pinwheel, this one was two inches wide with five spinning heads, all bristling with needle-sharp spikes.

My angel's eyes grew wide, and she began shivering in anticipation. She remained brave and aware, though, watching me with her hands firmly clenched, and no signs of a "W".

I chuckled at her response, and said in a low undertone, "Now that we've gotten your blood flowing, let's see how sensitive these tits are, shall we?"

I placed the pinwheel device on top of her left breast, then ran it lightly it downwards towards the edge of her aureole. By now, I'm sure her tits were super-sensitive, what with being bound and freshly-cropped. I used very light pressure, careful not to pierce her skin, but she still struggled against her cuffs, shrieking from the sensation as the bells on the clamps jingled with each movement. I did this a dozen times on each breast, including the undersides. Tears were running down her cheeks, but she was still keeping her fingers curled and her expression was lucid.

Putting the pinwheel back in the drawer, I pulled out a battery-powered vibrator.

"I think your wicked tits have had enough, my angel. Let's see how you're doing down below, shall we?" Running my hand down her still-quivering belly, I moved until my middle finger found her labia, surprisingly still wet.

"I think your little kitty needs attention. Let's rectify that." Setting the vibrator on low, I dragged the tip around her vaginal entrance before slipping it in all the way. She shuddered, which set the bells tinkling again.

As I held it in place, Rachel quietly moaned in what I could only assume was pleasure. I took the opportunity to kiss her neck and whisper in her ear. "Listen to me, angel," I told her, "I don't want another man touching you for any reason."

Despite the torments I was putting her through, the vibrator seemed to be having an effect, and Rachel's breathing was becoming more ragged. A thrill ran through me as I realized she had now willingly surrendered herself, trusting me and accepting every pain or pleasure I chose for her.

"You're going to cum soon, my darling, and when you do, I'll unbind these beautiful tits and remove the clamps. The blood running back into them will generate a rush of endorphins, mixed with a flood of pain. Are you ready?"

Sweat was now dripping down her forehead and her eyes were open but glazed over, as if in an altered state of deep relaxation; but she was still conscious enough to nod in approval. I removed the gag and leaned in to kiss her, and her response was surprisingly passionate, thrusting her tongue hungrily into my mouth.

Flipping the vibrator to its highest setting, I began angling it, moving it around to maximize its effectiveness. I heard as well as felt a low moan from deep within her, and she began to quiver as her climax approached.

Realizing the orgasm was near, I broke off the kiss and let go of the vibrator, allowing it to slip out of her well-moistened pussy and clatter to the floor. Quickly I released the nipple clamps and pulled off the rubber bands constricting the flow of blood to her tits, and she began shaking and howling with pleasure as she was overwhelmed by simultaneous waves of agony and ecstasy.

Simply watching her arch her suspended body as her breasts and belly shook from her cumming was one of the most erotic things I'd ever seen.

Kneeling again, I once more took her ass cheeks in my hands and pulled her now-engorged labia to my face as she hung there, shuddering from aftershocks of her climax. "Penance time is over, my love," I whispered, in between lapping her juices, "now it's time for me to pamper you."

I undid her ankle cuffs and released her from the spreader bar, then lowered the winch so I could release her from the wrist cuffs on the suspension bar. Immediately, I began massaging her arms to get blood flow back to normal, but stopped myself from touching the rest of her body, as I knew it would immediately compel me to have sex with her. Not that she'd resist me, of course, but it would have delayed Rachel's aftercare.

During my lessons, Lucas Voronin had drilled it into me that a good Dom always puts aftercare for his or her submissive before anything else. To do otherwise would have been unacceptable, making me a sadist no better than Trevor Nichols. On the first day of my training, he lectured me on the importance of it, saying, "If you can't be trusted to give aftercare, then you're not someone they should be having sex with."

Draping Rachel's arm around my neck, I helped her to walk unsteadily across the hall into the main bedroom, then laid her down on the bed. She lay still, as lovely as a nude in a Renaissance painting.

"I told you earlier that once you cross the threshold of this house you were mine to command, and you obeyed well. Now, that no longer applies; you are simply mine to love."

Tentatively, she raised her hand to my face and asked, "Does this mean I can touch you without asking?"

I chuckled, "I'd be disappointed if you didn't." Suddenly her arms were around my neck, pulling me down into a passionate kiss. My cock began to swell with excitement under my suit pants, but I had to pull away. "Rachel, darling," I told her, "I'd love to take this further, but you've been through a lot tonight, so please allow me to soothe you for a while."

Kissing her forehead, I took a blanket out of the closet and covered her with it, then took off my suit and hung it up. Going into the ensuite bathroom, I stripped off my underwear and wrapped my naked body in my bathrobe.

During the remodel just before I moved in, I'd installed a two-person side-by-side 65-gallon whirlpool bathtub in my ensuite, along with a continuous-flow water heater adequate to fill it. Turning on the tap, I began to fill it for a nice hot bath-for-two.

While it was filling, I retrieved the bottle of jojoba oil I'd stashed in the vanity cabinet, then went back into the bedroom and began massaging Rachel's tormented body.

Starting with her feet, I tended to both of her legs, then moved up to her neck, shoulders and arms, making sure to give her soft kisses as I switched area. Then, I switched to her breasts. Given their still-tender condition, I took extra care to be gentle, assuring her that no breasts on the planet compared to hers. As I ministered to her nipples, I heard her quietly moan in pleasure, and felt her hand reach under my robe to fondle the stiffness there.

I chuckled, "Not time for that yet, love. Come, let's have a nice bath."

Taking her hand, I led her into the tub, guiding her in as her legs were still wobbly from standing while she was suspended. Once she was settled, I turned on the jets and she became surrounded by relaxing bubbles, with just her head above water. I then slipped out of my bathrobe, getting in next to her.

As she relaxed, I took a sponge and slowly ran it over her body, following the same pattern as the brief massage: legs, shoulders, arms, then breasts and belly. She turned towards me with a loving look on her face, and asked, "Patrick, is it true you bought me a ring, and planned on proposing?"

I stroked her face gently and replied, "Have I ever lied to you, Rachel?"

"Will you ever want to marry me now?" I recalled Nichols' harsh words to Rachel that night about me never wanting to marry her. That cruel bastard had left a lot of emotional scars on her. I wasn't ready to take that step yet, not without knowing if the fractionation process was working, but I wanted to help her heal so I told her a partial truth.

"Rachel, I never stopped loving you despite how much you hurt me. I'm not at the point I was before, but I still see you -- us -- being together."

That seemed to satisfy her, and she slid over so she was sitting in my lap, her back to my chest. I was trying to maintain a somewhat cool response, so as not to give her too much hope; having her in my lap with my erection trapped between my torso and her ass cheeks, my resistance crumbled.

Kissing her neck, I reached my hands around and rubbed her round stomach. Unable to contain myself, in a seductive voice I added, "I also see our baby taking up space in this beautiful belly of yours."

At that point Rachel's own emotional reserve broke as well, and she started to cry. I managed to get us out of the tub and toweled off, combed out her hair, then took her back to the bed again. As a final care step, I got out an angora mitten, rubbing the softness all over her body while telling her how perfect she was to me. I hoped my aftercare lived up to Lucas Voronin's standards.

Once I'd finished we lay there, not speaking, just looking in each other eyes. I felt totally connected with her; my heart swelled, knowing that she was truly sorry, and had endured punishment to prove it. The emotional hurt I'd felt was nearly forgotten, replaced by my renewed desire for her.

At this point, nothing more needed to be said. I was suddenly on top of her, and she spread her legs wide to welcome me. Her pussy was already slick, and I plunged in. I'd missed her so much that I couldn't stop kissing her, and she responded ferociously. We weren't just making love, we were reclaiming each other.

I felt Rachel's pelvic muscles squeezing my cock tightly, her heels digging into the mattress and pushing back against my thrusts. As I pistoned in her, my arms were around her, my hands reaching down and squeezing the ample cheeks of the ass that I loved so much. She screeched and went rigid as her climax hit and this triggered me cumming; I'd been building up for this since she walked in the door, and to say I'd painted the walls of her vagina was an understatement. Although we'd just bathed together, both our bodies were now covered in a new sheen of sweat.

The whole time we'd made love, neither of us had said a word. We hadn't needed to. Rachel finally broke the silence. "That was wonderful. No one's ever made me feel loved like you do."

So many things were flooding my mind; the way she'd endured her corporal trials, the wonderful feeling of her flesh against mine, the surge of power as I acted the role of her Dom, and the euphoria of lovingly holding her in my arms again. It was all quite overwhelming.

"I'm never letting you go," I blurted out impulsively, "get used to it!"

I slid off her, then got a towel from the bathroom and dried us both off. Climbing back into bed, I spooned up behind her on my right side. Thinking her breasts would still be tender, I placed my left hand on her belly. She reacted by reaching down and moving my hand over her left breast, while pushing her ass back into me. My now-flaccid cock stirred slightly, but I was enjoying our snuggling, so mentally commanded it to stand down.

~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up the next morning to an empty bed, but caught the smell of bacon and coffee. I got up and relieved myself in the ensuite toilet, then washed my face and brushed my teeth before getting back into bed. Blasting my darling with an unwashed face and horrible morning breath just would not do!

I heard the creak of the hardwood floor, and looked up to see Rachel standing in the doorway with a breakfast tray. Someone had been busy since we'd fallen asleep. Her hair was down, and neatly brushed.

She was wearing my robe but, like a standard lab coat, it was too long, dragging along the floor, and she'd had to push the arms up so they wouldn't cover her hands. On the positive side, the chest was too small to contain her breasts, forcing the belt to come loose, revealing her torso from her wonderful breasts to the lovely bulge of tummy right above her lady-garden.

"You look beautiful," I gushed, "I love waking up and seeing you first thing every morning."

Setting the tray on the bed next to me, she said quietly, "I brought breakfast for you, my love," then asked, "shall I feed it to you?"

"That would be delightful," I responded, sitting up. True to her word, Rachel fed me breakfast one bite at a time, allowing me sips of coffee and orange juice between bites. When I tried to take control by reaching for a fork to feed myself, she maintained control, slapping my hand away, playfully. When only a few bites remained, I reached up and slid the bathrobe off her shoulder; she did not refuse me that pleasure.

Lowering my lips to her neck, I nibbled and kissed it. "Why am I so lucky to have the most desirable woman in the world in my bed, feeding me breakfast?" I asked her, as I rubbed her belly below her breasts and traced around her nipples with my fingertip.