Liberated by the Pen Ch. 04

Gabe's smooth tenor filled my ears as his warm hands clasped around the outside of my arms.

"This was never a punishment Amelia. I hope you've realized that. Nothing I've done today is intended to be a punishment. Everything I've enacted and am doing serves as a reminder of why we're here, together. My actions corroborate your needs and force you to acknowledge what you truly desire in life. You can pretend to turn your back on the urgency of your desires and to me, but we both know that my place in your life is pivotal."

Gabe reached between my spread thighs from behind and inserted his fingers into my dripping sex, the physical manifestation of my desire to his proximity. He unclipped my leash from the bed post, forced my shoulders down to the ground and repositioned me, hips and pelvis tilted upwards, thighs kicked apart, so that he could plough into my moistening need. His hands gripped the tape binding between my arms, as if a bridle and reins as he pulled my body back onto his cock. I could only whinny in need through the adhesive gag as he claimed me repeatedly each time his cock entered the satiny folds of my womanhood, enveloping his flesh with mine in a strangling dance of undulating bodies.

He pulled out of me, exercising restraint, as he guided me up by my hair, ripping off the tape that silenced me. His cock slapped the outside of my cheeks, his fingers tightening their hold in my tresses. It was as if I knew nothing beyond pleasing him, and my tongue lapped at his presented tip. Over and around my tongue graced his glans until he withdrew again, this time, leaving my unsatisfied body kneeling where it remained. The chain that once fastened me to my bedpost was trailed down between my legs and yanked up between my labial lips to hook on the other O-ring behind my collar, caged by a metal crotch rope. I grunted in disappointed dismay.

"Do you need more time to think about matters my love?" Gabe whispered in my ear and before I could murmur out a denial, he departed, leaving me secured and in service of my thoughts once again.

I remained kneeling on the floor, contemplative and quieted by my predicament, unable to shuffle as the discomfort on my genitals increased with each subtle movement I took. I understood that Gabe was illustrating my willingness to be under his hand yet again, just as he had at the conservation area. Objecting was futile. It would have no effect on Gabe's intended course of action. It was why he liberated my voice. I was to compliantly exercise silence, sentinel to my thoughts, until a decision could be declared, or my safeword called. Rendering a verdict was a capitulation that I was ill-prepared to concede, not due to the illegitimacy of Gabe's illustration, but that to willingly surrender to the man who enslaved you in perpetual servitude was a threshold I was unwilling to traverse. My own bodily responses to Gabe were tantamount to a betrayal of self, and I would not further co-conspire in dismantling my self-esteem and self-worth.

Gabe approached me again. His hand trailed so languorously up my bare back, over the strips of adhesive that held my arms tightly behind me, and back down on the other side, drifting down to my buttocks again, that the softness of his touches caused a shiver, both from the ache of restraint, and from the tenderness of touch. The warmth of his palm traced the swell of my buttocks. I straightened my back, unconsciously as if to disprove that his actions broke me.

"What have you decided little one?"

I only shook my head in repudiation of his approach. "Nothing," I whispered softly, "I haven't decided anything, nor will I Gabe. I won't become a willing participant in your game. I'm not your pawn. You can position me however you please, but I will not go backwards to a life I have no desire in living. Please release me, otherwise we'll be here for some time as you and I well understand how stubborn we both are."

"So be it then Amelia. I've infinite patience. Do you have the stamina?"

Gabe's hands released themselves from the numbness of my flesh, only to return as he curtailed the length of chain running between my labia, causing a spiking, insistent throb of aching, as my head was yanked backwards, and the chain pulled upwards. He positioned himself on my bed, reading, while ignoring my increasingly frequent plaintive mews of discomfort from being bound in such restriction. I was exhausted from struggling against the tape, physically debilitated from holding my position, as every muscle shrieked in fatigued weariness.

Restrained like this, at his whim, bore remarkable reminders of the grotesque life I ceaselessly attempted escape from. He had fooled me with pre-mediated planning, utilized force against me, and while he expressed deep remorse now and glimmers of it during my initial captivity, I was invariably an object to him, an object he still coveted. His kindness then and now could not negate the monstrosity that still lurked beneath his actions. There could never be a tabula rasa.

Gabe only continued reading, barely casting a glance in my direction as my tears splattered down my cheeks and streaked down the length of my neck to christen my breasts in earnest. My folded back limbs were screaming in agony. My knees throbbed from the unforgiving hardness of the floor. The numbing of my appendages had humbled me into whimpering silence. I couldn't navigate the certainty of my confinement any longer. My hitched chokes for air provided the only sound and, in my delirium, my voice diminutive, unexpected in its delivery, I begged.

"Please, Gabe. Please. I hurt so bad. Please, Mas..."

Gabe snipped the tape off and very gently massaged the feeling back into my limbs as I sobbed prostrate on the floor, no longer able to ward off the flood of pain as each cramp rippled more intensely than the last. I was released, but without relief. My limbs stiffened by hours of bondage. The anal toy was removed, and I was cognizant of the emptiness as if suddenly bereft by its absence. The leash was unhooked from the O-ring at the back of my collar and reattached to the bed, locking me back into a kneeling position where I was left once again tethered to my bed. The next instance when Gabe approached me, I could barely contain my kneeling position. I had been tethered to the bed for what felt like hours and though he had released my limbs, he had left me shackled to my bed like a slave of little standing.

Without a word, he detached my leash and tugged me to the bathroom, allowing me to relieve myself under his penetrating gaze. His hand cupped my cheek the entire time, forcing me to maintain his visual hold as he returned me to that place of smallness that I had battled so valiantly to abandon. But it admittedly and shamefully felt so naturalized - Gabe towering over me, his authority commanding me to action, my body responding as if an automaton to his impulses. I knew he sensed it, especially when his thumb traced the silhouette of my lips, and he pressed ever so gently inwards as I suckled the tip of his digit.

"You feel it too don't you little one?" It was said so matter-of-factly, without a trace of malice or any lingering lurid intentionality; it was merely a statement of fact based on observation.

I dared not signal my agreement. Truthfully, in that instant as I was naked and collared, leashed to Gabe's hand, I was transported back to the days of my captivity where Gabe thieved from me any semblance of human dignity over my bodily autonomy, and where I eventually was compelled to accept his control over me. His rakish charm was admittedly mesmerizing. A flush crept up my neck as I recollected how effortlessly it had been to accept Gabe's debasement of me, whether the daily enema and blow job, or how readily I enjoyed the degradation of anal sex and begging for Gabe's cock with an undignified desperation that was motivated by lust alone. Gabe only smiled upon seeing the flush of scarlet as I attempted to conceal my disgrace. But he could read my body with an astounding degree of accuracy that could not be attributed to time, but intuition between two bodies and minds that were natural complements to one another.

"I think about it as well little one," Gabe only smiled wistfully at me. "I reminisce about the intensity of our corporeal connection, the way your body was meant to be claimed by me. I loathe that my hand no longer can freely trace the curves of your softness until your flesh quivers from the convergence of our touch. I miss how my cock fit so perfectly in your ass and how your lips so skillfully brought me to standing every morning. When I concentrate, I can hear how your moans to claim you were uttered with unadulterated desire propelling the backwards thrust of your hips, and your ever increasingly loud grunts of craving. I long for those days little one, with our routine established, our needs met, our pleasure fulfilled. You were secure in my hold, and I in yours. We knew our places and our roles in this game we play. Why do you deny your feelings about me due to an antiquated morality? We can begin anew little one."

The urge to acknowledge Gabe as Master was exceedingly strong on my lips, persuaded to my tongue by the tingling feeling radiating through my limbs, electrified by Gabe's very presence. His scent was familiarly overpowering and intoxicating at once. How many times had I slipped to my knees in service of his desire at the mere flick of his finger. He held me captive under his enthrall, there in the bathroom, at my most vulnerable, naked, collared, humiliated by my own bodily functions. Gabe was perpetually my puppeteer. He knew precisely how to string me like the marionette that I was under his skillful manipulation. My body danced and floated to heights unsung as he engineered my actions from above, pulling at my yearning, before releasing it to tug at my need. I fantasized about reaching forwards to unzip his manhood from the fabric cage that constrained it, my delicate, lithe fingers wrapping around the pulsing column of flesh that I knew from experience would undoubtedly bob and curtsy to the eminence of my touch.

Resisting the impulse to acquiesce required reserves of mental determination I hadn't realized I could summon. He was passion personified, my muse in debauchery, regretfully so. My demeanour was subdued as I contemplated the options presented to me. Could Gabe be trusted to maintain his promise of admitting his misdeeds if I accepted being unreservedly his plaything? What was more terrifying was knowing that either scheme would initiate a deliberate hollowing out of my endurance to resist his control, challenging my fortitude, and re-establishing my inevitable submergence into the dark abyss that was my submission under Gabe.

It would be an assured certainty that my resolve would self-immolate under his hand. While our dynamic was premised on manipulation, it was also prefaced on a tangible sexual connection that was undeniable in its potency. It was a bond that I had yet to experience with Adam. Adam could competently bring me to orgasm, but he hadn't yet transported me to that emancipatory space where I could lose myself in the safety of subspace.

If I accepted the knitted collar, I would be willingly his, and the guilt of my complicity would either weigh less heavily on my being as the relationship would be freely undertaken, or consume me in self-loathing at my own weakness. He was my captor, always the jailor of my body and mind. His admission did little to mitigate the egregiousness of his past misdeeds.

"Little one? Pondering my proposal?"

I shook my head, perhaps too emphatically, attempting to deflect what Gabe recognized was so obviously the truth.

"Despite all this time away, I still can read my girl's reactions and facial expressions better than she's willing to admit to herself." His hand embraced my cheek with an unexpected warmth.

Instead of extending the ignominy of my circumstances as I presumed him to do, he led me mercifully back to my bedroom and reattached the leash to the bedpost. His hands warm on my shoulders as he massaged the still stiff flesh. His cotton shirt was soft against my back as his hands kneaded down the sides of my body and cupped the underswell of my breasts. They drifted down my torso until his thumbs came to rest on my labia, the tips barely forcing themselves inwards.

"Little one, is this how you wish to spend your weekend? Secured to your bed like my disobedient pet? All I request of you is a simple choice, both of which would provide you with a measure of mental solace. Accountability or liberation? They're not difficult concepts. For your sake and mine, please tell me what you want."

I only met Gabe's words with a resounding silence in retort. All I would offer him was a shake of my head before I found words in refutation. "No, I'm not making the choice. Keep me here all weekend if you must Gabe. You can beat me, shackle me, toy with me, but I will not dignify your delusion with a response. All you've established is how responsive my body remains in your presence, but that doesn't equate to an abiding obedience to you, nor a desire to do so."

The willfulness that once fuelled my resolve to wage a war of attrition against Gabe's own sense of determination returned. The anger that he deigned to enforce his will through my abduction again was all consuming. I wouldn't permit myself to meander down the path of surrender, not for when it wasn't of my own volition.

Gabe seemed subdued in his final implorations, almost pleading, sorrowful as he knelt by me, his hands scorching on my flesh. And then startlingly, Gabe started to tear up.

"I don't wish to hurt you, Amelia. I'm trying to rectify the errors in judgement I committed against you. I'm trying to show you what you are, what you revel in, what desires you harbour but whose timidity has encouraged a continuing and alarmingly persistent lack of courage. I want you to know how secure you can be with me, in all your kinks. I love you. Do you understand that? I want to make amends and I don't know how for you. You need to forgive me. All I have to offer is myself, either punished or proud."

He reached forwards to unlock the leash from the bedpost unshackling it from the collar around my neck. The chain clattered to the ground with a resounding clink. He buried his face in his hands as he sat near me. The scene strangely surreal as if a fallen titan, whose hubris had devoured his sanity. Fully clothed Gabe, inconsolable with his knees drawn up to his chest, as he sat on the ground next to the naked and collared woman he imprisoned yet again through coercion. Yet, as I silently witnessed the deterioration, the compulsion to comfort him materialized organically, and I tentatively placed a hand on his knee as he wept, waiting for his discomfort to subside. While I should have been enraged, only compassion dictated my actions. This once formidable 6'4" man suddenly seemed so diminutive before me, seemingly emotionally fragmented in a way I hadn't witnessed previously. There were no manipulations, no deceptions surrounding his actions, only Gabe attempting to offer me the world in the inarticulate way he knew how. He wasn't trying to retain me. He was cajoling me towards my inevitable destiny, however misguided he was.

I shuffled forward and repositioned myself, kneeling between Gabe's legs. He widened his stance welcoming me into his embrace, his arms firm as they enveloped me. A captor and his momentarily willing captive. As his hands tightened their grip, I felt his possession; it was warm and reassuring against my body, rather than alienating, as if suffused through me. In that moment, everything about our relationship coalesced. Gone was the fear, the anger, the betrayal, and the coercion. We were two lovers desperately clinging to a past that could never be employed to formulate the present. In the moment, we existed absent of consequences, devoid of rage, empty of hate - dissolved into the ether.

"Come here, little one." He pulled me impossibly tight to his chest, as his tears graced the top of my head, and his lips brushed against my forehead, in reassurance for him, more than me. "I'm sorry little one, I don't know what else to do for you. My heart will not permit me to abandon our love. We're destined to be together even if you fail to understand it now. My argument this morning was insufficiently persuasive."

He gathered me in his arms as he stood, depositing me gently on the bed on my back. The touch of his hands as they skimmed down my prickled flesh was a sublime remembrance of things past. But I intuitively contested, evading his possession, and turning my head away from his seeking lips, and his sudden turn towards tenderness. My hands battered against his tightening hold, struggling against his intentionality. My will fought as it should have. He only held me under his gaze until my resistance became nothing more than tokenism, my reluctance mollified by the trace of his touch and the penetrating greenness of his pupils that refused to yield power.

His tongue, at once engaged with my own, released from my mouth and lapped downwards, soft strokes that prickled my flesh with the lightest of caresses, the barest breeze as the wetness immediately evaporated to the coolness in the air. His lips pursed as he kissed downwards, until his mouth met the juncture of my thighs. Gentle licks and light tickles grazed against my flesh before the tip of his nose pressed ever teasingly against my clitoris. He pulled back upon hearing my moan, only to return to the nub of nerves with the sweetness of his tongue that tantalizingly teased me with soft, measured licks.

My fingers tugged at the downy softness of his hair, communicating my building desire, and encouraging a deeper penetration. Yet Gabe demonstrated restraint as he retreated from the moistness. Instead, his finger snaked inwards to the spongy patch of flesh, crooking up to rub my G-spot, deliberate circular motions that had me writhing, legs opened, before him. My body swayed with sensation under his hand, as his eyes suddenly darkened with adulation and veneration at the sight proffered before him. His submissive. I attempted to close my legs, at the sudden vulnerability I willingly displayed. He only plundered my pussy with such vigour in his rapacity of my bodily responses, that my only reaction was to yield to the feeling.

"Who am I little one?"

My pleasure was contingent on my acknowledgement of his mastery over me, as if Charon's fee would grant me sexual absolution into the netherworld of pleasure. His finger was insistent, gruelling even as he coaxed my compliance from my wet, suctioning folds, unrelenting in his touch. When my resolve held fast, he substituted his finger with his tongue. Hungry to devour me, his tongue sought inner passage into my womanhood, and my legs involuntarily parted in furtherance of my pleasure. Suddenly forceful, Gabe grabbed my wrists, as he slid up my body, pulling my hands high above me and securing them together with a pair of handcuffs he had produced from his pocket.

"Address me properly, little one. I've earned as much, haven't I?"

My tongue refused to cede in cooperation, yet my arms, though restrained together, remained where Gabe insisted on their placement. Gabe persisted with his tongue, pushing my knees up to my chest, spreading me widely for his consumption. He only gazed at me with such predation, that my uncomfortable and awkward attempts to close my legs were met with declarative assertions dictating me to stillness.

"No," was all he stated. His reprimand the only requirement for me to obey, so innate was his authority over me. So unambiguous was my obedience to him.

Gabe undressed, a dreamily unhurried pace meant to inflame my libido as I stared at the slow slide of fabric from his chiselled chest, the deliberate unbuttoning of his shirt cuffs, the crispness of his cotton shirt as it snapped off in disrobement, and the gradual unsheathing of his generous manhood made my body alight in anticipation. The bed depressed with his weight as his knees inched towards my parted legs. His hand was already wrapped around his rigid cock that swelled increasingly larger with each stroke of his palm. His fingers reached forwards until they nestled against the entrance to my vagina, and he teasingly inserted one digit, and then another, a slow piston of flesh within flesh.