Little Treasures Ch. 1

In the echoing silence of the darkness around her, she could hear the soft, rhythmic pulsing of bass from the living room. Her own breath seemed to be caught in the low, throbbing sounds, turning her staccatoed and choppy breathing into slow, even heaves of her chest. The darkness is absolute - she can sense it both beneath the blindfold and lying heavy across her skin in the room. Its ominous pressure causes her body to stiffen and to strain unconsciously. Her hands tug at the broad leather cuffs that have drawn her arms high over her head, her toes grasping at the nap of the carpet as her calves stretch faintly, the arches in her feet feeling stretched and pulled by the merest breath.

This had been her ultimate gift - the final capitulation of herself into His hands. In all her life, nothing had ever scared her so deeply, nor filled her with such irrational fear and desperation as the darkness that now crowded around her. Even just thinking of its' swirling depths, caressing her naked, taut-stretched body caused goose bumps to ripple along the surface of her flesh. Even though her arms were stretched against the side of her head, her hearing had turned triply acute in this smothering blanket she found herself cocooned in. The quiet throbs of the stereo in the living room helped to ease her near-painfully tightened chest, but she still felt her heart hammering and tripping in her chest like some wild thing.

Her tongue darts out to moisten her parted lips, the soft pants of her own breathing suddenly fading into nonexistence as she hears the air around her rush with a nearly-silent movement, feels the cold, startling dance of the air against her naked flesh. Suddenly she is twisting away from the movement, crying out, her feet flailing wildly, as pure panic overcomes her. In her own mind, the darkness is a live, hungry, voracious thing - it has sought to consume her all her life, whether with its own grasping tendrils or using those tools of its' kin, the claw, the tooth, the hungry maw. Behind a black mask, caught in a black room, where the darkness is a physical and tangible thing dancing upon her sensitized, exposed flesh, she cannot bite back the terror that rises from within her madly pounding heart.

The leather wrapped about her wrists bites into the flesh of her hands as she swings from the chain, her feet dancing outwards as her head falls back and she cries out in anguish. She always knew it would come for her, that it had sought her since her days as a child...

"Ssh," leaps His voice to her from the darkness. She tries to quell her body, and eventually manages to bring it to halt, momentum causing her to sway slightly on her toes as her head twists and turns, trying to place Him in the absolute void she had felt left in.

His voice... it was one of the many strings that had attached her heart to Him. It was so much like Him that just hearing it instantly conjured up her first mental picture of Him - their very first meeting in person. Thinking of His intense gaze, burning and focused on her so strongly as it always did was enough to make her chest tighten up, her pulse to accelerate, her eyes to widen. Long before they had ever touched, He had begun this. A long, twisted path down into the depths of her submission, and her own deepest, darkest fears, desires - and turned everything into this growing need for Him that seemed unquenchable, repressed deep within her.

She had always been, always was, and always would be His.

She felt the air behind her move, then felt the muted heat of His body behind her and involuntarily, she shuddered, whimpering softly, straining once more against her bonds as she attempted to lean back towards His comforting presence.

"No..." is all He whispers. She mews, her body going limp, as she understands His meaning. He wished to have her completely given over to Him - and the darkness. She had thought she was ready... She had prayed she was ready. And now that He was here...

She found she wasn't quite so sure.

She whimpers once more, twisting in her confines, twisting on the chain length, her dangling body writhing before Him. She feels the warm presence of one of His hands, clasped gently over a rounded hipbone, His arm flexing as He stills her desperate motion. The warmth of His hand upon her flesh sends sensation spiraling deep into the pit of her stomach, and she whimpers softly. He is standing so closely now that she can sense His body just beyond hers, she can smell the tantalizing scents that always cling to His skin, conjuring mental images of her face, buried and nuzzling against the column of His neck, His solid jaw, her tongue tracing against the hard planes of His body...

His hand draws away and she finds herself swinging slightly, whimpering softly, her tilted head lifting as her mouth slowly parts. She can no longer smell Him, or hear Him nearby - He seems to have been swallowed by the very darkness that now threatened to eat into her own self. She felt her pulse once more leaping, her soft pants turning to gasps as she feels the band of pressure around her chest increase, the darkness moving forward to stifle her, drowning her as it swims down her throat, coating her entire body in an icy blanket of fear that clutches at her with hungry fingers.

"You will fear nothing but Me!" His voice growls out of the darkness. Her body leaps, startled as the sound reverberates around her. But her head quickly nods, and she responds hastily.

"Yes, Master..." she whispers, feeling shame creeping in, competing with the fear that tears within her.

Again there is that near-silent rush of sound and she feels Him standing before her. She can feel His scrutinizing glance upon her, His eyes narrowed as He assesses her. A furious blush blooms across her heaving bosom, creeping up her neck to blossom on her slanted cheekbones and her breath catches.

"There is nothing here to fear except Me, pet," He gently chides her. She bobs her head, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips once more. She can feel the reprimand whipping through her trembling flesh and the shame it brings makes her whimper aloud once more. She senses Him move away, then hears the clank of the winch as it is cranked. The slack in her wrists as her feet fall flat to the floor tells her why, and she takes a deep, easing breath. He had never truly left her, had He? She pondered quietly as He moved around the room behind her. She felt something cold and solid brush against her ankle. "Spread," was all He said. Her eyes glided closed even as her legs shuffled outwards of their own volition, moving until they were just outside of the line of her shoulders. Cold metal snapped around each of her tiny ankles with a resounding click, and her fingers wrapped themselves about the cold links between her wrists, attempting to draw some reassurance from the familiar, chilled metal that drew at her wrists and ankles.

The winch was turning again, and once more she found herself drawn up on her toes, her legs now widespread, the cold air and darkness rushing between her sweat-misted legs. She can't feel Him anymore, she senses only the yawning mouth of the darkness surrounding her, pouring down her gaping throat and tickling at her spread, lightly furred nether lips. Her arms are stretched taut, and she can feel her shoulders beginning to ache before she shrugs, readjusting the lay of her strained muscles, and taking a deep, cleansing breath that ends in a shudder as the overwhelming silence and darkness once more overwhelms her.

"M-Master..." she whispers hesitantly. "M-Master, p-please don't leave me," she whispers hoarsely, desperation tingeing at her voice as it seems almost to border on the hysterical. There is the softest of whistles, and a faint popping sound, like that of fabric in the wind. A fire seems to have been lit in the flesh right beneath her right nipple, the pain radiating outwards, causing her breath to splinter, her lungs dragging it back in, only to let it emerge on a choked, startled sob. The crop - she would recognize that tiny, biting sting anywhere. The cold room suddenly seemed as if it had been immersed in a furnace, a fine mist breaking out over her skin.

"I told you I was going to stay right here, toy. Didn't you believe Me? Are My words no longer enough for you, slave? Do you need Me to prove Myself at every twist and turn?" The words were practically growled and she felt ice trickle along her spine, the sweat suddenly hardening into ice cubes against each of her pores. "Master is a liar, hmm? My word isn't good enough for you to honor anymore?" Again, the soft whistle and the loud pop as the leather bites home, this time in the upturned flesh above her marbleized nipple. She cries out, writhing and swinging from the chain that claims her paired wrists, pain radiating outwards and upwards, twisting out from the flesh surrounding her agitated, abandoned, bereft, and yet throbbing right nipple.

The sound of the crop swinging lazily through the air is repeated, each snap and pop of its' landing causing her to jump and stir, even though the pain of each impact does not kick in for several shocked seconds after each blow. The stick continues to dance, its triangle-shaped tip biting into her skin with extreme, careful precision. As she writhed and struggled, the pain bringing a dull haze before her black-covered eyes, she found herself marveling that even in utter darkness, her Master knew where to strike so easily, so readily upon her small body.

When silence once more descends in the room, she wishes inside for a flash of light, a glimpse of the tantalizing markings that she knows now line her flesh - a simple, yet perfect series of triangles around her puckered nipple, causing her swollen and flushed breast to appear almost like a child's sun, with it's little triangular rays pointing outwards from the circumference of her large nipple.

Her panting, softly sobbing breaths echo in her own ears, and she realizes she is still swinging slightly. Her wrists ache, and her shoulders are starting to burn, but she flexes her calves and catches herself on her toes, stilling her wild, lazy tumble through space. The position releases some tension off the rest of her body, and she takes another steadying deep breath, praying under her breath as the cold tears on her cheek evaporate into salt-crusted trails down her face.

The whistle of the crop through the air is heard and she instinctively flinches, her body tensing in expectation of the oncoming blow. And then His laughter rings out, full, rounded and echoing in her ears.

"Ah - I see. You will believe the threat of the crop, but not My word, hmm? That's a pity, love..." He croons softly, slipping up behind her - she can sense Him; feel His breath upon her exposed nape, the sensitive flesh of her back. She braces herself, yet His caress still causes her heart to leap, her lungs to collapse, and her eyes to flutter shut.

His broad, rough-gentle hand strokes at the straining flesh of her shoulders, and she whimpers softly.

"M-Master, please..." her hoarse whisper fades into silence as He once more eases away from her. The first sob that spills from her dry lips is uncontrollable, but she manages to swallow the following ones.

Once again, the darkness swallows her dangling body. She can feel her right breast, the pain having long since faded to a gentle throbbing and a series of heated welts that only make the rest of her body feel more cold - and more naked, more undecorated without the proof of His touch. The cool air swirls about her, and she can again feel the darkness permeating her body, her soul, with each and every delicate breath, each shudder that wracks her, each empty grasping of her thighs in a childish attempt to protect herself.

As she sits, crystalline tears leaking from beneath her sodden blindfold silently, she tries to reach out for Him. She knows He is there... but where?

Her body sways, twisting the chain that suspends her from the ring in the ceiling slightly, causing her to begin spiraling slowly around. She gasps, knowing He is waiting, watching, and thus flexes her calves, burying her toes once more in the thick rug, and ceasing her unwarranted movement. She can feel His eyes upon her, judging, assessing, and weighing all that she proffers in the pitch, darkness heavier than that seen but one that can be felt, climbing along her limbs and pulsing ice water through her veins...

A cold, soft breeze tantalizes the thin, short hair between her legs, the tiny stripe dancing in the gentle gust and she cries out involuntarily, imagining the writhing darkness and its insatiable mouth beginning to gnaw at that most vital of her spots. She cannot help it, a wail of terror bursts out of her chest and echoes throughout the room, and her body convulses and sways dangerously, tugging at her tortured shoulders and bruised wrists, wrenching another cry of suffering from her wide-open mouth.

Suddenly His hands are there, digging into the tender, soft flesh of her underarms as he lifts her up off the floor. She dangles there, held by Him, and can do naught but tremble. There is the faintest of heated, moist caresses upon her body before her right nipple - stiffened and inflamed by the welts that surround it - is drawn deep into the fiery cavern of His mouth. Her head flies back, a cry slipping from between her lips, now swollen and stinging from her own teeth's manipulations. She can feel herself boiling, deep within, an inner melting that begins below her stomach and slowly begins crawling out along her limbs, tracing fiery paths of joyous sensation in its' wake.

Just as quickly He is gone, and her body falls, jerking to a stop against her tender wrists and exhausted shoulders. This time she cries openly, soft sobs that speak of her growing pain and need for Him - her body and her subconscious desire to seek all the warmth, goodness, protection, and love He represents. The pain against her abraded hands and wrists is so great she dare not flex them, her toes bearing the most of her weight but her shoulders screaming from the jarring impact they had absorbed. Tears fall freely, unheeded and unchecked from her eyes, her face crumpled and miserable beneath it's thick, heavy, and dark black blindfold.

She hears the unmistakable sound of metal clicking below her, and a moment later the metal band wrapped about one ankle falls free. The same happens to the other, and then His two, gentle hands are easing her feet together, helping her take the weight off her tortured arms. She hears Him unclip the carefully laced leather cuffs from the ring dangling above her, yet He remains utterly silent His hands gently ease hers to her sides, massaging her sore flesh and raising each palm to place a gentle, adoring kiss on each before He leads her away.

Shaking inwardly, she follows His guiding hands, the gentle nudge of His flesh against hers directing her movements until she feels the cool touch of caressing fabric against the back of her legs. He easily lifts her, gently tossing her onto the mattress, which gives way beneath her, the thick comforter cradling her. His hands separate the two leather bands about her wrists from each other, adjusting and tightening them until they fit snugly, almost caressingly, about her delicate bones. Each wrist is stretched over her head and clipped into place in the headboard above her. Her shoulders whimper in protest, the sound escaping her lips, before He eases her upwards slightly more, then eases her backwards until a large, overstuffed pillow rests beneath her shoulders, neck, and head.

She feels Him ease down her body, each of His gentle hands grasping an ankle and spreading it outwards, before another broad leather band, similar to the ones encasing each of her sore wrists, is buckled tightly about it. She feels the leg stretched further outward, then she senses Him clip the ankle cuff into another tether attached somewhere on the four poster bed. He repeats the action with the other ankle, and she whimpers softly, her body twisting helplessly, her mind crying out for His closeness in the darkness that surrounds her, and threatens to swallow her completely - mind, heart, body, and soul.

Then He is gliding back up her body, and she can feel His skin brushing roughly against hers, His dusting of body hair crisp and almost tickling as He lies alongside her. She feels His arms stretch upwards, reaching for the tight knot of hair at the top of her head, quickly unleashing it and finger-combing the strands out so that they fan about her head, drawing handfuls down to circle and tickle at her breasts, ribs, and tummy. She sighs, moving fitfully, her own hair another source of cold, prickly torment for her sensitive flesh.

His arms enfold her, gently cradling Him to her. Sighing restlessly, her head tosses until she feels the gentle, sweet pressure of His lips urgently pressing against hers. He probes and suckles at them gently, delicately, yet her own open willingly beneath His, blooming like a flower beneath His exploring tongue. She sighs against His lips, her limbs now straining to clutch Him to her, futilely struggling within their bonds.

He whispers soothing words to her, His hands making gentle, sweeping motions over her body. She shivers, whispering against His lips as they toy with her, her body caught up in a maelstrom of sweet, rending emotion and physical sensation.

"Master... oh, my Master..." she murmurs and gasps against Him. His fingers splay over her breasts, His large hands with their long, tapered fingers easily catching up most of both the rounded, heavy orbs in a gentle handful. Her right breast stings, the flesh heated and raised against His abrasive palm. She mews, her back arching, her body pressing flush against His. She can feel His heated, throbbing flesh pushing against her thigh, and it only drives her hunger for Him higher. His right hand falls to grasp at her hip, idly tracing at the smooth planes of her belly, dipping into her navel before gliding effortlessly towards her dipping, twisting mons. His left hand remains curled about her right breast, the fingertips gently tracing each livid red triangle imprinted on her tender flesh.

"Yes, My sweet pet?" He murmurs in a soft voice that is so growl-like, she knows He is smiling wickedly at His own handiwork. His head dips down, and she feels his tongue tracing a fiery path, outlining each welt, and she moans, pressing her urgent breast-flesh against His mouth, knowing He is reveling in His skill and power over her own weak, sensitive flesh. His fingers dip teasingly, gently tracing the naked lips of her outer nether mouth, the skin smooth and hairless behind the tiny stripe of fur He orders she keep. Her hips bounce against His fingers, her voice rising to beg and plead for His caress.

His head skims across the flesh of her neck, His pursed, moist lips brushing softly against the pulse throbbing within before dipping towards her heaving bosom. Her body is electrified - she knows no higher euphoria than His touch, no heaven more blissful than His embrace. Her body stretches, extending, seeking His warmth and touch in the arch of her back, the pull of her flesh against its' bonds. She hears His low, rumbling laugh and knows that her actions do not go unnoticed. She can feel His jaw, hardened and slightly prickly with its' late-night growth of stubble as it dances across her flushed bosom. She gasps and writhes, her now-freed head tossing against the pillow behind it, her fanned hair dancing in a wild nimbus as her body struggles against the thick comforter.

Her senses merge and then explode outwards as His lips wrap around one of her nipples, His hand still cupping and massaging the bruised flesh of the other. His right hand teases delicately at her parted outer lips, stroking up and down them with the lightest, most teasing of caresses. One of His long, slender fingers eases between the rosy, sensitive flesh and she gasps and shudders, her hips hunching upwards lewdly, trying to court His touch deeper within herself.