The Captain's Lady

Slowly He drops His towel, and invites my lips once more. Is this what He means by "saving it" I wonder? Am I to help Him build his "deposit"? For what purpose? My mind reels as I again feel Him moving against my tongue… and then He withdraws.

Then, lifting my naked body in his arms, He carries me back to His bed and lays me amid the rumpled sheets once more. He parts my thighs and examines my newly bared sex with His eyes…His fingers, the heated satisfaction radiating from Him in scalding waves.

"I have to taste this before we go on," He murmurs, burying his face between my legs. I gasp as His tongue touches me…my newly bared flesh…so vulnerable and exposed. My juices flow freely from my naked slit, and He laps eagerly, His tongue probing, teasing until I'm fairly in tears with frustration.

I whimper softly, and He withdraws, his shaft hard beyond belief now…jutting hugely from the juncture of His thighs as He once again presses it to my lips.

Frantic, I begin to suck with a determination yet unknown to me. His lips curl up at the edges, clearing His throat as He tightly girdles the base of His member with his fingers to avoid spilling His seed prematurely.

"Katherine." He begins, His scrotum hard and boiling with the product of my efforts. "When I tell you to do so, I want you to move over to that oddly shaped bench over there. I want you to rest your chest on the upper level, and kneel on the lower portion so that your buttocks are exposed and open to me. We're going to try something new today…but first I need to give you a 'safe word."

Now I'm confused. A "safe word"? What's that? Why would I need one? Goose flesh begins to rise, and my nipples harden. So this is what my premonition was about!

"Your safe word is 'shelter', Katherine, like a ship seeking safe harbor. It's the word you'll use if our interaction becomes more than you can bear, more than your body and mind can stand. Nothing else will halt me. Do you understand? Not your tears, not your screams, not the most heartfelt pleading will do. This word is your salvation. It tells me to go no further…that my beloved 'Little One' has reached her limit…and I'll stop immediately. Say it Katherine. I need to know that you understand."

I nod, parting my lips and attempting to force the "word" into the light of day. "Shelter," I repeat, the sound throbbing against my eardrums. "Shelter".

He nods, satisfied, then indicates with a turn of His head that I am to proceed to the Bench now and assume the position to which He has assigned me.

This Bench is a curious affair, one that has occupied my imagination since my first day in the house on the beach. It's shaped like a weightlifter's bench…but in two levels. The lower and longer of the two is about knee high…padded in black leather with rings attached to the sides for purposes one can only guess. The second level rises like a single, narrow stair to the rear, at right angles to the first and occupying the spot where a barbell would rest on a normal workout bench, but slightly lower and boasting an additional set of metal rings firmly embedded into its metal framework.

Slowly I assess the situation, then kneeling on the lower portion I rest my rib cage atop the upper stair so that my breasts are fully exposed and dangling freely in the open space beyond, vulnerable in the extreme.

And then I wait.

I have not long to pause, for soon my Captain joins me, a fistful of leather objects clutched firmly in his hands. The first is a handcuff, stitched of stout leather…wide… substantial, its lanyards and metal fastenings gleaming in the dim light of the room. This He attaches to my right wrist, then its companion, a twin, to my left. He tugs, a satisfied murmur escaping His lips, then twists my arms behind me. I hear a soft, metallic 'click", and at once find my wrists immobilized, bound one to the other against the small of my back. I gasp. For the first time I begin to wonder what fate awaits me.

He pauses, cupping my dangling breasts, milking the nipples with his fingertips as he surveys my body. His shaft is so huge now…so enormous. Again I feel the rush of fluid between my legs, so hot, so wet. How can I continue? How?

My mind probes my "safe" word…rolling it around, clasping it to me as my Captain continues His preparations. Next, He takes something akin to a large dogs collar and fastens it about my throat, cinching it snugly so as to allow no free play, but not tight enough to strangle. To this He attaches a short leash, its stout cord passing roughly between my vulnerable breasts as it makes its way toward the anchoring ring below.

Again I am held fast. My mobility vanishing with each passing moment. It's then that my Captain turns His attention to my nether portions, attaching leather cuffs here as well and binding my ankles to either side of the bench…forcing my legs apart as I feel the wetness slide between my trembling thighs. I'm terrified…I'm excited…I'm so incredibly aroused. What is to become of me…what?

I flush. So humiliating! But wait…there's more!

Now my Captain resumes His place at the upper portion of the bench, lifting my head by my dangling hair and once again probing my lips with his hugely engorged sex. "My balls are so hard, Katherine…so full," He groans, thrusting once more into my throat. "I'm going to come soon, but first I want to tell you what's going to happen."

"This is a riding crop," he says, holding up a short switch with a leather loop attached to the end. "I think you know the original purpose. And this," he says, indicating a whip of similar length, but boasting what must be hundreds of long, fine, flexible strands, "…is a Hellcat. I'm going to give you your choice of one of these, Katherine…then whip you until you scream…until you beg." (He thrusts again… deeper now.) "Then I'm going to bury myself in that tight little arse of yours, pulling out at the last second and cover your welts with my cum."

My eyes widen, my mind caressing the "word" once again. Will I need it? Can I bear my fate, or will I succumb to my own fears and call a halt before my Captain and I have reached fruition? I must be brave…I must. Already my body craves what is to come, and as I eschew the crop in favor of the Hellcat I know…I will prevail.

He nods, satisfied in my choice, then circles to the rear dragging the finely braided filaments down the length of my shivering spine.

I whimper.

And then He strikes! Hard! My right buttock jerks, cringing under His attack and I cry out in pain. Again I hear the hellcat sing in the quiet of our chamber as it bites into my left buttock. Surely this must be the worst of it…surely! But again my hopes, my fears are dashed. This time the whip caresses my back, tangling around my fingers, now woven in a tight knot as each blow descends.

Finally, and with great deliberation my Captain delivers an uppercut that lashes against my newly bared sex, the whip coming away coated in the creamy froth that now runs so freely down the insides of my thighs.

I scream as I feel it bite into my tender flesh, penetrating my lips, punishing my engorged clit with its hellacious torment.

My Captain licks softly against my reddened flesh, my screams inciting Him to greater heights as He swings the Hellcat left…right…up and down. I am beside myself now, my cries blending one into the other until there appears to be no beginning and no end. The pain…the pain…the glorious pain brings the rich taste of life to my lips with each utterance. My arousal has never been so complete…so desperate.

Now my Captain anoints the whip with aromatic oils, increasing its intensity tenfold until I'm sure my orgasm will render me a helpless puddle of weeping joy at His feet.

It's then He pauses, but only minutely, and forcing His hand between my trembling thighs, he lubricates the handle of the Hellcat with my juices and plunges it into my gaping, weeping sex with one powerful thrust of His arm.

I scream, loud and long…my throat filling with the taste of my own blood as I bit into my lower lip…my body thrashing uncontrollably against my restraints as my orgasm drives me past the point of sanity.

He thrusts repeatedly, the sounds of my cries inciting Him beyond endurance. Then He throws the Hellcat aside, and with a single massive jut of His hips He hilts himself deep inside my anus. My screams are inseparable now, rising continually with each movement of his body, mindless in their intensity as He plunders my narrow passage again and again with his outrageously swollen organ.

He growls, low and feral as his time nears and His thrusts become more frantic. His hands are everywhere, abrading my flesh, pinching my clit as He holds me in place to receive Him. I'm beyond reason…beyond control… rocked to the core by the shattering waves of heat that consume me.

Finally, unable to contain his massive load another second, He pulls out of my body and I feel his hot, heavy cum flood over my back, caressing my reddened flesh, running unchecked down my ribcage in mad rivulets as He inundates me with his seed.

Panting, I feel Him massage His cum into my trembling flesh, sliding His hands ever so tenderly over my tortured body. He's gentle now, tamed by his passionate release and mine.

I sigh.

Limply, I rest my weight atop the upper step. My mind is gone, my body refuses to respond. I am sated to the point of becoming comatose, and yet I'm alive…so very alive.

My Captain senses my need, and is at once my attentive and nurturing lover once more. Gently He releases my bonds, then gathering me into His arms He carries me into the shower again and tenderly washes the aftermath of our passion from my body.

He is my lover…my Dom…my Captain.

Life has never been so rich.

* * * * *

The Captain's Journal:

This little lady of mine is more than anyone could ever expect. Never questioning, always seeming to enjoy, regardless of what I ask of her.

Imagine having your shower in the morning with every little thing done for you. And I mean everything. Every nook and cranny lovingly caressed with soapy fingers. God, what a way to go.

I have always wanted to shave a woman’s crotch, always enjoyed the taste and feel of a bare pussy. My little prize sat opened legged in the corner of the shower allowing me absolute free rein with the razor. It was so crazy, so erotic, and you could almost feel the sexual tension oozing from her body as I did it. Her smiling all the while.

Today was the really big test. I love her so much, but I also long to hurt her… to push the limits of sexual expression…to gain that satisfaction that only comes from either giving or receiving pain. To mix love, lust and pain together in one of the great unsung cocktails… a cocktail everyone should know about.

The Hellcat is about as nasty as you can get when you use it with real force. Her back and bottom were almost brilliant red when I had finished. She screamed out with every stroke, but accepted it graciously.

The lust I felt by having complete dominance, by having her so willing to completely give herself to me, so submissive to me was almost overpowering. My balls were aching for release but I wanted to allow myself to build the largest orgasm I could possibly muster.

It came in torrents.

This little prize was now totally mine. More things to teach, but totally mine. Totally willing, totally longing and attentive. We will have such a life together.

* * * * *

Katherine:

There is so much I want to tell my Captain, so much I want to share, but how? Our tender moments are so precious…so precious…much to dear to waste even a second of on something as mundane as my insignificant mental meanderings. And out torrid sessions on the bench! How could I compose my throbbing passion long enough to focus on an isolated thought at times like those? How?

And so I planned a picnic.

He looked a little puzzled when I suggested it. This wasn't something we'd ever discussed, but quickly enough He was slipping into His beachwear and sandals while I loaded a basket with a tasty repast. Soon, chilled champagne, pate, crusty bread and warm runny brie lay waiting for our voyage to the shore. Then, smiling, I added a small basket of strawberries and began to dress myself as well.

The day was beautiful. All around us the air was filled with the cry of the gulls, the soft murmur of the sea, and the haunting whisper of the breeze. It was perfect. Perfect.

With a laugh He paused halfway down the beach, His eyes scanning our solitary surroundings with a satisfied smile. It was after Labor Day now, the small twosomes that miraculously found this isolated stretch of sand had long since returned to their workaday lives and left this paradise to us alone.

Suddenly the import of what I had to say struck me. Perhaps it would be unwelcome, this massive revelation of mine…a hair in the soup.

The day became clouded with doubts. What was I doing? I could spoil it all. We'd never spoken of such things before…never assumed the overflowing professions of love that so fill the intimate murmurings of more conventional lovers. Perhaps I should leave it unsaid…an unspoken truth understood but undeclared between us.

But no.

I needed this.

I needed to tell Him that he'd saved more than my life on the bridge that night, more than my physical being…He'd saved my soul as well.

I needed to tell Him that.

To say that my former existence at home had been hell would have been a misdirection. My Mother, herself a product of ill fate, had long since resigned herself to her failed life. She had nothing left to give…not to herself or to me. And so I'd become alienated, withdrawn, closing myself off to everyone…a mouse trapped in an endless maze of empty circles until the day when I decided to throw a few belongings into my pack and see if the world had anything better to offer.

Finding work was more difficult than I'd imagined. At first my meager savings had been enough to fill my belly each day and to provide a shabby room from which to shelter myself from the cold world beyond. But soon that had dwindled to nothing and I found myself on the streets. In desperation, I placed a call to my Mother, hoping that she might be able to rouse herself enough to care if I came home, but that too fell short of the mark. She was gone. The phone had been disconnected. I was alone…truly alone. At the age of 19, my life was a worthless shell.

I panhandled for a while, usually making enough to pay for a bed in a transient shelter, but then even that seemed to peter out and I was faced with the cold reality of finding odd doorways and alleys to shield me from the chill spring rains.

There had been men along the way. Cold men with hard eyes and cash in hand. I had resisted, but it had been tempting…so tempting…

And then one night, when I'd been chased out of my snug alcove by a more persistent denizen of the streets, I hit rock bottom. I hadn't eaten in days. My clothes were filthy, but it was the darkness of my soul that bore down upon me the most. There was nowhere to go, no light at the end of the tunnel. Without a bath and clothing…a home address and phone, the chances of improving my lot in life were dismal.

Suddenly the cold cash of the streets, so readily offered, began to stand out in the gloom. What good was pride if your belly was empty? What good was life without hope?

And so, my heart hammering in my breast, I'd gone to a public restroom and attempted to wash the dusty grime of the streets from my body. Other women came and went, proper women, each casting dubious stares in my direction, their disgust almost palpable as I attempted to right the ravages of my life with a few splashes of water. Finally, having made the best of what I had, I sat in a bathroom stall and tried to calm my shaking limbs…to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to wash away my resolve.

And so I'd found myself a spot on the waterfront near a local bar, and tried to hide the pale trembling of my hands deep in my pockets as a steady stream of men made their way in and out of the lively establishment. Finally two sailors exited the bar, one a tall man, heavily muscled, and the other a cadaverously raw boned type, with a slippery gleam in his eye.

I cringed.

They were looking my way. They knew what I was there for…they knew! Slowly the Cadaver approached me, his cold eyes assessing my worth as he came, his thumb hooked arrogantly in the waistband of his uniform.

"Twenty bucks…for both of us," he added, his voice flat and unconcerned. I was just a piece of trash along the wharf, nothing more. "Take or leave it."

Then quietly he held the twenty-dollar bill within view and took my measure. He'd won, and he knew it. The hunger in my eyes had given me away…I was no match for him.

So, lowering my lashes, I'd followed the two men to a nearby motel room, my steps faltering, my hands clinging to my dusty rags as though they could save me from myself. My eyes began to tear, my voice all but lost in the emotional wasteland that had become my home as they closed the door behind us and began to shed their clothing.

"Take it off, Bitch," Cadaver demanded. "We don't have all day." And with that he tossed the last of his clothing on the dresser and took a place in a chair to watch.

I turned away then, the sight of his erect member strange and threatening to me. Was this what I'd waited for all of my life…was it?

"What is this, Bitch, some kind of con game? I paid you," Cadaver snarled. "Now get over here!"

Suddenly "Muscles " propelled me from behind, forcing me to my knees on the floor between Cadaver's outspread thighs. "Suck it, Bitch," the seated man demanded. Then wrenching my hair, he forced my lips down upon his long, thin erection and began to rut deep into my mouth.

I gagged, hot salty tears flooding down my cheeks as humiliation overcame me and I tried to do what I knew I must, but no amount of preparation could have readied me for this moment. I had failed, even here, and suddenly I knew that I couldn't go through with it.

"No," I whimpered, attempting to pull away, but it was too late. Now "Muscles" was kneeling behind me on the floor, his hands roughly shoving my skirt atop my back, tearing at my cotton panties as his fingers groped between my legs, forcing my buttocks apart. Then, for a second he released me to open his fly, and I saw my chance. In a heartbeat I was on my feet and dashing for the door, the twenty-dollar bill fluttering to the floor behind me.

My God…oh my God how I ran, until my breath tore at my throat in great heaving gasps and I felt as though even the few sips of water I'd had that day would come spewing from my lips. Frantically I looked behind, but to my relief I found no one following.

I was alone. Very alone. Incredibly alone.

Suddenly I saw my life…the hunger, the fear, the cold rape of dignity and flesh to which I'd exposed myself…and it no longer seemed to matter. Nothing did.

Nothing.

Below me, beneath the cool splintered wood of the bridge, lay the calm, peaceful waters of the bay, a pathway of stars swirling mirror-like on its surface…calling to me…beckoning to me…promising me a better tomorrow. Just a step, a slow waltz over the edge and the darkness would embrace me forever…no more hurt, desperation, hunger… the end to a sadly botched attempt at life.

The perfect solution.

And so I'd climbed the railing. My blissful release at hand…and drifted into the arms of fate.

I returned then from the replay of my lost and fractured existence, and found myself once more with my Captain on the shore by His beachfront cottage.

Silently I look into the eyes of my lover, my mind once again embracing the memory of how He'd given me life and hope that night…a reason to live. Would my emotional outpourings be manna to His ears, or would they throw the delicious balance of our lives forever out of kilter? Again I taste the metallic taint of fear on my tongue. Should I tell Him? Can I?