Through Her Eyes

Circling her, stopping every so often to test the firmness of her flesh through a light slap, a caress, He watched her. Memorized her inch by inch. And as He circled her, she felt the color rise to her skin, staining her pink from the very tips of her toes to the ends of her hair.

In her minds eye, she could see what He saw. But where she envisioned herself lacking, He did not. Yes He saw the flaws, and yes He was aware of all that she fervently wished were covered, but the whole of her, all which made her her was what He loved most. Every imperfection just a piece of the puzzle that, put together, made her the woman He loved. And He photographed her thus; her arms bound tightly in His leather cuffs, breasts thrust forward, the pink tips begging for His delicious torment; her head bent slightly down. And this, combined with the fire she hid behind her eyes, was how He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this woman would submit all to Him. With everything she had; her fire, her drive, her passion, she turned it all over to Him.

As He clicked again and again, He could feel her heat reaching for Him, begging silently for a release from the hell He had locked her into. But it was all part of the exchange. She gave Him all of her, and He pushed her to a new level of knowledge. Tonight she would learn the power of His words, the complete control He could command with a mere softly spoken instruction. Tonight she would learn not to tempt Him as she had. And tonight, one more barrier would fly away like so many feathers in the wind. His one was a tough one, but with each limit He conquered, with each blush He coerced from her skin, He took her a bit closer to her own freedom. She had come alive within His teachings and would continue to do so for as long as He would have her.

He laid the camera on the bedside table and watched her. The longer He stood silent, the more she squirmed. And damn, He loved her squirm. It did things to Him. He stepped to her, within inches of her skin, and He could feel her tamping down the almost instinctive need to move closer. He leaned into her, breathed her scent, and in the voice she would understand as a command, regardless of inflection, He asked her, "Who am I?" At His words, her eyelids became heavy, weighted; her breathing grew ragged and her flesh rose in a goose bump.

"You are my Master, my Man, my Everything", she responded softly. And as she did so, she lowered her head further; respect for Him making her uncomfortable standing beside Him.

"And who are you, little one?" This was His favorite torment of her, His way of forcing her to admit that she could belong to no one else. There was no other who could command this girl to say what He knew she would.

She did hesitate and her voice was measurably softer as she responded as she knew she should, "I am Your slut..." He walked around to face her and slid His hand along her cheek, caressing with the tips of His knuckles.

"Good girl," He murmured softly in her ear before giving in to His own needs and plunging His fingers into her hair, pulling her to Him firmly, forcefully. The whimper that escaped her throat as He bent her to His will was nearly what sent Him on a course that would end in mutual satisfaction, but He held back. He was always one to exert exquisite control over Himself.

He brought His hand unexpectedly and sharply against her rounded ass once, twice, then a third time before releasing her lips. She moaned and swayed slightly when He stepped away, but quickly remembered herself and pulled her head straight to show her pride in His collar about her neck, eyes lowered, in a submissive posture. "Are you wet for Me, My little slut?"

"Yes," she murmured, half word, half moan.

"And do you want to come for Me?"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she responded, "Yes, Sir." Knowing this was where the learning would begin, He stroked her softly, though not sexually, as He murmured the first of many words that would bring her to a new success.

"Then come for me. Now."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, but heat still radiating from each pore, she responded, "How, Sir?"

He merely smiled and kept stroking her, her ass, her spine, her ribs, and her cheeks all the while whispering softly, "Come for your Master, My little slut." And she grew wetter, the peaks that longed for Him so desperately grew tauter and her breathing became shallower, ragged. As she began to moan for her release, her body tight with need, He slipped one finger inside her. It was all she needed, and He groaned as she came over Him, her need obvious as the slightest pressure had sent her reeling.

He held her while she slipped back to earth, stroking her hair and whispering softly. ‘Soon,' He thought to Himself, ‘she will let go at my command, requiring nothing else.'

Smiling to Himself, He released her from the leather that bound her and she looked at Him with heat in her eyes, "Now, Master? Now can we go to bed?" He chuckled softly to Himself. Submissive, yes. Patient, no. But this night had proven successful. She had remembered old lessons and had been introduced to new ones, although she was as yet unaware. She had been His for only a short while, but she never disappointed; always giving more than He expected, always ready for Him. Always ready to please Him. He chuckled to Himself once again. In spite of the person she thought she was, she was His perfect submissive, and they both thanked the fates for leading them toward each other. It had been a rough road getting here, but neither would trade it for anything less. The hardship, the waiting, the desperation all worked together to make this the perfection it was. And each night, when they fell asleep to the other's breathing and, yes, even light snoring, they knew that they had found their forever.

He mentally rubbed His hands together. This lesson was going to be the most exciting and He could feel the anticipation of a lesson learned building in His veins. He caressed her back lightly as she lay quietly, ready for Him in whatever way He needed her. As He lay spooned against her back, He slid inside her with one slow, smooth stroke, and she moaned softly. ‘He would take me slowly this night', she thought to herself, and let her body relax against His. He smiled silently into the darkness, loving the feel of her softness.

He rocked her slowly to one intense explosion and while she reeled from the sensations, He slid her to her stomach, captured both of her hands in one of His, and leaned forward to whisper softly, but firmly, "I want your ass." She whimpered no, and struggled beneath Him, but He was stronger. Pinning her body beneath His weight, holding her hands in His one, whispering softly, He used His other to guide Himself slowly; inch by excruciating inch inside her. She tempered down the fight until she adjusted to Him. He would swear that she had never taken a man before, she was so tight. But He knew better. It was His and His alone, and soon it would accommodate Him easily. As she relaxed and took Him fully, she began to fight against Him again. He smiled to Himself because she knew He loved the fight and He loved the way she sought to make Him happy. Never quite losing Himself, always prepared to stop should she murmur just the right word, He drove into her again and again, never slowing, never forgetting Himself.

As she cried out His name, He let a tortured breath tear from His throat and exploded within her, branding her as His all over again. He slid from her, pulled her to follow Him, and fell asleep, softly stroking her hair, whispering her name and a never ending litany of ‘I love you.'