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Collected by Djian

Captured!
by Soleil ©

Sarah and three friends
are captured by a gang of thugs.
Ruthless humiliation and
degradation ensues.

1-6 | 7-10

Captured!

Part 7
by soleil (c) (sonsoleil@hotmail.com)

Sarah sighed as she finished cleaning the kitchen. The room positively sparkled;
she hoped she'd done a good job and that it would pass Sir's careful scrutiny.
Trailing a thoughtful finger over the gleaming bench tops, she wondered when S
would be home. She didn't know exactly what he did, just that he left the house
very early in the morning and didn't get home until late. Sometimes, very late.

She smiled as she heard the clicking of claws on the tiled floor. Bending down,
she picked up the little dog that was sniffing around her feet. "You doin' okay,
CL?" she murmured, rubbing the dog's silky head. CL licked her face in response,
making Sarah giggle. She adored her new found friend.

Sir had brought the dog home a few nights ago. Coming through the kitchen door
that led in from the garage, he had deposited a large cardboard box on the
floor. Sarah, who was cooking dinner, wiped her hands on her apron and looked at
the box with interest. Judging by the airholes punched in the sides, and the
accompanying scrabbling sounds, the box obviously contained an animal of some
sort.

"May I ask what it is, Sir?"

"Sure," he replied. "In fact, why don't you go ahead and open it?"

Sarah turned down the heat on the stove, then dropped to her knees and examined
the packing tape holding the top flaps of the box down. Reaching up for the
vegetable knife, she slid through the tape and opened the box. Her eyes lit up
as a little head popped out, all silky golden ears, pink lolling tongue and
melting, chocolate brown eyes.

"Oh!" she said, breathed, delighted. "He's beautiful! What is he? A spaniel? Is
he yours? What's his name?" The questions tumbled out in a rush as she gathered
the little dog in her arms and gently lifted him out the box.

"He is a she," corrected S. It's a spaniel crossbreed, not a puppy, but not an
adult dog yet. Friends asked if I wanted her because they're going overseas. I
thought you'd like some company."

"I love her already!" said Sarah, cuddling the little dog as she wriggled in her
arms. The dog was gorgeous, and it seemed to be smiling at her with a big, goofy
grin. She was far too taken with the animal to wonder about Sir's
uncharacteristic concern for welfare while he wasn't there. She checked the red
collar around the dog's neck, but there was no identifying tag. "What's her
name?"

"CL."

"Different," said Sarah, wrinkling her nose. "Why CL?"

"Because I said so," snapped S, washing his hands. "Now, put the dog down, and
finish making dinner. I'm starving."

Sarah scurried to do his bidding, leaving the new arrival to explore the house.
Looking back now, Sarah knew she was glad of the dog's presence. CL helped while
away the long, lonely hours, and she often chatted to her as she went about her
daily tasks. The two of them bonded, and CL rarely left her side, even sleeping
with her at the foot of her bed.

Although she was on her own much of the time, as the days passed Sarah had been
allowed more and more freedom, and now she had the run of almost the entire
house. But S still locked her inside every morning before he left, and there was
no phone that she could find. She supposed it was in the rooms that she didn't
have access to - his bedroom, and his study. Even CL had more freedom than she
did; the little dog was able to access the outside world through a dog door S
had cut into the kitchen door.

Anyway, Sarah knew escape was futile. Firstly, apart from the brief apron she
was allowed to wear when cooking or cleaning, S didn't permit her to wear
clothes unless they went out. Secondly, the house was isolated and far from the
nearest signs of civilization. Sarah had only been outside the house twice since
they'd arrived, once to the tattoo parlor, and once to the grocery store in town
to get some toiletries and other basics she needed. S purposely hadn't
blindfolded her for that shopping trip, and from the car windows, she saw that S
lived on several acres of land. It was a couple of miles at least down a dirt
track from the house to the road, and apart from a small, pretty garden
immediately about the house, wild coastal scrub surrounded the house and track
on all sides. At the end of the track, a padlocked and chained gate was
connected to a perimeter fence, which separated the house from the outside
world. It was another 45 minutes by car at least into the town itself, and Sarah
saw very few vehicles indeed during the trip to town and back. Sarah got the
message. She was trapped.

The house itself was built almost on the edge of a cliff that fell away to the
ocean. In quiet times, Sarah sometimes sat in front of the huge floor to ceiling
lounge room windows that looked out over the sea and watched the gulls swoop and
dive and shriek on the wind. Because of the way the house was designed, it
sometimes seemed as if there were nothing but a sheer drop between the glass and
the bubbling, tumbling ocean far below.

No, she couldn't escape. She had nothing to wear if she did, and nowhere to go.
And the harsh, stony dirt track would surely cut her bare feet to ribbons before
she even got within spitting distance of the main road. Sarah decided to bide
her time and wait until S dropped his guard, then plan her eventual escape as
and when that happened.

Truth be told, living at S' house wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. He
was gone such a lot of the time, and all she had to do was clean the house and
cook his meals and do his laundry. It was a beautiful house, simply furnished
with quiet, understated elegance. No clutter, just clean lines and lots of air
and light. Sarah supposed there were worse places to be imprisoned, and S didn't
treat her badly. Not like on the island. In fact, since that first day when he'd
spanked her on the bed for disobeying his instructions, he hadn't laid a finger
on her. Curled up on the sofa in front of the vast expanse of glass in the
living room, Sarah pondered on that peculiarity as she'd done for a few days
now, then wondered again why she cared.

But...didn't he find her attractive? Didn't she please him? Is this all he
wanted her to do? To clean his house and cook his meals? Clean up after he and
CL? If that were the case, surely he could hire domestic help from the town to
service his needs. He certainly didn't need to kidnap someone for that, she
thought.

Watching the sun set over the water as she waited for him to come home with CL
curled at her feet, Sarah cast her mind back to the time on the beach on the
island when S had fisted her so ruthlessly on the sand. She winced as she
remembered the pain, then blushed as she remembered how she'd orgasmed so
violently, writhing in the sand, impaled on his hand. So brutal, but so strong,
so handsome. So...male. And she felt so very female in his presence.

Suddenly lonely and yearning for human contact, Sarah thought of the way he
prowled around the house like a big, wild cat, and the way his muscles rippled
beneath his skin as he performed even the most simple of tasks. The way his long
legs draped carelessly over the arm of the sofa as he watched television in the
evenings, and the way his eyes bored into hers when he told her to do something.
The way he'd held her hand when she was scared in the tattoo parlor.

He'd called her beautiful once, too, just before he'd taken her off the island
with him. Didn't he think of her that way any more? Was he angry with her? Sarah
decided to ask him if he was displeased with her just as soon as he arrived
home. Satisfied with her decision, but still not sure why it mattered so to her,
she returned to the gleaming kitchen and began to prepare his dinner, CL padding
after her in the hope of a sly scrap or two.

Later that night, after S had eaten and was drinking a large glass of red wine
on the deep sofa in the lounge, Sarah finished doing the dishes and crept into
the room. She thought carefully about how to broach the subject. Unless he spoke
to her directly, S only allowed Sarah to speak if she asked permission first.

"Excuse me, Sir, may I speak?" she asked, just as she'd been trained to do.

"What?" said S, watching Sarah as he swirled his wine in the large, crystal
glass.

"Uh, well, I was wondering if you wanted me to do anything else, Sir?" she said
haltingly, twisting the hem of her apron unconsciously in her hands.

"Anything else? Like what? You've done the dishes, haven't you?"

"Yes, Sir, but I meant...well, something else other than housework and cooking
and stuff. You know, just other... stuff."

S put his glass down and looked at the blushing, stuttering girl in front of him
and smiled lazily.

"No, I don't know. I'm many things, but I'm not a mind reader. So, why don't you
spell it out for me?"

It was too much for Sarah, and she lost her nerve.

"On second thoughts," she said in a rush, "don't worry about it. It's nothing,
really. Uh, I think I'll go to bed now, if that's okay. G'night."

Sarah turned and hurried towards the door, feeling like an idiot. CL followed,
hot on her heels.

"Come back. Now."

The command was quiet, but firm, and it stopped Sarah in her tracks. She turned
slowly and walked back into the room. S pointed to a spot just in front of him.

"Stand there."

Sarah hesitantly took up the position and looked down at her feet, unable to
meet his eyes.

"Now," he said, silkily, "what else would you possibly think I'd like you to do
for me?"

"Umm, well, I just wondered why you needed to kidnap me if all you want me to do
is cook and clean?"

Sarah spoke quickly, her words tumbling over themselves in an effort to get the
ordeal over and done with.

"Other than cooking and cleaning, what else would I have my slut slave do for
me, Sarah?"

Sarah bit her lip nervously, wishing she'd never brought it up in the first
place.

"Umm...wash the windows?" she said, casting around desperately for something,
anything, to get her off the hook.

S stood and slapped her across the face, leaving a stinging red handprint behind
on her cheek. CL whined and darted behind the couch. Sarah gasped with shock,
then cried out as he caught a handful of her hair in his hand and twisted her
head up so she was looking at him.

"Never lie to me, bitch," he said in calm, measured tones. "And, I'll remind you
that you brought this up, not me. You started it, and you'll finish it. Now,
what else would I want you do for me?"

"I just thought you might want to...umm...have sex with me or something, that's
all," she whispered, humiliated beyond belief. "You know, like on the island."

S released Sarah's hair and laughed nastily.

"Have sex with you? Why in the world would I want to do that?"

Sarah wished the ground would open up and swallow her down. Never in her life
had she felt so stupid, so embarrassed. What was she thinking?

"I thought you liked me!" she whimpered, distressed.

"Why is that?" he asked, amused.

"Well, because you took me with you, and because you said you thought I was
pretty and, well, I just thought you might want to because you seemed to like
doing it on the island and...because..." Sarah's voice trailed off miserably.

S ignored her, but stepped even closer to her and bent down and snarled, "If I
wanted to fuck you, don't you think I'd just go ahead and do it?"

Sarah realized that was indeed what S would do.

S glared at her through narrowed eyes.

"You know what I think, slut?"

"No, Sir," whispered Sarah.

"I think you want me to fuck you, don't you? It's not about what I want; it's
about what you want. Isn't it?"

"No, Sir!" protested Sarah, shuffling her feet.

"Ah, I see. You don't want me to fuck you, but you thought you'd offer yourself
so graciously to me. So, what now? I'm supposed to fall upon you with gratitude,
and fuck you? You're doing me a favor? Is that it?"

"No!"

Without warning, S lowered his face to Sarah's and kissed her deeply, plundering
her soft, full lips with his, molding her lush curves against his hard body. His
large hands slipped under her apron and roamed over her warm, naked curves. She
shuddered as he cupped her ass with his hands and drew her closer to him,
kissing her all the while. Starved of affection and human contact, Sarah
literally melted in his arms. Raising his head and pressing his lips against his
ears, he growled, "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"No! Yes!" groaned Sarah, her head spinning and her legs shaking as his voice
resonated through her head, sending her senses soaring.

"Poor, confused little slut," he crooned, untying Sarah's apron and slipping it
over her head, leaving her naked. He caught one of her rosy nipples between his
teeth. Nipping it gently, he swirled his tongue around the delicate nub as he
slid one of his large hands between her legs and delved between her soaked pussy
lips, his thumb resting lightly on her engorged clit while his fingers danced
lightly at the entrance to her wet cunt. Sarah moaned as she ground her hips
down shamelessly on his hand, trying desperately to suck his fingers inside her
aching, open cunt.

"You're just one, big cunt, aren't you?" he whispered, slipping a finger inside
her warm, wet hole. "Do you like that, slut? Do you want me to fuck you? Allow
you to cum for me?" He slid a second finger inside her, his thumb circling over
her clit with ever increasing pressure.

"Yes!" gasped Sarah, her head thrown back as she succumbed to the pleasure
shuddering through her body. His fingers swirled inside her, reducing her to a
quivering, trembling puddle of lust.

S kissed Sarah again, his fingers buried deep inside her, his thumb still
massaging her clit as his tongue slipped inside her mouth and danced with hers.
"Beg for it, bitch," murmured S, his teeth nipping gently at the soft skin of
her neck. Sliding his fingers out of her juicy cunt as she moaned, he said,
"Get on your knees, and beg me to fuck you, beg me to let you cum. Beg for me,
baby."

Sarah slid to her knees before him, drunk with desperation. "Please, Sir, please
fuck me. Please," she begged, looking up at him with huge, pleading eyes. "I'll
do anything for you, please fuck me!"

S held up his hand, her juices glistening on his fingers. "Look, slut. Look how
wet you are, look at how you creamed all over me. Such a wet, hot, bitch, aren't
you?" He traced one of his wet fingers over her mouth, following the rosy
contours. "Lick yourself from my fingers," he commanded, and Sarah did as she
was told, her pink tongue flicking over her lips. As she sucked his warm, sticky
fingers, she could smell and taste her own sluttishness, but she didn't care.
All she could focus on was S, and what he was doing to her. His groin was near
her face as she kneeled before him and she reached blindly for his belt, still
sucking her pussy juices from his hand.

"Don't," he snapped, slapping her hand away. "You'll do as you're told, I'm in
control here, not you. Clear?"

"Yes, Sir," groaned Sarah, frustrated. "But please, please, please fuck me," she
begged, aching to feel his hard body against hers. "Please!"

S looked at the helpless, whimpering girl begging at his feet, her blonde curls
wild and tousled around her flushed face, her lips gleaming with her own cunt
juice, her nipples hard and erect. Sarah was feverish with desire, desperate for
pleasure. Frustration and longing oozed out of every pore. His eyes narrowed and
hardened into glittering chips of blue steel.

"What will you do to cum, slut?" he said, with a cruel edge in his voice. "What
will you do for me?"

"Anything, Sir!" blurted Sarah, her eyes locked on his. "I'll do anything."

"Anything? Are you sure?"

"Yes!" wailed Sarah, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as he toyed with
her nipples, rolling them between his fingers and thumbs.

S kneeled on the floor in front of her, and kissed her again, his hands playing
over her ass, tracing the lines of her tattoo. Sarah fell into him, grinding her
hips against his hard, strong body in a desperate desire to get nearer to him.

"Anything?" he growled again, his lips close to her ear, his hand thrusting
between her legs, seeking her soaking pussy once more. His thumb found her clit
and she almost came on the spot as he rubbed it expertly, bringing her closer
and closer to the edge.

"ANYTHING!"

Abruptly, his hand was gone, leaving her unfulfilled and panting. He stood, and
loomed over her with his hands on his hips.

"On your back, legs spread and bent at the knees," he snapped harshly. Sarah did
as she was told immediately, looking up at him with dizzy, blurred eyes.

"Call the dog," he said.

Sarah's forehead wrinkled as his words sunk in. "Wha...?"

"Shut up, and do it."

"CL!" Sarah called, confused.

There came a scrabble of paws on the polished boards as CL scrambled out from
the couch she'd crawled behind earlier. The little dog scurried over to Sarah
and sat beside her head as she lay on the floor, grinning stupidly at her
mistress.

"Did you ever wonder why the dog's called CL?" asked Sir, in a conversational
tone of voice.

"Uh, yes, Sir, I asked you that when you first brought her home," replied Sarah,
baffled by this turn of events.

"CL. It stands for cunt licker, slut. And, as I recall, you agreed you'd do
anything for me, anything to be allowed to cum."

Sarah looked frantically between CL, panting happily at her head, and S,
standing over her, his eyes glinting. He smiled wickedly at Sarah's horrified
expression as realization dawned on her.

"Anything, slut."

Part 8

Sarah just looked up at him, aghast.

"Don't you move a fucking muscle, bitch. You'll regret it if you do," warned
Sir, turning and walking into the kitchen.

Sarah dared not move; she knew what he was capable of. She stayed right where
she was - on her back on the hard polished boards in the middle of the lounge
room floor, knees bent, legs spread wide. In her dazed state, she could hear S
moving around in the kitchen, opening cupboards and banging drawers.

As he came back in the room, CL left Sarah's side and bounded over to him, tail
wagging in delight. The spaniel had spotted the open can in his hand; she could
smell its contents.

Dog food! Sarah thought, now more confused than ever. Surely he wasn't going to
feed CL in here? What the hell was going on? S squatted down beside Sarah. CL
sat down, too, and looked eagerly at S. She was hungry, and wanted to be fed.

"Listen to me, slut," he ordered. "CL is going to eat her dinner from your cunt.
I'm not going to tie you up, you will just accept it."

Sarah mewled in distress and shook her head. "No, Sir," she pleaded, "Please
don't make me do this, I don't want to!" she wailed, her face crumpling.

"Shut up! Open you mouth again, and I'll gag you and flog you to within an inch
of your life," he threatened. Sarah knew he meant it. There was nothing she
could do. So she lay frozen and silent on the floor, awaiting his next move.

Sarah heard the unmistakable sound of S snapping a thin, surgical glove on his
hand, then flinched as he scooped a handful of food from the can and smeared it
over her cunt. Despite herself, she shivered as his fingers glided over her
clit, mashing the food between her moist folds. Another scoop, and he pushed
some of the food inside her, his movements firm and purposeful. He handled her
with such competence, Sarah thought dizzily and she found her hips rising up to
meet his hand against her will as he rubbed a third handful along her pink slit.

With his thumb on her clit and two of his gloved fingers shoved deep in her
pussy, he kissed Sarah with crushing urgency while she moaned beneath him, her
cunt full of dog food and fingers, her mouth full of his probing, insistent
tongue. He kissed her sinuously, sensuously as he thumbed her juicy, dog food
coated clit and Sarah succumbed to the stirring sensations in her body, fighting
a losing battle between perceived right and wrong.

"You're a slut, aren't you?" he growled, his eyes boring into hers, hypnotizing
her with his control.

"Yes, Sir," she groaned, her hips bucking under his fingers as he continued to
manipulate her, driving her mad. "Yes, I'm a slut, Sir," she gasped.

"You'll do this for me, won't you, baby?" he whispered, watching the helpless,
tormented girl writhe beneath his hand. "You want to do this, don't you?" he
said, softly, insistently.

Sarah nodded frantically, shamefully unable to verbalize her answer.

"Say it, slut," he ordered. "Say you want CL to lick your cunt." He watched her
closely as Sarah wrestled with her conscience, desperate to cum but equally
desperate not to want the dog to be the cause of it.

"I want CL to lick my cunt, Sir," she whispered at last, and S's eyes gleamed
with triumph.

He withdrew his fingers from her cunt with a squelch and packed one last handful
of food into her pussy before he stood between Sarah's spread legs and snapped
off the glove. He looked around for the dog, who was watching proceedings with
great interest.

"Come here," he barked, and the dog scrambled over Sarah's legs to stand at his
feet. The spaniel's glistening nose quivered as she looked intently at S. She
could smell the food and a little string of drool escaped her muzzle, puddling
on the floorboards.

"Sit!" commanded S, and CL obeyed immediately. She'd been trained to sit and
wait before being allowed to eat, and to the little dog, this was no different
to any other mealtime.

"Stay," he said softly, stepping out from between Sarah's legs. CL didn't move,
but gazed at S, her eyes never leaving him as he moved aside. Sarah watched him,
too, biting her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Look at you both," he smirked. "One bitch waiting to eat and another bitch,
waiting to be eaten!"

Sarah flushed with shame, her body a seething mass of tumbled tortured emotions.
She shivered in morbid anticipation as she awaited the next command, the final
command, with baited breath. She fought the urge to rise and run screaming from
the room, closing her eyes tightly for what seemed an eternity.

"Eat."

CL fell on Sarah in ravenous delight, her cold snout buried in Sarah's pussy as
her rough, red tongue lapped at the food. Sarah cried out fiercely, body tense
and her fists clenched as she felt the dog's tongue on her, then in her, as CL
snaked inside Sarah's cunt in an effort to access the food.

"Relax, baby, relax," murmured S as he watched the scene unfolding before him,
an aura of supreme command and control encircling him. "Just relax, let go, let
it happen..."

His words washed over Sarah and she surrendered to him, allowed herself to be
carried away, deep into oblivion. Her world shrunk; all that existed was she, He
and what she was feeling. Saliva mingled with dog food mingled with wetness, and
Sarah felt the first stirrings of orgasm sweep through her as the dog's silky
ears brushed gently against her creamy, spread thighs, CL's whiskers tickling
Sarah's ass cheeks as her tongue delved deeper, deeper and deeper still.

"Do you want to cum, slut?" he asked the feverish girl, twisting and turning on
the floor at his feet.

CL's tongue washed over Sarah's pussy, licking everything she could find. Sarah
cried out as the dog's hot, rough tongue burrowed deeply into her cunt, pushing
apart her tight, pink walls, scooping out the food S had pushed deep inside her.
The lapping was relentless and insistent, driving Sarah closer and closer to the
edge of blistering orgasm.

"Yes!" begged Sarah, wretchedly. "Please let me cum, Sir, please!"

The food was almost gone; CL had done her job well. The dog hunted and snuffled
for the last traces of food, licking more and more urgently as the morsels
became fewer and fewer. Sarah responded by bucking her hips to meet the dog's
searching muzzle, her desperation to cum pushing aside all sanity and reason.
She couldn't get enough of the dog's tongue sliding and gliding over her clit as
it stabbed into her wet, soaked hole, her sharp canine teeth grazing Sarah's
delicate skin with exquisite sensation.

"You can come, slut," he said softly, his eyes narrowing as Sarah exploded
before him

Sarah had no control, she was helplessly at the mercy of S, and CL by default,
but she didn't care. Sarah was past caring. Long, shuddering sobs racked her
body as she came violently, her pussy muscles clenching as waves of pleasure
ripped through her. She held the little dog's silken head in a vice-like grip as
her thighs squeezed together in an unconscious desire to prolong the moment.
Whining in protest, all the food gone, CL wriggled out from between Sarah's legs
and sat off to the side, licking her chops.

As the last of her orgasm died, Sarah lay exhausted on the floor, drained and
flushed. She couldn't believe what she'd just done - she'd allowed a dog to lick
her cunt! And... she'd actually cum! As realization dawned on her, the tears
started, hot wet tears that streamed silently down her face. Filled with shame
and humiliation, she curled tightly into a little defensive ball on the floor,
knees up to her breasts, arms clutched tightly around her legs. She wanted to
disappear, she loved CL and she couldn't believe S had reduced her to this.
Sarah thought she hated him, hated him for what he made her do. Her shoulders
shook as she sobbed in hopeless despair.

S watched her silently. Then, he bent down and shook her shoulder.

"Get up," he ordered.

Sarah shook her head, refusing to look at him.

"Do as you're told," he snapped, steel in his voice.

Sarah didn't move for a moment. Then, she uncurled herself and got to her feet,
her face streaked with tears and her legs shaking. She couldn't look at S; she
was too distraught, too ashamed.

"Did you like that?" he asked, catching her jaw in a firm grip, forcing Sarah to
look at him.

She didn't answer.

"I think you did, Sarah. In fact, I know you did. Your body betrayed you, didn't
it?"

"You made me do terrible things!" she spat. "I never would have done that!
What's wrong with you? I'm a prisoner here, I do what I'm told, I clean your
fucking house, I cook for you, I do everything you tell me, and it's still not
good enough. You have to humiliate me as well. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," he said, ignoring her rudeness. "I am what I am. You
are, too," he added.

Sarah looked at him, puzzled.

"What do you mean, I am too?" she asked, her brow furrowed with confusion.

"Come and sit down," he said, walking towards the couch. He picked her discarded
apron up off the floor and spread it on the sofa for her to sit on. Sarah
hesitated warily, unsure of what to do.

"Hurry up!" he said impatiently, patting the seat beside him.

Sarah obeyed.

S relaxed into the corner of the sofa, arms folded lightly across his chest. He
looked at her lazily as she sat beside him, body rigid.

"You're submissive, Sarah," he said simply.

"You're the other half to my Dominance, I sensed you as soon as I met you. Well,
maybe not as soon as we met, but certainly after that first night in the hut,"
he corrected.

Sarah looked at him, eyes wide, lips parted in amazement.

"We didn't meet, you kidnapped me!" she protested.

"Yes, that's true," he agreed. "But aintcha kinda glad I did?" He smirked and
raised an eyebrow.

Despite herself, Sarah smiled. She loved his arrogance, his confidence.

"Natural, wanton, helpless, desperate, submissive, little slut," he murmured,
twirling one of her curls around his fingers. "A rare prize, indeed."

"But...wha... I don't understand," she said helplessly. "What does it mean?"

"You crave control, Sarah. You're desperate to please, you know you'll do
anything for me. Don't you?" he snapped.

Sarah nodded slowly.

"Maybe," she replied, her head spinning. "But I'm not a doormat, I'm not weak,"
she said, defiantly, her eyes spitting shards of green glass.

"Submissives are the strongest people I know," replied S. "I love your spirit,
your fire. Dominance isn't about breaking, it's about control. Why would I break
my favourite toy? What would be the point? But I'll push your boundaries, reduce
you to your basest level. And I'll keep you safe while I do it, protect you
while you squirm helplessly at my feet, begging me to fuck you, use you, own
you, control you. I'll strip your soul bare, expose your deepest, darkest
secrets, delve into your mind, twist inside you. Live in you. Tell me you don't
want that, Sarah. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you don't need it."

Sarah couldn't speak. Her mind was racing.

"Go take a shower, think about what I've said, then come back here," he said at
last.

When she returned, fresh and clean, S was standing by the windows, looking out
over the ocean.

"You can go, Sarah," he said, his voice cold and hard. "I'll drive you to the
airport, there's a flight tomorrow afternoon that will take you home."

Blind panic rose in Sarah as he spoke. She realised she loved this man, this
wild and dangerous and complicated man who had snatched her off a beach and
fucked her and humiliated her and tattooed her and used her. She loved him. She
didn't want to leave him. She knew she didn't want to go.

"But... but... Sir?" she stammered her voice quavering.

He looked at her.

"Uh, I don't want to go, Sir," she said, her chin wobbling.

"But you can go home, Sarah. Back to your family and friends. Back to your
world, back where you belong. Forget you ever knew me."

"NO!" she blurted, "I don't want that! I want to stay, please let me stay with
you!"

"If you stay, Sarah, it will be on my terms. You are my submissive; you will do
as you're told. I can be cruel, Sarah, you should know that. I won't tolerate
disobedience, or rudeness, or sneaky, underhanded attempts at manipulation. I'm
willing to patient with you to an extent, because you're new to this. But, fuck
with me, and you'll regret it. There will be no second chances. Do you
understand?"

Sarah nodded, her eyes big and wide. S pointed at the floor before him.

"Kneel."

Sarah walked hesitantly across the room towards where he stood in front of the
huge windows, her towel clutched around her. It fell to the floor as she knelt
naked before him, head bowed.

"Please me," he ordered.

Sarah's hands trembled as she unzipped his pants. She reached for his cock
through his shorts. S' hands were in her hair, pressing her face into him, his
cock rubbing against her moist, full lips. He wasn't quite hard yet, but as she
greedily took him into her mouth, she could feel him growing, thickening, and
hardening as her warm wetness enveloped him. Sarah gasped as she felt S' hands
pulling her hair, pulling her head up so she was forced to look at him, her
mouth stuffed full of his cock.

"Do you want me to fuck your mouth, slut? Do you deserve to have me come down
your throat, over your face, in your hair?"

Although she couldn't talk, S could see the answer plainly in her eyes... yes,
Sarah wanted all that, yes, she wanted him to fuck her mouth, yes, she wanted
him to use her. Needed him to use her.

And use her he did, thrusting into her warm, willing mouth again and again as
she sucked, licked and lapped at his cock, her teeth grazing lightly over him as
she tried desperately to swallow as much of him as could, almost choking as he
plunged deeper and deeper into her mouth and down the soft back of her throat.

"I love your cock, Sir," she sighed, her mouth full of his hardness.

"I'm a cock hungry, cock sucking slut..." she gasped, as he fucked her face,
ruthlessly using her.

Sarah massaged his balls in rhythm with her mouth, as if she were milking him.
Her tongue was slipping, sliding all over him as she sucked him in as deep as
she could manage her free hand clutching at his ass as she rocked on her knees
before him, trying to keep balanced. He thrust into her mouth harder and faster,
no concern for her comfort.
Sarah sensed S was getting close to cumming so she sucked him as deeply and
rhythmically as she could, her fingers cupping his balls as she urged him on.
Sarah wanted him to cum, wanted him to use her and cum in her mouth, all that
mattered was pleasing him.

Finally, S exploded and Sarah felt his hot, thick cum flooding her mouth and
throat. In her eagerness, his cock slipped from her lips, splashing cum across
her cheeks and down her chin, onto her breasts. She shivered as S traced his
index finger across her cum soaked face, gathering his seed. He fed it to her
and she took it eagerly, desperate to taste him.

"You've pleased me," he said softly, wiping his cock with her hair, then zipping
himself back into his pants.

"Wait there."

Sarah remained naked on her knees, her face pink and shining with his cum. She
heard him call the dog, and wondered what he was doing. He returned, CL's
leather collar in his hands.

"Head down," he snapped, and she obeyed, her blonde curls tumbling about her
face as she bent her head.

He pushed her hair aside, then fastened the collar around her neck.

"I own you, now, bitch," he said, jerking her head up with a handful of hair,
the collar red against her pale throat.

"You are mine."

Part 9

Sarah lay naked on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, her hands cuffed behind
her and her ankles lashed together. She wriggled in a vain attempt to get
comfortable. As she did, she felt the balls that Sir had pushed so deeply into
her cunt that morning roll inside her. Squirming in paroxysms of torturous
pleasure, she sang loudly to herself, trying desperately to block the sounds of
the relaxation tape playing softly and insistently in the background.

A waterfall.

That's what the CD was playing, the maddening, relentless sound of a tumbling,
churning waterfall. Recorded birds sang in the background and at any other time,
in any other place, the sounds would have been exactly as the composer intended
them to be - relaxing. But not now, not here. Now, it was torture, pure and
simple.

Before leaving for work that morning, S looked at her over his newspaper with a
dangerous glint in his eye as Sarah prepared his breakfast. Blissfully unaware
and humming softly as she peeled, chopped and diced, Sarah knew she was the
happiest woman in the world.

"Loads of fresh fruit, Sir, and look!" she crowed, brandishing a bowl of deep
red strawberries for his inspection."First pickings from the garden, I can't
believe they did so well, I was sure the insects would get them all!"

Carrying on a steady stream of chatter, her breasts bouncing under her apron as
she went about her work, she added the strawberries to the fruit salad, tipped a
pot of yogurt over the top, scooped out a passionfruit to sweeten the deal, and
put the bowl in front of him.

"You're not eating?" he asked, digging in.

"No, Sir, if it pleases you, Sir, I'll eat a bit later. I'm not hungry right
now, but I'll make a coffee. Would you like one?" Sarah turned to get the coffee
beans from the freezer.

"No thanks," he replied. "You're not having one, either."

Sarah stopped in her tracks, her reaching hand frozen in mid-air.

"Uh, as you wish, Sir," she said, suddenly unsure. After months together, he
still had the power to catch her off guard and it always rattled her. She never
knew what to expect from him. Sarah had relinquished total control to him. He
told her what he wanted, when he wanted it. And, without question, she did it.

"Are you thirsty, slut?" he asked mildly, amused at her uncertainty.

"Mmm, well, not really," she answered, truthfully.

Sarah had also learned not to second guess him, or tell him what she thought he
wanted to hear. It had been a long process fraught with difficulty, but he'd
finally trained her not to do it. She had the scars on her ass from a couple of
canings to prove it.

"I just wanted my morning caffeine fix, is all."

"Water," mused S. "I don't think you drink enough water, do you?"
"I've never really thought about it, Sir," replied Sarah.

"Well, I have. And, I've decided you don't drink enough. So, right here, right
now, you're going to drink a litre of it before I go. Make it snappy, I don't
have long."

Obeying instantly, Sarah went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of mineral
water. Breaking the seal and pouring the liquid into a glass, she settled at the
table opposite her Master and began drinking. S watched her down the first
glass, and start on the second. Halfway through, she put the glass down and
sighed.

"I'm just not used to drinking so much..."

"Shut the fuck up and drink. Don't speak unless you're spoken to."

Sarah winced at the ice in his voice and hastily gulped the water, forcing it
down her throat, though her belly was filling rapidly and she was almost full.
At last, the litre was finished and she set the glass down, wondering what was
next.

"Clear the table. Move everything off. Do it now."

Sarah leapt to her feet, collecting dishes and cutlery and glasses. Two trips to
the sink, and everything was gone.

"May I?" she asked timidly, reaching for S' discarded newspaper.

"Put it on the counter, then take your apron off and lie on the table, knees up,
legs spread," he snapped.

Sarah hurried to do his bidding. She felt a desperate urge to pee as she
scurried across the room, paper in hand.

"Sir?" she asked, flushing with embarrassment.

"What?" he answered a look of annoyance flitting across his face. "I see you're
still not on that fucking table yet! Don't piss me off, slut," he warned.

"Please, Sir, may I go to the toilet first?" she asked, hopping from foot to
foot. The water had passed through her at a rate of knots; she was dying to go.

S' eyes gleamed.

"No," he said decisively. "Just do as you're fucking told."

Sarah clambered onto the table, sliding herself down so her ass was in the
centre. Spreading her legs and raising her knees, she hoped, hoped, hoped he'd
get whatever he was doing with her over and done with quickly, because she was
sure she was going to wet herself.

S traced a finger along the bare, shaved lips of her pussy. Sarah shivered; she
loved it when he touched her. She was instantly wet, her lips glistening juicily
in the morning sun as he parted her folds with his long fingers, probing between
them.

"Wet, you're always fucking wet," he sneered, pushing his fingers into her.

"Yes, Sir," she moaned, because she was.

"Such a little slut, just one big cunt," he said, shrugging off his jacket and
draping it over one of the chairs. Pulling a set of Chinese balls from his
pocket, he weighed them in the palm of his hand as he watched Sarah wriggle on
the smooth, wooden tabletop.

Rubbing the balls against her wetness, he slid the first one deep into her with
one rough movement, pushing and pushing until it would go no further. He gave
the second ball a gentle tug, laughing as Sarah groaned in pleasurable
discomfort.

"Problem?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Sir, I like it, Sir, but I need to go to the toilet, Sir," said Sarah, her
belly full and uncomfortable. She was sure she could feel the ball pressing
against her distended bladder.

"I don't give a shit whether you like it or not, or whether you need to go to
the toilet," said S evenly, as he pushed the second ball slowly into her warm,
wet cunt. His fingers poked the ball deep inside her, not stopping until it met
the first one with a soft click.

Sarah moaned in desperation. She knew she'd be in worlds of trouble if she wet
herself on the table, especially if she wet S. He was so particular about his
clothes and he would definitely not appreciate having one of his favourite suits
urinated on.

"Up," he ordered, and Sarah rose with relief. Ordinarily, she'd be begging to be
allowed to cum by now but she was distracted by her need to pee. She felt the
balls roll deliciously inside her as she moved.

"Please may I got to the bathroom now, Sir?" she asked, her big eyes looking at
him pleadingly.

"Why not. Sounds like a good idea," said S. "In fact, I'll come with you."

Sarah flushed with embarrassment. Was he going to watch her go? She wasn't sure
she liked that idea at all.

"Hurry up!" he snarled, pushing her towards the door. "I haven't got all day."

Sarah hurried down the corridor towards the bathroom, her bare ass wiggling as
she did. Not that she even noticed, she was used to being mostly naked these
days.

"Wait!" instructed S, just as she reached the door.

Sarah froze, but turned and looked at him questioningly. "Can I just go to..."

"Shut up. Hands behind your back," said S, ignoring her half-asked question and
plucking a pair of steel handcuffs from his pocket. Sarah complied, but silently
wondered what else he had secreted about his person. First the balls, now these!
She flinched as the harsh steel encircled her wrists.

"On the floor, face down" he commanded, opening one of the bathroom cupboards
and extracting a length of chain.

Sarah dropped to her knees, then lay down. She shivered as her breasts squashed
against the cold tiles, her skin pricking with gooseflesh as S bent down and
attached one end of the chain to the collar she wore permanently around her
neck. Attaching the other end of the chain to the towel rail, he pulled on the
link to check it was secure. It was. Then, whipping off his tie, he lashed her
ankles together tightly.

"I'll be back around lunchtime. If I see any evidence you've tried to escape,
the consequences will be severe," he threatened. "Clear?"

"Yes Sir," whispered Sarah.

"You know that's one of my favourite ties, don't you? It would be a shame if it
were...ruined."

Sarah looked down. It was indeed one of his favourites.

"Yes, Sir," she agreed, immediately recognising the unspoken message.

"Right then, we understand each other. I'm going, have fun."

Sarah listened as his footsteps receded. In a final devilish act, S detoured
past the lounge, slipped a CD in the CD player and flicked it on. Sarah groaned
as the sounds of the waterfall flooded through the air - the stereo system fed
into all the rooms in the house through concealed speakers, including the
bathroom. Then, he was gone.

Sarah lay quietly on the bathroom floor for several minutes after the noise of
the car disappeared down the drive. Driven to distraction by the uncomfortable
fullness in her bladder made even worse by the relentless sound of the
waterfall, she began to test her bonds. There was no way she could make it until
lunchtime to go to the toilet. Besides, she hadn't been told she couldn't go to
the toilet, she reasoned. All she'd been told was that she couldn't escape. So,
if she could make it the loo still chained, lashed and handcuffed, she wouldn't
be disobeying.

Flipping onto her back, Sarah sat up with a degree of difficulty. Inching
awkwardly along the tiles on her bottom, Sarah struck out for the toilet in the
corner of the bathroom. The balls inside her cunt rolled and tumbled as she
moved, sending waves of pleasure through her. A warning tug on her collar
stopped her. She realised with distress that the chain didn't reach far as the
toilet, she was mere inches away, but there was nowhere near enough chain to let
her get to the loo. She was stuck.

Sarah decided to make the best of a bad situation. Resigned to her plight, she
settled down for a long wait, but the floor was cold and hard and uncomfortable,
the music was driving her mad, and her desire to pee was getting stronger by the
minute. She wriggled around, trying to hold it in, and every time she did, the
balls rolled inside her, increasing her torment. An hour crawled by, then two.
Sarah realised S had the CD on repeat, because it played over and over again.
There was no escape, no end to her misery.

The minutes ticked by, each one an age, and Sarah's thighs began to ache from
clenching them so tightly together to stop herself from peeing. Three hours into
her torment, and Sarah couldn't hold on any longer. In desperation, she thought
about letting a little, just a little urine loose. Perhaps if she did, she
reasoned, the awful pressure would ease a bit. The thought was tempting but she
was mindful of wetting S' favourite tie - he would discipline her harshly if she
spoiled it. But she could bear it no longer. Relaxing a little, she allowed a
thin stream to trickle out of her distended bladder and it was all she could do
to stop before she released the lot in a warm yellow puddle on the bathroom
tiles.

It made things worse. Her bladder was awake and screaming now, demanding to be
emptied. She wriggled frantically on the floor, the balls tipping and turning
inside her, taunting and teasing her. And still the music played, driving her to
distraction. Sarah cried with frustration and helplessness, her hair plastered
to her forehead in damp strands as she tried valiantly to control herself.

Finally, the sound of tyres crunching on the gravel outside. The door opening,
then S' footsteps on the floor. He loomed in the bathroom doorway, surveying his
frantic, captive slave.
"Please, Sir, please let me go to the bathroom!" begged Sarah, her face red and
tearstained.

"Please!"

S clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

"Such impatience, such rudeness! You didn't even ask about my morning," he
sighed, furrowing his brow with an injured expression. Sarah swore she could see
a small crocodile tear gathering in the corner of his eye.

"How was your morning, Sir?" she asked politely through gritted teeth, every
movement now a mixture of exquisite agony and delight.

"Hmm, not bad," S replied conversationally. "I'm gonna get a drink, you want
one?" He eyed her craftily as he moved toward the sink, his hand hovering over
the tooth glass on the vanity.

"Please, Sir, please let me go to the toilet!" wailed Sarah, certain she
couldn't hold on much longer. It had been hours, she was desperate.

"We've had this conversation before, I'm sure, but I'll remind you because I'm
such a nice guy," said S, running the tap and slowly filling his glass. He
didn't turn it off and the sound of trickling water bounced through the room,
adding to Sarah's torment.

"It's not about what you want, is it?"

"No, Sir, I'm sorry, Sir" cried Sarah. She was going to wet herself, she just
knew it.

"Glad we got it sorted," said S, crouching beside Sarah with the glass of water.
He put it to her lips.

"Drink it."

S tipped the water slowly into Sarah's mouth, spilling some of it over her
breasts and belly. Sarah groaned in protest as she felt her bladder heave
threateningly.

"Good girl," murmured S as she finished. "I"ll untie you, you may relieve
yourself."

Sarah sighed in gratitude as he unlocked her cuffs, then untied her ankles, and
then released the chain from her collar. She lurched to her feet, her muscles
stiff and aching after so long in bondage. She made for the toilet in
desperation, the balls rolling madly in her cunt, she was almost there, the end
was in sight.

"Stop!" snapped S, icily.

Sarah stopped inches from the toilet, her face a mask of agony as she hopped
from foot to foot.
"In the bath. Crouch and piss in the bath."

Sarah blushed deep, crimson red, her hand fluttering about her throat as she
heard his instruction. She was desperate to go, so desperate she'd use the
toilet in front of him but... pee in the bath? Waves of humiliation swept over
Sarah as she stood before him like a rabbit transfixed in headlights.

"I...I can't!" she stuttered, she'd never gone to the bathroom in front of
anyone before!

"Do it now."

Sarah climbed into the bath and crouched on the porcelain bottom, balancing
herself on the rim with her hands.

"Spread your legs and remove the balls. Do not wet yourself until I tell you to
do so."

Sarah tugged gently on the string protruding from her pussy. The balls shifted
slightly, the movement angering her bursting bladder. Pulling a little more
firmly, she winced in pleasurable discomfort as the first ball popped from her
pussy. She resisted the overwhelming urge to pee as she pulled the second ball
free.

Silence hung in the air for long moments.

"Piss for me, slut."

Sarah fought an intense internal battle between the shame and humiliation of
submitting to S' instruction, and the urge to retain her dignity. Submission,
encouraged by her overloaded bladder, won. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she
sighed in palpable relief as she released herself. Warm urine flowed down her
thighs and splashed against her feet as she squatted before her Master in a
puddle of her own waste.

"I think you should thank me for granting you relief."

"Thank you Sir," whispered Sarah, honestly grateful to him for allowing her to
pee at last.

S wrinkled his nose almost delicately as the sharp smell of urine reached his
nose.

"You've pleased me. My favourite tie remains unsoiled, and you did well to
remain under my control for so many hours in my absence. Clean up your mess,
then shower. I'm going back to work, I expect the house to be spotless when I
return."

Sarah set about her tasks, washing, ironing, cleaning. The afternoon passed
quickly and the afternoon sun was fading into dusky twilight when S returned.
Sarah greeted him at the door, her face creased in smiles as she danced around
him, chattering about her afternoon. In her rush of excitement, she didn't
notice he was strangely quiet, distracted.

"Take this and go and get changed, Sarah," ordered S at last, pouring them a
glass of wine. "You know what I like. I'll be waiting in the lounge."

After showering and dressing, Sarah presented herself almost shyly to S, the
shame of relieving herself in front of him still fresh in her memory as she
stood before him.

"Turn for me, slowly," he said coolly as he sipped slowly from his glass of
wine, soft music playing on the stereo. Vanilla candles cast flickering shadows
on the walls, the scent of incense lingered lightly in the air.

Dressed in nothing but her collar, black nylon stockings, a black garter belt,
and a lacy black half cup bra that molded her swelling breasts, black patent
heels on her feet, Sarah spun slowly before him, eyes lowered in submission. Her
cheeks were flushed with the natural glow of humiliation and subservience, her
lips lush and red, her hair a soft, golden cloud of loose, blond waves around
her shoulders. The lace topped stockings and garter belt framed her hairless
pussy in an erotic triangle, her wrinkled lips puffy and moist, black nylon
contrasting starkly against her pale skin.

"Again," he said as she completed a full circle before him, and she obeyed as
his eyes caressed her, seeing everything, missing nothing.

"You're beautiful, baby," he said softly, rising to his feet and kissing her as
she melted into him, merging with her Master.

"We've never danced, you and I," he whispered, his lips warm against her ear as
he bent his head and nipped the delicate skin of her neck lightly, sending
tingles through her body.

"No, Sir, we haven't," she said softly, snaking her arms around him, holding him
close, her soft curves against his hard body.

"I love you, Sir," murmured Sarah, looking up at him, her eyes limpid pools of
devotion.

"I know."

Sarah shivered as he gazed into her soul with his blue, blue eyes.

"You're mine," he said, fingering the collar fastened around her neck. "I love
you."

They danced then, Master and slave, moving slowly and sinuously to the sounds of
Gershwin, their hearts seemingly beating in time with the notes that wafted on
the air. The world shrunk, all that existed was this time, this place. Nothing
could touch them.

"Come," said S at last, leading Sarah to the sofa, her small hand caught in his.

Sitting down, he laid her across his lap, her ass high and round. He rubbed his
palms over her soft, smooth globes and she wriggled beneath him, instantly wet.
He spanked her rhythmically, each spank cracking through the air and Sarah
groaned with pleasure, her skin glowing with the heat of his hands. S slipped
two fingers into her pussy, still spanking her as he felt her clench around his
fingers, sucking him in. Each spank causing her to graze against his thumb,
resting lightly on her swollen clit.

His fingers still buried deep inside her, S slid his other hand up and down her
nylon-encased legs, his skin rasping against the nylon of her stockings. Then,
reaching between the cushions of the couch, he pulled out a small silver dagger,
its blade glinting wickedly in the glow of the candlelight.

"Keep still, baby," he murmured, reaching down and pressing the blade against
her skin. Sarah remained motionless and transfixed as he drew the blade up the
back of her Achilles tendon, then over her calf, up to the top of her stocking
clad thigh, the nylon parting with an almost imperceptible hiss as black
gossamer gave way to smooth, white skin.

Slipping a third finger into her soaking pussy, S started on Sarah's other leg,
this time a little more pressure and Sarah sighed as the blade melted through
black nylon and bit into her skin, this time leaving a thin red trail of blood
in the knife's wake as once more her stocking gave way to flesh. The sting of
the cut mingled with the pleasure of S' fingers in her cunt and his thumb on her
clit and Sarah sank deeply into space, down, down, down.

The stockings were ruined now, drifting loose from the garter belt and S turned
Sarah gently onto her back then moved out from under her, leaving her lying
prone on the sofa. Unzipping his pants, he stepped out of them and shrugged his
shirt over his head, standing naked and hard before Sarah, who drank him in with
desperate eyes. Kneeling before the couch, he slipped his hands under Sarah's
ass, positioning her.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," he growled, raising her legs so they were
thrown over his shoulders, her pussy open and exposed. Penetration, when it
came, was long and slow and relentless as he pushed into her wet cunt, spreading
her open as she writhed on his cock. Impaled, Sarah moaned as she urged him
deeper and deeper, her hips bucking as he fucked her, his fingers playing on her
juice soaked clit. S increased his pace, filling her completely, thrusting into
her over and over, harder and harder as she gasped for breath.

Then, together, they were cumming, pushed over the edge as their senses crashed
around them like shattering glass, Sarah's pussy contracting like a vice around
S' cock as he flooded her with stream after stream of cum, groaning. Crying
helplessly, Sarah screamed his name, screamed her love for him as the waves of
passion rocked over them, swallowing them, drowning them.
Later that night, Sarah nestled warmly against her Master as they lay in their
big bed, insulated in a cocoon of Dominance and submission.

"Sarah?" said S, gently shaking her shoulder, then slipped one of his fingers
under her collar, tracing her skin lightly beneath the leather.

"Mmm?" sighed Sarah, sleepily.

"I have news. I have to go away for a while, I leave in a week, we'll talk about
it tomorrow, okay?"

"'K," Sarah murmured, drifting into sleep.

For long moments, S watched her, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on her
breasts rising and falling gently as she breathed.
Then, wiping a trace of moisture from his cheek in an impatient gesture, he held
Sarah close as he, too, sank into oblivion.

Part 10

Sarah wept silently as she gathered her possessions in a little pile on the bed. Big, silent tears that streamed down her face and they just fell and fell
. The tears just wouldn’t stop. She didn’t have much to pack. A few pieces of clothing, bits of makeup, a dog-eared book and the things she’d originally taken to the island.

The island.

It seemed to Sarah it was a lifetime ago, and in some ways it was. She was different now, almost unrecognizable from the scared, frightened girl who’d been hustled up the beach and into the hut with her companions. So much had happened, Sarah knew she’d never be the same person again.

Footsteps, and Sir entered the room. “Hurry up” he said brusquely. “It’s a long drive to the airport, and if I miss my plane, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Sarah couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer him, couldn’t look at him. Her pain was so raw, and she didn’t want him to see her like this. So she bustled about busily, careful to avoid eye contact with him as she shoved her things into the bag he’d given her. Then, she was finished. Casting a last, lingering look around the room, she zipped the bag and turned to S, pushing her hair off her face.
Puffy green eyes collided with icy blue eyes.

“I’m finished, Sir,” she said quietly.

“About time.”

Then, with a critical look, he said, “Go fix yourself up before we leave. You’re a fucking mess.”

Sarah did as he told her to do – went into the bathroom, fixed her hair, fixed her makeup. But try as she might, she couldn’t erase the sadness from her eyes. The same eyes that once sparkled so brightly were now dull and empty. Then, heart heavy, Sarah collected her bag and walked through to the living room. S was standing before the huge windows, arms crossed, body tense, watching the waves as they crashed on the sand far below. He turned as she entered the room.

“Kneel there, hands behind your back,” he barked, pointing to a spot in front of him.

Sarah’s heart leaped with hope. Had he changed his mind? Could they stay? Skittering across the room, she did as she was told and kneeled expectantly before him, her hands folded behind her back as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Head down,” he instructed.

Sarah obeyed instantly, her curls tumbling about her face as she bowed her head. She shivered as she felt his hands on her, fumbling at her neck. Then, ice flooded her veins as she realised what he was doing.

“No, Sir, no!” she cried in distress as his fingers unbuckled the leather collar encircling her neck.

“Please, Sir, please don’t take my collar away!”

“Be quiet,” he hissed, slipping it from her. “Don’t you say a fucking word!”

Sarah sobbed helplessly as he took it from her, her body shuddering as she gulped for air. His action cut into her like a knife, wounding her psyche and her soul. Groping at her neck in a vain attempt to keep it with her, she fancied she could feel the weight of the leather still around her neck, though she knew it was gone.

“Look at me,” he snapped, standing over her, weighing the collar in his hands.

Sarah shook her head, keening like a small, injured wild animal.

“Look at me!” He prodded her with his boot.

Sarah reluctantly obeyed. His face was stony, his lips pressed so tightly together they were white. His eyes were flat and cold, expressionless as he gazed at her.

“I’m releasing you. You’re free, I no longer own you. Do you understand me?”

He spat the words out like bullets from a gun, each one hitting Sarah fair on target, leaving her bleeding and exposed.

“Sir, I don’t want to be free, please don’t do this!” she wailed, her heart breaking.

“Please, please don’t do this. I’ll do better, I’ll behave, I’ll do anything. But please, don’t release me,” she begged, her voice thick with tears.

“It’s not about being better, or behaving, Sarah. This is the way it is. This is the way it has to be. You are released. That is all.”

He thrust the collar into his pocket, then picked up his bags.

“Get up, we’re going.”

The drive to the airport was strained and tense; neither spoke. Sarah watched the scenery race past, but she didn’t see it, not really. She was numb, now. She didn’t feel anything. Just dead inside.

They arrived with moments to spare, checked in, and hurried through airport security to the departure lounges. Being regional, it wasn’t a big airport, and the gates weren’t far apart. But Sarah’s flight was leaving first, so they went to hers. They made it just as her flight was called. A queue of people snaked around the lounge as they waited to board the plane. Sarah stopped abruptly, loathe to join it.

“Get in line,” said S grimly as he pushed her towards the waiting passengers. Sarah blindly obeyed, water clouding her vision once more. Unable to stop herself, she felt her bottom lip tremble and the tears came again, endless, desperate tears.

“For God’s sake!” snapped S, pulling her roughly to one side. “I’ve explained all this! You know it has to be like this, there’s no other way. I can’t take you with me, and I’m not coming back. You have to go, you have to go home, and that’s the way it is. Do you understand?”

Sarah nodded dumbly, tears still pouring down her face. “I know, Sir. I know you have to go. But I… I just…I can’t…” She gulped noisily, unable to continue.

“What?” asked S, his voice softening.

“I just won’t be able to breathe without you, Sir,” she whispered, her face a mask of pain and grief.

“Well, you’ll have to learn. You’re strong, Sarah, stronger than you know, and you’ll have to learn. Okay?”

Sarah nodded, unable to look at him.

S pulled Sarah into his arms, catching her off guard. Dropping her bag, she melted into his embrace, shuddering as his arms encircled her, gathering her to him. “Breathe for me, baby,” he whispered, his lips against her hair.

The line of waiting people shrunk slowly as everyone trailed through the door, on to the air bridge and into the plane. Then, Sarah was the last passenger remaining in the lounge. The flight attendant looked over to them quizzically, an eyebrow raised. S acknowledged her silent question with a curt nod, and let go of Sarah.

“Time to leave,” he said, a note of finality in his voice.

Sarah nodded, almost blinded by her tears.

“We can’t be together, can we?” she whimpered, in a desperate, last ditch attempt to hear the answer she so badly wanted to hear.

“No,” replied S, woodenly.

“Will I see you again?”

“Probably not. But you know that, I’ve made it perfectly clear, I think. So let’s not drag this out,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Do you still love me?” cried Sarah, her chest heaving as she valiantly tried to choke back her grief.

“For fuck’s sake, just go, will you?” snarled Sir, as the flight attendant beckoned impatiently in their direction. He pushed her towards the door.

“Just go,” he repeated, more gently this time. “That’s an order!”

Obeying him without question for the final time, Sarah smoothed her hair, then plucked a tissue from her sleeve and blew her nose. Picking up her bag, she gave herself a mental shake as she pushed her shoulders back, then looked proudly at S.

“I may be leaving, but I’ll never say goodbye, I won’t say it. And we may not be together, but I have your tattoo etched on my body, and I have you engraved in my soul. You’ll always be with me, no matter how far apart we are. I’ll always love you, endlessly, deeply, and desperately. I’ll never give up hoping you’ll come for me. That’s just the way it is.”

S nodded grimly in response, a muscle spasming in his clenched jaw.

He watched Sarah walk away and present her boarding pass to the attendant. As she went through the door, she paused and looked at him one last time, their eyes locking as silent, intangible energy flowed
between them. He stood motionless as she turned and disappeared down the corridor, into the steel belly of the waiting aircraft. His shoulders slumped as she vanished, and he reached into his pocket and fingered the soft leather of her collar.

“Yes, Sarah,” he whispered. “Yes, I still love you.”

Then, his face set in stone, he turned and walked away from them as the plane engines screamed, carrying Sarah away, into the blue.

________________________________________

Sarah looked at the newspaper spread out before her on her lap. It was the same newspaper she’d read every morning for years, no matter where she was in the world. Carefully, she read the newsprint again, tracing her finger across the paper and mouthing the words as she went.

It was over.

As the flicker of hope which burned within her soul finally sputtered and died, the newspaper slid to the floor with a gentle rustle and Sarah leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes in silent acceptance. She understood now that he would never come for her, that she would never see him again. After all these years, it was finally over.

Sarah stayed motionless for long minutes as memories crashed and collided with long buried pain and hurt deep within her. Behind closed eyes, she could see him in her mind’s eye as if they’d been together just yesterday, his face smiling at her with those glorious blue eyes and deep, deep dimples. Then, footsteps shook her from her reverie, and she opened her eyes as Steven came towards her, bringing her a cup of tea.

“You alright?”

Sarah looked at him fondly. He was so intuitive. He gave her the tea, and Sarah circled her hands around the cup, drawing warmth from the hot china. She smiled then, a trace of a smile, as she looked up into the blue, blue eyes of her only child.

“I’m fine, darling. But I have to go away for a few days; I’m leaving this afternoon. I need to get away for a while, just me, and I won’t be long. I should be back by Friday. Can you take care of things while I’m away?”

“Sure,” replied Stephen. He was staying with her while his own house was being built; it saved him paying rent and besides, his mother lived close to the city, close to where he worked.

Sarah eyed him over the rim of her cup. He was so very like his father, she thought. Same eyes, same height, same body type. Same confidence and self-assurance. Intelligent and strong. Though it had been a shock when she discovered she was pregnant, their son been a great source of love and joy for her over the years. Along with trouble, she thought ruefully. He’d certainly added a few gray hairs to her head.

“Will you tell me where you’re going? Take your phone, at least?”

“No, and yes,” said Sarah shortly, then smiled at him. “I’m okay, I just have to take care of a few things.”

Sarah spoke with a note of finality and Steven knew better than to question her. Although she loved him ferociously and had done her best to bring him up on her own, some topics were off limits. He had a feeling this trip of hers was one of them. Still, he silently wondered what had prompted this latest need for solitude. His mother was unreachable when she was like this.

Packing quickly, Sarah folded clothes and toiletries into her suitcase. Hurriedly, she rummaged through her drawers and shoved a few items in her carry-on bag, then gathered her things together and left the house in a bustle of stoic determination and purpose.

Sarah’s flight landed and she picked up her car from the airport hire counter. Driving towards her hotel, Sarah wondered if she was doing the right thing, going to him this one last time. But her memories urged her on, and she knew she finally had to say goodbye. It had been many, many years since she’d seen him, though he had lived within her regardless and she had never forgotten him or given up hope that one day, he would find her again.

Later that night, Sarah sat on the balcony of her hotel room and looked out over the water lapping gently on the shore below her. But she didn’t see the ocean, nor did she smell the sea spray. Instead, she was back in another place, beside another ocean; the very ocean where they’d first collided all those years ago. Jerking herself back to reality, Sarah walked inside and went to bed.

When the last of the mourners departed, Sarah crept silently though the cemetery to his grave. Kneeling beside the freshly turned ground, she gazed down at the cedar coffin littered with the sods of earth and colorful flowers his family and friends had thrown. Tears splashed down her face then, and she made no attempt to check them.

“This is yours, I think,” said a soft voice.

Startled, Sarah turned and looked up at the woman standing behind her. The woman smiled with a brittle expression, and held out a small bag. She was older than Sarah, still attractive, though her face was lined and her hair, gray. Sarah looked at the bag the woman offered, absently noticing the gold band gleaming dully on her finger.

Sarah stood clumsily, smoothing her skirt. “Who are you? What is it?” she asked, puzzled.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. But he knew you’d come. Anyway, he wanted you to have this. I found it among his personal things, with a note saying to give it to you when you did. I don’t know what it means, but it was obviously important to him that you get it. So, here it is,” she said, simply.

The woman thrust the bag into Sarah’s grasp, and Sarah took it. The two women looked at each other closely for silent moments.

“Was he… was it quick?” asked Sarah, brokenly.

“Yes. Heart attack. Doing what he loved. No pain,” she replied briefly, though Sarah felt the women’s own pain, for it mirrored hers.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” the woman said finally, and turned abruptly, her black dress swirling around her ankles like a cloud as she disappeared through the trees.

Sarah watched her go, then looked at the bag in her hands. She opened it slowly, tears flooding her eyes as she saw what it contained.

“My collar,” she whispered, turning the old cracked leather over in her hands. “It’s my collar, he kept it all these years.”

She rubbed the worn leather, caressing it, as memories flooded through her. She loved him just as much now as she did then, and she knew that somehow, he knew it too. The knowledge comforted her, eased her heartache. Pressing her lips to the leather one last time, she turned and tossed it into the void.

Then, reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a photograph of she and Steven smiling into the sun, their hair blown in the wind, happy grins on their faces. Releasing it, she watched as it fell from her fingertips, floating gently down on the breeze.

“Goodbye, my Master,” she whispered as their photograph joined her collar on the polished wood far below.

Sarah turned and walked away.

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