045/2012 The Pitfalls of a S&M Relationship

Word Count:  437

“Not too tight,” she said, though it was useless. The rule was, when she turned herself over to him, he could do whatever he wanted.

She hated it. Pretended to love it. It was his thing, not hers. But the house in the high hills and the house on the ocean four states away made it worthwhile. The clothes, the jewelry, the whole lifestyle was what she had bought into. The price of it all was the pain. She was hoping the big payoff was marriage.

He would eventually tire of it, she had wrongly believed. Her young body was striped with the lash of the cat-o-nine-tails. Many, many times she thought she would leave him. When he built the “playroom” in the cellar. When he suggested he bring in another woman to join in their games. This last one she flatly refused and he never mentioned again.

“Prepare yourself for the weekend,” he said when he left Friday morning for his job in the city. She smiled through the dread. “I expect a fine dinner, rare roast beef and the best wine.” He kissed her goodbye and his tongue swept her teeth.

“How was the roast?” she asked when they had finished the meal.

“Excellent flavor,” he said. Then he scowled. “Unfortunately, it was served rather lukewarm.” He got up from the table and held out his hand. She shuddered but took it and followed him downstairs.

He tied her over the chair, her panties pulled down to her knees, just where he liked them. Her breasts had been pushed up and dangled outside of her bra. He brushed her body with his fingertips. Teased her breasts. Pulled her hair aside and kissed her cheek, his lips like butterfly wings trailed down her neck. Then stopped. “I’ll be back,” he said.

She heard the heavy door slam and lock. Imagined him walking up the stairs. This was the worst part–when he made her wait. The anticipation was almost as bad as the whip.

He didn’t come back in a half hour as he usually did. She guessed he was taking great pleasure in making her wait. He didn’t come back in an hour, then two. She called his name, pleading for him to return.

By the next afternoon she was near delirious. The thirst was unbearable. Every muscle in her body ached from the static position. She’d given up trying to free herself; it was impossible. With every strength she could muster she screamed for him, wished him dead.

What she couldn’t have known and wouldn’t discover, was that indeed, he was.