The Pacifist

Yellow

Joseph

Joseph stared at her, not knowing how to move forward. He wasn't a talker. He wasn't a normal man who could cook for a woman before tenderly pulling her towards his room. He had invited her here to show her what he had to offer, and that was pain.

She looked so beautiful, so vulnerable with her bare face; cheeks rosy from the cold fall air. The uncertainty she exuded intoxicated him to the point of near delirium. So he was shocked when she slowly pulled her sweater over her head and let it drop to the floor. A pink, lace bra thinly veiled her small breasts. Then she reached back to undo her skirt and let it fall, exposing a matching pair of panties. Her shoulder, where he had bit her, whispered of a faint bite, the bruise nearly faded. The desperate need to cover her in more of them took over him. Joseph stalked towards her and grabbed her by the throat roughly, but making sure not to squeeze too hard. Her eyes widened the slightest bit, but still, no fear.

"Do you understand what I want to do to you?"

She nodded.

"I only have a belt. Can I hit you with it?"

Rachel nodded.

"Can I restrain you with a belt?"

"Yes."

"Can I use my fists, open hand, and teeth?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Can I choke you?"

"Yes."

"Is there any place I can't touch?" His voice strained with impatience, but this was necessary.

Rachel paused, and he appreciated the thought she put into her next answer. "No."

"We'll use basic safe words. Red, yellow, green. Red means stop immediately, yellow means slow down, green means everything is good." Joseph pulled her towards his room and sat her on his bed next to the belts. The candlelight made her skin glow as if it was absorbing the light and radiating it back. There, he thought, it's more for my benefit than hers. He could reason it any way he liked, the small touch had been one hundred percent, an effort for her.

Joseph stepped back and froze, not knowing where to start. Rachel presented everything he wanted in a bottom and his mind raced with a multitude of possibilities. Even with only his hands and a few belts to work with. She looked up at him expectantly, with a perfectly mixed look of anticipation and fear.

Fear. That's what was missing with Rebecca. She was too eager, too willing. She loved it too much. Rachel, however, was curious, excited... searching for something within the coming experience, but she was also afraid. Her hesitance made his knuckles and cock ache at the same time for her flesh. That was a first.

"Mr. Maxwell?" Even her whispering voice carried the tremors of fear.

"Yes." Joseph's voice was gruff with barely restrained desire.

"How is this going to work?"

Suddenly, a new feeling joined his need to break her. This wouldn't be just about blinding pain he realized. Slowly, he went down on his knees and gently spread her legs. The soft flesh of her inner thighs called to his teeth and he bent down to bite. Gently at first, then with increasing pressure until she whimpered and then cried out. But she didn't try to push him away. He released her flesh then moved to a spot further up her thigh and bit again. This time, her cry ended in a moan. Even then, she still flinched when he went to her other leg and this sent the tiniest of thrills through him.

He sat back and surveyed his work, loving the angry red teeth marks littering her perfect skin. Her lace panties glistened with wetness and when he looked into her eyes, he was hit with desire that matched his own. She wanted him, but she would have to wait. He could see her realization and then read her silent begging. He felt it.

Before he could tell her turn around, she did and bared her bottom to him. He picked up his heaviest belt, for it would sting less than the thinner ones, and folded it in half. Joseph let the air he had been holding out with a deep sigh.

I'm a pacifist! And he struck her, doing his best to reel in his need to hit harder. Rachel cried out and he went to push her face into the bed.

I'm a pacifist! And he hit her again. With a crumbling resolve, he gave into his hunger and hit her over and over again.

"Yellow!"

The word halted him mid-strike. Chest heaving, he lowered the belt and let it drop to the floor. She turned to him then and her cheeks were flushed, eyes gleaming and wide with adrenaline. Joseph sat next to her and pulled her into his arms.

"I thought yellow meant slow down, not to stop," she whispered, averting her eyes.

He recognized the hint of shame. She had enjoyed it and couldn't understand why. "What was too much?"

He watched her face as she tried to collect her thoughts. "I can do hard and spaced out, or not so hard and fast, but not hard and fast."

Joseph nodded. "How do you feel?"