Under His command

Part 6

His fingers plunge into me and misbalances me. I gasp at the invasion. My body slams against his hard chest. An explosion of tormenting pain crashes across my chest. The increase in pleasure causes my brain to overload. Thoughts short circuit as I try to follow both paths at once.

"Hands behind your head." He growls in my ear.

My hands lift to the back of my head. His foot kicks at my ankles and I let them slide to widen my stance. Control slips through the edges of my thoughts, my body follows his lead wantonly. The lights in the room rises and I blink at the change from darkness. His fingers continue a slow exploration but his grip on my body tightens. With deliberate movement my eyes lift to his face. The sinter expression makes me whither, but my body betrays me in a sudden tingling rush. My pussy clenches around his fingers and a moan escapes my lips. His entire focus in on me. A look over ownership burns in his eyes and I something in me cracks open. I can see his burning desire, openly displayed on his face. There are no distractions to dilute the moment. In it I am flooded with everything I have held back for weeks. I want to please him, to know his thoughts, wants and needs. Fear grips me in the internal war. Lines blur where he ends and I begin. Yet in that microsecond I feel complete, fulfilled with a purpose and whole.

"Scared my pet? The fear in your eyes gives away everything about you. Tell me what you fear."

"I'm afraid of how I feel."

"And how do you feel right now?"

"Like I'm losing control and...," I whispered.

"That's the point of our relationship."

"I don't like the feeling."

A dark smile spreads across his face. "No. You love it. You crave it. You need it."

How dare he presumes to know me so deeply. Every day people played at dominance and submission. It is all I wanted, fun in the bedroom. This was a whole different level. Something darker. A deeper sensation. He is right, another part of me screams through the torrential storm inside. Everything about the statement is right.

"You love losing control to me."

The words poke at the savage beast of independence and its roar fills my mind. In the same moment I am soft, pliable. In his control life is calm and quiet, yet exciting and full. Pride wars with the docile nature flowing over me. I want to spit, kick and scream but he's right. Confusion clouds my mind so thickly. Muscles tense in frustration.

"Believe what you want. I'm not feeding your manacle ego to become any larger." The words slip out of my mouth before my brain could engage to stop them. Shock screams through me.

His fingers stop. The last licks of pleasure courses through my body.

"I'm so..rrr..rr... y." My face blazes in shame.

"Maniacal ego?" He chuckles and steps back. "Still at war with yourself. The question is what part do you want to win?"

"I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did. A part of you thrives on pain. You want the badge of honor to push through it. To know you sacrifice in those moments to accept it. Pride can come through pain. You competitively accept pain to push you further and heighten your sense of independence and strength."

His fingers grip my nipples hard and I cry out in an agonizing scream.

"You want me to accept your mental medals of stoic honor but I will not. Just as you reject my tenderness in the belief that only my hand around your throat is worth acknowledging my control. I will reject your acceptance of pain from me. In loneliness and caged darkness you can war with your own soul. If you choose to be personally miserable and reject what you long to feel, then it will be done."

His fingers grip my hair painfully and he pulls me over to the large wooden box at the end of the large bed. It is both comforting and frightening. From the outside the box looks like a vintage travel trunk. One that would have been packed with the large dresses and underthings in a grander time. He has modified it to be just a bit large. Big enough my five foot seven inch frame can unfurl completely inside when I lay down and enough height to let me sit up, but little more than either of those. One end is a door, much like a cage, rather than a traditional trunk lid.

"This is where you will spend the night. In it you will decide which path we continue forward on. You are in control until we cross the threshold otherwise. These things you've brought on yourself."

"Kneel."

I sink to my knees. His words add to my internal frustrations and confusion. Inside I feel like I am crumbling into a thousand pieces.