Dreamland (BDSM)

Chapter Four

His hand was knotted in my hair, pulling me from the couch and down the hallway. I regained my footing just before he started to descend the steps, my feet only touching every second or third step and I attempted to keep up with him. He threw me towards the wall, my hands reaching out to catch the wall before my body could collide with it. I turned my body, aligning my back with the wall as I scanned the room, trying to find him. He hadn't turned on the light, and it was hard to see anything with only the light from the upstairs trickling down the stairs.

His voice came from the corner of the room, my eyes able to make out the faintest shape of his body in the dark.

"Why did I have to drag you down here tonight? You know I just want to relax, so why do you force me to work even when I get home?"

"I...I don't know why, Master. I am sorry, I don't know what I did to upset you."

I hated him when he was like this, his eyes were bright with fury as he stalked toward me, moving like a predatory animal getting ready to strike.  But typically, this was self inflicted.  He didn't act this way maliciously, only when I did something.  And for him to be reacting at this magnitude, I must have done something incredibly wrong.

"Of course you know! Don't play dumb with me, I don't want to waste my time playing games with you."

I could hear his hand colliding with my face before I felt it, my head whipped to the side by the force.

"You don't think Chris would tell me? I know that you were asking him about me, trying to figure out what I do when I leave here at night. What does it matter to you what I do with my own time? Do you own me? Huh? Answer me!"

His hand was in my hair again, forcing my head back, his eyes blaring into mine.

"I'm....mm sorry, Master. I wassss just trying to get to know you. I don't own you, Master. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."

His hand stayed in my hair as I begged him, his eyes continuing to blaze down at me as my own vision was flooded with tears. I hated when he acted out like this, but he never acted without reason. It was my own fault for talking to Chris. But my intentions had been completely innocent.  The other night when I had joined him and his friends for drinks I had heard someone mention how Nate's birthday was coming up and I had only called Chris to get the information from him.  I had just wanted to do something nice for his birthday.  I had asked if he had any other friends, I wanted to throw him a party but didn't know who to invite. At this point I should know better than to talk to his friends without his permission.

His hand left my hair, remaining on top of my head, holding me in place.

"I am glad that you have apologized, but I am not sure that you have learned your lesson just yet. Don't worry, I plan on fixing that tonight."

His hand traveled down to my shoulder, grasping it firmly and lifting me off of the ground. I stood, my back completely against the wall.

"Strip"

My hands shook as I pulled my top over my head, folding it and setting it on the ground next to me. I folded my pants and set them down on top. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to maintain at least a semblance of decency.

"Do not test my patience. Strip. Now."

I choked a sob back, setting my bra and panties on top of my other clothing and turning to face him. He took both of my hands into one of his, leading me into the center of the room. I halted for a minute as I realized what was going to happen. He glanced back and frowned at me, showing his distaste for my hesitation. He raised my arms up above my head, attaching them to the restraints suspended from the ceiling. This was the position he put me in when he planned on using his single tail whip on me. The restraints were just high enough up that I had to stand on my toes, wobbling slightly as I tried to maintain my balance. The whip came down across my back, fiercely slicing my flesh. A strangled cry escaped my lips just as the whip came down again, the noise cut short as my body reflexively drew in a gasp of breath.

At some point he stopped, the whip set back down on top of the chest it belongs in. I could hear the dripping of water, or maybe it's blood. I considered the possibilities, and decided it was probably blood it is blood.

I struggled against my restraints, my shoulders aching from the position as I tried to free my wrists. The room was silent, save for his breathing as he took long drags off his cigarette, exhaling and scenting the air. I struggled harder, knowing what came next. My shoulders were tense when he ground out his cigarette against my back, twisting the end back and forth against me as I arched away from him. His laughed drowned out my cries, his tone almost maniacal. A moment passed before I heard the click of the lighter, his inhale as he took the first drag off of a new cigarette. He could chain smoke like this for what seemed like an eternity. Some times I dreamed that he would stop breathing one day, that all of this smoking would just cause for him to drop dead. Some nights I prayed for him to drop dead, others I imagined I was the one who dropped dead. At some point he stopped, the room swirling with smoke and the scent of cigarettes and burned flesh. He undid my wrists, slowly massaging the raw skin on each of them.

At least when he started smoking I knew it was almost over.  He smoked to relieve stress, the stress that I inflict on him. It was his final act as my punisher before he came to the conclusion that I had learned my lesson and it was time for the healing to begin.

"You do this to yourself, you know? I don't know why you have to struggle so hard. I'm only doing what I have to. You know I hate having to punish you, but I have to keep you in line. I can't have you thinking your misbehavior is acceptable. I'm only trying to help you. Now what do you say to someone who helps you?"

"Thank you, Master"

I didn't recognize the voice that came out of me. It was raw and broken and defeated.

He folded my arms into my lap, gingerly picking me up and carrying me out of the basement. I closed my eyes, relaxed knowing that the worst was over now. My punishment was over, now we can go back to being happy. Until I make another mistake.

He sat me down on the edge of the tub, angling me so that he could have access to my back. He tended to my wounds, cleaning them and covering them so as to allow them to heal. At least now I was guaranteed at least two weeks before he took me to the basement again.  He didn't want to cause any serious damage to me, and he always waited until I was completely healed before marring my body again.  It's one of the things about him that I try to remind myself when I find myself truly hating him.  He isn't completely evil, he is just twisted.  The good and the bad parts of him so incredibly interwoven that at times I'm not sure whether he will grow out of this, or if this is how he will always be.   At times like this, when he is cleaning me up and handling me like I'm made of porcelain, I like to think that one day he won't be like this, that maybe I'll be able to change him.  That maybe if I'm good enough he won't hurt me, that as long as I'm on my best behavior he'll never hurt me again. 

He threaded my arms through a loose top, letting it fall over me. I let him dress me like a doll, pull me up until I'm standing so that he can help me step into a pair of lounge pants. He took my hand once I was dressed, leading me to the bedroom. I lied down on my front on the very edge of the bed, hoping he would allow me at least some distance. He climbed in next to me, his body parallel to mine, his arm across my lower back possessively.

This is one of the nights I pray that I will die.  That night I dreamt of him, laughing.  There was a sparkle in his eyes.  I don't think it was my mind reminding me of anything from the past, but more likely my mind showing me what he could be like if I was a better submissive.