Butterfly Isses

And before common sense can close my lips, I have already added five to my daily total...

Tying my hair back, I clean off. My alarm sounds quietly; a swipe and it is off. But as my eyes glance to the alert, I mentally want to head desk. "Fuck. I forgot to take my meds last night."

His gaze is sharp. "That's five love."

It is one of the bad habits I have been trying to break. Where the word was picked up in college, I do not know. I rarely have a problem with it in public, but at home, I can be a bit of a sailor. His hand is a stinging reminder to keep that particular word off my lips.

"Now or later, Brat?" He is getting ready to pull his belt through the loops.

"Later..." Not that it will save me much. But I had hoped to wear my dress today and the redness would show; public humiliation is a hard boundary for me. One he has always respected.

My last relationship was not a healthy one. I had a "dom" who did not deserve me; his demands far exceeded the time we set aside to bleed heavily into our outer life. Possessive, jealous, controlling... he manipulated my emotional state and trapped me into the relationship. It nearly ruined my life. When I could be free of his reach over summer break (I lived a literal thousand miles away from my school), I broke up with him. He then proceeded to blackmail me into a final dinner and "date" over the next year.

The smartest thing I ever did was take a friend with me. The dumbest thing I ever did was agree to it in the first place. It was a secret I kept from my fiancé; I felt worthless, foolish to even have considered it. Speaking about the event made it feel like the filth of the emotional abuse still clung... And I did not want to admit that it did.

That secret almost cost me everything.

His fury when he discovered one side of the messages almost half a year later... it was the only time my Master has ever slapped me. The sting of his hand to my cheek; the anger in his voice. My heart felt like it might stop beating and bleed out my throat. I had betrayed him by my lie; by not speaking up. Now he doubted me.

He gave me two options: to walk away forever, or to take the punishment after which I would have two months to prove that I loved him. I took the punishment. In the two weeks that followed there was not a day that I did not dread going home. I could see the disappointment in his face; he would not kiss or touch me. The privileges I had taken for granted were gone and without them, I ached.

The lash, for all the pain and bruises it inflicted, helped. The pain in my soul was a little less each time. Whether flogger, leather or clothe belt, I took as many as I could stand. I could feel His pain in the strikes as they bit into my skin. It took all of my focus not to crumple under the weight of my Master's displeasure. But when my strength failed, when my body could not offer more, I also felt his love.

After every punishment, he rubbed the cooling gel into my back, ass, and thighs. When they were particularly tender, he also pressed ice to them. He was not merciful. But he was kind, even in his darkness.

In the two months which followed, I slowly worked on my openness to him. We were not intimate; until the vanilla life was fixed, there could be no sprinkles. There were many nights of frustration, tears, and sometimes pain. Out of that mud bloomed the understanding, strength, and communication which we needed. Without that dark time, we would not be as close as we are today.

His hand comes under my chin, lifting it as he kisses my lips softly. "You got lost in thought sweetheart, and we need to go..."

Shaking off the memory, I pull on my jeans and boots. A quick grab of my wallet, a swallow of water to chase my pills, and then we are off. The errands are run quickly; the extra time allows a special treat as we grab Hawaiian bread sandwiches. Sweet, spicy, and savory they fill without being heavy.

He teases me with pieces of fruit as we continue the drive; when the last town is an hour behind, he pulls off at the cabin grounds. Stepping out of the car, I head up to unlock the door as he grabs things from the trunk. This is our paradise. One weekend a month, we come up here where there are no neighbors for several miles... and society has no eyes.

We share the cabin with two other couples. Each rotates what weekend they come up in order to give each other the necessary privacy.

I air out the house, removing the sheets from the furniture and beds. The taps are left to run for a minute to clear any rust from the pipes. The food He deposits in the kitchen is put away neatly. When the cabin finally is ready, His arms wrap around me from behind.

"Strip."

My clothes are removed, folded and set in the closet. The only item not removed is the golden butterfly about my throat. Goosebumps trail up my arms; my nipples pucker in the cool air. The heat between my legs seems more prominent as a breeze licks my thighs. But it is the darkening of Master's eyes as they rake over bare flesh which brings the fire to life.

"Kneel."

Folding my legs gracefully, I settle into a seated kneel with my hands on my splayed thighs. Desire leaks from the lower lips; arousal's scent permeates the air. Anticipation sends shudders through my muscles as he inspects my position visually. Subconsciously, I pull my shoulders back so that my breasts stand out a bit more.

"Bow."

My hands sink to the floor in front of me; I press my forehead down into them. I feel the tickle of his fingers stroking my back as they work up into my curled golden hair. With a firm grip, he brings my head up to stare into his eyes.

This is the hardest part. It always has been. His gaze is intense as though he can see through me. My eyes are afraid to look back; will he be pleased with what he sees? Will he allow me to please him? But I have learned not to look away because of fear. Instead, I remind myself of why I love my Master... and when I look into them, I know he loves me.

"Dien lo que, meishan mei." The words bind me tighter to him. They are a reminder that I am his; that he is committed to me forever. The tone resonates with love, pride, and promise which melt away the insecurities.

I smile for him. "Dien lo que, teishan te'i Seiseini." The words which used to trip my tongue now roll out easily, my slight lilting accent coloring them with joy and shy anticipation.

He kisses me fiercely before releasing his grip. "To the main room, my Lotus. It is time for us to play..."

And as I crawl into the main room, my eyes fall on the instruments of His pleasure... And I feel a familiar flutter in my chest. This might be more than I bargained for. A coil of rope, a spreader bar, a red ball gag, and a few which are hidden beneath a blanket all laid next to the central pillar.

"Stand prone to the pillar." I stand, turning so that my chest is caressing the wood with my arms behind my back. The cool wood is polished but there are two rougher sections which just skim my nipples. He draws my arms around the pillar before securing them with the rope. The soft coils then wrap around my waist, binding it flush and effectively eliminating any wiggle room which might have been left.

Comfortable in the pressure, I rest my forehead against the pillar peacefully. There is a pleasure to being helpless; whatever happens next is outside my control, so I have no worries.

"Safe word, pet?"

"Spider." There is no word which I can shout louder or faster. There is also no creature I fear more.

He holds up a Halloween plastic spider ring. They come ten cents a dozen at most party stores, usually in black. Children often string them up in cotton. This one is neon green and attached to a small silver bell. "Since you will not be speaking for this portion, you will drop this instead." He presses it into my palm and pauses to be sure it is secure.

As he rolls the ball gag in place, He continues. "We will be pushing some of your boundaries tonight, Butterfly. I promise you always; you will not be hurt. You may, however, be disciplined if you fail to follow my instructions."

I nod once to show I understand.

"Good girl... Eyes closed. And be still."

I want to relax into the stillness of the rope. But there are tension points playing in my back and shoulders as I await His will. The first touch draws a reactionary flinch of the muscles; the warmth of his hand relaxes them a moment later as I grow used to the sensation.

Suddenly, there is a sharp thin burn in my shoulder blade. It feels as though there is a needle slicing through the skin in various shapes. I can't hold in the hiss behind the gag as I try to resist the pain. When tension is starting to knot my muscles, he withdraws. Cool, flat metal is then pressed against the lines; the realization sinks in. He's using knives on my back.

A thrill draws a shiver across my skin at the thoughts. I want to look to see if I am right. But instead I turn the energy to focus; his will is that I keep my eyes closed. My desires are second to his command. Obedience must be absolute or I am polluting the devotion I must give. Skin becomes iron. I am just a statue now.

Dragging the tip down my spine, he makes a wide loop before spiraling from my low back up to my shoulder. Self control has made me a statue; even in the pain, I resist the need to pull away. He takes the slices lower on the next pass, following the curvature of my ass and down my inner thighs.

"Spread."

I obey, bringing my feet to shoulder width. He nudges them half a step further before locking the spreader in place. Something firm is rubbed along my slit before he presses the egg inside. The vibrations are teasing, a pleasurable contrast to the tender outer flesh. He varies the speed as he continues to mark me as his living canvas.

Each wave of the vibration and shocking edge of the knife has me teetering on edge. My hands clench tightly together; my throat whimpers with the need to come. The fire continues its trail around my body to stoke the flames higher. I am a mess of need; my body yearns for more even as my mind despises the painful edge. Soon the slender egg is replaced by the thicker rabbit which begins to torture my clit as it thrusts inside me.

The whimpers become muffled pleading. My body trembles with the effort to hold back; my forehead is drenched in sweat. The knife is withdrawn. He presses a kiss to my forehead. "You will come for me, my lotus... but not yet." The rabbit stills and no cursed sound I make will turn it back on again.

His hand snaps against my ass sharply in reprimand. Good girls do not whine. The desire steps back as the burn settles in the handprint; I regain my head and focus.

The ball gag is eased from my lips.

"I am going to untie you. You will take five minutes to freshen up. You will then present at the foot of our bed. Clear?"

"Yes, Master."

It takes me a few moments to rest, but I present at the foot of our bed with thirty seconds to spare.

Kneeling toward the door, I take a deep breath. A longer session will take endurance of both body and mind. My passion for servicing my Master demands that I pleasure him and yet there is something erotic in not being permitted to touch him without permission. The pleasure of a kiss, when you cannot kiss back, is intense. There is no way to "gate" the senses against its sear by searching for another's pleasure.

The heavy footfalls tell me that He is coming. I keep my eyes to the door expectantly. He is in his dark scrubs; they are soft and loose on his legs. The flow of the fabric elongates his legs and hips so that he seems to tower over me.

He holds a single finger to my lips. "You have been 'stretching' against your limits, pet. Our rules are not up for negotiation or bending. So for the next twenty minutes, you will do nothing. I'm going to tie you up, naked and helpless, and abuse that pussy until you are begging me to stop."

A pink buttplug appears from his pocket.

"And this is going to help me do it."