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Perhaps another person would have thought, based on her performance with Brendan, that she liked ritual scarification. So much that she would subject herself to well over sixty separate burns. But Tyler knew what he was looking at, understood it now because of her reluctant admission. I can't handle hands. . . in the dark. And because he knew what a cigarette burn
looked like.
Submissives often dealt with a lot of emotional baggage during the first rough steps of learning to relinquish control as they craved to do. At some point in her life, she'd had control wrested from her, repeatedly.
And she wondered if he thought her foolish and weak? Her courage humbled him beyond words, as did the faith she didn't even realize she'd offered him by choosing him to fulfill this requirement.
It looked like the pattern wasn't finished. While balanced, it was obvious the inflictor had spaced the burns so the design would fill in over time.
"You said you wouldn't ask. " Her voice came into the pregnant silence.
"I haven't. Just tell me one thing. Is the son of a bitch dead?" Her body tensed and he ran his hands up her arms, gentling her. "Don't answer, sweetheart. I promised no questions. I withdraw it. " But he'd make it his business to find out, to make sure whoever had done this to her was no longer a threat. He would prove himself worthy of her faith.
"I could just be into burns. "
"If that were true, you would shiver with pleasure when I touch you there. Instead you go cold and still, like a corpse. "
His arm went around her back and under her knees. He lifted her, setting her down on the marble surface of the square center of the pool. "That stream you're feeling is warm water flowing over the marble from small openings all along the edges. " Easing her back, he laid her head down and straightened her arms.
"Hold on to these. " He threaded her fingers beneath a metal bar embedded at the left and right corners just above her head so her arms were stretched out to either side, at an angle just above the height of her shoulders.
Marguerite felt the cuffs come down, snap into place over her wrists and was glad for the bars to curl her hands around.
"I'm here, Marguerite. Don't forget that. " His hands were on her legs now, spreading her thighs about two feet apart. Then the thigh restraints were locked down.
Next came a band beneath her breasts, which pushed them up. He added a restraint above her breasts, compressing them. Another strap tightened securely at the waist. Her ankles were also cuffed down and now she had no mobility except her head. Almost as soon as she had the thought, she felt his hands at her neck. He buckled a strap loosely around it and then apparently clipped it to two restraining hooks on either side. He performed the same process across her forehead. Now she could no longer lift her head.
"Tyler. . . " Her breath was moist against the edges of the mouth opening of the mask.
His hand lowered to toy with her right breast, caress the nipple, making her want to squirm against. . . something. But her legs were spread. The only thing touching them was air.
"Tyler. "
"Yes, Marguerite. " The voice of a Master, implacable, aroused.
"You didn't say anything about. . . " She stopped, started over. "Why did you restrain my head?"
"Because I intend to pleasure you often while you're being shaved. When you go under water, you'll be holding a tube in your mouth for air. If you should turn your head from side to side you might drop it or dip it in the water. The fit of the mask keeps the water from coming in and getting up your nose if you're relatively still. I'm going to start lowering your upper body. Your hips will elevate as your head goes underwater.
You won't be able to hear me but just remember to breathe through your mouth. If you're in distress, I have a control that will release all restraints simultaneously and bring the tablet up. Do you understand?"
"Yes. " She wondered if she was ever going to be able to stop trembling.
He bent, placed his lips on her bare abdomen just below the point of her rib cage.
He lingered there, stimulating the area with his lips and tongue. When he rubbed his cheek against her, she found the gesture reassuring.
He moved closer to her head and his jeans brushed against her fingertips. When he laid his hand over hers and pressed the backs of her fingers against him, she felt his hard cock beneath the denim. "That's what looking at you naked and spread like this does to me. "
She straightened her fingertips, felt the ridge of his head, prominent against the fabric. She could do this. She would. And with an unexpected feeling she refused to define as guilt or confusion, she realized that she could do it only because he was the one here, the one doing it.
"When your head first goes under you may feel a moment of claustrophobia. Just take deep, slow breaths through the tube. It's important that you obey me in this, obey me in all things now. You'll focus all your attention on my touch. There will be nothing but my hands in your awareness. No fear. "
"How do I tell you if something is wrong, if I need to stop?"
"I'll be watching you very closely. " Tyler knew a safe word or gesture would do her no good at this juncture because everything was panicking her. He gazed at her body, vibrating with hyper-excited nerves. Her lips, the only visible feature of her face, repeatedly pressing together, moistening. Her arms, restrained out so he had access to the beautiful curves of her breasts rising above the fragile network of ribs, her legs spread open. He wondered what it would be like to keep her this way forever, at a level of arousal that would make her come again and again. Leave all her fears and worries behind. It was the first time in a long time that he'd had to fight so hard against a desire to keep the woman who had agreed to submit to him. He wasn't sure if he completely had her agreement but he was going to do his best in this session to convince her that forever could be a very pleasurable word.
"Open your mouth. "
