by Louise Wu
Already giving up the argument, which I cannot win, I allow my gesturing hand to
capitulate onto his muscular thigh. Every time we talk about the night we first
fucked, he insists on this point.
"You did, Alex." Walter's easy, impetuous smile makes every moment of pain
between us worth having endured. His fingertips brush my cheeks. "Here and
here." He sits back against the sofa and watches me shake my head at him.
I still question what I can see so plainly on his face. He doesn't even have to
say it anymore. He finds me beautiful.
How can he? It's insane. I'm not beautiful inside. He knows what I am, what I
was, and why.
And yet, every now and then, he makes me believe it, too.
Beautiful, Walter? You're the beautiful one.
I wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull myself in closer to his warm body,
so I'm straddling his lap. I need you so badly. I don't want to remember. Don't
say anything more, just let us be close.
He kisses my temple and says, "When I killed you, I experienced the most intense
visceral pain. I suddenly felt certain that you were trapped, just as I was, and
I desperately wanted to take back the bullet." His voice is unnaturally low.
I've heard it from him before. He feels guilty. Is he mad? I can't
bear it. "I killed you first, Walter." I try to make my voice sound harsh, but
it doesn't work with him. Not anymore.
"I know," he replies in the usual resigned tone. "But shooting you was a
defining moment in my life. I realized that you were a human being, too. Whose
actions, in an unbelievably bad situation, weren't so much worse than my own.
I... I'm sorry I killed you, Alex."
He's said it to me seven times in the nearly two years we've been together. I've
never apologized to him.
I sit back and look him straight in the eye. "I'm sorry, too, Walter," the words
sound clipped as if my mouth is unwilling to say them, "for every... uh,
everything I did to you." I've always been afraid to say it... afraid any
apology of mine could never be enough.
Walter's soulful brown eyes darken and glisten with moisture. "I forgive you,
Alex."
The sudden pain in my chest makes it difficult to breathe. Trembling, I fall
against his body, seeking his strength. His arms close around my waist,
squeezing me so tightly I think my ribs will crack. And it's just what I need.
He always knows.
I kiss his forehead and whisper, "Fuck me, Walt."
I feel his silent nod. He understands.
When we get to the bedroom, I sit on the bed. He gazes at me, assessing. Then
his expression shifts. Becoming... imperious.
God, I adore this man. I slip off the bed and onto my knees. Head bowed, I
offer, "How may I please you, sir?"
"Good boy," he whispers almost inaudibly. His fingers caress my hair. I turn
into his touch wanting more of anything... everything.
"Take off your clothes." His voice is gentle—it's a command, but he knows I'll
obey. And I know he'll make me obey if he has to. It's what we both want.
As I peel off my clothes, he opens the trunk at the foot of the bed. I feel a
flutter in my chest. Once I'm naked, I remove the prosthetic and stand with my
hand behind my back, waiting for him.
Walter tosses some leather items on the bed, then gazes at me for a moment. His
eyes shine with an emotion I can't read, but it's a good one.
With a hand at my neck, he tilts my head back, then bends down to kiss me. It's
the kiss of a conqueror. As my mouth opens to give myself up to him, my knees go
weak. I need him to want me, and his demanding tongue takes me with fierce need.
He does want me.
He bites my lip gently, then smiles at me. He likes to see my lips swollen after
a kiss. I bite it myself, much harder, so as to not disappoint him. He slaps me
lightly on the cheek... a mild reproach.
I lower my eyes... silently asking forgiveness for my transgression.
"Stand up."
I comply.
"Turn around."
"Yes, sir."
Walter wraps a familiar leather belt around my waist. After cinching it, he
cuffs my wrist and locks it to the d-ring at the back of the belt, so my hand is
held at the small of my back. Where he usually prefers it.
The first few times we did bondage, I was afraid. Massively turned on, but still
scared. So many awful things had happened to me when I was overpowered.
But now testing the binding and finding it secure makes me feel safe. I'm
relinquishing my control to him. And he takes better care of me
than I do. By offering myself for whatever he requires, I free myself from the
straightjacket of my own miserable attempts to control my world.
Walter guides me to the bed. "On your back."
I shiver for no reason. He usually fucks me on my belly, because it's easier for
me. Less... intense. As I assume the position, I flex my fingers under me. He
won't forget that my body weight is on my hand, but I try to remember, too... so
I won't ever have to use our safeword.
Walter secures a leather cuff on my ankle, then fastens it to one corner of the
bed. When the second is similarly bound, I've lost most range of movement. I can
lift my stump—he never binds it. That would be hard for me. I dread and
anticipate the day he takes me there.
I could sit up, awkwardly. But I like the feeling of being held by his bonds. To
have my choices limited. To give myself up to him.
It's a big bed; my legs are spread wide... wide enough to be uncomfortable.
Warm hands at my groin adjust my hard-on to some placement he finds more
pleasing. He likes any position that leaves me helpless, with my cock and balls
on display for him. I'm completely exposed to him like this. He sees everything,
even the parts I try to hide.
Walter gazes at me. "Beautiful, Alex."
Fuck. He's not talking about the bondage. He's talking about my suffering. It
hurts me to be so vulnerable to him, yet I crave it. I never let myself want
anything... but this... I live for it. To take anything from his
hand, no matter how difficult for me. Harder is better. I need him to make me
prove my devotion. Over and over again.
My eyes meet his. Can he see my desperate longing? More, Walter. Make it harder
for me.
Walter undresses slowly, gracefully, but not with any intention to turn me on.
Nevertheless, the sight of his muscular body, long legs and thick erection
produces an instant reaction in my entire body. I don't know what I need
exactly—and that's good, because it's his choice, not mine—but suddenly I need
it even more desperately than I did a minute ago.
Walter sits on the bed. His cock is only a few inches from my face. "Do you want
me to hurt you?" He's not asking my opinion about what he should
do next. He's demanding that I admit what I need from him.
The pre-cum at the tip of his cock makes my tongue twitch. I manage a whimper
and a nod.
He grabs me firmly by the hair. "Boy, I asked you a question." He doesn't even
raise his voice, because he knows he doesn't need to.
"Yes, sir." I try to find saliva in my dry mouth. "Please."
My eyes are glued to his groin as he encircles his cock with his fingers and
jerks it twice. Slowly.
I'm starting to hyperventilate.
Shifting his body over mine, he holds the tip and brushes it down my cheek,
across my chin and over my lips.
I will my mouth to stay still.
Wait for permission, boy.
A faint moan escapes from my lips as he teases me, still running the head of his
cock back and forth across my lips. Lips that want to suck it so badly...
After an eternity, he says simply, "You may."
Taking it into my mouth at once, I suck on it and swirl my tongue around the
satiny head. I use my teeth lightly around the rim, knowing he loves it. He
rewards me with a soft groan.
When I try to go further down his shaft, he pulls me away by the hair.
At the loss of his cock, I feel the tickle of an objection starting to form, but
I remind myself that I am subject to his will.
He steps away, and I see a black object in his hand. It's a small whip. I
despise that whip. A little, fine-bladed, prissy looking thing that you'd think
some wimpy bottom would buy.
Kneeling on one knee, between my legs, he drapes the whip across my thigh. It
tingles mercilessly. My cock is so needy my hips shift a little trying to find
some friction in the air around it.
The whip strikes out against my inner thigh. The sting awakens my hypersensitive
skin. His eyes are glued to my face... watching every minute reaction.
A soft slapping sound accompanies each crack of the whip. I cannot take much of
this teasing... need him hurting me or fucking me or something more.
Walter slowly increases the force. The sting grows into a bite. Then a burning
bite. Then a brutal scratching bite. It feels like it cuts me... deeply.
I force myself to keep my eyes open, so he can see what he's doing to me. My
balls ache. My cock is desperate for touch... even pain... anything but neglect.
When he whips me even harder, I cry out unmanfully. It hurts like a
motherfucker. Dammit, something that hurts like that should look mean.
Walter grins and chuckles. "I know you don't like this one."
"No, sir," I admit. Fearing he'll take that as a complaint, I add, "You know
I'll take anything from your hand. Anything you want to give me."
"Yes, I do know, boy." His hand gently strokes my hip, dark eyes filled with
affection. "There's so much I want to give you."
My thighs are enflamed. I force myself not to squirm, not to fight. It's his...
whatever he wants.
When he shifts the whip to my cock, I wail. The bite of the whip is painful and
brilliant at the same time. I fight the urge to try to pull away, knowing that I
am helpless to escape this. At the same time, I realize I could come from it...
the pain is driving me toward a brutal orgasm.
"Please..." I mutter ineffectually. Please what? Stop? Don't stop? Don't let me
come?
Suddenly, I realize that he's doing this for me. His dominance is his love. My
pain coalesces into something else... it burns intensely... burning away ugly
parts of me. Parts that I don't want anymore.
The rush when it comes is huge. The only alert cell in my brain is the one that
knows I belong to him. Miraculously, I am a piece of flesh for his spectacularly
perfect use. My own vulnerability—hated and despised—is now perfect, too.
I'm floating off the bed when his fingers appear at my mouth. But he only does
that after a whipping. Oh. It is over. That rasping sound is me
trying to get oxygen into my lungs.
Disappointment crashes into relief, and I kiss his fingertips, muttering, "Thank
you, sir," in a voice that sounds like it's under water. Thank you for bringing
me here. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me belong to you.
The fingers disappear. I feel them brush across the raised surface of my thighs.
Welts. Heat is radiating off my skin. My hard-on is on some strange plateau of
stimulation I've never experienced before.
I lose track of the room for a moment, then realize he's released my ankles. He
locks them together and opens my knees, pressing them to my chest.
Something cold finds my anus... lube. His fingers probe briefly before
withdrawing. I spread my knees as far as they can go. Eager to have him take his
pleasure from my body.
Walter inserts himself between my legs, so they're bound around him. He shifts
into position over me. Fighting the urge to hide my face, I meet his gaze. I
belong to you, Walter.
His cock breaches my entrance and fills me quickly. I love the sensation of
being stretched by him. I am deliriously grateful for the bulky size of his
cock, so that taking it always seems a bit impossible.
He fucks me slow and hard. I can feel the tension building in his body. The
smooth slick feel of him inside me is pure pleasure. Nothing is more right than
being fucked by him.
He draws almost all the way out before entering me again. Each reentry is
blissful torment.
My cock is throbbing relentlessly. Every thrust squeezes it wonderfully between
our bodies. He won't touch it while he's fucking me. I could almost come like
this... so agonizingly close.
Walter shifts his position for maximum force and fucks me faster. I love the
feel of his heavy body as he slams into me. Want to find bruises on my ass
tomorrow morning. To be reminded of what he did to me.
The choked sound of his breath tells me he's near coming. I concentrate on the
muscles around my ass and squeeze.
A low moan comes from deep in his chest and his body seizes with the force of
his orgasm. I can feel the contractions of his cock as he ejaculates deep inside
me. Some sort of animal cry comes from me, too. The shared joy of his orgasm...
When he collapses, he rolls onto his side, taking me with him, scooping me into
his arms and crushing me to his body. My cock is impossibly hard, but I'll do
without release for as long as he wants. An hour. A week. A year. Anything to
demonstrate my devotion.
Just to lie here pressed tightly in his strong arms—listening to his breathing
as it slows—is ecstasy. Knowing that the intensity of his experience came from
my body... from me.
"Do you want to come, boy?" His voice is still imperious, but also weary with
post-orgasmic lassitude. It makes me smile.
My body is desperate for release, but... Whatever Walter wants. "If it pleases
you, sir."
"It does." His fingers close around my erection. "I'll make you wait another
time."
He will, too.
My body writhes awkwardly as he jacks me off. I must look like the graceless,
horny slut I am. I don't care. I'm his graceless, horny slut.
That's all that matters.
His smooth palm on my cock is brutal, searing, all-too-perfect sensation.
"Please, suh," I mutter. Oh, fuck. "Pluh-lease, sir."
Like every all-too-human bottom, I've timed the request. Allowing a few seconds
for him to agree. Knowing he may say no. Hoping against hope that he won't.
But he knows me. "Alex, can you see the clock?"
"Huh? Um, sir..."
"The clock."
"Yes, sir," I hiss. Not coming RIGHT NOW feels like it will shatter my body into
a million pieces. Will he put me back together? I know he will.
"You may come when it reads 11:47."
It's 11:45 now. And it's a goddamned digital clock with no second hand. I want
to curse and scream.
No, wait... I accept. If this is what he wants, I'll give it to him. Even if it
is impossible. He's given me the impossible... his forgiveness.
The clock turns suddenly to 11:46.
The hand on my cock feels rough now. My orgasm is so far past imminent... I have
no control left. I'll never be able to wait for the clock. Then I realize that
Walter controls my body. I will come when he wants, and not before.
It feels like a revelation.
My eyes glued to the sadistic clock, I try to relax into his touch. Whatever you
want, Walter.
As soon as I see the red six become a seven, my body detonates into an all-body
orgasm. It feels like there's a wave of high-pressure blood bursting through
every vein. My toes are throbbing. A sound vibrates off the walls... my scream,
I realize as I twitch helplessly around my pulsing cock.
Then my brain melts.
Vegetative, I am only vaguely aware of his gentle hands, releasing the bonds,
massaging my wrist, my shoulder. His lips at the side of my face. "You are
incredible, Alex."
I want to object. He's the master, not I. But I can't find the energy. My body
goes limp on the bed, the release of so much held in for too damned long. The
blissful reward for my submission.
There's a reverence in the way he tops me that gives away his respect for my
ability to submit to him. It can only be a pittance compared to the way I
worship him, but still... I hold it close to me. His esteem kept me alive when I
had no self respect.
He touches my cheek to get me to look at him. "I truly and completely forgive
you, Alex. I forgave you the day I shot you." The words seem almost redundant
after the fuck, but it soothes me to hear it again.
It scares me how much I need him.
"If my alien pal hadn't been hanging around that day, I wouldn't be here with
you." I gesture vaguely at the room around the bed. It's a pitiful statement of
my gratitude. All this... The sex. His cleansing dominance. Our home. Our life
together.
Walter reaches into the bedside table and retrieves a small bottle, which
contains the three bullets the healer removed from my body. He looks at them and
doesn't say a word. He's remembering, I think. And feeling grateful. Grateful
for me. I can't begin to understand why I have been given this
tremendous gift.
He rarely tells me that he loves me, but he shows me. All the time. In the best
possible ways anyone could ever demonstrate love.
I wrap my body over and around him. I hope I show him enough. I love you so
desperately, Walter. I kiss his cheek and allow my tears to fall on his face.
Without a word, he holds me and just lets the moment be.
When I'm nearly asleep he murmurs, "You did blush."
I frown into his armpit, but then something washes over me, and I accept. "Okay.
I blushed." Settling back into his embrace, I allow myself to drift off.
END
did not blush. I never blush."
27 May 2001
