The characters I am portraying belong to Atlantis Alliance, CBS, Jerry Bruckheimer et al. I am playing with them purely for fun.
Definitely an 18 Rating. BDSM from the beginning and throughout.
Inspired by a challenge of 'Justice' but I just can't edit this down to the word limit for that challenge. All feedback welcome.
Spoilers: Lady Heather's Box
Sara's POV
I don't really understand how someone can be a sub. I've had a little bit of experience, experimenting with other people and it just hurts. The scientist in me knows enough neurology to know that pain receptors and pleasure receptors are just different so how can they crossover? That said the observational scientist has seen it in a number of partners, so I have to accept that in some people that crossover happens.
It's not like being a top makes me a monster. I provide pleasure to my partners, albeit pleasure in a way that most people don't understand. In an odd way I continue the illusion that makes up my life when I am a top. People think I'm always in control, or always attempting to control my environment. What *I* think is that I am always striving to observe and respond coherently to my environment, and so in places I control what I can. Topping is just the same. I might be the person with the whip hand in a literal sense, but I'm actually observing and responding to the cues I get from my partner. They are the one that is really in control - they limit what I do, giving both upper and lower boundaries to my behaviour. Within those limits I can explore, do what I want to have that illusion of control.
When Catherine came up to me and told me that she'd decided what she wanted to do to atone I froze. I'd always thought I understood the phrase 'gamut of emotion', but I would have to expand my definition after the sheer range of conflicting emotions that ran through me.
Predominantly, I was relieved that she had come to me, that she was trying to invite me back into her life. Part of me was scared, scared that I was looking forward to showing her how much she'd hurt me and scared for her - she looked terrified, and I was afraid she would come with something so big, so dramatic that I wouldn't be able to deliver what she'd chosen. As soon as that feeling registered in my brain other parts of me started working on ways to amend, control and render safe the situation. A very big part of me was still hurt and angry. An odd double-tug of anger, I was still angry that she'd pushed me away so hard for so long, and very angry that it had taken her so long to invite me back into her life.
With all those thoughts running through my head, all I could manage to croak was "I'll see you tonight then" or something equally trite. She's lucky, or I think she's lucky, that I managed to say even that. I still felt like a rabbit trapped in the headlights, frozen, but now I could see a range of emotions flickering across Catherine's face. She was not only scared about what my reaction to her offer would be, she was scared about what she was going to offer. She was going to do that big overblown gesture, and I would have to work out what to do about it. I noticed her knees flexing and her arms just starting to reach for me. She was going to beg me on her knees, which besides being traditional in lace as well as leather relationships was good, it meant I didn't have to control my face in quite the same way as if she was on her feet. She had enough self-control not to fall to her knees here and grab me, but only just. What *was* she going to ask me to do?
During the rest of the shift I was wondering what she would do, and how I could control the situation. The way she was seeking atonement was going to be apt to our relationship, but not really any different than in vanilla ones. She wasn't going to take me out to a posh restaurant or to a big show, or buy me a big bouquet of flowers, but the spirit of what she was doing was identical to that. Possibly identical to the whole lot of them all at once.
That night I turned up at Catherine's house and rather than using my key I knocked on the door. She needed to be in control of herself, to have the chance to make everything perfect before she let me in. She must have been expecting me though, because the door started to open whilst my hand was still in the air between the second and third knocks. She was wearing a long robe that was doubtless covering something interesting and leather. I could see her collar was on and locked shut, and a quick flash of a cuff on her wrist.
She stepped back inviting me in and shedding her robe as she closed the door behind me. I turned around and watched her as she stood there in the classic submissive's pose, legs spread and straight, hands clasped behind her head, raising and throwing her breasts forward, making those beautiful mounds stand even more proud. She'd gone for the minimal look, just a cuff on each wrist and ankle and a posture collar that was not too severe, but held her head up at all times. I'd noticed as I walked in the chest with all our other toys was in the middle of the room, with the various trays laid out so I could get easy access to whatever I wanted.
What I wanted just at this moment was to drink in the sight of Catherine standing there, holding still, displaying her body to me. It was too many days since I'd been able to see and touch her, now I wasn't going to give up the chance.
With a look I told her to stand still as I reached out to touch her flesh. Her eyes dropped, acknowledging my silent command, and I reached out to stroke her flanks, fondle her ass, stroke and then quickly pull and twist her nipples and then quickly dip my fingers inside her, giving her clit a quick flick too. The familiar feel of her body was sheer heaven to me, and judging by the tremours in her legs and the way her breath had changed from slightly nervous into a shorter, sharper lust-laden pant she had missed me too. Standing like this, open and on display whilst being totally still was something it had taken her a while to get used to. Now she loved doing it for me, and I enjoyed watching her breasts heave, the play of muscles under her skin, especially around her shoulders and chest. I walked around her as she stood there, drinking in the sight of her body, completely unmarked for the first time in months, reaching out and touching her, feeling her almost as I desired.
This is one of my greatest joys about being a top, that contact entirely on my terms, openly acknowledging the beauty of my lover, reinforcing my love and appreciation, but at the same time doing it wholly on my terms. It could be verbal, tactile, purely visual, or any combination but purely as *I* liked. Tonight I restricted my impulse to tweak, pull or twist, or even spank as I wasn't sure what Catherine would suggest as her atonement and I didn't want to spoil any part of that.
Leaving her standing there I went over to the equipment she'd laid out, trying quickly to see what was missing. A cursory glance wasn't enough, which meant it wasn't anything too obvious, but it could easily be a rope harness or similar that she'd set up. I was sure there was more somewhere, just not sure where. Trying hard to project the image I was still in control I stood in the centre of the room and looked at Cath: "You had something you wanted to tell me, I think?"
Cath's head shot up and she looked me in the eyes. The moment of truth was here, and she slid gracefully to her knees and then down onto her hands and knees before crawling towards me, keeping her gaze on my eyes. On another day, in another scene I might have used this as an excuse to threaten punishment, she had moved without permission, I had tacitly given her permission to speak, but not move after all. Tonight she would get away with that whilst I was waiting to hear what she had to say for herself.
I revelled in the sight of her crawling up to me. Catherine is beautiful from any angle, but her skills as a dancer showed as she gracefully made her way across the floor, swaying her hips and shoulders whilst keeping her eyes on me. Finally she was too close to me to keep her eyes on mine, but she continued crawling up to me seductively, before wrapping her arms around my legs and burying her head between my denim-covered thighs.
I could hear and feel her inhaling my scent. I wasn't always quite sure why, although she often did this, but this time I was pretty sure she was reassuring as many senses as possible that I was there, solid and not just a dream. Once she had done that she loosened but didn't entirely release her grasp on my legs whilst she arched her back so she could look up into my face. Knees through jeans aren't the most sensitive touch organs, but this nicely thrust her breasts against my knees, something that I could remember fondly from many other occasions. She swallowed convulsively, once, twice, thrice, trying to find her voice. That was enough to give me some idea of what she was going to ask for, to school my features and make my final consideration about my response before she actually spoke.
"Sara, my Goddess, I'm truly and deeply repentant about the terrible way I treated you after Eddie's death. You didn't deserve any of what I said or did. You said that you understood my instant reaction and had forgiven me for that. I don't know whether I would have forgiven myself or not, but you did and I should have moved on. I hurt you more and more, I know I did, but I've finally come to my senses. If you can ever trust me again I want to have you back in my life, in my bed, loving me back as I love you. You said I would have to atone for the pain I caused you, and I am ready to try. I don't think my pain will be the same, but it is the obvious way to atone, to let you cause me as much pain as I caused you. It came to me in a dream, just like you said it would. The punishment I think I deserve is..."
Her voice stopped. She couldn't bring herself to say it; I could see it in her eyes. A look slightly deeper into her eyes told me she was worried for two reasons. She wasn't sure she could take the punishment, and she wasn't sure I would think it was enough. With a flash of my eyes and a tip of my head I encouraged her to continue.
"The punishment I think I deserve is one hundred lashes in a full punishment rig." It finally came out in a rush. Two ropes, a blindfold and a whip, crop or similar would be enough for that, that much stuff could easily be missing from the room. I looked down as I took a breath. Catherine's eyes were full of tears and there was an interesting expression on her face, a mixture of being scared and hopeful. She'd said her piece, she wasn't quite comfortable with it, but she was comfortable knowing that the rest of the decision was out of her hands.
I was shocked. I knew, even if she didn't that I could easily kill her with 100 lashes. Certainly, I could permanently injure her by accident, and I didn't want that. I might not be as strong as a bosun in the old British Navy, but any punishment of three score strokes or more was regarded as a death sentence even then. Catherine may be pretty strong, but 100 lashes is really, really harsh, much harsher than anything she had ever experienced before. Even as I was thinking this I could see Catherine's nipples tightening, see that familiar pre-orgasmic flush spreading across her face and torso. She was turned on by the very prospect even as I was wondering how to make this safe for her.