Origins

I can't say exactly how long I stood there; what felt like hours was surely no more than one, probably less. Funny how my mind did not wander at all. Every thought, each notion focused solely on Him. What was He thinking, how long would He leave me, was He watching me?

Bringing me suddenly and with great relief back to reality, I felt His hand on my head, slowly and methodically working through my tangled hair. I at once relaxed and leaned into the gentle touch, unbelievably thankful for His attention. His hand, close to my scalp, tightened and I opened my mouth in mild pain as He forced my head back. Still standing behind me and gripping, He kissed around my damp eyes before pulling me back away from the corner. I stumbled clumsily and my hands automatically went up to cross my chest protectively, self-consciously. "Hands at your sides," He said lowly, and I obeyed shakily.

He pushed me in front of Him and guided me back into the bedroom. Standing by the side of the bed He told me to spread my legs, which I did. "Farther," He said. "Farther." They were open now a bit more than shoulder-width apart, and He moved His hand from my hair to my left hip, which He gripped tightly as His other hand went in between my legs. He roughly kneaded the inside of my right leg and I had to remind myself to breath. He laughed, still rubbing, and I knew He felt it to be wet. I was shamed and somewhat awed at the obviousness of my own excitement. I didn't understand then, nor do I really comprehend now how physical discomfort, how my feelings of submission, can so lead to real desire. "You are such a little slut," He said, mouth close to my ear, and my head lowered more, wanting my hair to shield my face.

Abruptly removing His hand from my leg, Knox turned me around to face Him. He turned my head up towards His, hands on either side of my face. I hesitantly lifted my eyes to His. "I'm going to beat you know," He said softly. I lowered my head again, nodding slightly, tears filling my eyes. He raised my face again and I struggled to look at Him. "You are not being punished, you've done nothing to offend me…terribly. I am going to beat you because I want to do so, and you will be obedient because I want you to be." I closed my eyes and nodded again, slowly.

I could feel my heart beating, could almost hear the rush of blood in my ears as He walked away and to the armoire. I had to remind myself again to keep my hands by my sides, and I watched Him carefully as He opened the drawer and rifled through it. Standing with His back to me, Knox said, "Lie on the bed, facedown, arms and legs apart."

I climbed onto the bed and did as instructed, turning my head away from Him and toward the wall. My arms, straight out, barely touched the edges of the bed, and I opened my legs as wide as I could, not wanting Knox to reprimand me yet again. As I heard Him approach, I couldn't help but turn my head to the other side, not knowing what He would use; I don't know what I had expected, but it certainly wasn't the plain black belt He held doubled over. I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek into the bed, afraid. Terribly afraid, shaking, lips trembling, yet—the desire to please Him immense.

Although I saw His hand raise, I was nonetheless taken aback at the first blow hitting my upper thigh, the tremendous sting and radiating pain that immediately followed. A sob escaped my mouth and I instinctively pulled myself into a ball, legs underneath me, arms in tight. Knox didn't say a word, just looked at me harshly and I resumed my position, the anxiety worse now that I actually knew what to expect. He hit four more times in close succession, on my ass, and I struggled to keep my legs apart. I knew that I was moving too much, fidgeting and I tried to still myself. The last hit the plug I still wore, that I had almost grown accustomed to, and while it didn't force it deeper, the shift made me ever aware of its presence, and how it must appear to Him. After the four, Knox reached down and touched where He had hit, His hand tracing, then massaging the already forming welts. As He touched I became aware of myself, the soft, pleading, almost animal-like noises I was making, the way my hands clenched and reclenched the duvet cover. Knox stood straight again, and I shut my eyes tightly, muscles tense, bracing myself for the next assault.

I felt the stinging slap again, and again, and again. My eyes, blurry with tears, opened and I found myself watching Him as He brought the belt down onto my back, legs, and ass. Knox wore a concentrating look, as if measuring deliberately the placement and pause between each blow. Quite suddenly He looked directly at me, and although I knew the eye contact was not allowed or perhaps welcome, I did not look away. He held this contact through the next several hits; with each one my eyes jerked closed, only to open and see Him still watching my face as the belt raised again.

When He was finished, Knox let the belt fall to the floor and I curled up on my side, breathing raggedly, my mind hazy and unfocused from the intensity of the pain. He sat softly on the bed, hands pushing the strings of wet hair, soaked from both tears and sweat, off my forehead. I reached for His hands, not thinking, needing to touch Him, to know something, to feel the closeness. His fingers brushed my lips and I pressed them close, kissing over and over again the hands that were responsible for such agony. He allowed me this, as one of His hands wandered around to my back and lower, again feeling the results of His actions. I shivered, trying to continue the moments of kindness as He lazily traced the marks.

Finding areas of unmarked skin, Knox began to pinch me, hard. My eyes widened with each pinch, though I learned quickly to remain still. If I moved, squirmed to get away from the fingers, He only held the skin longer, twisting cruelly until I stilled.

He stood suddenly and walked to the closet. I was entirely unprepared for what He was to bring, or rather drag out. As the object came into view, I realized it was a cage, probably one intended for crating a large dog. Inside appeared to be several blankets and a pillow. Knox moved the cage to the end of the bed and opened it, looking to me. I only stared back, mouth opening and closing in disbelief. He cleared His throat and I glanced up questioningly, pleading silently. "Do I really need to spell out such simple instructions for you?" He asked.

I shook my head no, and scooted to the edge of the bed. As I stood sorely, He said, "crawl." I lowered myself to the floor, faced flushed with embarrassment and crawled the short distance to the cage, stopping at its door. I looked up, eyes stopping at the buttons on His shirt, and looked back down.

"Would you like me to take this out for the night?" He asked, tapping the plug. I nodded and softly replied, "Please, Sir."

"That's most unfortunate," as He pushed hard against the plug and twisting is harshly, "perhaps next time you're to do something, you will remember not to hesitate." His foot then on my ass, pushing me into the crate, and I crawled in quickly, without complaint or pause. After I was completely in, having to curl up slightly to fit, He locked the door and came around to the side, where I was resting my face on my arms. His fingers reached through the thin metal bars and I immediately leaned close to them, kissing. "Be a good girl," He said, "We will continue in the morning." With that He stood, turning off the light and closing the door to the bedroom.