He spoke a separate language with his eyes alone. They were so dark, I thought them black, and when they glinted in the candlelight of his bedroom that night, they appeared fiercely animalistic. The beast in him took my neck into his mouth as though my flesh were the sweetest nectar. His lips were my poison, and I thought they would surely be the death of me as they embraced my sensitive skin. His tongue was hot upon my throat; his teeth were cold and generous as they scraped my needy jaw line.

I was paralyzed when his fingers lightly brushed my cheek. They found my hair and roughly curled themselves within my tangles, so in moments I was melting into his commanding grasp.

Something violently passionate burst in my lower belly as his other hand slid down my back. I could hardly resist his delightful touch, or his sadistic glare. There was something beautiful about the pain his fingernails invoked when they raked up my side; there was something unimaginably exciting about the agonizing torture I experienced from his rough hands on my body. I'd never have believed it of myself, how easily I would submit to somebody like him.

He held me at arm's length, clutching my hair at the base of my scalp to keep me in my place. I fell prey to his power immediately. I would let him do whatever he pleased. He had complete control of me, and my sudden vulnerability made my skin crawl with delightful anticipation. I let him throw me to his bed with more force than I have ever felt executed against me. I was flung like rubber to the mattress, and I lay there limply as he inched toward me. His strong arms bridged over me, his face hovering over mine, tantalizing.

"You will not struggle," he told me firmly, his mouth sliding wetly over my ear as the breath of his whisper tickled my cheek. "You like to suffer, don't you?"

"Stop," I told him carelessly, but I knew I did not want him to stop, and he knew it, too.

He cackled. "No."

A groan of ecstasy was my reply as his tongue lashed out to taste my jaw, and I became everything he had always told me to be: I was suddenly his slave. "Yes," I answered him dutifully.

His hands forced mine above my head. I belonged to him. I bent to his will as his grasp tightened maddeningly. For a moment, he simply kissed me, and the kindness of it touched my heart. He pulled away, then, leaving my wrists cold at the absence of his gripping palms. He straddled me forcefully, his knees keeping me pinned as he reached over the side of his bed to retrieve something. A second later, the ominous sound of metal clanking greeted my ears. I gasped as two cold, steel cuffs secured me to the bedposts above my head. My skin burned feverishly in deep humiliation, and I grew severely damp between my legs. His violent grip slid down my arms, tormenting them with the touch I needed in the places of my body he was ignoring. My eyes closed involuntarily as my lust mounted.

"You filthy whore," he snapped in a low, furious voice. An echoing slap reverberated throughout the room, and the sting followed moments later. My cheek seared with the impact, and my eyes were watering behind my closed eyelids. I opened them again.

"I'm sorry!" I whimpered desperately. "Please!"

He leaned over the side of the bed once again. I could hear him opening drawers, and feel his hardness caressing my pelvic area through his pants. I was aching for him to relieve me of my needs, and I thought I might burst if he didn't make haste.

The swish of a blade caught my attention, and my heart seemed to stop. What was he thinking? How far was he taking this? The knife came into view as he slid back into my line of vision with a sneer. The candlelight from around the room bounced off of the blade, casting long stripes of reflected light on his pale face. He chuckled softly, and stroked my face with his free hand, while the flat edge of the knife slid torturously down my side. "Please what?" he asked seriously. The cold, hard brutality of his gaze sent delicious shivers down my spine. Shuddering beneath him, I could feel his erection grind against me, and my eyes rolled back in my head.

"P—please," I gasped, "Master."

He laughed. "Good girl," he praised roughly, and then without warning, I heard a tear. He had sliced away the fabric of my underpants. I stifled a deep moan with difficulty as the tip of the blade pressed threateningly against my inner thigh. He shoved his tongue inside my mouth, tasting every part of it. Unable to control my voice any longer, I let out a guttural moan of anxious desire.

I was rightfully punished for it. He pulled back, a disapproving glare prevalent on his features. He raised the knife to my throat, and pressed the dull edge hard into my flesh there. My pulse raced against the pressure crushing my windpipe, and my entire body was throbbing in time with my furious heartbeat, now. I closed my eyes again, half terrified and half exhilarated by this violent gesture. The knife's point trailed down my neck and over my fragile collarbone. It slipped beneath my nightgown, and with a horrible ripping sound, I felt the cool air strike my body as my only covering was torn from me. "Oh god," I moaned. "Oh, please, Master. Please!" His sensuous torment was too much for me to handle.

"No, you little slut," he growled, scolding me, cupping his hand around my neck as though to strangle me. "You are not to have what you want. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve anything, bitch." He held the blade to my cheek, and I felt my heart skip a horrified beat. "I could cut you right now," he snarled. "It would be only too easy." He took my lips between his teeth, and tugged on them lightly before moving his mouth to my jaw line. The knife he let circle my breasts as he sucked at the skin of my shoulder. My chest was heaving so dramatically, I was terrified the knife would slip and mutilate my breasts, but at the same time I was almost excited by such a possibility. It was not the idea of mutilation, but the notion of the complete and utter control he had over me that got me so excited, that invoked such thorough wetness between my thighs.

He stared directly into my face. His dark, storming eyes were clouded over with his vicious taste for dominating me. It made me shiver violently beneath him, and I began to sweat more profusely. The hand at my neck slid slowly down my body, leaving a hot trail of unsatisfied and disappointed lust behind it as it went. He threw aside the tatters of my once immaculate nightgown, and his palm carved a sweet, greedy path between my aching breasts and over my pulsing stomach. I let out a deep, throaty moan as his fingers dived between my quivering legs and delicately twirled my short hairs. He chuckled, his face contorting into an excited and terribly sadistic sneer. One finger slid slowly, torturously, inside me. I writhed under his touch. He removed himself instantly, and I whimpered loudly, obnoxiously so. He slapped me, and thrust his drenched finger forcefully into my mouth as punishment. I coughed, but remained obediently still as I felt the knife leave my sweating breast. I panted with relief, but only for a moment; a second later, something hard and cold had pressed itself between my legs, and I was shaking with anxiety again. The handle of the knife was slowly inching its way into my dripping center, and it was all I could do to keep my violently quaking thighs far enough apart so the blade would not cut them. I was growing sorer with every agonizing centimeter it went. I bit my lip, willing myself not to cry out from the strange feeling of the metal inside me. Tears leaked from my tightly clenched eyelids, while my body leaked around the knife penetrating it, staining the air with the smell of sex. My intense arousal was tangible in the atmosphere. How he was not succumbing to it, I did not know, for I was already its slave—his slave.

I began to groan as the handle moved deeper, and then retracted slightly. It began to inch out of me, painfully slow, and when I could feel it about to leave me, my suppressed cry burst free. "Please!" I squealed. "Please, don't stop!" At my plea, he let the knife slip out, and I felt a rush of heat between my thighs at the deliberate denial. My eyes were rolling with need. "God, Master… please…" I panted desperately. My fingers were snatching helplessly at the air, my joints cracking as my wrists struggled wildly in their confines.

"You're mine, aren't you, whore?" he whispered, his tone surprisingly gentle as he placed the knife off to the side.

I nodded weakly, my legs rising to take him between them. He shifted, and reached down to unfasten his pants. He removed them swiftly, and placed himself over my entrance. "Say it," he commanded, clutching my hair at the base of my scalp. My neck bent painfully, and I winced.

"Yes," I answered breathlessly. "Yes, I'm yours, Master—forever yours." I could feel the evidence of his excitement pressing against me, persistently denying me of what I desired most. I was aching from the knife he had allowed to take me before he did, and now I wanted—I needed him to have me, or I would surely explode. My restrained arms were shaking, and buckets of sweat seemed to be pouring down my entire body, soaking us both as our lust grew. He leaned in, and suddenly kissed me again. I could feel his naked body pulsing above me, and his lips tasting mine greedily, and the accumulation of all these sensations was making me crazy. My pleasure was mounting, and my hips were involuntarily bucking towards his, begging silently for him to claim me.

He groped for the knife again, dragging his mouth slowly away from mine, so that my tongue burned with disappointment and need. My heart rate increased even more as he took the knife to my side. The blade lingered threateningly on my skin, lightly tracing my curves. He sneered. Without warning, he shoved himself within me, and at the very same moment, sliced my flesh at my side. I let out a shriek like an offended bird, my hands balling into desperate fists as my entire body tensed with the pain spreading from the cut. A warm trail was leaking from it, and he placed his fingers to it, cleaning the wound. He dropped the knife again, and began to move slowly out of me. I heaved with the desire to keep him inside, and my breathing was a series of quiet, needy sobs. "Please," I begged, needing what I knew he could give me. "Please."

Laughing, he brought his bloodstained fingers to his lips. He thrust deeply within me, enticing another moan from me, just as his delicious tongue darted out from between his lips, and lapped up my blood from his fingertips. The image was strangely erotic, and my body gave an uncontrollable spasm of arousal beneath him. He began to move—slowly, at first, torturing me with his withheld passion, but within a minute, he gave a feral snarl, and completely overpowered me. I could feel every part of him inside me, hear slick flesh slapping together, and smell his warm, sweet breath on my face as he pounded me brutally into his mattress. The pain in my side mingled curiously with the ecstasy of his assault to my bruising hips, and I threw my head back, my shoulders aching to be relieved of their trapped position. He covered my wanting mouth with his hand, and my eyes rolled back in my head when I felt his other hand slip between us, and stroke me tenderly. A finger slipped between my lips, and I tasted my own desire on it. He caressed my tongue, and then withdrew his hand from my face. "Master!" I cried, thrashing about, now, loving how vulnerable he made me. "Oh, god, Master!" He slapped me once more as punishment for my outburst, and with another thrust, I felt an enormous wave of bliss—of pure, overwhelming passion—envelop me like a welcoming cloud of elation, capture me into wonderfully embracing hands, and toy with me until I could handle no more, so I fell, dizzy and bewildered, into overbearing exhaustion.

He released inside me very soon afterwards, and collapsed on top of me. We breathed heavily together, my arms still shaking from their continued struggle for freedom. I managed a small, whispered, "Thank you," and then fell silent in the serenity of the moment. The minutes began to stretch, and neither of us moved.

After a good long period of time, he sighed graciously into my ear. "You were wonderful, my darling," he told me quietly, reaching up weakly to unlock my wrists from their metal links. As my arms fell, one by one, I gave a grunt of appreciation. "You know I love you, baby," he said sweetly, placing his sweaty palm on my cheek and turning my head to face him. His love for dominance was glowing in his twinkling, black eyes, but his love for me far outshone that. I smiled at him sleepily, my eyelids drooping as I watched him. He seemed to sparkle in the candlelight.

I curled happily against his glistening body as I snuggled into his shoulder. He wrapped one of his strong arms around me, and kissed the top of my head lovingly. I inhaled deeply, taking in his masculine scent. "I love you, too," I whispered delicately, feeling my heart expand sincerely. This was the man I loved: a man who would do anything for me, and hurt me beautifully in ways that only he ever could. I trusted him with my life. He was everything I had ever wanted—my love, my Master.

A wonderful calm swept over us, and with his hand in mine, and our legs entwined, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I'm sorry if it sickened you, but I DID warn you, didn't I?