Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. What was now an angry shower had started out as an almost refreshing spring mist, covering the grass and the trees in tiny diamonds that twinkled in the few rays of sunlight borne behind dark clouds. Perhaps the unexpected turn of weather wasn't so unexpected to everyone else, but I had been too lost in faraway thoughts to pay the clouds much attention. Not even enough to bother with a coat, umbrella or even a hat. Simply put, I was drenched to the bone; clothes clinging to my supple form, illuminating my every curve and valley; hair slicked against my head and shoulders, a curl sticking to my cheek giving me an almost sheik look. Yes, quite fashionable, for a fish... or a girl lost, left to roam the streets in the pouring rain. Shielding my eyes from the onslaught of droplets, whilst pushing another dribbling lock off my nose I peer up at the street sign, squinting, pleading within my mind for this to be the right street. Again I am met by disappointment, but move on, tugging a soggy piece of paper out of my jean pocket, trying not to rip the remaining bits as I unfold and read the directions once more. Cocking my hip with impatience as I replay each turn taken and street name noted in my mind, grumbling in frustration as I stuff the paper back into my pocket much more carelessly than I took it out. Hazel eyes scan the adjoining street and row of houses perched just before the setting sun, a sigh of indignation as I begin to move down the puddle ridden street once more, stopping now and again to notice a street sign or two. Spying a man opening his umbrella to the rain as he steps out from his doorstep I run up to him, breathless as I beg to know where the street on the map is, pointing with my finger and a hopeful glance to him. For a moment his eyes narrow and a spark of light glimmers in my eyes then is gone as he shakes his head without acknowledgment. I move on behind him as he steps into the street and crosses, leaving me to trudge on in what seems a pointless journey. Tears nearly in my eyes, I turn down another alley, but stop, finding the other end blocked. Taking a deep breath I turn about to find a dark figure looming behind me. Before I can ask him to move, scream or otherwise, he throws a thick knot of fabric into my mouth and with one hand pulls a wide leather buckle tight behind my head, holding the fabric into place, his other hand holding my body against his. As I am being pulled deeper into the alley only a single thought crosses my mind... "Damn am I going to be late." I don't know if you realize the dilemma I face here. Fear of death, or even rape was no where on my mind, but rather, not getting to my appointed place on time was what sent my heart screaming and caused me to kick and scream. Not that I had a clue who had grabbed me, nor his purpose, but surely not arriving on time could lead to much worse consequences than even I could imagine from this single man and his dark desires. Enough with my bantering, let me get on with my story and perhaps in time you will understand. My eyes wide and nostrils flaring with each steamy breath, my soaked body pushes against his at least warmed a little by this. At first my feet try to keep up with his gait as I am dragged along, but it doesn't take long for me to realize that if I drag he will carry me, and if he carries me his body heat keeps me warm. Immediately I feel the backlash of taking advantage of such a situation, but quickly push it back. This man has no idea what he has his hands on, much less, why he might care about this small detail. Winding through the dusk laden streets, the rain refusing to let up, I bounce along on his shoulder, finding now that his body is nearly as soaked as mine he holds me ever tighter, fingers gripping into my ribs and hip. I lay my body against his back, cheek pressed to the muscles as they move and jerk with his stride, eyes fluttering closed now and again at the gentle rhythm... some piece of my mind wondering why someone hasn't noticed this man walking through the streets of the city with a girl held loosely on his shoulder. A familiar scent awakens me, binds me awkwardly to a chair. A leather strap attaching a foot to each leg of the chair, knees to the back where they meet the unfeeling wood. The top of the chair presses into my hips and belly as I am forced to double over it, breasts pulled through the slats and bound there tightly, blue and aching. Pert nipples caught by clamps that tug downward to dangling chains and a towel, laid over the back of my head and then each end attached to the end slats, holding my head tightly in place. I can't move. In fact, I am quite left open to the elements... again my reaction isn't what most might expect. I fear yet again that I am going to be late and that too, this little "situation" may be found anything but acceptable. I pull at my arms bound securely behind my back, forearm laid against forearm and wrapped tightly with rope. I let out a frustrated sigh and try to look for my assailants through the bars, but the room is dark except for what seems to be a bright and rather hot light on my body. I call out in hopes of something, a response; anything would be nice at this point... besides, maybe I could just explain that I have somewhere I really need to be. I begin to worry about my thought process, for it surely can't be normal to rationalize things in such a way, much less fear another's displeasure more than what might well happen here. For a few moments I struggle, on the off chance any one of these bonds was weak. Besides nearly falling over I find myself quite unable to move. I grumble something about wrong streets and the street that simple did not seem to exist, my cheek hot with emotion and irritation, my mind unable to let go of the notion that I am late. I cry out that I have somewhere to be, and then with a desperate plea ask them to do whatever it is they wish and get it over with... I really must be going. What is this... a birthday party? No, surely I am in danger. I was kidnapped for cripes sakes, and yet I am trying to bargain for an early parole. There is no sound, no movement, no change in anything. I sag against the chair, helpless in my bonds as I let my eyes close. My breasts ache and burn, nipples agonizing over the simple clips that dig into delicate tissue and I can't help but whimper and shift purposelessly in the chair. My hip bones etched with the memory of the chair back, cheek imprinted with the rails and my neck aching from the forcible cock to the side. My arms pull against their bonds, the ropes beginning to dig into the flesh, itching as they bite deeper and deeper. Time ticks slowly away and my mind begins to drift, suddenly wondering if anyone is here at all or if I have been left here to simply struggle alone. Now and again I twist or tug, almost involuntarily, simply wanting out of the painful restraints. My mind begins to play tricks on me as I swear I hear the soft fall of foot prints beside me, but see no feet... the touch of a hand, but see no body... even the skitter of a spider down my back, though really I had nothing to disprove that. New turns in my thought process led me to wonder who might find me and what they might do, say or even think. For a moment I wondered if I really cared as long as I was freed from these torturous bonds, then my mind screamed yes, careening back to that appointment I was never able to make, an instant flash of his angry eyes blaring wildly in my mind and it is only then, only upon my heart falling that I begin to sob, to truly feel the fear of my bonds, to know the helplessness of my situation and realize I am at the mercy of ... well, even that is up for speculation. Perhaps I am simply at the mercy of fate as I wait for someone to respond to my cries, my disappearance, or the mere knowledge that I am right here, waiting without consent for whatever they might have dreamed up. And again my mind takes a new twist, begging out loud for the very man who may well be ready to go off the deep end with my seeming lack of punctuality. The only one who even really knew I was missing or where I should be. It is in that moment, with those words of panic and fear, with a helpless plea that I feel something move within the room. I cry out louder, pleading for help, but the sound only stops and my words become nothing as I strain to hear any movement. Again the shuffle of feet. Quickly I try to assess who they might belong to. A man or a woman? Are they big or small? Is it the same person who brought me here or someone who might help but is too scared to approach? The sound of footsteps once again and I meet it with a plea, a desperate cry for help, but again I am met with silence, this time for what seems an eternity. I grow quiet; body shivering from the chill in the room and my sheer immobility. For a moment I wonder just how much time has really passed. It seems like days, but perhaps it is only hours, perhaps only minutes. The pain grows in crests and waves, beating without end, yet almost at the back of my mind, left there for me to contend with on some other level. Again the sound of footsteps, this time I bite my lip, keeping silent and this time they continue forward, stopping at the side my head is turned away from, leaving me blind to anything but a sense of nearness. A voice rises in my ear, whispering harsh words that burn. "The girl can be trained.... Can't she?" I try to nod, try to acknowledge that I am trying to do what they wish, but am greeted only with silence broken only by the sound of a heavy hand falling harshly upon my proffered ass. The skin quickly grows red and angry, the shape of the hand clear in my mind, a picture raises in fiery reds, met by another image of the same on my other ass cheek. I try to bite back my screams, but am unable to, every inch of my body now over sensitized, mostly from my desire to encounter something. "Oh come now... is that all you have in you, that puny little scream?" I hear him laugh madly behind me and I am suddenly quite sure he is insane. Again his hands fall, again I scream and again I hear him laugh. The madness has begun. The very start I begged for has begin tearing me apart and suddenly the emptiness of before doesn't seem like it was all that bad. His hand continues to fall, ass and upper thighs glowing and radiating heat. My body shaking with the force of each blow, welts rising on top of welts until I am shrieking in pain and gasping for air between hoarse cries. It is only when my body feels to break, the power behind his hand having shoved me so hard against the chair I have moved partially out of the light that he stops. I am left to sob to myself, left to shake in my chair, and it is now that I begin to think what I might have encountered for being late would have been a far cry from this torture. Nails drag down my angered flesh dragging another shriek from my sweat-soaked form, a shiver roaming my body as the digging nails slide down my thighs and skip off my calves. There is almost a sense of relief at the gentleness of this final move, but as I hear knees crack and feel a something move between my legs anticipation and fear steal my breath. I feel the soft sway of chain send a shrill hiss of pain through my chest, then for a moment their weight is gone. I take a deep breath in, not expecting the agony that meets my exhale as the now weighted chains are dropped from nipple height to yank, pull and bounce just over the floor. I yank and pull, scream and shout and every movement only manages to cause the cruel weights to sway and tear at my precious nubs. As I struggle, he grows silent, as though enjoying the show, letting me realize I am hurting myself. I grow limp, dizzy and hear a sharp voice. "Do you submit." "No, I cannot!" My voice shaking, mindless, but this is not something I can do. No, I will not give them me. The voice in my mind resolute, quite affirmed in its stance... my body not so sure. Am I willing to give my body to hell to save myself from their mercy? Perhaps my dilemma makes no sense, for surely a sane woman would scream "yes, yes... anything!" just to be free of such hell. But the price asked never guaranteed freedom, but instead compromised what freedom there might be left. It truly is more complicated than trying to remove myself from the bonds of a man I do not know. Some have judged me as insane I am sure, others are just lost and even a few more riveted, but I ask you this... let me finish my story, then you will need no explanation. I feel a hideous slash of air and then against the lower reaches of my back, white flashes scoring my vision, a hiss of air and another strike. The implement is hard and un-giving, only conforming to my body slightly and immediately I know it is not a whip, but it matters not as another crisscrosses the first strokes and soon my mind is numb of any thought but the agony that flows down my lower back and onto my already berated ass. He stops when he no longer hears screaming from me. Some piece of humanity draws him close to check on my well-being. His hands gently touch my face, flow down my back and then he whispers in my deaf ear, again and again till I respond with a faint groan. "Come now girl, submit." His hand gently caresses my shoulder as though to calm and soothe me. I look at him with hazy eyes, blinking incoherently. Again he whispers the words, but with no response from me beyond a blank stare he slaps my tortured ass, my gaze suddenly a bit more focused. Again he asks and again I refuse, this time my voice barely audible in the stark room. His movement is rapid as he pulls away and seconds later moves behind me, the chains suddenly lifted and this time the pain of them rising is nearly as bad as them falling, my eyes swollen with tears as I try to cry out in mercy to him, suddenly contemplating giving them what they want, the thought meeting a inner shriek that brings me from whatever state I had been in and back into the growing fire that has consumed me. For a few minutes, I actually feel there might be a reprieve from the torture on my nipples. While the clamps still torture them, they have dug so deep that pain is almost forgotten. Compared to all else going on, it almost seems like a minor bump, easily forgotten. I should know better. I should never assume anything. Have I learned nothing? For the first time since my arrival I feel the warmth of touch along my labia, creeping forward in search of my nub. A sense of hatred filling me in the realization that he now knows I am wet, drenched even. My untouched pussy is sopping wet and aching for touch... aching to be fucked and I can't help but hate it for that, yet my ass still tries to rise to his touch. Finding my clit his finger roughly rubs it. There is no gentleness about this foreplay, but the pleasure is still warm and undeniably comforting. I can't help but whimper out loud. My whimper is met but a clamp digging into my tender pearl, holding onto it tightly, and it is everything I can do to try to shut my legs, tugging at the chair, praying it might give in. The pain is unreal, causing my ears to ring and body to shake. Another slap to my ass brings my attention to Him again, eyes wide as they stare. "Do you submit?" His tone is almost demanding, unrelenting, but so am I and he is only met by silence. Again, with agitation growing in his harsh voice, "do you submit?" I whisper a faint, "No." That is all it takes for him to let go of the chain, the weights hurtling to the ground, ripping at my nipples and my clit. I feel my spine lurch backward, trying to peel away from the chair, body growing taut. The nerves in my clit reacting to the howling pain, sending shock through my entire being and for a moment I struggle to even breathe. "NOW, DO YOU SUBMIT?" Booming words fill the room, meeting the howl of my pain, but no answer. I feel his hand move and am frantically pulling at every bond as another, shorter chain, holding an additional weight is dropped to clack against the others. I can't answer, I can't even breathe. I don't even realize he is gone until he returns. Again his hands slide along my body, assuring I am in no danger and I hear a muted voice in the background, but nothing being said makes a lick of sense to my frazzled mind. Slowly, each weight is removed, met by a round of cries as my stretched flesh is allowed to retreat, as blood begins to find each, shock stealing me once again as nipples and clit are completely released of their prisons. I almost feel as though I might vomit or simply pass out, but for a time, nothing, no one touches me. Allowing me to regain my senses before I am tortured yet again? I can't tell and they aren't sharing. Once more I find my breath and slowly the cloud lifts from my mind. I shiver as my body grows cold, and the once hated pain of my bonds is barely a thought with the torment of my nipples and clit still such a fresh memory. For a long time I hung there, just letting the moments tick by. I can't really remember what I thought about, or if I did in fact think of anything at all. Frankly, it doesn't matter. The quiet was soothing this time and the pain and ebbing reminder that I am alive. Does it suddenly matter that I survived? Of course... I never wanted to die; it just simply wasn't forefront on my mind. What is it that plagued my mind so that the thought of death couldn't even push it away? After I don't know how long, a hand, rough, yet surprisingly tender, runs along the rise of my ass. It feels as though it might be fire itself and I draw a deep breath in, hissing behind clenched teeth, but really that is the only reaction he gets. I don't struggle nor try to pull away. His hand glides softly along my back, the smooth gesture sending goose bumps along creamy skin and as his hand reaches my shoulder he crouches next to me, piercing eyes meeting mine for the first time. "Do you submit?" this time his voice is almost kind, almost pleading, as though he might wish to remove me from this. I close my eyes not answering. I do not wish to give in, but god, I can't take anymore pain. This isn't what it is supposed to be... this isn't what I know. His hand presses lightly to my neck as he slowly loosens the cloth holding me there. I am able to lift my head some, but really I am still immobile. The freedom offers a new tension in my body, muscles rebelling against the new movement afforded them and I find myself keeping my face pressed against the chair anyway. Seeing this he removes the towel completely, letting my locks of chestnut hair flow freely onto the seat of the chair. Clumped and wet from sweat and tears, but it feels good to have them away from my skin, the heat finally escaping. "Do you submit?" His voice is still soft, but I can hear the frustration growing in it, especially when I don't answer. It takes perhaps only a second for Him to tangle my hair in his fingers, ripping my head upward, eyes growing wide at the intense pain as muscles resist the once hindered movement. Tears well up once more in puffy eyes and I whisper a weak, "No." He pulls on my head tighter, eyes wincing, chair pulling forward a bit in answer to his tug on my hair. "Why, why can you not submit? What makes you believe that you will even get out of here alive if you don't? Does your life mean nothing to you? Do you not understand that I have you at my mercy... I can break you and make you submit?" His voice was controlled but flashed with a strange mix of anger and something else, something I could not for the life of me place a name on. Again he shook my head, I fear to say the motion was violent, and then he looked me in the eye with an unforgiving gaze. "Will you not submit and save yourself?" "I cannot" I whisper in a hushed tone. "Why not?" I could hear something in his voice that sent chills racing down my spine. There was no doubt in my mind that this man could hurt me severly. "Because another already owns me." With that he pulled my head out and away from the chair, a laugh, hearty and strangely agreeable, filled the room and about my neck something cold was placed followed by the sound of a ringing click. Then a voice, calming and smooth, the very voice I ached to save me, rose in the air. "Yes girl, I do don't I." Tears welled up in my eyes as he came around to me, a brilliant gleam in his eye. "You are mine, completely." I blinked, staring at him confused even as the bonds were removed. Even as pain filled my every joint as I was forced to move so I might lie down and recuperate. Even as I screamed through each stretch of my limbs, my eyes stared into his with bafflement. "Girl, you were never late. You could have never gotten to the road that didn't exist, but you were never lost either. You arrived just as you were supposed to, right on time, wet and frustrated and perhaps even a little angry. You took pain under duress and fear and stayed mine even to the end.... Impressive, yet I would expect no less." I looked up at him in shock, caught between disbelief that he would do any such thing and pride that it was his steel upon my once bare throat. Shock had clearly filled me, but his soft touch and gentle eyes led me back to the safety of his domination. "I would have never let anything that you couldn't handle happen, but then again, it is different in cases like this, where you are trying to keep your wits about you. Stunning as you were, the fact that you didn't fight, didn't scream out for help, that does concern me." I peeked up at him, beyond embarrassed and whispered, "I was more worried that I was late and would disappoint you Master." "Ah yes, well we will seek punishment for such will we not, and our lesson now is learned?" "Yes, Master." I am sure I now have an entire audience of readers either disgusted or rolling their eyes, but I know too, there is a small smattering of people, whether they willingly admit it or not, who found themselves understanding from the beginning my very dilemma and the totality of giving one's self to another. There really is no easy way to explain it to those who are close minded enough to shut the book in disgust and the rest, well they already know. I can't tell them anymore than I know myself.