History part 1

He sat there quietly, still not quite sure if he should have come. He joked with her once, asking if she still had the line about any one objecting in the service. He smiled and took a deep breath. He had learnt to control his feelings after all the pain of the losing his Princess, was over 8 years ago now. It still hurt. Was the last time he loved anyone.

She would call him Sir, but he only let her as he loved that cheeky smile she gave as she ran away. He loved all her looks; ‘scared’ when he made her stand in front of him, ‘sad’ when he said she had disappointed him, and that ‘fuck me’ look that drove him insane.

He was going to miss his brat. He had convinced himself it was for the best, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a Sir again. To be submitted to. She loved someone else anyway.

The music started, he turned, she was more beautiful than he had ever seen her, and she was looking straight at him. She had the same look in her eyes as she did that night he said goodbye, the only night they spent together.

He opened the door, some say you can smell fear, but you cant. It’s something you can feel and he could feel her fear as he walked towards the bedroom. She had been waiting for over an hour. He wasn’t late, he just liked to play with his victims. As he had instructed she had left the house unlocked, showered, shaved, hair in a ponytail, siting on her knees on the bed, facing away from the door. Hands behind her back. He walked up behind her. He never spoke, just listened. Listened to her struggle to breathe, to overcome the natural reaction to run. She was shaking but didn’t dare move, she had been warned that she was now his, there were no safe words or limits. She had freely entered his world and he was now her Master, and in doing so she knew all she could do now do was submit to his will.

He always felt calm, not excited, this was where he felt ‘right’. He used to call it hunting. She was just prey. There was never any sympathy for their plight because he knew when he had finished they would thank him, and he would forever own their dark side and thoughts. He would always own the key to their pleasure, sex would never be enough for them again, it would never be intense enough.

He sat behind her, he could see the wetness running down her leg, her nipples hard, he placed his hands around her neck. She gasped as he pulled her tightly against him. He whispered in her ear…….. do not move, do not struggle, focus on the sensation not what im doing………. He opened his bag…...

People always commented on how he never looked anyone in the eyes. Why? He didn’t know. Maybe it was just easier not to get close to someone, not to feel, well anything other than anger. Anger he could understand, was one of those pure feelings, like pain. He got that, he never understood ‘love’. We all have a place in the world, he reasoned, his was to be broken, so he could do what he did. To make others feel better by helping them accept, and live their dark thoughts and desires. Maybe it was the only time they truly lived. It just made him feel even more dead.

It was her eyes that he now saw when he closed his. It wasn’t always dark now. He would have said they sparkled by that sounds like something from a Mills and Boon novel and he despised them. Her eyes were………. Life. They were everything he used to dream about.