She laid it out as follows:
Prompt: Unspoken – Use the word, or show the word; again, I’m always impressed when the word is shown without ever being used. But sometimes, you need to use it! So just see where it takes you, and be true to the voice you hear.
Challenge: Include the following sentence in your piece for brownie points (and yes, I mean actual brownies):
“She swallowed hard and lay rigid, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.”
Here I go…!
She swallowed hard and lay rigid, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. She felt his eyes on her, watching. Always watching.
The hemp rope dug into her wrists as she flexed her hands, trying to get blood flowing back into them.
Her biceps burned. Her legs trembled, the muscles fatigued from being in the position for so long. Ankles bound tightly, knees bent, parted wide. Cramps spasmed through her thighs and hips. The small of her back ached. The pegs on her nipples and breasts throbbed.
Swallowing again, breathing slow and deep, she knew she could endure this.
For him. For his pleasure. His approval. His love.
She sensed his movement, felt the shift in the air at her face, and then the heat of his palm caressing her cheek.
Hard. Across her face. Blood rushing to the surface of her skin, stinging. She should not have moved her hands, she knew this. He was correcting her for her lack of self-control. No words of explanation were required.
Tears pricked her eyes, absorbed by the blindfold. Partly from the pain, but more so from her shame at her failure.
She lived to please Him. Her Master.
His hand slid down her throat, easily encircling it, squeezing and releasing. She focused on her breath, the only sound in the room the dry rasp of her trying to take in and expel air.
Feeling herself slip out of her body, entering a different plane, her mind deliciously free. She was His. He owned her. She had no need to make any choices. That was for Him. Everything was for Him.
Blood rushed to her nipples, burning, as the pegs were removed slowly, one by one. The ropes at her wrists and ankles were untied, his hands gently massaging her chaffed skin. Her eyes narrowed against the sudden brightness as he peeled away her blindfold, blinking to adjust to the light.
She felt herself being lifted from the table, cradled in his arms, and carried from the room. Placing her gently, reverently, underneath the bed covers, he wiped her face with a warm flannel and held her, rocking her as she slowly came back.
The last thing she saw before sleep took her was his face, looking down at her, with complete love and respect and pride.
Their love was not conventional.
Their love was extraordinary.
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