The Weight of The Ocean

"I know you can hear me, Tabby. Put the fucking thing on and stop wasting my time."

She picked up the collar and slid the leather slowly around her neck, buckling it with clumsy fingers and refusing to meet his angry gaze.

"On your feet. Follow me." He spun on his heel and strode out of the room, not waiting to see if she obeyed him. The short walk down the hall, to the room with the black door, was the longest he'd ever had to go. The urge to turn around and see if she followed, nagged at his every step and it was only grim determination that kept him putting one bare foot in front of the other and keeping his eyes forward.

He stopped when he reached the end of the hallway, the black painted door filling his sight with ominous promise. Normally, the sight of this portal - the entrance into their playroom - made him instantly hard with raw arousal coursing in his veins. Beyond that door, pleasure and pain combined into pure ecstasy for both him and Tabby. What happened in that room was as close to magic as they could come and for the duration, both were fused into one creature made from two bodies but sharing one soul. He fed on her light, which she gave him so freely, submitting to his every dark whim, all his attention focused on sending her into the stratosphere with pleasure.

There would be no light tonight. There would only be darkness, and he would bring it if it meant calling her back to him. The only thing that would stop him would be Tabby and he wouldn't stop until she either used her safe word or he collapsed in exhaustion.

The soft sounds of her light footsteps behind him drew his attention out of his thoughts and back to reality. He turned around and found her kneeling behind him, head bowed, waiting as she'd been trained. So obedient, so graceful that his dick did get hard in spite of the worry flowing like lava through every vein in his body.

Jesus fuck, she was so beautiful. Please forgive me, little one, he begged silently. That was the last thought he allowed himself and once done, he pushed all his love, all his worry, all his fear, to the very back corner of his mind. When his mind was emptied of crippling emotions, he unlatched a very special door and darkness oozed out like oil, filling him with a ruthless power.

"Tell me your safe word, Tabitha," he commanded harshly, watching her jump at the menace he infused into his voice.

"Red, Sir," she responded flatly, her eyes downcast and fixed on a spot on the floor.

"Good. You will need it tonight." He unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Crawl to the centre of the red circle and wait for me." Marcus stood aside, his eyes devouring the erotic sight of her naked ass and swinging breasts as she moved by him. He felt a moment of guilt at having made her crawl on the hard tile of the playroom, it would be hell on her knees, but as soon as the pang gripped him, his darkness let it slide into sadistic pleasure.

Her movements were careful, each sleek thigh lifting with cat-like grace, then coming to rest on the hard surface in a calculated manner in order to mitigate as much of the discomfort in her kneecaps as she could.

He didn't care. All he wanted was the tantalizing glimpse of her pussy, glistening and ready for him, that he got every time her thighs parted. Without realizing he was doing it, he ran his tongue along his lower lip, suddenly ravenous for a taste of the honey he could see on her inner thighs. He rubbed his thickening penis pushing at the rough denim of his jeans. The space in his pants was rapidly disappearing as his erection grew, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Marcus stroked himself, heightening his arousal and making the ache worse but instead of readjusting himself, he fed on the pain and stared hungrily at Tabby's ass, letting his arousal simmer like a boiling pot of molten lead in his belly.

Tabitha obediently did as she had been instructed, finally coming to a stop in the centre of the red circle that was painted on the black tile of the playroom floor. She raised herself up on her knees, then settled her ass on her heels and knelt gracefully, waiting for his next command.

He let her wait. The lights, that had come on automatically when she had entered the room, were gradually increasing in brightness, the golden glow reaching into the corners of Marcus' custom made dungeon. He took a minute to survey the room and cement his plan of action in his head.

The room had originally been intended to be a rec room, big enough to house a full sized pool table with ample room to spare. It was the main reason why he'd bought the house in the first place - the moment he'd laid eyes on the space, with its high, vaulted ceiling and wide open space, the possibilities for the room actually got him hard while the oblivious real estate agent droned on about the perks of the area. He'd bought the house on the spot, paying cash to ensure the deal closed quickly.

The day he moved in, he went to work transforming the dated family room in every Dom's vision of perfection. Heavy, wood and leather pieces of BDSM furniture were placed around the room, each piece handmade by Marcus himself. A carved St. Andrew's Cross, a spanking bench covered in hand tooled leather, a massage table complete with racks of colored candles waiting beneath it, and an enormous, four posted bed that would accommodate a plethora of deviant acts, filled the space before him. His eyes traveled from the mirrored wall to his left, over each piece of furniture to the bank of oak cabinets to his right that housed all of his implements of pain and pleasure. He smiled and breathed in deeply, letting the familiar scent of wood, leather and lemon oil remind him of the pleasure he'd found in this room in the past.

It was his sanctuary. The one place in the world where he could embrace his true nature and where his dark side could come out to play. But not tonight. There would be no pleasure for him tonight. He had a job to do. An ugly one that might just leave bigger scars on his heart than on the beautiful submissive waiting patiently for him on the floor.

In order to help her, Marcus knew that he needed to break her first and it was going to kill him to do it.

His attention fixed on Tabitha. The scent of her arousal drifted on the air reaching him but the smell only reminded him of the disastrous scene that had happened in the bedroom. The guilty, devastated feeling actually helped deflate his erection and he breathed a sigh of relief at the ease of pressure in his groin. He needed to make this right for both of them before the disconnect destroyed their relationship.

Marcus studied her and saw hopeful signs that her mind wasn't as unreachable as she tried to make him believe. The wetness between her legs and the blossoming flush of colour that painted her cheeks and chest a rosy pink told him that on some level, her body was overriding the pain in her mind and her hormones were taking control. Whether the signals her body was throwing off in his direction were from fear or arousal, he couldn't tell and couldn't allow himself the luxury of caring. Inside his heart, he hoped it was because she still wanted him, something that was seriously in question after her reaction to him earlier. His head was on a different path, harder, colder and more resolute. For his plan to work, he wanted her scared, turned on and on edge, a potent mix of emotions that would make it easier to break down her defenses strip her bare.

He stepped into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. They were alone so the gesture was unnecessary but it added to the threatening atmosphere and increased her anxiety. Theatrical, perhaps, but still effective. The closed door cut off any outside noises and it was deathly silent in the windowless room making his pounding heart sound like a bass drum in his ears.

He stalked behind her, quiet on bare feet, and circled her slowly, taking in the quivers of her creamy skin as his movement stirred the air surrounding her. Her eyes were closed and she was struggling to keep her breathing even, he'd left her kneeling on the unforgiving surface for ten minutes and he could see the slight shifting of her weight she was trying to hide from him. Her knees must be killing her, he thought, with an evil grin on his face.

"Stand up," he told her, offering his hand so as not to be a complete asshole. Defiant as ever, Tabby refused his help and pushed stiffly to her feet, ignoring him. Rage lit him up from the inside and he wanted to lash out and make her pay for the insult but he quickly reigned in his temper and pretended to ignore her silent rebuke.

Using a remote control, he pressed a down arrow and a winch began to hum from overhead, lowering a steel bar with thick, leather handcuffs attached to short lengths of chain. When the bar was a foot over Tabby's head, he stopped the winch and made quick work of buckling her wrists into the padded handcuffs. He left her standing with her arms elevated and restrained while he went to the wall of cabinets, pulled open a drawer and removed two, large eye-bolts and a second pair of cuffs.

Drilled into the floor, furniture and walls were an array of holes with metal, threaded inserts in them. Anchor points for the eye bolts, providing an endless variety of ways a submissive could be bound or suspended for play. He carried his equipment back to the circle and crouched down where a line of six anchor points were drilled into the floor by Tabby's feet. After screwing the bolts into their receptacles, he wrapped the leather cuffs around her ankles then clipped each to an eye-bolt, spreading her legs apart approximately four feet. Wide enough to give him access, but not too much that it would be uncomfortable for Tabby.

And what access it gave him! He looked up and was greeted with a bird's eye view of the dusky pink lips of Tabby's wet labia. His mouth watered with the realization that if he stuck out his tongue, he'd be able to lick the drops of moisture clinging to her bare mound, begging him to taste her. He wanted nothing more than to do so, but giving her pleasure at this time would only be counterproductive.

His cock, on the other hand, had other ideas, jerking angrily against his belly, ramrod stiff in the blink of an eye. That one track bastard wanted inside all that tight, pink wetness and was not happy with Marcus's refusal to partake in what was on display. Soon! He promised himself, marshaling his control and cooling his lust.

Once he had her properly restrained, Marcus used the remote again to raise Tabby's arms enough that she had little slack in her limbs, but wasn't dangerously over-stretched. She flexed her arms, showing him that she could still move and relax her muscles, but only marginally. No matter what happened in this room - safety for his submissive was paramount in Marcus' priorities. The last thing he ever wanted to do was cause the angel bound so beautifully before him, any permanent injury.

That, even now, she trusted him so implicitly wasn't lost on him. It only made him more determined than ever to rescue his lover from the depths of despair that her mind was locked into.

Satisfied that Tabby was securely and safely caught in his web, Marcus returned to the storage cabinets and rolled up several of the doors. He took a moment to admire the vast array of BDSM equipment and implements displayed before him. Whips, crops, straps, paddles, and floggers of every variety all hung from their hooks, waiting to be used. Most were handmade by Marcus himself, some for his use, others waiting for buyers and new homes to go to. Some were worn, the leather shiny, smooth and smelling of the oil he cleaned them with. These were his favorites and were broken in by frequent use.

He ran his fingers through the fronds of a black and red suede flogger. Tabby loved being flogged, his dick kicking in his pants remembering the sinuous way he'd make writhe and moan when he danced those tails on her skin.

No, not the flogger then. Pleasure would have to wait - pain was the key to unlocking the barriers in her mind. Marcus' hand passed over the rack of floggers, their kiss just wouldn't do the trick. He needed something that she couldn't ignore - something that would bite and make her take notice. Something that would pound the walls of her mental fortress to rumble. The thuds of a flogger would only take her into subspace way too fast for that to happen and he didn't want her floating further from him than she already was.

He moved on to the next cabinet, which held racks of straps, leather, wood and rattan paddles and short, nasty looking whips. When his gaze fell on the thick, black tawse, he knew he'd found his weapon of choice.

The one he selected was one he'd made himself - somehow that seemed appropriate to him and partially soothed some of the anxiety from his soul. It was 18" long, made from a single strip of medium weight, black leather. The top part formed the handle while the lower 3/4 split into two wicked looking tails that Marcus knew would hurt like hell. Delicate vines were tooled into the leather, climbing up the tails and forming a woven heart in the center of the handle - a reminder that everything he did had to be out of love and never from a place of anger.

He lifted it off its hook and gave it a few test swishes in the air - flicking it so that the tails snapped like firecrackers. Tabby's back was to him, but he could see her anxious eyes watching his reflection in the bank of mirrors on the far side of the room. She jumped and the chains securing her wrists rattled and clanged against the support bar.

The beast in Marcus growled with pleasure at the sight and his cock throbbed with anticipation. It was sick that he got off on her fear, but he couldn't help it. Something that was dark and twisted lived inside of him, feeding on it like an exotic aphrodisiac, the craving bordering on an addiction that he fought against.

Tabby's eyes had closed and her scent had gotten heavier, muskier, making him breathless with the raging lust filling his cock. Thank god she was his opposite - light where he was dark and masochist to his sadist. The evidence of her arousal in the air and dripping from her onto the floor, was proof that she craved the pain he was going to bring. Craved it. Needed it.

She had her safe word and knew without needing to be told that Marcus would honor it, no matter how far gone into Dom space he was. It was an absolute, ingrained reaction to stop, just like pulling the plug on a blender. If she needed him to, he would stop, that was her safety net. She'd had many opportunities to use it in the past few days, he'd pushed and she'd resisted, but the fact she didn't shut him down was only more evidence of how desperately she needed his help. That she was depending on him having the strength to help her, almost reduced him to tears and strengthened his resolve not to let her down.

He walked slowly back to Tabby, swinging the tawse like a pendulum from the end of his index finger, watching how her gaze latched on to it in the reflection and followed its movement hypnotically. His footsteps were silent, measured and graceful, his gait more like that of a big cat stalking a wounded antelope. He stayed behind her and paced back and forth, admiring the beads of sweat that appeared on Tabby's back as her nerves got the better of her.

Her breath was coming in shallow puffs and the dripping between her legs had left a smattering of embarrassing splashes on the smooth tile. Marcus smiled - a tight, reptilian grin that Tabby saw in the mirror and whimpered softly at. She knew what stood behind her - the man she loved was absent and his demon had come out to play. Fear and lust burst from opposite ends of her body and smashed into each with the force of a nuclear detonation in her abdomen. She started to shake while at the same time, her pelvis began to writhe - seeking his cock and the pleasure it promised to give her.

Marcus let the smile disappear and flicked the tawse at her naked ass, connecting with a satisfying snap that made her jump and gasp. "Not yet, my angel." He snapped the strap against her again, pleased at the red marks that bloomed instantly. "Before you get my cock, we are going to have a little chat."

She recoiled and shook her head defiantly, knowing what it was he wanted to talk about. The strike came quickly and white hot pain bit into her flesh. He was playing with her, warming her up by only letting the tips connect but soon the real spanking would start.

"Wrong answer, sweetheart. I've let you get away with avoiding this issue for too long now." Snap! "I'd hoped you'd come to me, allowed me to comfort you. But instead, you withdrew and denied me my right to do so." Snap! Crack! The strikes came harder now, the second falling across her ass with the flat of the tawse making her cry out in shock.

"You forced me to bring you in here, to a place I could make sure you couldn't run from me anymore, Tabby." Two more strikes, then his palm was on her blazing skin, smoothing the sting and reassuring her that he hadn't lost control. He was so close to her that he could feel the heat radiating off her body, warming his own skin and carrying her feminine scent to his nose. His balls ached with the need to take her but he was far from that point of the evening and ignored the incessant throbbing.

As he caressed her skin, she relaxed into his touch, pushing her ass into his hand for more contact. He withdrew and abruptly unleashed a flurry of lashes until her flesh glowed a deep, rosy, pink.

"Talk to me, angel and don't you dare tell me that you are fine!" He said, taking a perverse joy in the way her body shook and shuddered after every strike. A quick look at the floor and he caught sight of her pussy weeping so profusely that thin, silvery tendrils extended down towards a puddle of moisture that had collected underneath of her. He snarled at the sight, his cock feeling incandescent with need.

"I-I-I can't!" She howled, her body arching forward as he delivered a nasty hit to the backs of her thighs.

"Yes you can! You can't run from this anymore, Tabby. It's going to eat you up inside." He settled his lashes into a slow, regular rhythm. Back and forth across her flesh, hard enough to sting but not enough to raise welts - not yet anyway. He was using the swats to distract her and focus her attention on him. The pain would cause burst of endorphins but she'd only get a taste before the next strike bit into her flesh. The pain would layer itself with intense pleasure until her mind freed itself from the bonds she had wrapped it up in.

"You don't under-understand!" Her voice was ragged, verging on tears but her eyes were dry.

Whack! He hit her with an unforgiving strike that left a stripe of welts across both her ass cheeks. "You don't get to determine that! Make me understand, Tabby or I will beat it out of you."

"Bastard!" She spat viciously at him. "I fucking hate you!" Smack! "Fuck!" she screamed.

"I know, angel. But this bastard loves you too much to let you kill yourself with this grief."

"I CAN'T!" She shrieked. "It's too hard...too strong...pushing at me to let it go!" She was gasping at the pain with every strike but Marcus noted how her body pushed into his strokes, seeking the tawse and not avoiding it. He delivered two more strikes to keep her talking. "It's like I'm holding back the ocean and if I acknowledge it, that dam is going to break and I'm going to drown under the weight of that water." He could hear her retreating again, patching over the holes in her defenses that he'd made. The tawse flew through the air again and her only warning was the high pitched whine it made as it split the air a millisecond before pain exploded on her ass.