Silk Reflections
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Perspective II: Reflections free porn video
Perspective II: Reflections
Morning After
Sunday night found her still staring first at the mark on her leg, then tothe telephone, to the front door, and back to the faint red streak. It couldhave been a dream, except for that one tiny abrasion. Had it all been real?How else could she explain the outline of the leather strap? It had been soreal, the smell of the leather, the sound of his voice, even the aches in hermuscles from being tightly bound.
It wasn't a dream, so what should she do? Call the police, and then what?Tell them she had been abducted, held prisoner, and then returned unharmedto her couch the next day? If she were lucky they'd ignore her. If she wasn'tso fortunate they might ship her off to a psychiatric hospital for observation.The story sounded too much like an erotic dream twisted by spicy Chinese foodand an overactive imagination.
The faceless stranger disturbed her more than anything else. He knew herdarkest secrets, the ones she wouldn't even admit to herself. Considering whathe had done to her she should have hated him. And yet, when he had grabbedher ankles and started to drag her out of the cage it hadn't been fear or angerthat boiled over. No, it had been wild abandon. She had wanted him, wantedin a raw, sexual way she had never felt before. She wanted him to take her,demand everything she could give, strip her of her dignity and force her tobeg for more.
She had to hold her hands together to keep them from trembling. Again shestared at the front door to the apartment. The deadbolt was closed and locked.It hadn't stopped him. What could she do to protect herself? She looked downat her hands, clasped tightly together.
His words came back to her, did the cage confine her inside, or did it protecther against him, waiting outside? In the short time she had been held insideshe had come to see it as protecting her, an illusion shattered the momenthe opened the cage door and grabbed her. She knew the apartment door and deadboltwere no more a protection against him than the bars of the cage. Her securitywould last no longer than the moment he chose to come for her.
It was getting late, and she had to go to work in the morning. Work, shehad forgotten all about it. Was he someone she knew from the office? That didn'tseem likely; the voice wasn't familiar. None of the men she knew were evenremotely like him. What would she do if he were to walk in one day? She wouldnever forget that voice in her ear, whispering that he owned her, body andsoul.
In bed she closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep. Instead theimage of the cage came back. She remembered how it swayed, back and forth,the way he had effortlessly spun her around, playing with her, and the momenthe had reached through the bars to touch her. What if he never came back? Sheburied her face in the pillow and cried.
Lunchtime
She tried to get some work done on Monday morning but she couldn't seem tofocus on her current project. Every time someone walked by her cubicle shelistened to the passing conversation, hoping to hear that one unforgettablevoice. It had to be someone she encountered during the day.
But she didn't hear it. Whoever he was, he wasn't someone from the workplace.She forced herself to make some token amount of progress just to get throughthe morning. When the lunch hour finally arrived she nearly ran out the door.
She went across the street to the business district's favorite deli. As usualit was packed but she managed to get a table. While she waited for her ordershe watched the people coming and going through the restaurant's entrance.He must be following her; how else could he know so much?
The waitress delivered her sandwich and went back to the counter. She pickedup one of the halves and took a bite. Doing something calmed her down. Sheknew she was acting paranoid. He wasn't some kind of superman. Maybe he wasstalking her but in a big crowd like the deli she was as safe as she couldbe.
The noise level was high and energetic. The cooks at the counter called outorders, and conversations were ongoing at every packed table. Normally shetuned it all out but not today.
"…anyplace, anytime…." She heard the snatch of conversationand froze. The voice, the tone, those unmistakable words were burned into hermemory. Her hands were starting to shake as she nearly dropped the rest ofher sandwich. He was here somewhere, watching her. Hesitantly she looked around.Where had it come from?
Her heart was pounding. What should she do? She didn't recognize anyone,but there were so many people he could have been walking out the door. Shehad to get away.
Frantically she waved down the waitress to get her bill. She left half herlunch on the plate in her haste to get back to the office.
Two tables away he took out his pocket watch to check the time. She had leftearly today and hadn't finished her meal either. That was a shame; the delihad some of the best pastrami in town. He took a sip of water before spreadingsome cream cheese on the Kaiser roll. A good meal was something to be savoredin the fullness of time. He valued patience and the rewards it brought.
Weekend Getaway
By Friday evening she was an emotional wreck. How many times had she imaginedhearing his voice during the week? Were any of them real? She had receivednothing from him, no phone calls, no email, not even a mysterious note underthe door. Somehow she knew he was still out there, waiting.
She didn't want to go home. He had easily snatched her away last weekend;he might very well do the same again. She had to get away, find some placeto hide so she could relax and think through the situation calmly. At homeshe couldn't concentrate, knowing he might come for her at any moment. Whenevershe tried to sort it all out the sound of his voice would intrude. Over andover, she heard his calm assertion that she belonged to him, that she was hisproperty to do with as he pleased. It played over and over in her mind so manytimes it was becoming an obsession. She needed some peace and quiet in a secrethideout.
One of the pictures on her desk was of herself as a teenager standing infront of her uncle's mountain lodge. It wasn't that far out of town. She flippedopen her address book and looked up her uncle's number. One phone call latershe had the place to herself for the weekend, no questions asked.
At her apartment she wasted no time throwing together a few things into anovernight bag before heading out the door. She didn't even bother changingout of her office clothes. She could stop on the way to eat dinner, or picksomething up to eat at the cabin. What was important was to put as much distancebetween her and the apartment as she could before he realized she was gone.
It was dark when she parked in front of the cabin door. There were no outsidelights. She left the car door open so she could find the key to the door hiddenin the hollow plastic rock near the door. Once inside she turned on the lightsbefore going back out to the car for her bag and the sack of food from theconvenience store.
The place wasn't very big. It was a classic wooden A-frame, essentially onebig room. Against the far wall was the big fireplace just as she rememberedfrom years ago. There was one new addition, a large fur rug spread out in frontof the hearth. Her uncle was single and not above seeking out the occasionalcompanion for a weekend. It looked like the cabin had been transformed intoone of his love nests.
She kicked off her shoes and walked across the rug in her stocking feet.It felt wonderful. Idly she wondered if the fur was animal or artificial butshe didn't really care. This wasn't the time or place for political correctness.
She found bedding in the closet and made up the couch. The constant stressof the last week had exhausted her. She fell asleep in minutes.
Past Due
Outside the window the sunrise flooded the cabin with light. Inside, sittingon the couch he took out his watch and checked the time. It wouldn't be longnow. She was stretched out on the rug in front of him, on her stomach, headto one side. The blindfold was in place, her hands were secured behind herback in leather cuffs linked close together, and her ankles were held by thesame type of cuffs. A strap connected her wrists to her ankle but he had leftit loose for now. If she began to struggle violently he'd use it to subdueher.
The morning air was chilly so he had the heater going to keep her comfortable.When she stirred he leaned forward, studying her carefully. It wasn't a realsurprise that she had tried to get away from him. He had expected she wouldmake the attempt and planned accordingly. Still it was a disappointment. Shewould have to be punished for it. Discipline meant nothing if there were noconsequences for misbehaving.
Déjà Vu
She felt cold. She tried to reach for the blanket but something was wrong.Her arms seemed to be stuck. Half asleep and fuzzyheaded she thought they weretangled up in the blanket. Something was wrapped around her head too, maybeit was the pillow.
When she rolled over she woke up to something very different than what shehad expected. That leather smell brought back recent memories. She had theblindfold on again. A few tugs verified her wrists and ankles were bound too.Despite everything she had done he had found her.
"Why did you come up here? Were you trying to run away from me?" It was hisvoice. He was standing over her. His tone was steely calm, almost arrogant,but behind it she could hear his controlled anger.
She stopped struggling against the restraints, paralyzed by fear. He knewexactly what was on her mind. "I…I needed a place to think. I wasn'ttrying to get away." She stalled, trying to come up with some way to explainaway what she had done.
She couldn't think. The shock of finding herself at his feet again was toomuch. Once again she was completely within his power, lying at his feet stripedand bound, helpless, open and vulnerable. He could do whatever he wanted andshe had no way to stop him. No matter what she did he was always a step ahead.
"Don't lie to me. One more time, were you trying to run away?" She couldtell he had knelt down next to her. One hand grabbed her hair.
She didn't answer at first. His hand tightened in her hair. "Yes, I was scared.I wanted to hide." He knew every time she stretched the truth. Whatever heused for a lie detector worked too well on her.
"You didn't get very far, did you? For an intelligent woman you do some foolishthings. You know you belong to me. Yet you ignore simple facts and try to hideaway in the mountains.
"You need a place to think? About what, the way your life is changing? Thereis nothing to think about. I will instruct you on what to do and when you mustdo it. I will tell you what you need to know. I will choose the path you takefor the future. All you must do is accept the inevitable and acknowledge yournew role as my property."
He let go of her hair. "I am disappointed in you. I had hoped you would havethe insight to understand you must ask for my permission before you came uphere. From now on you will not leave town without my approval. As punishmentyou will be in your apartment by 6pm every night starting tomorrow. You willnot leave until you go to work in the morning. Is that clear?"
"Y…Yes." She was so scared all she could think of was to do whateverhe wanted. She could get home from work before six. She was so confused shedidn't realize the curfew meant he was going to let her go again.
Instruction
He stood up and walked around her. She didn't move or make a sound. Thistime there were no pleas to let her go. She had to be terrified. Fear had itsplace but he needed for her to move in a positive direction.
"I've set aside this morning for instruction. First, I need you to changeposition." He took hold of her shoulders and lifted her up. "Legs underneath,kneeling." He let her back down. "Sit back on your heels."
He stood back to get a better look. She didn't have it quite right. "Don'tslouch! Straighten your back. Hold up your head." She answered to his commandsright away. She would need to work on it but for now it was sufficient forhis purposes. What he wanted was for her to focus on quickly responding tohis orders.
"That's better. You're doing well." It wasn't empty praise. He could seeshe really was trying her best. He slipped a hand between her knees. "Keepyour legs this far apart, no more."
First he had to get her into a receptive frame of mind, and then make thepoint. "I'm going to release your arms. When I do, you will place your hands,palms down, fingers together, on the tops of your legs, about three inchesfrom your knees. Is that clear? You may answer."
"Yes." Her tone carried a hint of uncertainty along with the expected anxiety.
Using a key he opened the locking buckles and removed the leather cuffs fromher wrists. The moment he freed each hand she placed it as he had instructed.He left the cuffs on the rug behind her. They would be needed later.
"Good. Now I want you to listen to me very carefully." He crouched down behindher and to one side. Softly he whispered in her ear as he put a hand on herback. "Imagine a large mirror is in front of you. You can see your reflection.Look at yourself, look at the woman you see." He paused for a moment. "Do youknow what the mirror shows? It is a picture of a woman who is proud of herself.Do you see it? A woman who can kneel before the man to whom she belongs, notashamed to submit to his authority, a woman who knows she is someone special,someone who is proud she can obey him without hesitation or question." He brushedaside her hair and caressed the back of her neck.
"I want you to kneel on this rug, look into the mirror with your mind's eye,and see yourself as the world will see you." He stood up and went behind her.She felt his hands on her shoulders. "Show them you are confident, that youknow who you are and that you will not be swayed. Shoulders back, accentuateyour breasts, show them you are very much a woman who is comfortable with hersexuality. Let them all know you are someone to be reckoned with, someone otherwomen will envy."
Reflection
With his words guiding her she did see the mirror, a large oval one withan ornate Victorian style frame. She could see herself, and someone standingbehind her. She tried to look up, to see his face in the mirror, but it wascut off. If only he would remove the blindfold so she could see him. But therewasn't anything she could do about it. Until he decided she should see himshe would have to wait.
She heard him walk away. There was the sound of a pan on the stove, a burnerlighting, and a cabinet opening from the kitchen. He must be cooking something.
She turned her attention back to her imaginary mirror. She knew she shouldn'tbe distracted. For some reason she didn't fully comprehend it was importantshe see the woman he described.
"Keep your head up." He caught her by surprise but she obeyed immediately.Even though he was cooking breakfast he was still watching her. She wantedto be perfect for him.
The picture his words painted in her mind struck a response from deep withinher. The way he spoke seemed to hypnotize her: slow, deliberate, and with anassurance that he was describing a literal truth that could not be denied.Some small distant voice in her head was warning that he was controlling herthoughts, but she didn't care. She wanted to be the image in the mirror. Howmany years had she turned away from that reflection, believing it was weakand wrong?
Could she do it? He seemed to think so. So far he hadn't even given her achoice. He was forcing her to confront her core beliefs, her most basic assumptionsabout who she was. In the past she'd always turned away when the dreams came,the desire to be controlled, to submit to one special man, to trust him, toknow she could always depend on him to be there. He wouldn't let her deny hernature any longer.
Carefully she flexed her hands, but made sure she didn't move them from theplace he had designated. Holding the position was tiring but she had to keepgoing until he allowed her to stop. Right now, right this very minute therewas no more important priority than proving to him she could live up to hiswords. No matter what it took, even though her legs were screaming in protest,she would kneel in position and look at his version of her reflection in themirror.
End of the Day
He tightened the strap one more notch, pulling her ankles and wrists closertogether. She was on the rug, on her stomach, legs bent back with her handsbehind her back hogtied to her ankles. He knew it was painful so he wouldn'tkeep her that way for very long. He had some final instructions for her andwanted to make sure he would have her undivided attention.
"On Thursday you wore a pink pantsuit to work. Do you remember?" He testedthe tension on the restraining strap that held her arched back like a bow.There was just enough slack that she could use her legs to give her arms somemomentary relief. He pushed in the locking button on the buckle.
"I, I guess so." She knew which outfit he was talking about but didn't rememberif she wore it that day. She tried to keep her legs bent. Any attempt to straightenout sent jabs of pain into her shoulders. Even the cage hadn't been this bad.Her only hope was that he wouldn't keep her tied this way for very long.
"You will not wear it again. It's not an honest representation of who youare." The strap pulled taut as her legs tired. He reached out and pushed herankles back down, easing the strain on her arms. "Sunday night, before yougo to bed, you will take it out of the closet, get a pair of scissors and cutit into pieces no bigger than your hand. Then you will collect all the pieces,put them into a clear plastic bag, and hang it in your closet. Every morningyou will look at that bag before you pick out what to wear."
What he told her was true enough but not the entire story. He had other reasonsfor this particular order. His goal was to begin to influence her common everydaylife, at a level she wouldn't normally think about. What she usually took forgranted, dressing in the morning, the time she got home at night, would nowbe structured according to his wishes. It was an incremental approach, startingwith a few specifics. It would be gradual, there would be no single point atwhich she lost all control over her life, but in the end she would reach thepoint where his approval mattered more than her own preferences.
He ran his hand up and down her leg again. She was hardly in a position toenjoy the caress but he could see it affected her. Not only would he controlher but she would be doing her best to help him. She was a classic overachieverwith one blind spot. Someone else had to provide the motivation. She wouldnever be satisfied with setting and meeting her own goals. He would see toit she had a challenge worthy of all of her skill and talent.
Their first meeting had intentionally left her frightened and disoriented.Now he would provide her with the stability she needed to recover. He had givenher a set task to accomplish every day, to be home at a specific time. By appearanceit was simple but he knew it would have an effect on her far beyond the obvious.
He had reached out and changed her perspective. Her daily schedule now revolvedaround a point in time he had designated. She had to plan her entire day basedon what he wanted.
Her second assignment regarding her clothes was a bit more subtle. He'd deliberatelybeen vague as to his reasons. She'd want to know the why behind it. He wassure she'd solve it quickly. She was smart, probably more intelligent thanhe was, and would intuitively pick on what he wanted in record time. Keepinginformation about himself to a minimum was essential to ensure she didn't getahead of his plans.
The Unexpected
When she left the cabin she thought she'd have plenty of time to get homebefore six o'clock. What she didn't count on was a livestock truck overturningon the freeway. Traffic slowed to a crawl and backed up while the police shutdown the road, chasing after wayward cattle. As it dragged on she began toworry. The problem was, she was too far out of town to get off on a side road.She had to sit it out.
He'd left the cabin the day before. How she didn't know. He had placed heron the rug, in her kneeling position, and placed a simple mechanical egg timeron the fireplace hearth. "Keep your eyes closed. Do not break position untilthe timer goes off. When it does you have the rest of the weekend to yourself.You will stay here in the cabin tonight. Tomorrow you will return to your apartment.Be home before six." And that was all it took. He'd removed all her restraints,even the blindfold, and left. Motionless she had knelt on the rug listeningto the timer until it released her.
When traffic did start to move again she had no margin left. Every time theradio announced the time she cringed. It was going to be very close. She wastempted to speed up but she couldn't risk being pulled over for a ticket. Thatwould be a certain guarantee she'd be late.
What would happen if she didn't make it? She had no idea what he would do.Nor did she want to find out. The evening curfew was bad enough. She'd haveenough time after work for one errand but nothing more. It would take carefulplanning, groceries one day, her dry cleaning the next, the gas station, andshe had better leave a day open for the unexpected. There would be no eatingout, no drinks after work with friends, and no dates. Dates, those were outof the question now. She couldn't imagine him allowing her to go out with someoneelse.
He hadn't been specific about the weekend. Was she allowed to go out, aslong as she was back in time? His instructions had been to stay in until sheleft for work. She'd have to think about it. What would he expect her to do?Maybe she could limit herself to just essential trips, and make sure she wasback before noon. Then again, he might be supervising her weekend directly.
She made up for lost time when she got off the freeway. It being a Sundayafternoon, street traffic was very light. When she arrived at her apartmentbuilding she parked as close as she could and ran to her front door. Insideshe went straight to the kitchen and turned on the lights. The clock on thestove said she had made it with ten minutes to spare.
Evening Paper
He went into the small news stand and bought the evening paper. As he cameout he looked up at the apartment window across the street. While waiting heglanced at the front page of the paper. There was a short notice below thefold that an accident involving a cattle truck had closed down the Interstatethat afternoon.
When the light in the window across the street came on he took out his pocketwatch and opened it to check the time. Ten minutes before six, she had cutit close but it was within her bounds. He dropped the watch back in his pocket,tucked the paper under his arm, and continued walking.
He was relieved she had made it in time. He hated to make exceptions afterthe fact. He would make a point of telling her she had done well.
Solving the Puzzle
In her bedroom she sat on the edge of the bed and looked in her closet. Whyhad he picked out that one particular outfit? That question had been on hermind while driving home. She couldn't figure out why he had chosen to mentionher clothes on one particular day.
She took the pink pantsuit out of the closet and laid it on the bed. Therehad to be something she was missing, some small but significant detail he didn'tlike. She held it up in front of her and looked in the dresser mirror, thebest she could do. She couldn't put it on; he had expressly forbidden it.
She laid the outfit back on the bed and got her scissors out of the nightstand.She'd need a clear plastic bag for the remains when she finished. There wasa bag in the bottom of the closet, from the drycleaner's, that would work.She could tie it to a hanger when she finished.
It still bothered her that she couldn't see the connection. She'd seen mengive her the visual once over while wearing it, so it couldn't be that unattractive.What had he said, something about it not fitting her image? Not an honest representation,that's the way he had phrased it.
She jumped up and went to her closet. What had she worn the rest of the week?Why hadn't he singled out anything else she had worn to work? She went downthe line of hangars, picking out Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Friday wasstill in the car, since she hadn't changed after work. Her overnight bag wasstill in the back seat too. She'd been in such a hurry to get inside she'dleft it behind. By the time she remembered it was past six and she couldn'tgo back for it. She would have to wait until morning.
She laid each day out in order on the bed, trying to see the pattern. Mondayhad been the pink blouse and a long skirt. She remembered picking it out becauseit would cover the mark above her knee. Tuesday she had worn a dress, Wednesdaya shorter skirt, and Friday had been a dress again, a light peach colored pink,the one now hanging in the back seat of the car. It wasn't the color.
She thought back to what he had been doing while he gave her this assignment,the way he had continually ran his hand up and down her leg. Even though he'dhad her in painfully restrictive bondage the touch of that hand had made hershiver.
She stared at the week's wardrobe when the common element struck her. Itwas obvious now. Sighing, she picked up the other outfits and hung them backin the closet. She would have to go through the closet sometime this week tosort out the allowed from the forbidden. She sat down on the bed, picked upthe scissors and began cutting up the pants. She knew what he meant now. Shecould wear whatever she liked, any color, any style…just as long asit was a dress or skirt. Anything else would get the scissors treatment ifshe put it on. Hanging the bag of sliced up material in the closet would ensureshe never forgot.
It took a while but she finally had a pile of material in place of what hadbeen her pink power suit. She checked one last time to make sure no individualpiece was larger than her hand. She bundled the pieces into the bag, rolledthe top shut, and then tied it to a hanger with some ribbon. Hopefully no onewould see it hanging in the closet. She'd have to come up with some explanationjust in case.
She put the hanger with the bag in the center where she couldn't ignore it.Making all those cuts had taken longer than she expected. The alarm clock saidit was nearly her bedtime. She pulled out her pajamas from the dresser drawerand headed for the bathroom.
When she emerged she went to her bed and turned down the covers. A good night'srest would do wonders. And she wouldn't have that pink suit haunting her nowthat she understood what he wanted. She turned and looked at her reflectionin the dresser mirror. She'd solved it on her own. Maybe he was right afterall. She did see a woman who could be proud of her submission. She did feela definite sense of accomplishment.
Pride turned to anger as she saw something else in the reflection. The angerwas directed at herself. She'd figured out his intent but then she'd gone andignored it minutes later. Furious that she could be so stupid she sat downand took the scissors out of the nightstand. She wasn't done after all. Glaringat herself in the mirror one more time she reached down and pulled off thepajama bottoms. The top would be okay but that was all he'd approve. No excusesthis time, she thought as she began cutting the lower half of the pajamas intohand sized pieces. If she didn't shape up and pay attention she'd have to getmore scissors.
Oceana
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