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Rekindled Ch. 01

By: His_beloved_roisin



(Disclaimer: while this story has had many elements changed, it is based on true events. If you are wanting an instant stroke-story, you will have to look elsewhere, as the sex in this story is a ways in coming. Thanks for reading! Chapter II is coming soon!) 

*

The second the glass slipped from my fingers, the world started to move in slow-motion. I could almost count the beats of my heart between the ticking third hand on the clock. I watched the glass falling...falling...falling...until...

CRASH.

The shards of glass exploded through across the metal of the sink and echoed through my mind, their glinting edges sharp as razorblades and the fear in my heart just as sharp.

I knew what was coming the second the noise echoed through the hall. 

The thudding of the boots on the hardwood floor matched the thudding of my heart as the footsteps drew nearer and nearer...

"What the HELL was that?!" 

I hit the floor, almost instinctively, arms up over my face in a desperate effort to protect my face and neck from what I knew was coming. The hand around my wrist jerked me to my feet regardless. 

I knew without looking that his ice-blue eyes were cold as winter and that any traces of compassion that used to reside there had long since left us behind. The blows came raining over my shoulders and neck from his tight-clenched hand.

"You...stupid...clumsy...bitch!"

His hand connected with my face, neck, and shoulders to emphasize every word, the blows sending waves of terror and pain through my entire body. But by the third or forth blow, I was numb, my mind shifting into the place it always went when he was angry like this.

The jerk on my hair was enough of a surprise to make me cry out, but it didn't even slow him down as he dragged me down the hall, my feet slipping on the wood and causing me to lose my balance. I hit the floor with a sharp thud, my ankle twisting painfully beneath me. I cried out in pain, and he stopped. 

Turning around, he raised his boot-clad foot and brought it soundly down on the wounded leg. I heard a snap and screamed as white hot pain shot through me. Without a word, he turned away, still pulling me onward until we reached the door of his bedroom.

My back slammed against the wall so hard that I thought more of my bones would break. His hand found my throat and squeezed until I felt my air supply completely cut off. I struggled and tried to gasp for air, but he struck me again and again until my eyes closed and I fell still. 

I felt his hands replaced by a thick twist of sharp, splintered rope, so tight that I could barely draw enough air into my lungs. His voice was venom-laden, no longer loud but so soft that it almost terrified me more than his bellowing.

"This is as much of a collar as you will ever deserve, you stupid, clumsy whore."

His voice against my ear almost caused a physical ache.

"What are you, bitch?"

"Stupid. Clumsy. Worthless..." The words were too familiar, sinking into me until I almost believed them. I had repeated them enough. 

He smacked my face again, making my head spin with the force.

The next moments blurred for me, twisting and fading together like the strangest sort of fog between reality and my aching wishes. It was in these moments that my mind shut off entire, that I reached out mental fingers for the one person that was no longer there, and that would never be again. 

The rough twine cut into my skin, splinters leaving a red trail with the rest of the pale lines that crossed my fair-toned skin. Forced onto my stomach, legs hanging off the edge of the bed, clothes ripped from me so fast that I felt my skin burn. 

His voice was like a knife down my back, cutting me almost in half. 

"This is what stupid, careless bitches get...and don't you dare scream, or I will start over."

The first blow of the thin wooden cane across my my calves was almost enough to make me scream, but my teeth sank into my cheek instead. I knew the drill...this was not the first time, or the second time...was it even the thousandth time?

In my head, I began to whisper the letters that kept me from exploding on the inside. Every blow of the cane was a cypher, the pain lancing through me. But in my head was a whispered chant...His name, over and over again. 

"E....T....I....E...N....N....E........E....T.....I...."

How many times I repeated the letters in my head, I did not know. But I lost count long before the black crept over the edge of my vision and took over everything. 

///

I heard the world before my eyes opened. I could feel the cold wood against my skin, my bare body slick with something that I knew was blood. I tried to shift, but halted instantly as a wave of nausea slammed into my body. I retched but fought it back, knowing that if he found that I had made a mess on his floor, my punishment would be double what it had already been.

Moving my fingers resulted in more pain. I realized that I was now bound to the foot of the bed, hands tied to the footboard and legs tied to a nearby dresser leg. The rope was still around my neck, cutting into my flesh painfully with every breath I took. Everything hurt. 

I heard a distant thudding down the hall. I assumed he was working on something else and making excess noise to remind me of his presence.

Then there was the shouting. Raised voices and crashing, splintering wood. Male voices, the sound of fists connecting with flesh, yells that sounded familiar...too familiar...

My eyes flickered open just as the door to the bedroom flew open and a huge figure came bursting in. The man was massive, broad-shouldered and at least six feet tall. My eyes sought out his face, and my blood ran like ice. I knew that face, better than I knew my own name anymore. It was the only thing that had flooded my mind, clung to my dreams. 

He crossed the entire room in two steps, and was on His knees beside me in an instant. A knife was in His hand, and though I flinched away, the blade sliced through the ropes binding my wrists and ankles as though they were softened butter. 

Carefully, almost reverently, He unwound the choking rope from around my neck. He took His coat off and folded it into a bundle, placing it on the floor and lying my head down against the now-comfortable ground, being careful of my bloodied back and legs.

His strong hands brushed my hair back from my bruised face as gently as a breeze. His touch was light, as though He was afraid to break me further. His palm found my chin and gently cupped my face. His eyes surveyed my face, and down my naked body, hands carefully checking for broken bones before He moved me another inch. Oh, those eyes...so familiar, the sight that had flooded my dreams for months. 

And then He spoke. One word that almost seemed to heal my freezing, broken body in an instant.

"Cariad..."

I felt the room starting to spin and my eyes start to flicker. I knew then that I had to be dying, that the monster that I had let into my life had finally beat me until my body broke beyond repair. 

I was hallucinating a dead Man...my dead Man. How fitting that it would be Him, the only Man to ever make me feel alive, that ushered me into the beyond. 

I let out a rushing breath as my body started to go limp. I managed to whisper His name just as the white fog finally claimed me and my body collapsed to the floor. 

///

I had no idea how long I lay in the whiteness. I half-expected to see Him there, but for once, His face was absent. It was His voice I heard instead, calling my name in a gentle, pleading voice. It was the only thing that cut through the fog. 

"Isabeau....Iz, please.....come back to me, love...love..."

My eyes finally opened, slowly. The brightness was enough to force my lids closed again, wincing as pain lanced through my head. I tried to reach up a hand to touch my face but a nudge of pain and a tugging feeling in the cleft of my arm was enough to stop me in my tracks.

I groaned and turned my head to the side, eyes opening to see an IV line trailing from my arm up to a nearby pole. The noises that had not penetrated my mind were suddenly very clear. The beeping of a heart monitor, the hiss of the oxygen that flowed into my nose.

So I wasn't dead then. I was in a hospital, not the afterlife. Then how had I...why had I seen Him, then?

A strong hand gripped mind tightly, and fingers found my cheekbones, caressing them softly.

I tried to sit up but the same hands pressed against my shoulders.

"Nice try."

The familiar lilt in the voice made my stomach clench and I forced my eyes to open and put the face with the voice. 

Etienne. 

I felt all the breathe leave my lungs in a rush. My fingers instinctively reached up to touch His face, almost disbelieving. My fingertips traced over His dark red beard, stopping to rest against His lips. Every line of His face was familiar, every scar and every freckle burned into my head. I had never forgotten His face, even as I had mourned His presumed death every day that I lived for the past year. 

His hand gently touched the marks on my neck, and I flinched without realizing. He pulled away slightly, a flicker of something radiating through His eyes. It was a combination of hurt and of anger, though I knew neither were directed at me. 

"I'm sorry..." My voice sounded odd, as though it wasn't really mine, and was coming from a thousand miles away. He didn't let me finish. His mouth found mine, lightly pressing His lips against my cracked dry lips. 

The kiss lasted barely a second, as though He was hungry for more but was waiting...for what, I didn't know. His fingers trailed down my face; I closed my eyes. Every touch was doing something to me. A combination of so much fear and confusion that I almost cried with frustration, but there was something else too. Something familiar, something I was too afraid to feel again. 

His eyes met mine as His massive hands gently cradled my tiny, bruised fingers. 

"He won't touch you again, Iz. I made sure of that." His amber eyes hardened for the briefest second, as if recalling something He wouldn't dare tell me. He didn't have to tell me, though; His eyes told me enough to know what He had done, and I would not press for details. 

My mind was almost blank with the rush of thoughts swirling to create a brilliant blur. I had a thousand questions for Him, but I didn't know where to start. My lips tried to form words but nothing was making sense anymore. 

The confusion in my eyes must have been evident to Him; He kissed my fingers softly and moved to stand. Immediately, my hand flew out, ignoring the painful tug of the IV and wrapped around His wrist. 

"Don't leave." My voice sounded very tiny and very frightened, but oddly bold under the circumstances. 

He shook His head, sitting back down beside the bed and holding my hand in His. 

"I will never leave You again, Iz. Not as long as I live. I love you too much."

My eyes suddenly felt overwhelmingly heavy. As hard as I fought, they drifted closed of their own accord. His voice melted over me like velvet. 

"It's okay, I promise. Get some rest, My little one. I'm not going anywhere. I love you...I love you so much, Isabeau."

I allowed myself to relax. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe enough to allow myself the common courtesy of a few moments of slumber without fear. 

He had called me "little one." His little one. My heart flipped and one final thought drifted through my head as I fell into the arms of sleep.

I had my Lover back.

I had my Master back.

Rekindled Ch. 02



It was days before I was able to even sit up in bed unaided. The wounds in my back and legs healed relatively quickly, but the scar tissue that had been built up from months of abuse had increased, leading to white-lash marks that covered every inch of exposed skin. 

It was my leg that caused the most worry. The damage he had inflicted had torn muscle from bone, shattering bone into fragmented pieces that were almost beyond repair. Even if they were entirely able to save the bone and piece it back together again with rods and plates, I would be faced with months of physical therapy before walking would even be an option. 

The medical jargon was overwhelming to me. There were times I simply had to ask them to leave so I could comprehend everything that was being thrown at me. I felt like I was drowning more than once. 

Etienne never left my side. Not once. 

I was in complete awe of His strength, entirely unable to comprehend His ability to stay in that one place, holding my hand while words of medical caliber were lobbed at me from all sides. He was the one that asked the educated questions, and explained things to me in smaller quantities after the white-coated men and women had left the room. 

He held my hand while I recovered from surgeries, helped me through my physical therapy, and listened to me sob in frustration after yet another failed attempt to stand on my own. 

He ate while I slept, the nurses said.

I never saw Him sleep. 

My own sleep was nightly interrupted. I would wake up screaming until my throat was raw, tears of terror soaking down my cheeks into the pillow. The visions in my head would leave me entirely shaking and unable to speak, unable to explain to Him what it was I had just seen. He would reach out for me, and I would shrink away; that hurt me more than the horrors I saw in my sleep. I didn't want to push Him away. It had been so long, and now even His touch was ruined by the stupidity that I allowed myself to walk into all those months ago. 

But He waited. He waited hour by hour, day by week, one moment after another as I pushed Him away while I screamed, and then clung to Him while I slept.

It was a cycle - painful to us both - that He was willing to endure. 

He finally took to sleeping in my bed every night, holding me as close as He could, regardless of the wires and tubes that cut in and out of my pale limbs. I say sleeping, but I don't know if His own eyes actually ever closed. His voice glided in and out of my subconscious, as it always had, even in the days when I had thought that His heart was no longer beating and that His body was no longer the same warm presence that had consumed my being. 

I woke up to that voice, murmuring into my ear and soaking through into my heart. And I dozed again to that same soft muttering tone, firm but so soft that it was more of a prayer or a chant than anything else. 

"It's okay to sleep, Izzy...I've got you, baby, I promise...I'm not going anywhere, not now and not ever again...I love you, Isabeau...it's okay to sleep...I've got you..."

Finally, though, the day came when He left my side. He stood up without a word, untangled Himself from my clinging arms, and stepped almost soundlessly into the hall. I could hear His voice, muted and soft down the hallway, those earnest inflections that I was so familiar with, but could not decipher. 

His footfalls came back to me down the tile-lined hall. Not heavy and frightening, like those boots that sent waves of terror down my spine. No, His feet were light, almost silent, no matter what surface they were tredding. It had always been this way. The simple familiarity of this drew a long-forgotten smile to the corners of my mouth. 

He was back in my bed in an instant, the light from the window reflecting His red hair into something almost...inhuman. Something almost supernatural. He pulled me to His chest, gently, almost as though He was afraid to break me more than I already was. 

His lips were against my ear, and His words and breath settled warm at the base of my spine. He tangled His fingers into my thick, dark hair and caressing down my shoulders with His strong fingers.

"I'm taking you home, Iz." 

///

In truth, I had almost forgotten that I had a home. The place where I had been living for the past eight months was certainly not my home, and it had never felt that way. 

Looking back, I wondered if my own grief had blinded me to the point where good decisions and bad decisions were harder to tell one from the other. I had just lost the Man I loved, and was wandering blindly until I fell into the arms of another man. 

Every day since then, I hated myself for what I had done. I had been grieving for what seemed like an eternity, and this had seemed....had it seemed right, really, or was it just part of me too eager to move on? Too eager to leave the pain behind? I had betrayed Him and His memory, in a way. I had not lingered long enough.

Obviously, I hadn't fully given up, hadn't fully moved on from the idea that He might still be alive, somewhere. Etienne's memory had been the only thing that I had clung to in the darkness of those moments, those nights of torture and brokenness. 

The thought of ever seeing Him again was not something I had dared to entertain. I had dreamed it, of course. I had held Him close, smelled His breath, and clutched His body in my dreams where He still breathed and His blood still pumped. 

And now, He was here. Red hair and muscled arms and that strong Dominant presence, even when His hands were lowered and His voice was silent. These were the things that I had refused to release, even in the darkness of death.

And He was taking me home. 

///

The hospital had attempted to insist that I be taken out in a wheelchair, but Etienne had heard no such thing. He had scooped me up into His arms before the nurses could protest and strode down the hallway with such a passionate stride that He had left all the shouting hospital staff well behind us. 

As we stepped outside the door, I turned my head into His chest to keep my eyes from the blinding sun, almost painful to my eyes after seventy-seven days of muted hospital shaded windows. The sun was warm and soothed my skin, but it was so bright that I was almost grateful to reach the shade of the parking garage. 

After a few more lengthy strides, we reached a certain vehicle, black and sleek almost perfectly parked. His strong hands reached down and opened the passenger door, very gently setting me down into the seat. He pulled a blanket from the backseat and tucked it over me, covering me tenderly before pressing His lips to my forehead lightly. 

"Close your eyes, little one. Rest."

Etienne's words, a low growling purr from His chest, sent familiar waves of lightness from the tips of my toes up all the way through my body. And the name...I shivered, not with chill, but with something else. Something I had not felt in a long time, and something I wasn't sure that I was ready to feel again. But it was something I wanted, something that made me feel safe again. 

He smiled at me, and kissed my forehead again before pulling back and closing the door. 

After a few moments, He slipped into the driver's seat and turned the car on. He cast His eyes in my direction with a slow smile. 

"Your eyes are still open, Iz. Close them. Sleep, little one. I mean it..."

He let His voice trail off, and even though the amused tone, I could hear the familiar notes of authority lingering there. He couldn't help it, I didn't think. 

With a final glimpse up into His eyes, I curled as best I could under the blanket and let my body drift off into sleep, the movement of the car and the soft rushing sound of the breeze outside providing a very lulling soundtrack for my rest. I felt His hand reach over and brush against my cheek just before I dozed off. 

///

The drive was barely more than two hours, and I slept the entire time. In fact, I did not stir at all until the crunch of gravel under the tires signified a change of driveway. I shifted and opened my eyes with a soft groan of pain as I moved my leg a bit more than I should have. Despite the incredible amount of healing that I had already done, my leg would forever bear reminders of where I had been.

"Are you okay?" His voice was tinged with worry, but His eyes never left the road in front of us. 

I nodded. "I just moved the wrong way is all. I'm fine." 

He made a noise in His throat, a sound I could not quite understand. 

I sighed softly.

"Etienne, I'm fine," I repeated, as though to reassure us both. 

I looked from His face to the windshield, eyes fixed on the house that loomed in front of me. To say that the house was huge was an understatement, to say the least. It was spread wide over a massive yard, so green and alive that it seemed to call my name, tucked in a small grove of leafy trees that towered near the eaves of the first section of roof. It was white and beautiful, bearing an air of country charm despite its impressive size. 

"Is this...Yours?" Why did my voice sound so tiny, so unsure? Why did I have to be so tiny, so unsure? 

My eyes were still fixed on the house, but I could hear the smile in His voice when He spoke.

"It's yours, too, Iz."

I don't think I could have said anything more if I had wanted to in that moment. My eyes were fixed on the house, more of a mansion, that stood before us. Slowly, He pulled the car into one of the three garages, parked, and killed the engine as the door glided shut behind us, leaving us in a dimly lit room. 

Before I could move to even undo my own seatbelt, He had gotten out of the car and was at my door. Carefully, He undid my seatbelt and took the blanket off me, carefully folding it before replacing it in the backseat. He was careful, analytical with everything, especially with me. He gathered me up into His arms before I could protest that I was perfect capable of walking from the car to the door, if He would just get me my crutches. 

"I know you can walk, Iz. Just let me. Please?"

It was as though He could read my mind. He had always been good at that; no matter how hard I tried to hide things from Him, He somehow sussed out what was bothering me. I was more than a little relieved to discover that He could still do this, after all this time. 

Slowly, Etienne carried me up a huge twisting staircase until we reached a tall, wooden door. He nudged it open with the toe of His shoe and and brought me into a large bedroom, warm and inviting. The colours were rich, but not overwhelming, and the trappings were simple but tasteful. 

He set me down on the bed, gently, tugging back the blankets and propping the pillows up behind my back. He tucked the covers over my lap before placing yet another soft kiss on my face, this time on the bridge of my nose. 

"Hungry?"

He didn't wait for an answer before getting up and leaving the room again. I couldn't keep back a soft smile; He was as frantic as He ever got, darting about and taking care of things. It was endearing and...odd after where I had been for so long.

It was barely ten minutes before He was back again, this time with a tray of food. I assumed there must be someone down in the kitchen, because the food was all freshly made and steaming hot. He didn't eat Himself, only carefully watched my weak fingers wrap around the fork, as though He was afraid that the fork might be too heavy for me. 

After I ate as much as I could, He took the tray away and set it to one side before pulling up a chair and sitting beside me, taking my tiny pale hand into His huge paw. He looked into my eyes, taking a slow breath before He spoke.

"Iz..we have to talk about this, you know."

Somehow, I knew what He meant, and I nodded. I didn't say anything; I didn't think I even know what the right thing to say at this point was, and I felt that letting Him guide this conversation was the best course of action. 

"I'm not about to push you, Izzy. You've been through so much, and I..." 

Here He stopped and shook His head, lips pressed together and eyes averted. I had a feeling that He didn't want me to see the look that flicked through His eyes; I knew how angry He could get. He didn't finish the sentence; instead, He looked back into my eyes, and reached out His fingers to gently touch my face.

"I want you back, Iz. The way it used to be. I want you as Mine again."

And there it was. The word that I never dared to dream He would ever use in reference to me again.

Mine.

I felt my lips starting to tremble. Oh, hell. I was not about to start crying in front of Him like this. I pressed my lips together as hard as I could, sinking my teeth into the flesh of my cheek in a desperate effort to suppress the flood that I knew could burst free easily if allowed.

His voice was still level, still calm, though I could feel the passion that was pressing through every syllable. 

"I saw what he did to you, in the name of Dominance, Iz. It makes me sick to think..." 

He was almost spitting the words out now, His own rage was inches from the surface. I squeezed His fingers, lightly; I understood. 

"I won't ask that from you, not ever. You tell me what you can and cannot handle, and we will go from there. I promise that I will never hurt you like that, Isabeau. You know that My pain and his are black and white from one another. You know that...right?"

His eyes met mine, almost agonized with the thought of what I had endured. I reached out a hand and touched His cheek, fingers grazing over His beard softly.

"I know." 

He let out a breath then, almost as if He had not been breathing through His entire speech, which was entirely possible. 

"Do You still want me? Even after..." My own voice was a squeak, like a petrified mouse piping up from some hidden corner. 

His answer was not a word at all. 

He leaned forward and softly pressed His mouth to mine. 

It was the first time He had kissed me since we had been separated.

Time stopped. 

I forgot how to breathe in that moment. The only things of which I was aware were His lips, crushing so gently against mine. I couldn't keep my hands to myself any longer; they were winding around His neck before I realized what I was doing, pulling Him into me. His hands found my back and rested against the bare skin of my shoulders that my halter top did not cover. 

His tongue slipped against my lips then, hesitantly, as though testing the waters before diving in headfirst. My lips instinctively parted, falling into the old habits that my body had apparently not forgotten. His tongue brushed mine, and I melted almost instantly. 

There was nothing – nothing in this world, nothing in Hell, no monster of fiction or reality – that could break me from Him now. 

I dared them all to try. 

Etienne broke our kiss after what felt like a thousand years too short. His eyes were almost glowing amber as they sought out my own green eyes; the pad of His thumb traced the line of my lips. 

"I still want you, Iz. If you still want me, cariad..." The lilt of the Welsh word locked itself into my heart and warmed me to the core. 

"I still want You...Etiente...I still want You..."

His finger trailed over my bare neck, still faintly bearing the rope-scars that I might always wear. 

"I want to cover those, little one, if you'll let me."

The tears flowed then, hot streams pouring down my face; I could not have stopped them now, even if I had wanted. I nodded, lips parting to speak but nothing came out save for a tiny sob. I pressed my fingers over my lips in an effort to keep more sounds from breaking free. I didn't dare...

Etienne leaned over and pulled open the drawer of the bedside table. The carved wooden box that rested there was in His hands in an instant. My breath caught. Had He kept it? Still? How had He managed...?

My mind's wonderings were silenced by the cold band of metal that brushed over the palms of my hands. My fingers traced over the band, feeling the twist of roses and dragons that adorned the band, sense memory flashing the familiar image through my mind. 

He met my eyes, resting the palm of His hand against my cheek. 

"It has a hinge in the back, easy to remove if the need arises. Iz, promise Me, if you even feel a second of panic, even a twinge, take if off. It won't hurt me, Iz...I promise it won't...I understand...and when you're ready, I'll get you another one, the best one money can buy."

My eyes swam, not moving an inch from His. I was waiting, heart thudding like a kettledrum against my ribs. 

"I promise."

In an instant, the metal was around my throat. The click of the hinge echoed through my body and burned at my soul like the most breathtaking fire. 

His lips were at my ear in a moment then.

"What am I to you, Iz?"

"my Master." The words were honey on my tongue.

"What are you to Me, little one?"

I breathed out, and the words came easily.

"Yours."



Rekindled Ch. 03



The next morning, the sun's rays in my eyes woke me from a sound sleep. Had I actually slept through the night? Without a single nightmare?

Suddenly, my mind went momentarily blank, frozen with the realization that the sun was rather high in the sky, and I was still lying in bed. I had chores to do, things to take care of..what if he found me like this?

I lurched straight up in bed, and moved to get off the bed and fly down the stairs. Instead, I felt a pair of arms tightening around me, and a low voice whispering into my ear.

"Easy, Iz...calm down, sweetheart."

His voice was a balm to my nerves, sliding down my spine like liquid honey. I let out a long breath and closed my eyes. I let him pull me back down to lie against the pillows as He slowly rubbed His fingers down my spine. 

"I thought...I forgot where I was, I think, just for a minute."

He let out a soft growl -- not one of the frightening sounds that emerged when He was angry or being pushed to His limits, but the low, tender sound that was more like a wolf expressing passion to its mate.

"You aren't there. You're here, with Me. I love you so much, My sweet girl. I love you, little one."

We laid there for a few more minutes, the room silent except for the ticking of the clock and the low murmuring into my ear. I relaxed then, little by little. I was almost entirely leaning on His gentle words as they repeated His quiet mantra of safety and tenderness and overwhelming love until my breathing slowed and my heart's beating returned to normal.

Etienne sat up then, slowly, guiding me to sit up as well against the pile of soft pillows at my back. I was calm enough now to realize that He had changed my clothing while I slept. I was no longer dressed in my own jeans and black halter top. Instead, I was now wearing a soft dark blue nightshift, made of material so filmy that it was almost transparent. I was not wearing my bra, either, so my nipples stuck out hard in the cool room, but He had left my panties on. 

Out of habit, my eyes found their familiar downcast place at my hands, focusing on studying my smooth, short fingernails. 

"Iz, I..." He stopped speaking, suddenly. I could feel His eyes on my face, as though trying to see past my skin and into my soul. He was good at that, always had been. 

He took a finger and placed it on the line of my jaw, slowly running it down to my chin. Tenderly, He crooked the finger under my chin and lifted my face so that my eyes were level with His. He spoke then, His words still tender but with a new level of firmness behind them.

"Isabeau, this is lesson number one. You will always look at Me. You will always meet My eyes. You have the most beautiful, unusual green eyes that I have ever seen, and I want to always be able to see your heart through them." 

I hesitated then, voice a bit unsure. 

"I'm sorry. He never let me look into his eyes. If I did, he would slap me until my lip bled." 

He twitched then, softly pressing His fingers over my lips.

"He was a bastard, and not worth our breath to speak of him. But this is lesson number two for you, Isabeau. If ever I do something that is something he did, or something he did not do, and it frightens you or makes you panic, I want you to tell Me what he did, as best you can, and I will either work through it with you so that you will get past it in your own time, or I will never do it again. Do you understand Me?"

I nodded softly, barely whispering out a quiet "yes." 

"Yes, what, little one?" His fingers reached up and gently curled into my hair, still tussled with "bedhead" and yet unbrushed from my night's rest. 

"Yes, Master..." My voice was still soft, hesitating as the once-familiar word word slipped off my tongue.

"Your third lesson, little one." I noted without comment that He had changed from using my first name to one of His many former pet names for me. "You always have the freedom to use My name. In fact, I want you to use it as much as you want. You are my lover as much as you are my submissive, and My name is not forbidden to you. But, as my submissive, my most beloved one, I also want you to call me Master."

This lesson was less of a command, more of a tender lilting request still laden with the authority that His voice never fully lost. But even still, the Dominance I felt from Him was not frightening, only reassuring, blanketing me in a warm wrap of safety and security. 

"What are your limits, Isabeau?"

This was new, foreign to me, even for Him. Before He had...I stopped my mind from thinking the foul words of loss and death, and instead changed the thought to "separated"...before He and I had been separated, there had been no limits, save our mutual agreements. I had not had any reservations with Him; His every desire had been mine. 

But now, after all that had passed, everything that had gone on since we had been together last, I was now tainted, spoiled. 

I was afraid now. And I never had been with Him before. 

The thought made tears spring unbidden to my eyes, and it made my mind wander to that day...the day when my world had shuddered to a halt...the day when the dark car bearing the Seal of the United States and the dark-uniformed officers on our doorstep had sent my universe into a tailspin...

///

"Isabeau? Are you alright, My love? Can you answer Me, little one?" 

His voice snapped me out of my darkening thoughts, bringing me back to the reality of His presence, His gentle eyes still boring deep into mine. 

I took a deep breath, the air seeming to leave the room. I knew almost immediately as the images of those things which made me shake harder than anything else passed into the eye of my mind.

"The cane, I don't think I can...being blindfolded and left alone...no heat or fire...no tight, dark places...no being slapped across the face, or called "stupid" or "ugly" or..."

He took my hands in His then, His massive scarred fingers wrapping around my tiny shaking digits. 

"You are intelligent, Isabeau. You are so beautiful; oh, girl, you take My breath away with those eyes, and this beautiful soft hair, and your soft skin. And you are a survivor, My love. You came back to me, my beautiful strong girl. And those things, some of them I would never do to you, anyway. I would never insult you, and I would never strike you in a way to injure or demean you."

"I want..." I stopped, the momentary boldness in me wavering slightly.

"What do you want, Mine?"

"I want to trust You. I want You to help me trust You. Etienne, I love You. More than anything. I want to trust You, Lover."

He nodded then, a gentle smile spreading across His face as His eyes glowed again in that tender amber tone. His fingers brushed my cheek.

"And oh, how I love you, My precious girl. And I want you to trust me, too, sweet one. What does that mean to you, Mine, to trust again?"

I took another deep breath, still shaky.

"I want You to push me. I want You to fix me, and put me back together again." Tears were spilling out of my eyes now, pouring down my cheeks and dripping off the edge of my chin onto His fingers. "I want to submit to You again, the way I used to, without question or hesitation. I want to find pleasure in pain again, to find myself again. To love You freely again."

Etienne leaned in and kissed first one eye, than the other, kissing down my cheeks over every teardrop. Then, He kissed my mouth, soft at first and then slowly deepening as His tongue found its way into my mouth; I could taste the sweet saltiness of my tears on His lips. After what seemed far too short a time, He broke the kiss and looked into my eyes again.

"And you will, My girl. I know you will. It will be slow, and it will take time. But I have all My confidence in you. It will be alright, little one. I promise. Oh, how I love you, My darling girl."

"And oh, how I love you, Etienne, my Master." I smiled then, a tiny timid smile, but still a smile nonetheless. 

"Lesson number four, My Isabeau. You will always be accessible to Me. I always want to be able to touch you, to caress you, to have my hands on your body. Not just on your face or your shoulders, but on your breasts and your pussy, as well."

As He spoke, the fingers of His left hand trailed slowly down the curve of my breasts over the material of the nightshift and stopped to rest against my stomach, right above the line of my panties. I shivered under His touch, slightly flinching, but I did not pull away or resist Him. The words coming out of His mouth had reduced me to a trembling pleasure-center; every nerve in my body was on fire as His fingers brushed down over my skin. Even though the shift, the intimacy of His touch was not lost on me. 

"I removed your bra for your comfort while you slept, but left your panties on for the same reason. I did not to want to take your exposure; I want you to give it to Me willingly, Mine. Not taken, but given." 

His eyes were unmoving from mine as His fingers slid beneath the skirt of my shift, pressing so lightly against the fabric of my panties. My reaction to His touch was instinctive; my legs instantly spread wider, my neck straightening and my lips parting in a silent whimper that never escaped my throat. 

I had already been situated with my bad leg straight but my good leg tucked beneath me, and I pushed myself up on the bed into an awkward sort of half-kneel at His side. My mind was a blur, everything I had ever felt for this Man pouring back to me in a rush. He moved gently then to kneel in front of me, His fingers still stroking up and down over the crotch of my panties. The more He stroked, the wetter I became. As the first drops soaked through the fabric, I saw Him smile, heard His growl of pleasure.  

I moved to press my hips more against His fingers, eager to feel more of the pleasure He was bringing to my body. But instead, He stopped, and pulled His hand out from under my shift. 

"I want to see you, Mine. All of you."

His hands were tugging my shift up and away from my body, tossing it to the floor beside the bed. The cool air brushed my skin and I shivered slightly, a mixture of cold and arousal caressing through my body. My breasts were free into the air now, and I blushed deeply, eyes flicking away from His. Their firm roundness, their larger size of 38DD, heavy on my small pale-skinned frame, had always been a source of embarrassment for me from the time I was a young teenager. However, I knew these were all things that brought Him endless amounts of pleasure. 

Etienne's fingers caught my cheek, gently, His entire hand uncurling against my face in the tenderest caress as He drew my face back to His. 

"Look at Me, Isabeau." 

His hands were caressing my breasts now, lightly, not so much for pleasure but almost in an inspecting manner, as though He was reacquainting Himself with my body. Softly, His fingers found the fabric of my panties, and gently pulled them off my legs. I was entirely bare now; I blushed and pressed my thighs together as I realized that it had been quite some time since I had taken care of any sort of detailed physical grooming. Not only were my legs rough, but the dark patch of hair between my legs, though not overly unruly, was in desperate need of a razor's touch. 

"It doesn't matter to Me, love. I will take care of that for you in a short while. But for now, let go, and let Me see you. I want to see you. You're beautiful to Me, Iz..."

Slowly, I let my legs part again, feeling the air brushing my swiftly dampen lips. 

"Lie back on the bed, Mine."

I obeyed almost without a single moment of hesitation. My hands rested at my sides as my back rested against the soft sheets, and the breeze from the open window ruffled my hair and brushed over my bare skin. My mind was a rush; how was He doing this, making me feel so secure with Him, as though nothing had ever happened? 

"Open yourself and display Your body for Your Master, little one."

His words were not foreign, by any means, but what He wanted was unclear to me. I hesitated then, not from fear but from a complete lack of understanding. 

"I don't...I don't understand, Etienne." My voice was a stammer.

He looked at me, eyes soft into mine. "When a slavegirl opens and displays herself for her Master, she places her feet flat on the bed with her knees bent and apart. Her hands should reach down and spread her pussy apart for her Master's eyes to take in and enjoy."

I felt my cheeks burn with shame; what a simple task this was. How had I not known something so simple, so basic? He must have seen the look on my face, the way my cheeks were darkening with blush, because He reached out His hand and caressed down my neck.

"It's alright, Mine. I understand that, in part, you will have be to retrained, to be retaught. I am willing, and I am eager to teach you again. I promise, Iz...I love you, and you will learn again. Now, My little one, open yourself for Me. Let Me look at you. Let Me delight in you."

Timidly, I obey. My feet lifted and my knees bent, and I slowly reached down to spread my pussy open for His eyes. My outer lips were full and pillowy when shaved, while my inner lips were much smaller. I had often wished for a pussy that was pretty, like an unfolding flower, but He had always insisted how much He loved my body exactly the way it was. 

My clit, the tiniest of buds that usually chose to stay tucked away under its hood, was already starting to peak itself out, just barely, just enough to make every brush of air over my parted lips almost enough to send me over the edge on its own.

Etienne growled with deep, throaty pleasure as I carefully and gently spread myself fully open. 

"Oh, so beautiful...good girl...My good girl..." 

His words sent waves of reassurance and ecstasy through me like a tidal wave; I bit my lip and whimpered softly. I could feel the wetness starting to pool against my opening; I wanted to scream, to beg Him to plunge His fingers, His cock, something...anything into me...

Instead, He leaned in and placed a soft kiss right above my slit, His tongue barely flicking against my skin. 

"Good girl, Isabeau. Now, turn over onto your stomach."

Slowly, with a soft barely hidden groan of need, I released my lips and let my pussy fold back together like the petals morning glory when the sun had passed away. Carefully, using my hands to help more than my still injured leg, I turned over onto my stomach, letting my full ass poke up into the air behind me. I turned my face to the side, still managing to look up into His eyes as He straddled my calves. 

He moved away from my line of vision for a moment, reaching toward the nearby end table. I could hear Him rustling about for something before moving back against my lower legs. I heard a click, as though the top of a bottle had been opened. After a few more moments, I felt His hands starting to rub slow circles down my shoulders. They were slick and cool, as though He had filled His palms with some sort of warm oil or salve. He worked over every inch of my back and shoulders, fingers tracing over every line and every scar that had been left behind by cruel hands and heartless lashes. 

I had forever marveled at how such large hands could be so tender and light in their touch. And this massage He was giving me was certainly no exception; in fact, was it possible that I had never felt Him be this gentle with me ever before? He worked the oil into my skin, softly muttering words of love and affirmation under His breath, that same chant that He had whispered upon my waking. 

"You're here, with Me. That creature will never hurt you again. I love you, Isabeau, My beautiful slavegirl. I love you so very much, Mine...this is not taken, but given...never taken, only given..."

His hands moved lower, toward the crest of my ass. His fingers were sliding over my cheeks now, gripping them and kneading them gently. Gently, one oiled finger slid down my crack, causing me to shiver at the nearness to my most private of places. 

He noted the shiver, and leaned over my body, His bare chest pressing against my back. His voice was a low whisper right against my ear.

"Still, My little one? Still untouched there?" There was awe in His voice. 

"Only a finger, and a very slim toy once. But I never let him...that was promised to You, Etienne. No one else will have it, not ever."

I heard Him let out a long noise, a mixture of surprise and adoration and something else that I could not identify. Was it...pride, perhaps?

He leaned back up and continued to knead and rub the oil into my ass. Again, He drew the oiled finger down between my cheeks and pressed just the tip right against the entrance to my tightly puckered hole. 

I gasped softly at the sensation, closing my eyes with a whimpering groan of pleasure. Though even Etienne had never taken my virginity there, He had often toyed with and teased me me anally, and it was apparent that He had not forgotten how anally erotic and sensitive I was.

But He did not press His finger into me, only teasing right on the outside, pressing lightly but never breaching the entrance. I bit my lip hard to keep back the flood of groans and moans and pleas that were building against my tongue; I could not bring myself to beg for anything from Him. As much as I wanted to let the words fly free from my tongue, the frightening reminders still tugged at the back of my consciousness. No, I did not dare. 

He kept teasing me for another moment before moving His finger away and continuing down my legs and inner thighs. His fingers brushed again and again against my pussy lips, the soft hair brushing and moving with His fingers as He Himself let out a soft noise of pleasure, a throaty mix between a growl and a moan. 

I couldn't keep back then. My lips parted, and I let out a soft moan into the room. Only one word was on my lips.

"Etienne...Etienne..."

He slid from off my back then, tenderly turning me onto my back again. His eyes were fixed into mine as He straddled my hips from the front. He was wearing only His boxers, I had noticed before, but I could see the straining bulge in the front with only a passing glance. I knew all too well what lurked below the fabric, and while parts of me still quivered in fear, other parts of me craved what I knew He possessed. 

He noticed my gaze, and smiled tenderly at me. 

"Not yet, my precious girl. Trust me, that time will come very soon. But this is not about Me this morning. This time is fully devoted to you, My dearest one."

He rested two of His fingers against my lips, slipping them along the ridge from one corner to another. 

"Open, little one."

My lips parted without a word, the tip of my tongue teasing in light flicks against His fingertips. 

"Suck." 

The one word command sent a jolt through my body as my lips wrapped around Him, and sucked His strong fingers into my mouth. He groaned softly, His eyes fixed in what seemed like a permanent gaze into mine. 

"Always look at me, Mine. Good girl..."

Softly, He pressed His fingers of His left hand between my thighs, teasing right along my slit until I squirmed. 

"Spread your legs, Mine."

My legs shifted apart as His fingers continued to glide over my dripping sex, the heat pouring from me and the room filling with the light scent of my overwhelming arousal. Inch by teasing inch, He invaded my pussy with His digits, His thumb hovering right above my clit as His two fingers delved deeper into my depths. 

I cried out then around the fingers still in my mouth, hips lifting in an instinctive attempt to take His probing caresses deeper. He began to work His fingers in and out of me, His thumb brushing my clit so light that it felt more like a feather than a touch of a Man's hand. 

Etienne's eyes burned deep into mine, the room silent save for the wet noises that He was churning up from my dripping pussy and the sucking sound of my lips wrapped around His fingers, mingling with the noises of pleasure escaping from my throat. My eyes flickered in need, in want, in intoxicating pleasure that threatened to tip me over the edge and into an ever-nearing pool of white light.




Rekindled Ch. 03



He spoke then, one word that consumed my existence.

"Cum."

Time stopped. 

The word, the command, coursed like a bolt of firey lightning through my veins and nerves and shot out of my fingertips and toes and lips and eyelashes and from the ends of my hair. I felt myself bucking, felt myself thrashing, heard a voice screaming in the most divine of pleasures. It was my voice, my own orgasm into which I was falling and crashing and rising and crashing again, much like the waves of the sea against the sand-lined shores.

It seemed to last an eternity. I screamed His name like a pleading blessing into the room, heard the sounds that escaped my throat sound so foreign and yet so close and familiar. 

Finally, in a rush, my body was done. I collapsed against the bed and lay completely still. I didn't think I could move if I wanted; every muscle was twitching and shaking, my tongue felt deliciously heavy, and my mind was still in the most beautiful rainbow blur of light and sensation and colour and His eyes. 

I felt His arms around me, cradling me to His chest as He whispered His love for me into my ear, again and again. 

"That's My girl. That's My beautiful, wonderful slavegirl. Breathe, My love. Just breathe..."

After a few moments of these ministrations, He stood up and covered my body in a light blanket. Caressing the hair out of my eyes, He kissed my forehead and left the room. I panted as I tried to regain my senses, but eventually gave up and surrendered into the lingering affects of the orgasm that still shimmered through my senses. 

I must have dozed into a light sleep for a time, because He was suddenly at my side again after what seemed like barely a moment, though the clock on the wall said it had been nearly twenty minutes. He gathered my naked body into His arms and stood, pressing His mouth tenderly against mine again, His fingers caressing my legs as He carried me down the hall into the bathroom. He had drawn a bath for me, warm and full of bubbles and smelling of lavender and cherry blossoms. 

He lowered me into the water, the perfect temperature of warmth. He insured that my bandaged leg was out of the water's way before shedding His own boxers and slipping into the tub behind me. He held me against His chest as He washed my body from head to toe, using a washcloth and some deliciously aromatic soap to cleanse away the sweat and sleep's reminiscent presence from my skin. 

After a time, He drained the water and lifted me from the tub to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. He ran warm water in the sink and took a razor and some shaving cream into His hand. Gently, He shaved my legs, working around the bandages carefully, and even my underarms with the tenderest of touches, being very careful to keep from cutting me in any way. He was silent through all this, as though to let the intimacy of touch provide all the dialogue between us. 

When He was finished, He spread my legs and placed a towel beneath me, lathering between my legs and moving to shave my mound and down fully over my lips.

"I will not hurt you, My girl, but you must hold very still and let me do all the work. I promise I will be careful with you. Trust me, little one." I nearly wept at the tenderness He was showering upon me.

When He was finished, He brought me a fresh change of clothing, and left the room to grant me some privacy to use the toilet and to dress myself, as well as to have a few moments to gather my thoughts. 

I dressed rather quickly, tugging my hair back into a ponytail to somehow contain my tussled raven locks, as my loose curls tended to run amok if I was not careful. 

There was a tap at the door, and Etienne poked His head in. He cast His glance over me, inspecting the dark skirt which fell to right above my knees, and the dark blue shirt with a neckline that swept low to expose more than a little of my curving breasts. He had not provided panties or a bra with the clothing He brought, which did not really surprise me all that much.

With a light twinkle in His eye, He reached out His hand and tugged the blinding from my hair.

"I like it loose, My love." He halted my impending protests with a practiced look. "It's not a mess, so don't even try to give Me that. It's beautiful. Always wear it loose for Me, little one." 

He swept me up into His arms, carrying me toward the stairwell. 

"Your crutches are at your chair downstairs, Iz. I will let you walk with them on the ground floor but not up and down stairs. Maybe it will come in time with some more practice, but I do not want you to fall and injure yourself."

I nodded. It made sense, as I had always been rather awkward on my legs when they worked normally, let alone when one was out of commission for a time.

He leaned in and kissed my nose as we reached the base of the stairs. I smiled up at Him.

"Now come eat some breakfast, My little one. You have much to learn, and I have much to teach, My little cariad, My dearest slavegirl. My precious Isabeau." 

I was afraid, that had not changed. But there was freedom coming too, little by little, He wall pulling the release from me. This day was the start of a new life for me...and it had only just begun.

I took a deep breath, and looked up into His eyes. I was afraid, but I wanted this. I wanted my life back. My shaking fingers touched against the band of silver at my throat. 

"I'm ready, Master. Make me Yours again."



Rekindled Ch. 04



The dining room was already set with a table for two. It wasn't fancy or overly adorned by any means, but it was certainly much better than the setups to which I had become accustomed. To my tired eyes, it was a banquet. 

Had Etienne done this while I was dressing? It seemed to have taken a good portion of effort...I looked up at Him.

"Did You do this?"

His smile was gentle, almost teasing, and it was the only response I got to my question. 

Etienne was quiet over breakfast. He ate, slowly, nowhere near as much or as fast as I did. Rather, He was more focused on watching me as I slowly ate the food in front of me. More than once, I looked up to find Him studying my face, my fingers, my mannerisms. It was as though He was trying to reeducate Himself regarding me, remembering the things He had perhaps forgotten in our time apart, and learn the new things that had transpired since then.

I, on the other hand, felt as though I hadn't eaten in months. Other than the food Etienne had given me the night before, I had eaten nothing but vile hospital food for an incredibly long time, and the sweetness of the fruit and the saltiness of the bacon on my tongue seemed to spark a ravenous hunger in me. I tried to eat slowly to avoid looking like a fool, but my hunger was making it difficult to keep from wolfing down the food on my plate and then asking for more. 

And still, He watched me. 

///

I had always compared this Man to a wolf in my head. There was something so feral about Him, so wild. It was more than just the low roar that snarled up in His chest when He was angry, or the growling purr of arousal or pleasure that rumbled from some hidden place within His core. It was more than His eyes that burned amber in the darkness or the way His body curled around mine while we slept. 

It was that warrior streak. That devotion to His mate -- to me. The things that had driven Him to enlist in the first place. The night He told me what He was planning, I had sobbed into His chest and begged Him to change His mind. I was afraid, I said, afraid of losing Him to a sniper's bullet or an exploding trap hidden beneath sand and dirt. 

Etienne had held me that night and let me cry out my fears in a flood. He never once questioned me or accused me of not being supportive. And as days passed and conversations took place, I understood more. It was His calling, His duty. He wouldn't have it any other way. 

And I had wiped away my tears and held His hand. And He had signed on the dotted line.

And that dotted line had taken Him away from me. 

///

The gentle sound of a clearing throat pulled me back into the present. 

"You wandered again, Iz."

I felt my cheeks heating with a blush as I looked down at my plate, attempting to busy myself with eating the last few bites of pineapple and strawberry that still remained. I half-expected Him to scold me for looking down, but He said nothing about it until every scrap of food that I wanted was gone. 

It was then that He reached up and gently lifted my chin so my eyes met His. 

"I will clear the table. Help Me with the dishes?"

It was not an order. It was a request. The newness of being asked to help with a household chore instead of being barked a brutal order coupled with a slap or a jerk on my hair was difficult for my mine to comprehend. I blinked a bit to aid my comprehension, praying that I did not look like a simpleton. 

Etienne did not linger at the table; instead, He gathered our dishes up into His broad hands, carefully stacking them with the silverware on top, and carried them down a small hallway off to the side. I watched His back as He left the room; had He always been so tall? The Man I remembered had been massive, powerful, and strong, indeed, but not quite to this extent. 

Was He bigger, or was I just feeling smaller?

I gathered myself together, being careful to find my balance on the crutches before slowly hobbling after Him down the hall. I had used crutches before, especially in high school when I had injured myself after a particularly bad drop during a performance of "Swan Lake." I shook my head to clear away any lingering wants toward dancing again; barely twenty-three and my chances of rising on pointe again had already drifted away on the wind. 

The kitchen was just as spacious as the rest of the house, and just as beautifully laid out. Stainless steel fixtures, dark wood cabinets, and smoothly polished stone counter-tops. The sink was framed on both sides by wide windows with filmy white curtains that currently brushed back and forth in the springtime breeze. 

Etienne had already placed the dishes into the sink, which was filled to the brim with soapy water that steamed slightly. He held out a soft white dishtowel to me.

"I'll wash, and you can dry, My love." 

I leaned against the counter and took the first wet dish He offered me. It became a ritual into which I easily fell: dry the dish and stack it with the others on the counter. The methodical repetition was soothing to me, as it always had been. There was something about the rush of the water, the cool drops that clung to my fingertips, even the clanking of flatware in the sink that made me...

CRASH.

I hadn't been paying attention. I had let my mind drift again. And the plate...it had just slipped...the pieces littered the bottom of the empty side of the sink. 

Something inside my head snapped.

NOT! AGAIN!

My body launched backwards, desperation erasing the memory of my injured leg from me as I threw my weight fully onto the damaged limb in an effort to run. My back slammed into the floor as my crutches fell away in two different directions, my head cracking slightly against the island in the center of the room. 

The blow to my head made me slightly dizzy, but I was too desperate to notice. I pushed myself backward across the floor, favouring my good leg until my back pressed against the still slightly warm stove. I couldn't go back any further; I had backed myself into a corner. I curled down against the floor, arms over my head, shaking so hard that I thought I might knock my own teeth out of my head. Someone was screaming, a woman's voice that wailed in the most horrifying sound of terror that I had ever heard. 

Time wasn't moving at a normal speed. I closed my eyes and waited, waited for the blows to come raining down, for the familiar boot-thuds to make their way down the hall, for the hand to break me again. 

They never came. The screaming started to fade, started to feel even further away until it stopped completely. I realized after a moment that my eyes were closed, and that the warmth against my back felt far more human than metallic.

I opened my eyes, slowly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Two massive hands were wrapped around my body, holding me back against a large masculine form, slow fingers were caressing down my face and a soft humming voice was whispering words that I could not quite decipher at first. 

Etienne was holding me. I looked up into His face, slowly. He was crying, something I had only seen Him do once before in my entire life, and His lips were forming the same words over and over again. Finally, I could understand what He was saying.

"I'm sorry. Iz, I'm so, so sorry...baby, I'm so sorry..."

I blinked through the haze that still wrapped itself around my mind. I shook my head.

"No...I dropped the plate...I broke the plate. It just slipped. I...I...."

He pressed a finger over my lips to keep me from continuing my babbling, frantic apologies.

"No. Oh, Isabeau, no. It was a mistake...it was a simple mistake." 

His voice broke and He pulled me against His chest, wrapping His arms around me as though He was afraid that I was going to dematerialize and vanish into smoke right there. His chest shook as He drew a sob-laden breath, and I could feel His own brokenness soaking through my clothing and into our bodies, merging us into a moment of the most tragic intimacy I had ever experienced. 

I had never been this weak in front of Him before. 

It was the most overpowering blend of surrender and almost unbearable shame. I felt tears of my own starting to prick the back of my eyes and I bit hard at my lip until I tasted blood. 

"Etienne, it wasn't Your fault. Don't be sorry. It was mine."

He pulled me into Him then, tucking my head beneath His chin as He cradled me against His body, soothing me with the gentlest caresses up and down my arms. 

"No. Oh, little one. All of this is My fault. I should have found you sooner, I should have never left you in the first place. I should have never given him the chance to touch you, to break you like this. Oh, My darling girl, what has he done to you? What did I let him do to you?"

I shook my head, so bewildered. 

"You? But You didn't do anything wrong...You didn't LET him hurt me, Etienne. It wasn't Your doing at all!"

He looked down into my eyes again; agony and shame were written there in stone.

"I swore to protect you. I swore to care for you. And then I left you...and he caught you instead, and he nearly..." 

The words died on His tongue, as though they were far too bitter for Him to bear tasting again. 

"I didn't protect you, Iz. What sort of Master does not protect His own? I didn't protect you..."

I don't know how long we were curled there on the floor. His guilt was almost palatable, an essence within itself. I never once, even in the darkest moments of my captivity, had even thought of blaming Him for this. My own self-abuse had been nearly limitless, but to think of blaming Him...to think of putting the fault of this onto His shoulders...

He had been doing it since that moment He had seen me battered and bloody on the floor. 

And so we sat there, bodies connected not at the hips and mouths, but at the souls. 

I think it was then that I began to heal.

///

The next five days passed slowly for us. 

Etienne kept tenderly working with me through the "simple" lessons that we had discussed that first morning together. I say "simple," because for most they would have been the easiest things in the world to accomplish. Looking a Man in the eye or even using His first name would have been second nature to most. But in the days that followed, the amount of times that He had to remind me to simply raise my gaze to His or to stop trying to hide my fears from Him were unbelievable. Not to Etienne, of course; it was though He had expected that these things would be difficult for me at first. But to myself, who had once been so confident in my love for Him and His for me that I would have done nearly anything to make Him smile, it was wrenching to my heart. 

We settled into a sort of routine, very much like a husband and wife doing their day-to-day duties. Etienne would cook us breakfast in the morning, followed by us both doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen together. I learned to love watching Him cook, and I would often sit in the kitchen and just watch Him and talk to Him as He worked. 

Afternoons were filled with talking and time spent together. Etienne had always been independently wealthy, and as such, His work was mostly done from home. I would spend a great deal of time in His office at a desk which He gave to me, writing or helping Him file His seemingly endless piles of paperwork.

After dinner each evening, Etienne would slip alone into His office, leaving me some time to myself, to think and to read and to process my thoughts before bed. It was not that He wanted to be away from me; this was time He knew that I needed. 

He was coaching me, gently, like a Man breaking in a new filly. In a way, He was gentling me. He learned what little things startled me, knew what would make me flinch or pull away from Him. He started wearing softer shoes around the house, abandoning His boots all-together when we were in the house, and announcing Himself when He walked down a hallway to keep from making me jump when He entered a room. 

Even with all of our days together and our nights spent curled together in His bed, Etienne had not touched me in a sexual way since that first morning. Though He always requested that I come to bed naked or at least scantily clad, His hands always remained around my waist or at my shoulders, never straying. His touches were always tender, never demanding, and He had not come to me demanding anything from me. Not once. 

My captor -- I could not bring myself to even think his name -- had at first wanted me every day as an outlet for his own personal pleasure. However, after a while, his interest in me had leaned more toward a housemaid and an easy punching bag than as anything more than a "quick, stupid fuck." His words, not my own. He had used my pussy and my mouth for his own pleasure often enough, but other than occasionally plugging my ass or toying with it near the very beginning, he had not shown much interest there, making it easy for me to keep at least one precious thing safe. 

I was not left to feel unwanted or unloved, however. He conveyed His love to me through kisses and caresses, and there were hundreds of those lavished upon me. He would often spend hours with arms wrapped around me, my body pressed to His, only kissing me for what felt like beautiful blissful hours at a time. He would whisper His love into my ear until it was the first thing I heard each morning and the last thing I heard upon sleeping. 

The collar around my neck was more than a small reminder of my place in His heart, at His side. It was more than a simple neck adornment; it was something priceless, something powerful. Could it be that there was magic woven into the band, some sort of strange soothing balm that coupled with His words and His touch to restore the broken pieces of my soul? For the first time in a very long time, I felt truly and passionately Owned. 

He was making me want Him. 

Little by little.

And it was working.

///

It had been a full week of these simple days before Etienne approached me sexually again. I had been waiting, almost with the oddest touch of eagerness, for Him to reach out His hand toward me again. 

I had become more masterful on my crutches, and had made my way upstairs by myself. After washing my face and attending to my needs in the bathroom, I made my way to our bedroom. I turned on the light, and made my way to the dresser, where I began to undress myself in preparation for bed.

"Iz? Are you up there, love?"

I smiled slightly to myself at the sound of His voice which boomed from the base of the stairs all the way up the hall and to the room where I stood. 

"Yes...Etienne, I'm dressing for bed." 

The use of His name so easily on my tongue surprised me, and I blushed without thinking. Perhaps it was easier when I was not looking Him in the eye. 

I heard His gentle step on the stair, and then again down the hall toward the room. I continued in my undressing, slipping my top up over my head, exposing my uncovered breasts that had become more than accustomed to not wearing a bra. 

I moved my hands to my waist to take off my skirt. 

"Wait..."

His deep voice was tender but the low hint of Dominance in His voice halted my movements. I turned to see Him standing in the door, leaning slightly against the frame, His eyes fixed on me. I blushed again, feeling the heat causing my ears to twitch.

"Let Me." 

He came to me, then, in two long strides. I would have almost said that He stalked to me, the wolfish gleam in His eye causing a burn in my soul; not of fear, but of lingering, flickering want. His hands rested at my waist, holding me entirely at balance as His fingers pulled the skirt down over my hips and let it pool around my ankles. 

That was it, then. 

I was entirely naked for Him, not in the darkness of a night-cloaked room, but full under the light pouring from the sconces on the wall. No shadows, no darkness. 

I closed my eyes and covered myself with my hands, the light almost blinding me with its sudden intensity. Had those little bulbs always made the room so bright? 

"Iz...what's wrong, little one? You're trembling..."

Was I? I hadn't even noticed my shaking limbs until He had made mention. 

"Can't we turn off the light?" My voice was soft, so soft that I wasn't even sure if He heard me. 

His fingers cupped my face and lifted my eyes to His. Without a single word, He kissed me. It was a firm kiss, strong and determined, yet so gentle that I almost melted into a pool at His feet. He pulled away and looked directly into my eyes.

"Why would I want to turn the light off, little one? I couldn't see My girl's beautiful body then." 

I opened my mouth to say how that was the very point I was trying to make, and then I stopped. Of course He knew that already.

"I'm not beautiful." 

He snarled then. The sound burned low in my soul, and I pressed my lips together.

"You, Isabeau, are beautiful. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, or will ever look upon again. You are perfect in every single way. And I will not have anyone say anything different about what is Mine. Not even you."

As He was speaking, His hands had been roving down my sides, up over my breasts, down the curve of my hips. His touch was insistent, firm, and strong, covering every inch of my body in His possessive caresses.

His hand met my ass with a firm smack. It stung, but it was not harsh by any means. I moaned. 

"Do not speak like that of what is Mine." His hand again connected with my ass, just as strong as before. The sensation that flew up my spine nearly made me tumble to the floor. The electricity of the spank, the fire in His eyes and the passion of His words...all were nearly enough to set my soul alight with a glowing fire that I thought I had long forgotten. 

Before the last word had left His mouth, He had lifted me into His arms and carried me in a single stride across the room to the bed. He laid me down there on top of the blankets, resting my head comfortably against the pillows.

He stood beside the bed, shedding His clothing one article at a time. His eyes never left mine for a single instant as He drew down His boxers and freed His cock into the air. I let my eyes drift down His body and linger there. 

Oh, how had I forgotten how large He was, how thick He was? 

My breath caught in my throat before I could stop myself. He had taken me before, a thousand times before we had been lost from one another. But it had been months since anything but His fingers had penetrated me, and even before that, since anything so large had been inside me. 

My captor had thought himself impressive in size, and often made me repeat to him how big he felt and how thick he was. But in truth, he was average in size and did not make very good use of the length he did have. 

But Etienne...His cock was thick, and already so hard. Circumcised, ten inches in length and a full three inches in breadth. The very sight took my breath away, as it always had. 

I felt my lips parting, almost instinctively. There was something about this sight that had always bewitched me, and my body now wanted what it had always wanted. Without thinking, I reached out my fingers and touched it, lightly, right at the base of the head and down the shaft an inch or two.

He groaned and arched His neck a little; I felt His entire cock jump the second that my fingers brushed against it, and my own body jumped in return. I brushed my fingers over the length again, and again, building in confidence as I arched my body to sit up a bit, letting His cock rest fully against my palm. My eyes were locked into His as I stroked Him, slowly but in a firmly gentle grip. 

He was moaning now, softly. Every stroke brought my name to His lips, almost a prayer, as I glided my hand over His hardness, now readily dripping pre-cum. 




Rekindled Ch. 04



He pulled from my hand after another moment, and gently climbed atop me. Though He was gentle, He was insistent, pinning my tiny form beneath His. Slowly, His fingers wrapped around my wrists, lifting my arms above my head and holding them there. My body was so exposed to Him, flesh to flesh with His warmth. I felt His knee nudging my legs apart so He could kneel between them, His throbbing cock pulsing against my inner thigh. I was helpless beneath Him, vulnerable, and yet I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was safer than I had been in months. 

The grip around my wrists tightened. For a brief moment, I thought that He had bound me; however, after a moment's hesitation, the brush of skin against skin confirmed that it was still His strong fingers holding me fast and nothing else. 

"Trust Me." The words glided through my body like the soothing touch of ice on an aching sunburn. I shivered; I could feel His cock pressing more insistently against me, but hesitating. 

He whispered again. "Trust Me." 

His body was fully between my legs now; His free hand was on my right breast, caressing it so tenderly, fingertips taking the nipple and rolling the hardening nub firmly back and forth until I mewed in pleasure. 

I could feel His cock right against my entrance, slipping back and forth against the slickness that had somehow pooled there. When had I gotten so wet? And when had every nerve in my body suddenly been lit on fire? 

"Trust Me, little one. Trust Me."

He was looking into my eyes as He pushed forward. We both gasped as the head of His cock slid into me; my hips lifted without my realizing, eager to take Him deeper into me. My feet slid up the back of His calves, our entire bodies locked in something so intimate that I could not fully comprehend it all. 

Etienne did not stop pushing into me until He had reached His limit, buried fully to the hilt into my body. He looked down into my eyes, whispering, "do you trust Me, My Isabeau?"

If my hands had been free, I would have caressed His face and run my fingers down His chest. 

"I...yes, Etienne...yes, Master, I do trust You."

He moved against me then, long strokes, sinking to the hilt, withdrawing almost entirely before pressing fully back into me again. I found myself moving against Him, my wrists captured tightly within in His grasp. 

I was fully bound by Him, His flesh pinning us together. 

His strokes grew faster, stronger, grinding His hips against mine. His free hand was tugging now at my nipples, firm and almost painful, but in the deepest and most delicious of ways. 

His cock was striking a place inside me that almost felt foreign in its bliss, sending shockwaves of pleasure up my spine and flooding out through my entire body. It was passion, it was fire. It was want and need and desire that overflowed until I could not help but scream. "I...please, Master, I..."

His voice was a growl into my ear. 

"Cum, Mine. Let go for Me, and cum..." 

As He spoke, He released my nipples and reached down to brush against my clit, pinching it lightly in His fingers. 

My hips shook and bucked against Him. His words were the final straw I needed, and the pressure on my clit caused me to explode. I wailed His name in a scream to the heavens, my eyes screwing closed as white light smashed like broken glass at the edges of my vision. I felt Him shudder against me, groaning my name in my ear, as His hot ropes of cum flooded me to the core, claiming me as His and His alone.

He rubbed my clit against with His fingers, leaning into my neck to sink His teeth against my flesh, softly biting at the sweet spot where my neck and shoulder joined. 

The pleasure overwhelmed me then, and I passed out. 

///

When I returned to my senses, I was cradled against His chest. He had drawn the blankets over us both and was gently rubbing my shoulders and caressing down my neck. His lips were pressed again and again against my collarbone, His fingers tangling tenderly in my hair. 

I felt entirely drained, as though I could not move even if I wished. My entire body was quivering, pressing against His chest for support.

He pressed His mouth softly against my ear. 

"Sleep, My little one. Don't fight it, let yourself rest. I am so proud of you, My precious girl. I will be here when you wake up. Trust Me. "

And in that moment, I knew.

I did trust Him.



Rekindled Ch. 05



Something felt different when I woke up the next morning. 

On the outside, nothing had changed. Etienne was still curled next to me, His strong arms pulling me close against His chest and His soft sleeping breath ruffling my hair. My leg was still fragile, my body and soul were still healing. 

But still, something was different. 

I shifted gently against the bed, letting out a little groan as I realized that, regardless of how tender Etienne had been with me the previous night, my body was unused to being used in such an intimate way. My pussy felt swollen, almost bruised. Etienne had been gentle, and His touch had been so strong...I blushed as the more detailed memories of last night flooded back into my head. 

Carefully, I turned over to get a better look at this Man as He slept beside me. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and ran my fingers gently over His cheek. His dark red beard was so familiar against my skin; the curve of His mouth that so often met mine did something odd to my heart as I caressed it next. 

What had happened to me that I could have forgotten how much He loved me? It was more to Him than what He could get from me; His attraction and desperate need for me did not come from some dark place within where Dominance was an excuse to steal every ounce of humanity from my spirit and leave me crushed and battered in a corner. It never had been, not with Him. 

Dominance from Him was about what He could give to me; submission was my gift to Him, in return. It was mutual respect, mutual adoration. 

My entire body was tingling, my mind was in a passionate whirl. Before I could stop myself, I leaned forward and gave Him the gentlest of kisses. My lips barely brushed against His, my fingers resting against His neck as I caressed His skin and allowed myself to melt against Him. 

I felt Him wake up, felt Him react to my touch. His body pressed into mine as He gathered me into His arms. 

This was what felt different. This is what was different. 

Had one night changed so much? Had something as simple as two bodies joining at the hip done so much in one night? 

No. Because it wasn't simple. 

It was more than just the friction of two connected bodies. It was the start of my submission, all over again. It was trust – me learning to let go of the past and embrace His future, and Him learning how to teach a frightened little girl heart inside a twenty-somethings body how to beat again. 

That kiss was the seal. The collar, the pleasure, the connection, the kiss. It was all connected into something bigger. 

Things were changing, and they were changing fast. 

He broke our kiss and caressed my face, gentle fingers brushing my hair out of my eyes and gazing into them. 

"I love you, Isabeau. My Isabeau."

His face broke into a smile as He formed the last words again. 

"My Isabeau."

I curled my fingers into His hair, reveling in the softness of His dark red locks around my hands. 

"I love You, Etienne. My Master...my Etienne."

///

Very little was said in the early hours of that morning, though much was communicated. After bathing, dressing, and breakfast, I set about doing the dishes in a moment of quiet contemplation. 

After my previous fright, Etienne had offered to take over all kitchen duties for me so that there was no risk of another flashback. But I knew I had to work through this, even in some small way. And so I continued washing and carefully stacking the dishes, waiting for Him to enter the room and pick up the dishtowel as He always did. 

But soon all the dishes were washed and He had not appeared. I picked up the towel myself and slowly began to dry them, and still He did not appear. I was too short and too unsteady on my feet to put the plates and cups away in their high cabinet, so I simply kept them stacked on the countertop. 

It was not until they were entirely arranged in neat piles that I heard His voice down the hall, calling my name. 

"You finished with the dishes, Iz?"

I nodded before I realized that He couldn't see me. Feeling slightly foolish, I called out, "yes, I just finished the last one, Love."

I blushed instinctively as the word slipped out of my lips and into the room. Calling Him "Love" had once been second-nature to us both; I had not done it since I had returned to Him, and it had not crossed my mind until that moment. Perhaps things were changing even more rapidly than I thought.

He stepped into the room, leaning against the doorframe a bit. 

"Turn around. Put your hands on the sink and look straight ahead, little one." 

His voice was low, confident, and so powerfully gentle. I felt a cool prickle of something shivering down my spine. Could fire be cold? Because this was something powerful I felt, not fear or alarm. No, this was something else – something wonderful. 

Slowly, I obeyed. My hands gripped the cool steel of the sink, and I shivered as I fought the urge to close my eyes. And I waited. 

It was barely a moment before I felt His gentle hand on the small of my back. I knew He was there already, and so the touch did not alarm me; rather, it excited me. I felt His hands trailing over my body, up over my stomach before settling on my breasts, one hand on each side. His powerful fingers began to lightly tug at my nipples; the material of my shirt was thin, and His fingers were manipulating me in such a way that I felt them harden into small pebbles in barely an instant. 

"I saw the way My girl reacted to Me last night when I spanked her. The way her body arched the sounds she made when My hand connected with that perfect, beautiful ass."

His voice was the most beautiful growl against my ear, His fingers never ceasing their ministrations. I felt His hot breath on the back of my neck; He stopped His caresses of my breasts just long enough to sweep my hair to the side, pressing His lips over and over to my soft right at the top of my spine.

"I'd forgotten...I didn't think you'd still have that fire within you, Iz." 

His hands were on my nipples still, tightening their grip until a slow aching pain had started burning in my breasts and coursing down through my belly, lodging itself in my carefully hidden clit and making it throb. I ached my neck back against His shoulder with a barely suppressed moan. 

I felt His smile. I could not see it with my back to Him and His face in my neck, but I felt it caressing my soul and melting me like candlewax. 

My skirt was suddenly lifted and swept aside; when had His hands left my breasts? He placed a hand on my stomach and guided me so my hips were arched out, my bare bottom pressed out toward Him in the style of an old-fashioned pin-up girl, minus any traces of modesty. Slowly, His strong hand traced a smooth path over the skin of my ass. 

I felt myself starting to pant in desire, soft breaths escaping my lips which had parted at some point and were now allowing every gasp of desire to be heard by His attentive ears. It was in that moment that I realized that there was no small amount of slick moisture starting to gather between my thighs. Maybe there were things that even my captor could not have erased from my soul.

Then I was in His arms as He carried me from the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs and into our room. His stride was steady, but rapid; I felt myself smiling as I realized that He was as eager as I was, if not more so. 

The door to our room closed, sending fresh waves of erotic intimacy coursing through my veins. This was the start, I knew, and I was ready. 

More than ready. 

Etienne's eyes were glowing as they gazed into mine. His voice was a low whisper, almost as though His need was sapping away His ability to speak. 

"Strip, Mine."

I did not know my hands could move so fast. The blouse was over my head in a moment, and my skirt was slipping over my hips as though I had four hands to help me undress myself. In that moment, I wanted to be naked for Him. I was afraid, but I wanted Him to see me this way. Vulnerable and fully, completely His. 

When I raised my eyes to His, I realized that His shirt was gone, as were His pants. I caught my breath at the sight of His strong, muscular chest, traced with thin scars from various incidents, some of which were unfamiliar to me. His hair was also loose, not pulled back into a ponytail the way He normally chose to keep it contained, falling thick and red over His shoulders. 

He looked angelic – not in the innocent and white-winged way, but strong and powerful, like some Seraphim from Heaven come down to protect and to save the innocent. 

My Angel, my Wolf, my White Knight, my Master. 

The Man I loved. 

Oh, He was so much to me. 

With a slow smile, Etienne held a hand to me. 

"Come to Me, Mine." 

For a moment, I wondered if He had forgotten my leg, but then He closed the minor gap between us with His hand still outstretched. 

"Come to Me, Mine." 

The words repeated echoed in my heart. Physically, He was closing the gap, but emotionally, I was crossing the bridge. 

He tenderly helped me to the bed as He sat down on the edge, His feet flat on the floor. 

"Over my knee, little one."

Carefully, I bent my body over His bare legs. My stomach was pressed against Him, and I felt the thick throbbing of His cock pulsing slightly against my skin, sending another wave of liquid pleasure down to my already drenched slit.

The first smack of His hand was a light blow to my right cheek, sending ripples of pleasure from my ass up my spine like the effect of a stone being dropped in a pond. By no means was it half-hearted or timid, but a preface to what I knew was coming. I yelped slightly in a odd blend of surprise, stinging pain, and an outlet for pleasure. 

"Does My girl want more?" It was a request laden with desire; He knew the answer before the words even left my mouth.

"Yes, Master."

His hand connected with my skin again, left cheek this time, still gentle but firmer than before. I yelped again, this one fading into a soft whimper of pleasure. 

"Again?"

"Yes, Master..." Was He doing this on purpose, building my arousal until I wanted to scream? 

Of course He was.

The blow came again, once more on the right side, this one much firmer than the first two, the sound loud enough to fill the entire room. 

SMACK! My hips lifted, not with pain but with a flood of dripping arousal. The burn was starting already, low and sweet against my skin. This was a definite moan now; I was lost in the feeling of His hand on me. 

"Again...please, Master..."

He did not even have to ask now. The desire was flowing from my lips and from my pussy in waves. The heat built in intensity, the blows starting to rain down firmly on my pale skin. I could feel my skin getting redder, hotter. He went back and forth, from right to left, occasionally smacking down on both of them together. His hand was consistent, only on my ass, never on my back and never on my legs. He was being careful, but also allowing Himself to ease into a rhythm. 

My eyes were closed, lips parted, wailing in a combination of overwhelming pleasure and erotic pain that had long been forgotten. I had forgotten how this felt, how it felt to free the pain slut that I had locked away for months and months. My skin sang of His love, a melody that screamed my place of belonging and His adoration for me to the very Heavens themselves. The flawless intimacy of this moment was not lost on me, nor on Him. It was fusion for us both.

There were tears on my lashes – not of pain, but of release. There was something so powerful in this spanking. It was more than just a hand connecting with skin; I had experienced plenty of beatings in the months that proceeded this, beatings that left me raw and broken and bleeding and feeling entirely worthless and unwanted. 

This was different. This was a caress, a dance. This was a surrender, a beautiful pulsing freedom that released me as much as my captor's blows had bound me. 

After a time, He stopped spanking my ass, and slowly started to rub my burning skin, lovely rubbing His hand over the stinging flesh exuding fresh heat. His other hand tangled into my hair for a moment, gently pulling my head up to look into His eyes. 

It was not until our eyes were fully locked together that He plunged two fingers of His free hand into my sopping pussy. I cried out as waves of pleasure crashed into me so hard that I almost came on the spot. His eyes were soft, deep, eager into mine. 

"I love you, little one. I love you, Isabeau." 

He repeated the words with every thrust of His fingers. The sloppy wet sounds that filled the room betrayed my arousal; I felt myself soaking His entire hand, and I was sure I was dripping down His wrist as well. His eyes were burning with arousal, every drop of my juices fueling the fire that was smoldering at our mutual cores. 

"Does My beautiful slut need to cum?"

I gasped, almost shuddered at His words. They thudded through my body to match the cadence of my heartbeat. 

His slut. His beautiful slut. His. 

He did not wait for a reply. He thrust His fingers in deeply and curled them slightly, striking right against my g-spot as He growled.

"Cum, My beautiful girl. Cum for Me, now."

The waves of orgasm crashed over me in the most beautiful crush, cresting and falling again and again. I screamed as I gushed a fountain of juices around His fingers; somewhere, distantly, I heard His groan of approval as I clenched tight around the probing digits buried in my pussy. 

It was some time before I came down from that, gasping and panting, feeling the barest drops of sweat trickling down my spine.

Slowly He pulled His fingers from me, and placed them against my lips. 

"Suck."

My lips opened instinctively at the simple command and took His fingers against my tongue, cleaning them of every drop of my juices. He moaned softly as my lips closed around His fingers and sucked them tenderly, looking up into His eyes. 

I had forgotten that I could feel this way. I had forgotten that being Owned could be this freeing, that belonging to a Man could be a surrender that I actually wanted.

His fingers left my mouth then, and I licked my lips to dampen them. He slipped His fingers into His own mouth, licking them Himself for a moment, as if to taste anything I might have left behind. Then, He gathered me into His arms, carefully tucking me against His chest. He moved His back against the headboard so that we were both comfortably reclining against the neatly-made bed and the excessive amount of pillows that we both liked. 

We were silent for a while, both soaking in the intimacy found in this moment. His fingers trailed through my hair, soothing me. 

"You understand the different, right, Iz?"

His voice startled me slightly. 

"What do You mean, understand the difference? You mean, between You and him?"

He nodded. "Yes. You understand what I want from you, and how it's different than what he could have ever envisioned."

I shifted then so that I could look into His eyes. He continued speaking, His voice low and tender.

"I honestly can't understand what it was that he wanted from you, Iz. I left him bloody and broken the way he left you, and even still, I feel like I didn't do enough. Your agony was the sick fuck's pleasure; breaking you was a game to him. And you're so beautiful...so perfect...." His voice trailed off then as He touched my face.

I shook my head.

"He said I made mistakes, that I was a bad girl that deserved to be punished..." I left out the rest of the words that he tended to use. The use of "bad girl" was mild in comparison to the litany of abusive chants that left his mouth more often than not.

Etienne sighed then, a deep sound that almost sounded mournful. 

"I thought I was doing the right thing, Iz. And maybe, in part, I did do the so-called right thing. For love of country, and all that, those are good things. But the in-between, everything that happened between deployment and..." His voice trailed off, and I didn't push Him for more. 

Every time Etienne had mentioned His military involvement since I had been in His arms again, His eyes got this distant look that almost frightened me. I knew that He had seen things, done things that He could never erase, things that He would just as much forget. And I would never push Him, just as He never pushed me. 

I pressed my head into His shoulder and let out a breath.

I had a thousand questions for Him, a thousand thoughts whirling through my head. But they could wait, for just a little longer. 

I just wanted to soak Him in. The heat in my ass was still there, burning and reminding me of where I was and where I had been. I was safe, I was surrendered. I was letting out, relighting the phoenix that had crashed to ashes in my soul.

I was being reborn, little by little.



Rekindled Ch. 06



"When do you think you'll be ready to tell Me?"

It was a simple question, ten words spoken innocently from a Man to His woman. The end of the question was, in a way, left hanging. Tell Him what, exactly? 

But to ask that question of Him would have been a foolish waste of breath. I knew what He wanted to know, what things He needed to hear from my mouth that He could not know simply from what doctors had related and what blurred police reports had marked down. 

I pulled away from His chest a bit and looked up into His eyes. I took a minute to study His face, almost as though I wanted to suss out the exact meaning behind this simple phrase. Etienne's gaze was calm, relaxed even, eyes gently probing into mine as He too sought for meaning there. 

"I want to tell You everything, now, but..." I sighed, and slightly lowered my gaze, unsure if I wanted to press forward into this discussion. My skin was still tingling from the blows of His hand, and my body was still in that blissful post-orgasmic haze that I clung to longer than most. I wasn't sure I wanted this to end, and for the bitter reality of dealing with painful situations to come back in such a rush. 

His fingers found the underside of my chin and gently lifted my face upward so that my eyes were ever-set on His. 

"Look at Me, Isabeau." 

The repeated words calmed my hummingbird heart and kept me from starting to spiral out of control even a little bit. 

"I want you to tell Me everything. But only when You're ready. It's more than Me wanting to know, because in some respects, I honestly don't want to know. But I can't fix what I don't know is broken, and I can't help you heal if...Iz, I need to know, eventually."

He was right, I knew. 

"You already blame Yourself, Etienne. I don't want to make it worse, to make things go backward any more than they already have. I don't want to push You over the edge, to make You hate Yourself for something that wasn't Your fault."

His fingers were still curled under my chin, but His thumb had come up while I was speaking and started to stroke down the length of my jaw in the tenderest, feather-light caress. His eyes, a soft and deep hazel colour now that His passion had slightly abated, were speaking wordless volumes to me. 

I took a deep breath, and slowly began to fill in the gaps. 

///

We had met at a party, he and I. 

I hadn't wanted to go; in my heart, I was still grieving the loss of the Man who I was now convinced was dead and not coming back to me ever again. I wasn't in the mood to party, no more so than I had been for months on end. But my friends had pushed -- I needed to get out, I needed to meet people, and I needed to move on with my life. Isn't that what He would have wanted, they said. 

In the end, their coaxing was too much to ignore. And so I'd put on my heels and my first lashings of mascara since the memorial, and gone out. Just a drink or two, they said.

He was nice, more than nice, actually, this man with the blue eyes and the floppy sandy hair that gave him an air of boyish charm.. He was sweet and caring and seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. This gave him an automatic leg up over the other guys in the club who seemed far more interested in the two curving mounds on my chest than in hearing two words that left my mouth. 

His name was Luca. 

///

Here, I stopped.

"I hate saying his name. It's disgusting."

Etienne nodded and slid His arm around my shoulders, silent and comforting. It was almost as if He was afraid to speak, afraid of breaking the spell of confidence that was allowing me to speak like this, even in broken whispers. But He allowed Himself a soft, "you don't have to explain or rationalize to Me, little one. Just speak your heart, that's all."

I nodded and took another steadying breath before continuing.

///

Before long, there was talk of early morning coffee and phone numbers exchanged. Coffee turned into ice cream, ice cream turned into dinners and art gallery openings. And then he invited me to his home, just for a drink before we said goodnight. 

As I was hailing a taxi on the curb outside his door, he leaned in and kissed me, soft hints of Cabernet and chocolate on his breath.

The taxi drove off. And I stayed until morning. 

Soon I had the bottom drawer and a toothbrush on his sink. Conversations turned to sexual preferences, and flavours of D/s began to emerge. I found the handcuffs in the end table and the flogger in the closet. There were other things, he said. Did I want to see them?

I said yes. 

"Luca" became Sir. I started to trust him.

And then, I started to see him. And Dorian Grey's picture began to change. 

///

"You're shaking, Iz. Here..." 

Etienne gently pressed a glass of water into my hands, and waited while I took a drink.

"We can stop, love. You don't have to do this..."

I looked into His eyes, tears starting to pool in mine and trickle down my face. 

"No...You were right. You do need to know this."

He nodded, and pulled me close again; closer than before this time, so that both His arms were around my shoulders, loose but reassuring. 

///

He had a bad night, and his fierce temper was already kindled from whatever had gone wrong He didn't tell me what happened, simply gripped my hair tight in his hand and led me down the hall to our bedroom. He lifted my skirt and pulled my panties to the side, not even bothering to undress me or himself. He unzipped his pants and pushed into me without ceremony. I wasn't wet; I wasn't anticipating this. 

That made him more angry, and he slapped me. Hard. My cheek stung; he had never struck my face before, and I was started to get scared. 

"Ow! Wait, Luca..." 

I should have never said a word. He slapped me again, harder this time, so that the room spun and my teeth felt as though they could had flown across the room with the force of the strike. He started into me, fast, until I felt like he was scraping me raw with the force. I closed my eyes and desperately tried to think of something, anything, that would make me wet enough to bear this until he was done. 

Nothing came to mind...nothing, that is, except His face. I reached out for it with my mind, grasping it for solace as the mindless, painful assault on my body continued. 

Luca couldn't finish. He tried, oh, how he tried. I started to feel wetness in and around my pussy, but not of arousal; I was bleeding from the roughness. It had turned into a rape, and I wasn't sure when. 

He was furious. He pulled out of me, his face twisting with disgust when he saw the blood on his cock. He slapped me again, and again, jerking off my panties and using them as a rag with which to clean himself. 

"Stupid, worthless whore." The words bit into me, but I was too numb to register them until later. He shoved me hard off the bed, and I fell onto the floor, head hitting the bedsted with a little crack. It stunned me for a moment, and I laid there, unsure as to what to do. 

After a few minutes, I achingly climbed back up onto the bed and laid there in terrified silence. 

I felt the bed moving as his own hand did what my body could not. 

There was a mantra in my head now, repeated phrases that I could not shake.

Worthless...stupid...worthless...stupid...worthless. 

Whore.

That was the start of the downward spiral. 

///

"Iz...Isbeau, stop...stop, love, you're shaking too hard. Baby....calm down..."

I hadn't realized that I had stopped speaking and that my teeth were now clattering together like castanets. Etienne had changed His grip on me, wrapping both His arms around my body and pulling me back between His legs so my back was against His chest. He was rocking me like a child, shushing me gently and pressing His lips into my hair again and again.

"No more, love. That's enough for now...I'm sorry, little one. I'm so, so sorry....just breathe, calm down, baby..."

It could have been hours, or mere minutes, before the shaking in my limbs slowed and my breathing returned to normal. The memories alone had knocked me for a loop, sending me flashing back to those horrifying days of nightmare turned reality. 

Etienne held the water glass to my mouth; I tried to reach out to take it, but He held it still. 

"I've got it...you're shaking too much, and I don't want you hurt."

He tipped the glass so that water trickled into my mouth and I swallowed it gratefully. When had my mouth gotten so dry? I tried to gulp at the liquid but He kept the stream thin and slow. 

"Little sips, or you'll make yourself sick. Slow..."

We continued in this way until I drained every drop of the water. He set the now empty vessel down on the table again, and pulled me back against His body. I could hear His heart beat, thudding against my ear in a comforting cadence.

Etienne didn't say anything for a long moment. He simply held me, letting His arms speak volumes of protection to me until I was calmer and fully resting against Him, no longer tense and resistant. 

"I love you, Isabeau. My girl. Do you hear Me, little one? Mine. No one else will ever touch you like that again. Never, ever, ever hurt you like that again. I love you..."

I started to cry into His chest, soft little snuffling sobs that sounded so pathetic to my ears. Still, He kept His arms around me, still cradling me to His body. 

"Ssshh, little one, it's alright. Let it out, sweetheart, let it go."

I wept brokenly, soaking His skin with my tears. 

He held me like that until I cried myself to sleep.

///

I awoke the next morning still tucked against His chest, though He had somehow maneuvered our bodies so that we were lying down on the bed instead of sitting up again the headboard. He was awake already, running His fingers slowly through my hair and caressing the back of my neck with gentle fingers. I sighed softly, shifting against Him to let Him know that I was awake, and that I liked what He was doing. 

He leaned forward and kissed my cheek with a low "good morning, beautiful" into my ear.

I blushed. I was still so unused to be called beautiful; every time He used the word, I felt my skin prickle in that odd innocent way of a first hand-hold or a look across a school corridor. 

"Good morning, Master." These words were becoming easier, more graceful on my tongue. However, a lingering thought from the day before came back in a rush, and I felt my cheeks burning anew, but this time for a far different reason. He felt my tension at once, and turned my head so that He could see into my eyes.

"Are you okay, Iz?"

I bit my lip, hard. There was no innocence in this gesture; this was one of shame and confusion. 

"Is...do You think...is there something wrong with me?"

He blinked; it was obvious that my words had shocked Him. 

"Wrong with you? What in the world...what would possess you to think that?"

I burned with embarrassment then. My eyes flitted away from His as I whispered, "because I still like pain, even after..."

He laughed then, a soft sound that surprised me. He was laughing? What had I said?

And then His mouth was on mine, kissing me deeply and with such life and passion that I was almost overwhelmed. When He pulled away, His eyes were still alive with laughter. 

"Would I ever hurt you? Would I ever do anything to harm you or injure you? Would I ever take out My anger on you with a cane or my fists?" I shook my head. 

"And you know this because?"

I looked into His eyes.

"Because You never have. And You love me and I trust You. But...i thought I could trust him too, at first. How is this any different?" I felt helpless to try to explain myself; I felt for sure I must be babbling and making no sense, or at the very least, being petty and ignorant. 

He kissed my lips again, whispering, "because I have never abused your trust, little one. Not now, and not before. I have never raised a hand to you in anger, and I have no intention of changing who I am and who I always have been. I love you too much to treat you so horribly." 

I felt Etienne's fingers close to my scalp, tangling loosely in my hair and pulling just enough for me to feel that He was there. 

"Right now, if I wanted, could I hurt you?"

I tried to nod, but my head was held fast in His grip, so instead I whispered, "yes, You could."

"But I won't. Not ever." His voice was low and so laden with love that I could almost feel it in the room. "You know that I would never abuse the truth You've put in me. You know that when You place Yourself into my hands, when You submit to me, You are entirely and completely safe. That everything I do is an act of love, of tenderness toward You."

His fingers released their grip but kept caressing themselves through my locks, smoothing them down as He looked into my eyes.

"I love you, Isabeau. I have since the moment I first laid eyes on you, and I will never stop. You know that you're free with me. Owned but free, my Love."

I felt myself melting into Him. Slowly, I leaned up and pressed my mouth to His, letting my tongue just trace against His lips. He groaned softly and pulled me into Him. 

We made love then, slow and intimate. There was no bondage or training, no over-thinking on my part. It was simply two lovers with bodies tangled and hips pressed together, the slowest thrusts that merged us into a dance of erotic passion. He touched me often, tenderly, tracing lines down my breasts and over my sides, down my stomach, before tenderly taking my leg and drawing it up against the side of His body, cradling me close as He slid in and out of me. 

I loved this Man. There was not a single doubt in my mind. I loved Him with every fibre of my being, nothing could keep me from Him ever again. 

When we came, we came together, somehow managing to clutch the other tighter with every passing second, our screams blending into something almost harmonic and carnal in nature.

I collapsed under His body, panting, and He tumbled to the side to keep from crushing me under His body weight. We lay there in silence, catching our breath and soaking in the afterglow. It was barely a moment before He pulled me against His chest and let me rest there as He stroke my hair, murmuring, "such a good girl...My beautiful girl..."

He reached down then and rested His hand on my bottom, gripping it slightly before running His hand up and down my soft skin. Slowly, He took His fingertip and slid it into the cleft between my cheeks. He found what He was looking for, the tight little hole that was still unclaimed by any Man's flesh and blood. looking into my eyes. I bit my lip, but was unable to keep back the little whimper that escaped my lips. 

The look on His face as He gently pressed His fingertip right against the little hole was as transparent as a book's pages. It was His to claim, saved long for Him. He whispered to me then, "when you're ready, little one...I crave all of you."

I shivered in anticipation, my gaze still fixed into His. 

Oh yes, He would claim all of me. 

Soon...