Miss Too

She'd always loved to run, but over the past few days it had become a necessary therapy. He was inside her head now and try as she might, she couldn't run far enough to escape him. The best she could do was turn the music up to 10 on her walkman and run until her thighs and calves locked up in agony and her breath poured from her lungs like a searing liquid.

Her watch told her two hours had passed since she'd done the hurried stretches at the beginning of the track. She had achieved the numbness she needed to go home and face her life.

Limping back to the parking area, she watched the children laughing and jumping and running through the playground in the center of the track. She envied them their innocence, their lack of responsibility and their absence of troubled thought. Their minds centered on only the moment at hand, no on what might have been.

As she approached the car, she frowned, puzzled. There was a white paper on her windshield, anchored by the wiper blade. It fluttered in the warm evening breeze - too large to be a parking ticket - even though she knew she was parked legally anyhow. For some reason, she was struck with the image of a white flag of surrender. That was a word she could not keep out of her mind anymore.

She plucked it off the car and unfolded it as she did some cool-down stretches to ease the knots in her legs.

"When I watched you today, I could see the fear in your eyes. When you chose not to respond to my page, you only hurt yourself. You keep trying, Miss, thinking you want to run away from me, but you cannot run away from who and what you are. I see your hurt, I see the struggle, but you've tasted the ecstasy of surrender and you will never be satisfied without it. I don't hold your fear against you but I will only offer you one more chance, then I will disappear from your life if you do not wish to accept what I have to offer."

Her first reaction was a great gasp of disappointment at the thought of losing something she wasn't even sure she wanted. Before she could consider that paradox, she jerked her head up to scan the crowd around the track, realizing he must be somewhere nearby.

Cold chills crawled over her skin as she imagined him watching her now. She could be staring right at him and not know him, as she'd still never seen his face. She tried to replay her afternoon, thinking of all the people she ran by. Had she seen him and not known?

Her body began to tremble with her need for him. It angered her, betraying her this way. She quickly fumbled with her keys, dropped them once, then threw herself into the solitary sanctuary of her car. She couldn't drive away though, she couldn't even move, her hands shook so badly.

She despised him for bringing her to the point of begging. She could never forgive him for making her call herself a slave. It was degrading! Humiliating! She would never let herself be put in that position again - to be made to say that and especially to feel that.

Just as her body had done, her mind quickly turned traitor too with one question. What did he actually do to make her behave the way she had?

Insulted, she wanted to cry out in protest, but it quickly became clear that he'd actually done nothing. She had chosen her actions, she chose her feelings and at the moment of culmination, she'd relished them.

Evidently he was still watching because at that moment, there was a quiet beeping sound from the console between her seats. She'd hidden the pager there to keep it from her husband. She reluctantly and breathlessly reached for it.

There was an address and a room number and one sentence, "Instructions on the bed. Or will you keep running?"

The ache was too strong today, or maybe she had simply run out of resolve. No, no… she still had that, she thought. She would drive to this place and confront him. He was obviously stalking her and that was illegal. She would demand that he leave her alone!

Lying intently to herself and clinging to her false intentions, she brought the trembling under control and backed out into the street.

The address was a hotel just as she'd expected. The door to the room was unlocked and she entered, hoping to catch him there, to get this over with as quickly as possible, but the room was empty. A note written on the same kind of paper lay on the bed… "Shower and make yourself ready for me. There is a robe in the bathroom. When you are done, stand looking out the window. When you hear the door open behind you, do not turn around. You trusted me before, now let me know I can trust you."

She scowled, tossing the note down. That was cheating, playing on her sense of honor that way! But she did need a shower, being still damp with the sweat from the run. What could that hurt?

As the hot water beat down on her face, she tried to think of all the ways she would tell him off. Strangely, each sounded more petulant than the last to her and that made her even more angry.

The robe hung where he'd said. With her body clean now, it would be a shame to put the damp, sweaty clothes back on, so she slid into the thick terry cloth. It covered her from neck to ankles and gave her a sense of barrier.

He wanted her by the window. Maybe that meant he was watching the window so he'd know when she was finished. If she looked out now, she'd surely see him and she had no doubt she would know him instantly. But as she took her place, tugging the curtain back a little, she heard the door creak behind her. Immediately she froze, wondering how he'd known.

She fought to get control of her breath, to slow her pounding heart, but it too seemed to be against her… thinking only how happy it was to know he was there. Her hands played nervously in front of her, wringing themselves.

The door closed and there was silence, but there was no question about his presence in the room. It filled the area, washing over her like a warm spray, making her feel small and insignificant.

"Is there something you need to say to me?" that smooth and at-once familiar voice said quietly.

All the things she'd thought to say went fleeting out of her mind, leaving it an empty shell. Her mouth was dry and she closed her eyes. A moan escaped her throat.

"There is something, Miss. I feel it. Tell me."

Grasping at the first and only thought she could find, she flung it at him in self-defense. She blurted, "I don't want to be here."

"Then leave," he said calmly. She heard keys dropped on the dresser. He'd batted away her only thought as easily as swatting a fly.

"I'm not ready for this," she tried again.

"Yes, Miss, you are. Or you would not have come to me again." Another effortless deflection.

"Stop!" she cried, shaking her head violently as if she could dislodge him that way.

He moved quickly and she felt him behind her, embracing her tightly.

"Ssh," he whispered in her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck. "Hush, Miss. I am here now."

She turned her face into his shoulder, breathing in his clean scent. He stroked the wet hair away from her forehead gently.

"Why do you fight me so, pet? You think that you are so afraid of losing control. Tell me truthfully though, haven't you been out of control all along, since you first knew the sensation of submission? Haven't your thoughts flown wildly about in your head, trying to understand why?"

She nodded, not realizing that she was gripping his forearm tightly.

"Do you remember the only moment of peace you had from these thoughts? The only moment they were brought under control?"

Biting her lip, she tried to deny the inevitable. She shook her head and moaned, "No!"

She could feel his smile. "Yes, Miss, you do know. The only time there is peace is when I give it to you. You can't control these feelings, but I can. Why do you run so hard from what you need so much?"

Finally the answer came tearing out of her, though she tried to keep it in. He was bringing her to this point again, where she had control over nothing. And it was heaven!

"Because I want it too much! I want it and nothing else and I can't ever have enough of it! It will just build and build inside me until I explode for wanting it so much!"

"No, pet. This is where you are wrong. Pay close attention to me now. It is the unfulfilled need that grows so strongly out of your control. I can teach you to put it in its proper place, if only you will let me. If only you will trust me."

"Please, please!" she begged, "Please make it go away!" She could barely remember her earlier contempt at this pleading. It felt as though a dam had burst inside her.

"Yes, Miss. I will," he soothed her. "But you must promise not to run from me anymore."

She shook her head, holding tightly to his arm. "I can't," she moaned, "I'm afraid."

"Of course your are, pet, because until now, the fear was all you had to hold on to. Now see what you are holding?" He brought her attention to her own frantic hands gripping him. "And see what is holding on to you?"

His embrace was firm, strong, unwavering, his hands confident but gentle. His voice felt like warm water on the ice of her fear, melting it away slowly but surely.

She grew still, listening, floating on his words.

"Let go, pretty one. Let go and let yourself know this feeling. You desire it. You crave it. It's here, just accept it."

Her eyes slipped shut and she let herself begin to drift. His voice and his hands were the stream that propelled her along.

"Yes Miss, that's it. That's a good girl," he whispered. The words brought a faint smile to her slightly parted lips.

Keeping her body pressed back against his, he moved his hands over the soft fabric of the robe, starting at her shoulders, moving down over her breasts, down to the firm stomach. A small whimper escaped as he passed over very sensitive nipples.

When his hand moved lower, pulling the robe open at her thighs, she arched her back and pressed into him. He parted the robe and ran a hand up one hard thigh. He brushed lightly across the triangle of close-cropped hair and up over her warm belly. As he pulled her tighter to him this way, he put his mouth against the side of her neck. At first, it was just a kiss, then a lick, then he bit down lightly. She jumped as it seemed sparks coursed through her body. He bit again as, beneath the robe, he pinched one taut nipple.

She moaned, wishing she could move somehow, to touch him, to kiss him, but he held her firmly. Each tiny prick of pain sent shudders through her.

"Yes Miss, let go," he breathed into her ear. Using both hands now, he untied the sash on the robe and let it fall open. Very slowly, he pulled it down to expose the shoulder of the side he'd kissed. He bit the tender flesh until she whimpered again, unable to distinguish her pain from her pleasure. He slipped the robe off her other shoulder and let it fall to the floor.

"My beautiful pet," he sighed, crushing her in his embrace. She could feel the hard bulge beneath the coarse denim pressing firmly into her butt. Instinctively, she rubbed her hips against it.

"Oh?" he teased, "there is something my Miss wants?"

She heard but could not answer. His hands each cupped a breast, pinching and rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger. Her head was thrown back languidly against his shoulder.

"Tell me pet, what you want from me," he commanded.

"Just to feel you," she answered with a moan.

He brought one hand to each of her hips, caressing passionately, running over the hip bone up to the softer waist. Very slowly he brought his warm hands up each side, up under each arm, lifting her arms up high over her head. With only one of his hands, he held both of hers so tightly she could not pull away. With his free hand, he could touch any part of her he desired.

As he stroked her skin, he eased a knee between her thighs from behind, causing them to part. The air was cool against the hottest part of part, bringing a low gasp. She felt vulnerable this way - open, unable to move, slightly off-balance - but he steadied her, her anchor.

"You want to feel me," he whispered, his hands still exploring her. "What will you do for this feeling?" He bit her shoulder again.

She fought to clear her mind enough to keep from answering in a damning way but the sensations inside her were overwhelming. It felt too good, this surrender; it felt too good to stop fighting him.

"Tell me, Miss, what will you do?" he prompted.

"Anything," she barely breathed the word, but once out, it opened her even further. "Anything you want."

"Remember what you are, pet? Remember that word you hate so much?"

She nodded, biting her lip, praying he would not make her say it again.

"I believe I know why you dislike it so much." His hand moved up her thigh, across slippery lips. There was so much moisture there, so much arousal that he could smell it.

"When I ask for that word, I only mean it in a sexual sense, Miss. I do not mean it as a detraction from the rest of your life."

She couldn't believe he wanted her to understand something so complex while he stroked her that way, yet it did make a certain amount of sense. Being submissive sexually, letting someone else have the control. Wasn't that exactly what she craved?

"Yes," she answered herself out loud.

"What, Miss?" he asked.

She hadn't realized she'd spoken. His finger had pressed against her full, swollen lips until it had slipped between them. She could feel how hard her clitoris had become but he seemed to avoid touching it. She wanted him to touch it.

"Yes, please," she said again, attempting to wiggle that part of her into contact with his finger.

"Be still!" he said in a much sterner voice than he'd used before. "I will tell you when it is time for your pleasure."

Her head automatically dropped at the tone of his disapproval. He smiled at that reaction.

"Do you agree?" he asked, pushing one step further.

"Yes…" she whispered, but she'd left the word hanging like she'd wanted to add something.

"Yes, what?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir?" it seemed an alien thing in her mouth.

"Say, 'yes, Master'!" he told her, pushing two fingers quickly and deeply inside her. The act was punctuation for the thought.

"M…" she lost her breath at his action, still seeming to fight him, but he continued to move his fingers in and out, whispering in her ear, "Say it, Miss. You already feel it, now just acknowledge it. Give it life. Let go."

"Master," she said it so slowly, trying each syllable on her tongue, accepting what it insinuated.

"That's it, pet. Say it for me again."

"Master." It came out easier that time, a very natural and freeing word. It tasted sweet; it implied the peace she sought. "Yes, Master," she spoke it on her own.

He decided to push her yet further. "If I am the Master, what does that make you, pet?"

Her breath was coming faster in time with the movement of his fingers. She trembled, feeling her knees weakening. She hated him for this and she loved him for it at the same time.

"Tell me," he said sternly. "No more games. What are you?"

"Your slave," she answered without hesitation this time, although she added… "Sexually."

"Very good," he smiled, "No more, no less. No more running away?"

"No, Master," she answered through clenched teeth.

"You're about to cum, aren't you?" he knew without asking.

"Yes. Oh, yes, please!" she begged.

He pulled the fingers away from her suddenly and said, "No, I don't want that yet."

"Aaah!" she cried out. "No, please!"

"Your first lesson, Miss. It is my will, not yours. Is that clear?"

She could only whimper.

"You can want it but you can never have it until I say so. Do you understand?"

She was angry. This was not supposed to happen! This was not why she was here.

"Answer me, slave."

She froze at that word, realizing how she'd answered him before, in the heat of passion. Now her mind was clearing and she could see she had a choice. To blow him off and walk away, cold and unfulfilled, or to submit to him, remembering how wonderful it had felt the last time, knowing it would be that way again if she could just be patient.

He felt the struggle inside her but there was no doubt in his mind that he'd already won.

Her muscle went limp again in supplication. "Yes Master, I understand."

She belonged to him.