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...