Amy's Awakening (2 page)

He was quiet for moment.

“I know you’d never be happy like that. You might think you were, for a while. But you wouldn’t be. I know you won’t like me for saying this, but it’s true.”

Amy
gaped at him wordlessly for a moment. What a condescending, arrogant prick. Ugh. She turned and walked towards the door, more than ready to leave.

“
You don’t need to worry about me not liking you,” Amy began, “I’ve never liked you.”
The door banged as she closed it firmly behind her and ran down the stairs.

*
Back in the comfortable surroundings of her own flat, Amy realised how exhausted she was. Her muscles were still sore and aching all over. She went into the bathroom and peeled off her clothes from the night before, looking forward to a long, hot shower. As she turned to step under the welcoming water, she suddenly stopped short as she looked behind her and caught sight of herself in the full length mirror. She stared at her back and ass in astonishment.
There were easily at least twenty red, angry looking welts across her back. On each of her ass cheeks, the imprint of two clearly defined hand prints could be made out. She turned around to look at her front and saw small indents from fingernails on her waist, as though she’d been grabbed roughly from behind.  Her breasts were bruised and swollen, and the entire length of her body was marked with scratches and bruises.
Amy couldn’t stop staring at herself in the mirror. Mesmerised, she raised her hand and carefully touched her nipples. Up until now, the men she’d slept with had only ever sucked them, tenderly stroked and caressed them. But now, as she touched her raw, reddened nipples, it hurt like a thousand pin pricks. She took one between her fingers and twisted lightly. Another agonising pain shot through her as she let out an involuntary moan. She felt it in her pussy too. It was as though there were a direct line between them.

But, oddly,
it wasn’t a bad pain. It was an entirely different feeling from when she accidentally stubbed her toe or tore a fingernail. The pain felt good, it tingled and throbbed.  A sharp tug on her nipple made her gasp. Her knees began to shake as she felt the beginnings of arousal mixed in with pain. It was as though her body couldn’t decide if it was feeling arousal or pain, so it merged them. As Amy continued pulling and twisting on her nipples, her arousal built, becoming more intense, more urgent. She ran her hands over the bruises and welts on her body in fascination, and she could feel the blood running to her pussy as she touched herself.
She stepped into the shower and stood there letting the warm, relaxing water flow over her bruised and battered body. As the water relaxed her muscles, with one hand cupping her breast, she slid her other hand down along the contours of her waist and slowly
circled the half-moon shaped indentations that fingernails had left on her stomach. The bruised impressions caused a slight burning sensation as she pressed down on them. She felt her pussy contract and closed her eyes. She carefully traced the marks on her body with her own fingers before sliding her hand further down. She slowly slid her fingers over her hip bones before moving further down to between her thighs. Her bare mound was throbbing underneath her hand. She moaned loudly and urgently, the sound was entirely involuntarily, she couldn’t have stopped it if she wanted to. Suddenly she tore her fingers away from her body when she realised what she was doing. What was this about? What was wrong with her?

She’d never been turned
on by pain before. Turned on by the evidence of what must have been done to her last night. This was an entirely new experience for her.
After a long, hot shower she lay down on her bed, exhausted. After the night she’d apparently had, a nap was just the thing she needed. Her ass began to burn as the red bruises came into contact with her sheets. She turned over onto her stomach and hugged her pillow. The fabric felt agonising against her nipples too and she had to bight her lip to keep from moaning. What the hell was this? She wasn’t typically loud during sex, let alone when she was by herself. She’d never been the type to moan.
She turned carefully onto her side and closed her eyes. But she couldn’t sleep. The sexual frustration was torturous, her body was geared up for orgasm. The urge to touch herself was only growing more and more intense. She desperately tried to supress it and fall asleep, but it wasn’t going to happen. Her heart was racing. As much as she tried to relax, she couldn’t.
She pulled the duvet around herself tightly and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come to her. The cool sheets felt good against her naked skin. Her whole body was reacting sensitively to the smallest touch, the smallest pressure. The pain was still pulsing on her ass and sending signals of arousal in her belly. She turned onto her back and pulled the covers up underneath her armpits. Her heart was still beating loudly in her ears, making her feel crazed. She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. When she finally gave in to the pull of arousal, she felt the heat in her face immediately as her hand slid down to her throbbing pussy. Warmness filled her as she carefully cupped her mound. Her fingers slid easily between her wet labia, and she began gently stroking her clitoris. She breathed out deeply and concentrated on long stroke movements up and down her vulva. Closing her eyes again, she slowly massaged herself in small circles around her clit, opening her legs to give her hand as much room as possible. The covers slid off and she could feel cool air all over her body, contrasting with the heat rising from it. With her other hand, she began twisting her nipple, carefully at first, to see how much pain she could take. She inhaled sharply as a jolt of pain flashed through her again. She took the tip between her thumb and index finger and rolled it around carefully, experimentally, while her other hand continued to stimulate her clit. A stronger, clearer pain rolled wondrously through her body. She gave out a light gasp and her hips began to rise upwards. Her back, covered with those bruised markings, began aching again, mixing with the strong pulsating heat in her ass. Moaning, she spread her legs apart and began rising up and down on her mattress in time with her hand. She was twisting her nipple harder and harder, continuing to make jolts of pain flash through her as she masturbated.
An image of David flashed into her head, thrusting in and out of her, roughly, mercilessly, his hand around her throat. She could physically feel the pressure of his hands on her raw skin, and it took her arousal to a level she’d never known before. She could feel the sensations on every inch of her body. Every feeling was clear and sharp. The sweet torture centred in her lower belly while her movements became faster and faster. It felt painful and wonderful. Faster and more urgently, until she couldn’t separate the arousal from the pain anymore, until the orgasm broke over her whole body in rolling waves. It was a more intense orgasm than she’d ever felt before.
Amy lay there for a few minutes breathing in and out deeply, her heart racing. She stared up at the ceiling of her room. It was dark and silent, but she could still hear the echoes of her screams from moments before. Her body ached as her muscles gradually relaxed and her heart slowed to a more normal pace. She could still feel the last pulses of her orgasm. Even the pulses were more intense than any orgasm she’d had before. It felt like an eternity before she was breathing normally again.
*
Amy’s knuckles cracked as she banged against the door again and demanded at the top of her voice for David to open it. She called out again and kept hammering at the door, even though she couldn’t hear any sign of life on the other side. It was a good thing that David’s flat had no close neighbours.    

Her next hit
against the thick mahogany met with open air as the door suddenly opened. David stood there in front of her half-naked, still in his scruffy jeans and nothing else. It was almost as though she’d never left. She dropped her hand and straightened up.

“You
arsehole
,” she declared.
David let out a sigh and closed his eyes briefly. Then he turned around without saying a word and disappeared into his flat. Amy remained at the door for a moment, slightly unsure, before slowly following him inside. He’d disappeared into an unfamiliar room, and Amy followed him into it. Anger and fear were threatening to bubble over, dangerously close to the surface, as she entered the room. The first thing she noticed was a large, black leather couch. It was huge and took up a large part of the room. In front of the couch was a glass coffee table. David sat down and put his feet up on the table. Opposite him was a larger closet along the entire wall, with a huge flat screen TV in the middle. Books lined the cupboards. Above the couch oil landscape paintings hung on the wall.
David took no notice of her as she entered the room and began to yell at him. “You absolute arsehole!” she began, feeling the anger rise in her. “You got me drunk. You beat me. You used me when I wasn’t thinking straight!” She stared at him angrily and took a deep breath as her voice cracked and her eyes began to water. “You’ve ruined everything. I...I’m not like you think I am.” She fought to stop the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I’m just a normal girl. I don’t like pain, I don’t like giving up control. You’ve got me all wrong.” A small sob escaped.
David stood up and without a word put an arm around her. She immediately tried to push him away, but he simply held on more firmly. She balled her hands into fists and thumped at his chest. One, two, hits got in before her eyes filled with tears and everything became blurry.
“I’m not like that. You’re wrong, completely wrong,” she protested again. Her arms hung stiffly at her sides as he began to rock her back and forwards.
He pulled her into his embrace more closely and pulled them down onto the couch together. He stroked her back while she pressed her face into his shoulder and cried.

“I was normal. I want to be normal again. I can’t stand this. I don’t want
this. Please, take it all back.” She cried until her tears dried up, head pressed against his chest. Then he stopped rubbing her back and took her face in his hands. Slowly he lifted her head up, making her look in his eyes. He lowered his lips down to her face and kissed each tear-stained cheek. Automatically, she jerked back and freed herself from his grasp. David looked at her sternly.

A shudder went through her body as she felt his harsh look on her, and at the same time she felt the shame from the arousal th
e look caused her to feel. She had spent half the day in front of her computer looking up what it meant when pain felt arousing. She’d looked at hundreds of porn clips, each more intense than the last. She didn’t want anything like that. She didn’t want to have to obey anyone, be controlled by them, or otherwise she’d be punished. She liked her independence. She didn’t want to dress up in leather and be led on a leash through the streets.

And yet, her body reacted to these things, to the harsh look David was giving her now, in ways she didn’t like. She swallowed dryly and took a deep breath. Even though she was afraid of the consequences, she had a strange de
sire to discover this dark side of her that she hadn’t realised existed until now.

“Do you..
. do you want to be my ‘master’?” she asked him, uncertainly. She didn’t know how it was all supposed to work. She wanted to discover this side of herself, but she didn’t want to be completely enslaved. She held her breath waiting for his answer.
David leant back on the couch and wrinkled his brow. Then he said: “Get me a beer.”
Amy stared at him. Yes, she wanted to try this out, see what it was like to give up control, but she didn’t want to just be ordered about. She wasn’t a free maid. She took another deep breath. Maybe she should just try it out, do what he wanted. If she really wanted to give D/s a proper go, she had to be prepared to compromise. Maybe this was just a silly phase she was going through and once she’d tried it, it would be out of her system. Then she could get on with the life she’d always planned for herself.
She stood up slowly with shaky legs and went into the kitchen to get him a beer. With the bottle in her hand, she returned to the living room and carefully placed it down on the glass surface of the coffee table in front of him. She looked at him expectantly, wondering how she’d done.

He
raised an eyebrow slowly. “No glass?” he asked, disapprovingly. “And how do you expect me to open the bottle?”
Her face flamed red. But he only looked back unfeelingly and waited for her to go back to the kitchen. She did so, this time taking a glass from the cupboard and opening the bottle with the opener that was hanging above the stove. Slowly, she poured the beer into the glass, taking great care that there wasn’t too much head. The anger was still seething inside her, but she tried to supress it by remembering that she was playing this game voluntarily.  Having her do stupid things that he could do himself was probably part of it. It was about dominance and giving up control. He was the experienced one in these things and knew better than her how to do this. She just had to trust him.

Amy
returned to the living room with the beer in a glass this time and was about to set it before him when he stopped her again.

“
You’re not really serving me beer that’s not in a proper beer glass, are you now?” he said, giving her that look again.
She stopped in mid step and stared at this smug, self-satisfied person on the couch. She’d had enough already. Angrily, she walked right up to him, beer in hand, and right then and there, before she even knew what she was doing, she poured it over his face. Breathing heavily, she watched as the yellow liquid ran down his neck and naked chest. Shocked at herself, she looked first at the empty glass and then back at him, eyes widened  in terror. How could she have lost control of herself like that?
She stared at him in horror, frozen, waiting for his reaction. His dark expression looked back at her mercilessly.