Eye of the Beholder (MF, rom, bdsm, semiotics)(8/10)

XV.

Elizabeth awoke early and slipped out of bed.  After putting on the 
nipple chain and her golden bell, she stepped across the room to sit in 
a chair by the window.  Her room looked out over a vast estate.  She 
could see nothing but trees and hills before her.  The clouds hung low 
in the sky, gray and misty, and fall colors had begun to dapple the 
trees.

How long had it been?  She was to be married on the first of September, 
only a few days after her kidnapping.  This was her fifth, or perhaps 
sixth night in this room.  She thought that meant she had been here at 
least three weeks.  The red and gold shades decorating the trees below 
her seemed to confirm that fact.

Elizabeth was growing bored.  She looked forward to the masked man's 
visits--she had to admit that much to herself now--but he came to her 
but once or twice a day.  The rest of the time she could do nothing but 
lounge around her rooms like a house cat.  She had found a collection 
of books in the outer room, and initially thought she could spend her 
time reading.  But these were no ordinary books.  They told stories of 
women like her, the things the masked man had done, and a great deal 
more--things that made her blush and gasp in embarrassment.  Though she 
thought of the books often, she had not yet been able to bring herself 
to read them again.

She fingered the gold chain at her neck.  From examining it in her 
mirror, she thought she knew how to remove it, but she never had.  Why 
not, she wondered?  He wanted her like this.  That seemed enough of a 
reason.

She sighed.  Her old life was over; that much was clear.  She no longer 
had any interest in meeting the Duke, wherever he was.  Damn him for 
not finding her!  He must not have been as interested in her as her 
father thought.  And damn her father as well.

What to do?  The daily spankings and subsequent pleasure the man gave 
her were enjoyable enough, but she was beginning to realize she wanted 
more.  Surely there was more he could show her?  She knew that he 
desired her, and she had enough sense of self left to know that her 
endowments ought to please any man.  But other than spanking her, 
fondling her, and occasionally caressing her breasts, he had done 
nothing.  Certainly he had shown no inclination to bed her.

"I want you to love me," he had said.  Was that what he waited for?  
She closed her eyes, digging deep into herself as he had taught her to 
do.  What were her feelings for this mysterious man?  What, indeed, was 
love?  She had never known it.  Did she wish to be with him?  Yes.  She 
wished he were here now, instead of leaving her alone.  Did she care 
for him?  She was not sure.  She knew so little about him.  He cared 
for her, that was clear enough.  He had said as much.  She wondered so 
much about what he wanted from her; what did she want from him?

I want him to bed me, a voice said.  She gasped at herself.  What was 
she thinking?  Her virginity was not to be tossed away so lightly.  And 
why not? the voice asked.  Who are you saving it for now?  The Duke 
will not have you at this late date; everyone will assume you were 
ravished in your captivity.  Why not spend it in a market of your 
choosing, rather than letting your father decide?

Her breath came in rapid gulps.  Could she do this?  Should she?  And 
if she offered herself to the masked man, would he accept?  Were he to 
turn her down, it would be the final humiliation.  She would throw 
herself from this window.

She heard the outer doors open and leapt up from her chair.  Keeping 
her eyes downcast, she scurried out to the sitting room, dropping to 
her knees before him.

"My.  We are so eager this morning."

She could not speak in her trepidation.

"Are you hungry?"

Indeed I am, she thought, but not for what you have been feeding me.

"Yes, sir.  No, sir.  I mean . . ."

"What is the matter?"

She gasped for breath.

"I cannot bring myself to say it."

"You have no secrets from me, Elizabeth, nor should you.  Speak."

"You said . . . you wanted me to love you."

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

He sat down in a chair next to her.  He took her chin in his hands and 
lifted her head.

"I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you."

His words washed over her in a heated wave.  Her nipples, held tightly 
by the clips on her chain, began to throb.

"Were I to say I loved you," she responded finally,  "I could not be 
sure of the truth of my words, for I have never known love before.  But 
I am sure of one thing."

"What is that?"

"I want you to love me."

"I do."

"No . . . I want you to love me.  Bed me.  I have nothing left to offer 
you.  You have taken all else I have."

He stared at her for long moments.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He stood, lifting her to her feet.  A great dizziness swept through 
her, making her feel as if she were walking on air.  He led her to the 
bedchamber and drew aside the veils.  Weak now, she could only lie back 
where he laid her.  She tried to gain control of herself, but her heart 
was beating too rapidly.

He plucked the bell from her sex and the chain from her nipples.  She 
watched him removing his clothing beside the bed.  His chest was broad 
and well muscled; dark hair dusted his breast and abdomen.  He slid out 
of his breeches, and at last she saw his organ.  It was larger than she 
had imagined it being, and it grew under her gaze, lengthening and 
rising to attention.

"Wait," she gasped.

"What is it?"

"Please.  Will you remove your mask?  May I see your face?"

He reached up, pulling the black mask back over his head.

It was a strong face, rugged cheekbones and jaw.  His eyebrows were 
dark and thick, brooding over his dark blue eyes.  It was a face that 
had known pain, but a handsome one.  He was older than she, though not 
so much more.  Perhaps mid-twenties, perhaps a bit older.  

"Better?"

"Yes."

He came to her, lying beside her.  He looked down at her, caressing her 
face and hair.  She lost herself in his eyes, recognizing at last what 
she had seen all along.  He did love her, however that was possible.

He lowered himself, kissing her.  She felt a flutter in her chest as he 
did so, and tried to mimic his actions.  She dared to put her hands on 
his shoulders, pulling him closer.  His hand moved to her breast, 
cupping it, running his fingers over the nipple.

He kissed her for long minutes, exploring her body.  She opened herself 
to him, denying him nothing.  His hands ranged over her breasts, her 
stomach, her thighs.  He kissed her breasts, sucking the ends until 
they ached.  She felt a great heat building in her, a heat that made 
her clutch at him frantically, made her pull him closer.  Her sex was 
pulsating and wet now, and she wanted him there.  In a fit of boldness, 
she grabbed his hand and placed it between her legs.

He chuckled, caressing her.

"Now?"

"Yes."

He moved above her, moving between her thighs.  She spread herself 
wide, arching her back under him.  She felt his organ moving forward, 
probing at her, so enormous and hard.  For a moment, she feared it 
would split her in two, but her sex parted easily at his approach.  He 
was at her virginity now, pausing.  She moaned in anticipation.

Then he thrust forward.  She cried out, spiking herself upward at the 
momentary pain, but a second later she was awash in pleasure as he 
filled her.  Up and up it came, spreading her outward.  

"Elizabeth," he gasped.

"My love."

He kissed her passionately, beginning to drive himself into her.  She 
moved with his motions, rising instinctively to meet his thrusts.  The 
whirlwind of her arousal soon swept her away until she was nothing but 
a thing in his arms, urging him onward ever faster and deeper.

Her release, when it came, burst through her with a stab of pleasure so 
intense that it frightened her.  She dug her nails into his back, 
crying out in fulfillment as he rode between her thighs, all control 
lost.  He groaned, gasping for breath, crying out himself as he stabbed 
the last bit of himself into her.  Her arousal peaked a second time as 
he began shudder above her.  Then at last, as he shook like a man in 
the throes of death, his seed rose and passed into her.  

She pulled him down as his climax subsided, holding him, kissing him, 
sighing into his ears.  She was his at last.

* * *

XVI.

There was more I wanted to add, but that was enough for now.  I don't 
know how long I sat there before I noticed Dani watching me.  She lay 
in bed, head on the pillow, snuggled around it.  When I looked over, 
she smiled a little and reached across the bed for me.  I was suddenly 
awash in this enormous feeling of--whoops!  Hold on there--too soon for 
that word.  Much too potent a signifier.  Infatuation was what it was, 
but whatever, it felt nice.  

"Hi," she said.

"Good morning.  How long have you been awake?"

"About five minutes.  I like to watch when you write.  You talk to 
yourself."

"I know.  I guess I'm working out the dialogue in my head."

"It's neat.  I can just see the wheels working in your head.  You're 
totally oblivious to everything around you."

I left the chair and slipped back into bed with her.  She squirmed 
against me, snuggling and kissing me.  I groped at her, playing with 
all the piercings on her torso.  She reached down for my stiffening 
penis when I started to play with her clit ring.

"You like that thing?"

"I love it.  It's just so much more erotic with all this ornamentation 
on you."

She tweaked the head of my penis.

"Guys can get one too.  It's called a Prince Albert."

I shuddered.

"Ugh.  I don't even want to think about that."

"It hurts, but it's only temporary.  And it makes a difference 
afterwards.  My clitoris is so much more sensitive now with the 
piercing."

"Do you want me to do that?"

"Would you?"

"I'd really have to work up to it."

"Don't do it for me.  You might end up resenting me for it afterward.  
Just something to think about."

She slipped under the covers and took my penis in her mouth.  She 
worked me over for a minute or two, rubbing the stud in her tongue back 
and forth over the glans.  I groaned.  Good God, this could get 
addictive.

I stood it as long as I could before pulling her off.  She climbed up 
above me, straddling me, and sat back slowly, letting me sink into her.  
She squeezed me once, tightly, as I bottomed out.

"Mmm.  I love your dick."

"I love your . . . whatever you want me to call it."

"Pussy is fine.  Vagina sounds so clinical."

"The connotations aren't very erotic."

She laughed through her arousal.

"No."

"Then I love your pussy."

She squeezed me again.

"You fit just right.  Not too small, not too big."

"You don't like big?"

"Too big is not good.  It hurts, and you can't do as much with it."

She began to rock back and forth over me.  I lay back, letting her 
work, playing with her breasts and piercings.  

She moaned.

"What's happening to Elizabeth?"

"She's deciding what she wants."

"What does she want?"

"She's not sure.  She doesn't want her old life back now."

"No.  She wouldn't.  She's learning about what she really needs."

"Yes."

She dropped forward, kissing me deeply.  She rode up and down rapidly 
now, moaning through her nose.  A few seconds later, her hands dug at 
my shoulders, and I felt her shaking above me as she came.  Then the 
breath went out of her slowly, and she relaxed, settling down onto my 
body.

"Good?"

"Mmm."

She stretched out her legs, sliding her arms under my neck.  I reached 
down to caress her firm little butt.  She squeezed me again, 
rhythmically, and slowly moved herself up and down.

"Do you like that?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I practice.  It takes some work to be able to do that."

"I love it."

She lifted up to kiss me once or twice, then looked into my eyes.

"Can I keep you?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember Mistress Rebecca?"

"Sure."

"What would you think . . . maybe next weekend . . . if I asked if we 
could borrow her dungeon?"

I tried to respond objectively, which wasn't easy given what she was 
still doing down below.

"I thought you said that would take a while."

"I know.  But it's more an emotional issue than a time issue.  I really 
feel like I know you now.  It hasn't been all that long, but I know you 
understand me.  I can tell that from the story.  And I want it.  
Badly."

"If it's what you want, absolutely.  But only if you really do trust me 
like you've been saying.  I don't want to rush into this."

"I know.  I'm going to think about it more this week."

"Okay.  No pressure."

She kissed me.

"Thanks."

She moved herself more deliberately now, squeezing and moving up and 
down.  I held her buttocks, trying to control the sensations.  Only a 
minute or two more was enough to get me off.  When I was done, she 
rolled over to my side.

"Like that?"

I groaned.  She giggled and kissed my nose.

"Okay.  Now I have to read."

She hopped out of bed and jumped to the computer.  I lay there resting 
while she read the next installment.

* * *

"I still can't figure out what you're going to do with this," she said 
a few minutes later.  "You're hiding something from me."

"Maybe."

"I won't ask.  I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"Like how it's going?"

"Stop asking me questions you know the answer to.  How much more is 
there?"

"One last bit, I think."

"I can't wait.  I can't think what you're going to do.  It does have an 
ending, right?  They don't just live happily ever after like this?"

"No.  It does have an ending.  I just have one last thing to get a grip 
on."

She came back to bed, curling under my arm.

"Do you have to do anything do today?"

"I have some reading to do for school.  But I can do it later."

She snuggled against me.

"Mmm.  Let's just stay in bed.  I want to spend all day in bed with 
you."

"If I'm in bed with you, I can't write."

She laughed softly.

"Tough choice.  But I think I'll take you."

So we did.

* * *

XVII.

I didn't see Dani again for a few days, although we talked every night 
on the BBS.  She didn't bring up the dungeon issue again, and I didn't 
either.  I was still a little surprised that she was willing to go that 
far this fast, and I wondered if maybe she regretted proposing it this 
soon.

I had a lot to do for school that week, so I wasn't able to get back to 
the story for a few days.  I knew what I wanted to do, but it was a 
question of finding the time.

On Wednesday, around noon, I was walking back from the graduate library 
when I saw a familiar face: Dani's roommate Todd.  

"Hey."

"How's it going?  What brings you over here?"

"I've got a friend at the School of Cinema.  He had a project he wanted 
me to look at."

"Anything worth mentioning?"

"Too soon to tell.  Hey, you ate lunch yet?"

"I was about to."

"Want to grab a bite?"

I had a momentary twinge wondering if he was making a pass at me but 
sensed nothing unusual.

"Sure."

* * *

The North Campus cafe was next to the library, and we got a seat in the 
courtyard after getting our respective lunches.

"What's it like living with Dani?  I can't help but think it must have 
taken some getting used to."

He laughed.

"No shit, man.  Those outfits she wears to that club, I tell you, I 
wonder sometimes if maybe I'm missing something."

"Pretty wild."

"Yeah.  But the truth is, it's not that big a deal, her being kinky and 
all.  From one perspective, it's not that different from being gay.  
They're both fringe communities, even out here."

We ate for a few moments.

"What's this about your roommate?" he asked.

I laughed.

"Oh, God, she told you?"

He laughed too.

"Just said she thought he might be gay."

"I have no idea.  If he is, he's never let on about it.  I've certainly 
never seen him with another guy."

"Would that bother you?  If it turned out he was?"

I thought for a second.

"I don't think so.  I mean, unless he started acting completely 
different."

"Dani said he's Asian."

"Yeah.  Chinese.  He's getting his Ph.D. in Linguistics."

"Think he's cute?"

I couldn't answer him right away, and he laughed again.

"From a straight perspective.  Since that's all you can give me."

"I guess so.  He's in good shape.  He's not bad-looking."

"Huh."

"Is there a way you can tell?  If he's gay, I mean.  I hate thinking 
that there's some stereotypical behavior patterns you pick up on, but 
Dani seemed to talk like she thought there were."

"Not really.  People like to call that 'gaydar,' but unless you're 
talking about certain gay fashion trends, it's really nothing more than 
whether you think someone's attracted to you.  You can tell when a 
woman is interested in you, right?  From the way she acts and looks at 
you?"

"Yeah."

"It's the same thing.  Straight men, for example, don't maintain eye 
contact the way gay men do.  You don't look at men the same way you do 
women, right?"

"I guess not."

"So if someone is really giving me the eye, that's a good sign he's 
gay."

"Well, Ted's never acted like that with me."

"He might be straight.  Or it may just mean you're not his type.  Just 
because he's gay doesn't mean he wants to bone every set of buns he 
sees."

"Okay."

"You do understand that, don't you?  I mean, when I asked you if you 
wanted to have lunch, for a split-second you thought I might be making 
a pass at you, didn't you?  Admit it."

"All right.  The thought did cross my mind.  But I'm still here."

He laughed.

"I'm just teasing you.  It's cool."

"Interesting point, though.  It's all about context.  An invitation 
from a straight man signifies something different to some people than 
one from a gay man."

"All depends on your perspective."

And that's when it finally hit me.  I knew what the essential BDSM 
signifier was.