Destined to Play, Feel, Fly Trilogy (65 page)

‘I will ask only once more. Do you understand what this means?’

Caitlin doesn’t really understand what anything means: the force of the feelings shooting through her body at his proximity to her, his rough handling of her private parts, the fear pounding through her nerves. His fingers continue twisting her nipple as his teeth clamp down on the other one. The only words she needs to know from this point forward immediately escape her lips.

‘Yes, master.’ She screams through her hood. As soon as she utters these words his torturous twists turn into a long slow suckling of each nipple. She is deeply embarrassed by her feelings and the response of her body as something ignites in her groin and noisy groans escape her lips, echoing around the confines of the cell.

‘Good pet, I’m so pleased we have reached this understanding.’ He turns her around to face the wall
and she feels the sharp sting as his hand comes down hard and fast on her buttocks before he promptly turns around and leaves.

Caitlin is left alone in the cell with nothing to focus on other than the confusion of her conflicted feelings. Though she fears her new master, and never knows whether she will be submitted to pleasure or pain, she also fears her loneliness when he leaves. Sometimes she wonders whether death would be any worse than living out the rest of her life in this blackened stone cell, never seeing another human soul again. Every time someone enters fear rises up within her, never knowing what to expect, but always knowing that whoever arrives, thanks to her master’s guaranteed preamble, they believe she is akin to the devil incarnate.

Her master has taught her to face the corner with her eyes closed whenever she hears someone enter the room so her face can be completely covered with a hood. The one time she failed to obey this command she was whipped until she lost consciousness and food didn’t arrive for some time; her only nourishment was drinking water from a bucket in the corner. Caitlin understood, from that point onwards, that every aspect of her diminished life is in his hands and she never makes the same mistake again, learning to meticulously follow his orders and instructions.

Her cries or screams don’t seem to bother the people who come and go so she is never told to be quiet, though she understands her pleas fall on deaf ears. This darkness is her new reality and she begins to
lose all sense of any other destiny. Day by day her body becomes his and her spirit weakens.

Caitlin no longer struggles when her wrists are clamped at an angle above her head and her ankles similarly anchored to the wall. She has no choice anyway, given the weight of her chains. Her cotton nightshirt is unbuttoned so her fully naked form is exposed underneath, her body opened in a spreadeagled position, only her face covered with the hood; as usual, she is prevented from witnessing the proceedings in the room with her own eyes.

‘Today is the day you are to be marked, my pet, and I’m rather looking forward to the results. The evil in you may even enjoy it. We shall see.’

Caitlin has no idea what this means as her senses immediately shift to high alert. She inhales the bitter stench of the basement through her hood as well as the strange, astringent smell of alcohol, just seconds before she feels the sting on her wounds and cries out through the fabric with each swipe.

‘Calm, my pet, there will be no whipping today. This young man is ensuring your ongoing health.’ Her master’s large hands cup either side of he face as her wounds continue to be tended to.

‘Hold still, almost done.’ Caitlin is surprised to hear kindness in the young man’s voice, but no longer trusts anyone, especially male voices who talk to her when
she is blind, bound, naked, and at their mercy. This man, in her mind, is no exception. She just knows that the stinging pain he administered was almost as bad as the whipping itself. She braces herself for what may come next.

She feels him hesitate with each stroke, sensing that he, like the others, has been warned about her witchery, as though he is trying to distance himself from her fate as a condemned woman.

Sensitive hands fondle her right breast, firmly massaging in circular motions. They are not her master’s large, rough hands. No one has ever touched her so tenderly; Caitlin doesn’t understand what she is feeling but at least it is not pain. Regardless, she has no way of preventing anything he may do to her body.

The man continues kneading her breast and though she remains on high alert for pain, she finds herself inexplicably relaxing enough to release her from her hyper-tense state, allowing her body to go limp under his touch. Caitlin is as surprised as the young man when she hears a light moan escape from her throat.

‘That’s enough, Lyon. She is never to experience pleasure without pain; that is God’s will and it keeps her witchery at bay. Do it now.’ She hears her master’s command from the other side of the room.

‘Yes, sir.’ Lyon immediately stops massaging and pulls away from her as though she has tricked him into doing something that he shouldn’t. The smell of alcohol fills her nostrils again as the cool ointment is wiped on her nipple. He pinches the tip of her nipple, lightly at
first but then he twists it until she gasps in pain and her fear returns like the opening of floodgates. As if sensing her apprehension, he tightens his grip on her areola and she feels a sudden pain shooting through the sensitised skin of her protruding nipple. Caitlin’s body jerks as she releases an almighty scream, sending her chains clanging against the stone wall as she attempts to catch her breath in an attempt to adjust to the shocking, burning sensation of her pierced, tender flesh.

She vaguely hears her master’s voice in the background of her mind. ‘Good work, continue. I’ll be back.’

The man’s hand then fondles and massages the left breast. This time Caitlin knows what to expect and won’t allow herself to be lulled into any false sense of security as she attempts to prepare her body for the pain to come.

She waits a long time with her blinded eyes squeezed shut and her breath held, but nothing happens. Adrenaline continues to pump through her veins from the last stabbing pain, though the fear of the anticipated pain heightens the impact on her. Lyon’s voice is so close and quiet against her ear she thinks she could be imagining it in her delirium.

‘You have the symbol, under your left breast.’

Caitlin freezes in fear of his discovery of her secret, one she promised her mother she would never discuss. How could she possibly keep it covered in a position such as this, with someone so closely inspecting every intimate detail of her breasts and body?

He lifts her left breast; she can feel him examining it carefully, without pain. Her heart thumps in her chest so hard and fast she can hear it pounding in her ears. Anticipating death, she awaits her fate in the darkness …

‘You are a woman of the heart, not a witch.’

She immediately exhales but is not sure why as he continues to whisper in her ear, pushing part of the covering aside so his voice is less muffled. She can feel the warmth of his breath as he speaks to her.

‘My mother told me this story every night before I slept. I know it word for word as she told me time and again.’

Caitlin remains still as she wonders how a bedtime story could possibly have anything to do with her.

‘Once upon a time, there was a kind woman who lived in our village. She was referred to as “the woman of the heart” and could be identified by the birthmark of a heart on her left shoulder.’

Caitlin freezes in shock, unable to believe she is hearing the story of her mother from this man.

‘There are only a few women with such a gift of magic and healing; they are revered by the common folk and their magic needs to be protected. Each generation is blessed by a woman of the heart, a true healer of the sick and desolate. One day, a boy so sick he was at the door of death was touched and blessed by such a woman. He returned to full health within three days, a true miracle in the village. Her daughter, also of the heart, attended the healing which made the young boy’s recovery much faster. The young boy was
given the gift of life, instead of having it taken from him. His mother told him, “If by chance you should ever meet a woman of the heart, and who is so marked, it is your duty to protect her from those who wish her harm.” The young boy would grow into a strong man who would be clear in his destiny, understanding that his life would be dedicated to protecting the women of the heart, just as they had helped him.’

Caitlin doesn’t say anything, not knowing how to react. She knows this symbol on her body should be hidden, should never be discussed, but she also remembers her mother speaking of men who would protect her when the time came. Still untrusting, and unable to look into the young man’s eyes to see the truth, she remains silent.

‘I know this story is no fable,’ says the man, ‘because I am the boy, the boy you and your mother healed when I was to die. It is my duty to protect you.’

In spite of her determination to remain unaffected, Caitlin’s eyes fill with tears and her body quivers with emotion as she hears these words.

‘I will need time but I will ultimately ensure your safety. That is my promise.’

Caitlin exhales with relief and hope, even though she knows she can’t verify his words. But it has been so long since there was anyone who showed her compassion.

‘However, to protect and help you in the future, I must follow through on your master’s commands today and do this first. I am sorry.’

Another hot white pain flashes and she screams louder and harder this time. The build-up of frustration, physical pain and emotional agony finds its release from her body in one last bloodcurdling scream. She slumps in her restraints, as her body adjusts to the pain in her nipples and her heart. In doing so, she experiences the strange sensation between her legs that she felt the night the priest found her, a tingling warmth that spreads from her groin to her belly. At least she knows that she can still feel — whether it is pain or pleasure makes no difference to her. None of this makes any sense, but now she has some hope, where moments before she only had despair. She believes the warmth in her body is a sign of this hope. So she temporarily relinquishes her spirit to her captivity and accepts her fate. The quiet, kind voice, the perpetrator of her pain and her surprising warmth, is literally the only hope she has left.

Caitlin has no world outside the four walls of her prison. There is no light, for weeks no one speaks to her. In the endless darkness her mind becomes acutely aware of senses other than sight. She can’t remember the last time she heard a woman’s voice, saw another human being, smelled the rain or the touch of fresh air on her skin. Let alone be given the opportunity to look into someone’s eyes and see the depths of their soul. She misses this connection more than anything, never
knowing until it was taken away just how much it was part of her being.

Her life consists of the comings and goings of her master who saved her from execution but seems intent on dooming her to a living hell and Lyon, the man who pierced her nipples and tends to all her wounds, regularly checking to ensure they are healing.

Her master beats Caitlin using some kind of riding crop or leather strap, not so much to cause any permanent injury or concern, but enough to ensure that the traces of witchcraft that were entering her body are kept at bay, in order to fulfil his commitment to the priest and therefore the Church. He reinforces with his words and actions that as long as he continues with frequent punishments, the magic will be unable to settle in her bones, thereby aiding her potential salvation. He explains that to protect her from herself and her evil, she shall be fitted with a chastity belt to which he alone has the key.

Over time, Lyon inserts progressively heavier and larger rings, ensuring that she is clearly marked as per her master’s promise to the old priest. Caitlin doesn’t understand her confused feelings for Lyon, the faceless man who knows her secret, and is ashamed to admit she looks forward to him fondling and touching her nipples when he comes. She finds herself unable to hide or control her obvious arousal from him. Her master is never far away when Lyon is in her cell and the risk of them exchanging any words are too great.

One evening, just after he has replaced the nipple ring and left, her master arrives and slides his fingers between her legs, feeling for himself the warm moisture between them.

‘My pet, your nipple rings arouse you, do they, now that they are fully healed?’ Caitlin freezes. He lifts her leg and grips it in his hand while his fingers penetrate her inner folds. She can feel the wetness within her clearing his path as her body spontaneously heats beneath his touch.

‘I asked you a question,’ he says firmly as he removes his fingers and abruptly slides them into her mouth. ‘But I agree, this time there is no need for you to respond when the answer is so obvious.’ He covers her tongue with her own juices and she has no choice but to taste the sweet saltiness of her sex.

‘Wouldn’t you agree? Answer me, now, so I can hear your voice.’ He deliberately leaves his fingers stuffed in her mouth.

‘Yes, master.’ She mumbles the muffled words and prays for mercy.

‘Suck them clean, you dirty pet.’

From this point onwards Caitlin’s captivity changes. Her master rewards her for her complete submission by enabling her body to receive almost unbearable pleasure. He understands every response to her body before she knows it herself. He takes his time to locate every hidden sensitive crevice and how it responds to his touch, whether it be firm or soft, fast or slow. He recognises that she is unable to control her gasps and moans
whether it be from pain or pleasure and relishes in the noises her body produces under the control of his touch.

Caitlin comes to understand her master appreciates routine and expects perfection. His arrival in the basement is preceded by a bell, at which sound she removes her clothes, places the hood over her head — as he is forever fearful she may look at his eyes and ignite her devilish magic — and is to bend over a sloping board he has made especially for her.