Toxic | Leila & Christian

Chapter 9: Distance

September 22, 2010

Leila's Pov;

Master stands before me in his torn up jeans. All I can see are his bare feet and the ragged material of his jeans from my position on the playroom floor. My knees ache from kneeling. The pressure my body weight is putting on my already bruised knees is almost unbearable, but I ignore the pain. This is how Master likes me to sit, hands flat on my thighs, knees on the floor. I've learned to tune out the pain of anything that can cause me harm. It's easy that way. The pain turns into just a hum in the background of my mind. Easy to ignore. I feel empty, always. The only times I feel even a glimmer of happiness is with Master when he's happy and playful with me. It almost never happens. He's not happy today. He's angry and agitated. I know the only way to make him feel better is to let him take it out on me, in here, the red room. It's how he functions. I've been his submissive for a year and half. I know his many moods and mercurial nature. I know how to handle him no matter what version of him I'm handed on any given day. Yet I get the sense that he doesn't know me at all. Not only that he doesn't know me, but that he doesn't want to. He doesn't care about me as a person, only what I can offer to him. The thought is saddening, but I know I should not dwell on it. I knew he wasn't looking for a relationship when he found me. He just wants a good submissive. So, that's what I give him.

Master ties my wrists and ankles to their posts on the playroom bed. The knots are tight. The rope burns when I move. He hovers over me, I can feel his warmth. My eyes are covered with a blind fold, but my other senses are heightened. I hear the low hum of vibrations coming from the wand in his hand. It makes me squirm in anticipation. Moisture forms between my legs as Master inches the wand down my front. He takes it away just before it can get to the spot I was aching to be touched in. I groan in frustration, pulling on my restraints. They bite but I don't mind. "Hush, Leila. You're only making it worse for yourself when you do that." Masters voice is dark, carnal. He's teasing me and he's loving it. The wand glides over my breasts, heavily on my nipples. Then he rubs it up and down along my sex. I feel like I'm being set on fire by his touch. "Please!" I cry for him, beg for him to just let me finish, but he doesn't. He's enjoying my pain too much. It's intense, almost too intense for me to take. I won't safe word. I want to be good for him. I want him to be pleased with me. The vibrations come to a complete stop. He moves away from me. I'm alone. His footsteps are loud in my ear as he leaves to place the wand back in it's drawer. The footsteps move in my direction and he returns. He climbs onto the bed, onto me, and I arch my back up to meet him. I'm so close now. If only he'd inch closer, so he's inside me. I want him inside me so badly. "Master, Please. I need you." I whisper, tugging against my restraints again. "Say it again." He commands, inside me now. It's hard to breathe. "Please." I pant. I say it over and over like a mantra as he pumps in and out of me. I moan, unable to form the word any longer. That's when I feel him come inside me. That's when I finally let go.

Soft music from the piano is all I can hear as I lay awake in bed. I know Master is awake too. He always plays when he can't sleep. I want to help him. I want to soothe him to sleep, but I know he won't allow that. I can't touch him. I can't help him. I'm hopeless. I want him to let me in so badly, but he never will. He's always just out of reach in the distance. Still I go to him anyways, my tiptoes masked by the music. It's like the sound of his fingers hitting each key is drawing me in, pulling me closer. For so long I tried to fight it. I tried to convince him to want the same things as me, but I've given up. I can't have him, not in that way. Not as I am now. I have to find a way to make him see that love is not a scary thing. That he doesn't have to be so cold and cruel. He can be vulnerable with me. I just don't know how to fix him. I don't know how to get close enough to shatter the wall between us. I wish I did. I lean against the piano, not making eye contact with him. Neither of us say a word. He plays and I listen. We're inches away from each other, yet the distance between us has never felt so insurmountable. He might as well be a million miles away when it comes to his heart. The closer I try to get to him the more he distances himself with me. It's agonizing. I try so hard to be everything he wants. To be worthy of him. It's never enough to change his mind. He thinks he does not have a heart at all. He told me so himself. He's wrong. He has a heart, a broken one, but a heart just the same. Instead of talking I just watch. I watch as his narrow fingers stroke the keys. The song is so sad. He never plays happy songs. His music is always filled with melancholy. Just like him.