The Table — Part II

The door clicked shut.

She flinched, barely — more a twitch of breath than movement. Still tied. Still blindfolded. Her body was flushed, her thighs slick with use. But I hadn’t untied her. Not yet.

I stood behind her in the silence, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the slow quiver in her legs from being held open too long. She wanted to collapse, but I hadn’t given her permission.

My hand slid along her spine — light, careful — and she whimpered. It wasn’t pain she feared. It was what came next.

“They followed orders well,” I said quietly, my voice close enough to her ear to make her knees flex. “But you… you exceeded mine.”

She let out a soft noise — half relief, half pride. She lived for my approval. Every moment had built to this one: not the use, not the hands, not even the blindfold — but hearing me say she’d pleased me.

“You were beautiful,” I continued. “Silent. Still. Exactly what I trained into you.”

I began untying her slowly — deliberately. Each rope pulled away with purpose, not comfort. I didn’t soothe her. I gave her space to settle into submission even deeper. The marks would stay — faint red imprints across wrists and thighs, proof of restraint, proof of belonging.

“You’re not done,” I said, when her arms fell free.

Her head dropped.

“I know,” she whispered.

I stepped in front of her and pulled off the blindfold. Her eyes met mine immediately — wet, searching, shining with need. I cupped her jaw, tilting her face up again.

“What are you?”

“Yours,” she whispered.

I nodded once.

“Then crawl.”

She dropped without hesitation, knees hitting the floor as she moved toward the living room. Her body, exhausted but obedient, was now soft and open in that perfect post-surrender space. I followed slowly, watching her move.

In the corner of the room, I’d already set the space for her — a thick blanket on the floor, a collar waiting beside it. Tonight, after the table, came her reward. Not kindness — structure. Reassurance. The security of being completely claimed.

As she curled onto the blanket, waiting, I picked up the collar.

“Eyes closed.”

She obeyed.

It clicked into place with one sharp sound.

“You’ve done well,” I said softly, brushing my thumb over her lips. “Now lie still and listen.”

I stepped away, lit a candle, and let the room fill with silence and the weight of what had passed. And what was still to come.

Tags: control, submission, submissive, dominant