Her resistance was a forgotten memory. A final, ragged sob was torn from the depths of her.
"YOU!" she cried, the single word a final, total capitulation. "I NEED YOU!"
I looked at her then—at her flushed, tear-streaked face, at her body slick with sweat and straining against its beautiful restraints, at the sacred art I had created on her skin. She was free. Completely and utterly free.
I had unmade her, and in doing so, had set her free. And the sounds she made, the beautiful, desperate music of her surrender, were the most exquisite symphony I had ever heard.
Her desperate cries still echoed in the soundproofed room, the ghost of her surrender clinging to the air. I watched her, a beautiful, trembling thing bound to my frame, her body slick with sweat and the proof of her pleasure. She thought the peak had been reached. She had no idea we were still on the foothills.
