cariad
09-04-2006, 10:47 PM
This is the second part of the story which I wrote for my first assignment in level one.
_________________________________
Unable to see she had no idea what the time was, but she felt him moving next to her. Not the slow languid adjustment of position of which she had been aware of during the night, but bigger and more determined movements. Her cheek was slowly brushed and behind her blindfold she savoured the soft caress. A caress which was followed by an equally tender kiss. ‘Did you sleep well my darling?’
She murmoured a reply, indulging once again in the wonder of being close to him. With an understanding chuckle he asked her to roll over and he untied the bow.
His head was oscillating with emotions. He was concerned for her muscles because she had had her arms tied all night, he remembered the once when she had woken up with pins and needles and he had watched her face in agony as together they had restored circulation to the arm she had been sleeping on. He had to keep giving himself a reality check to reassure himself that she really was next to him in his bed. Oh, but above all he wanted to progress to what he had planned. Thinking how he could indulge all three, he asked her to roll onto her front and he massaged her shoulders, his fingers working, seeking out any tension. His eyes looking at her laid there before him, not only in his house, but in his bed. And then….sighs, yes and then…, he let his thoughts and emotions float at will.
Reaching across her, he pressed the play button on the cd player and as the opening bars of Brahms’ potent adagio filled the room, a tear rose in his eyes as he whispered “Darling, I would like to see you now.” “Stand up, next to the bed, and take your nightdress off please.”
She breathed in and her body was suddenly filled with nerves and excitement. Not of any determinable kind, just pure undirected emotions. She moved carefully to the side of the bed, felt the floor with her feet and stood on it. Feeling the edge of the bed with her knees so she that knew she was facing the right way and she took a tiny step backwards and holding the fabric from in front of her thighs, pulled it up and over her head. For a moment she wondered what to do with the garment, and then just let it fall to the floor.
She heard him sigh and adjust his position on the bed. The power of the violins and piano both supporting and taking them higher, the harmonious counterpoint reflecting their relationship as she stood feeling the air touching her, knowing that his eyes were probably touching her in exactly the same way.
He had pictured her many times in his mind, but now had the reality was before him. Perhaps not quite as perfect as the images which had came unbidden into his mind, but real. Real and offered to him. He stared, thankful she could not see, grateful he did not have to monitor his reactions. Grateful he had already planned what his next step was to be, or he would have had her return to his bed immediately.
She heard a much bigger movement on the bed, and then felt his hand in hers and a soft kiss. “Thank you darling. Thank you. You really are beautiful.” He moved away from her, pulling gently, and she followed.
“There, yes, I can see you better now. That’s quite perfect. Now just put your hands up behind your head, with your feet comfortably apart… Hmmmm, yes, just like that.”
As she stood correcting her posture and balance she waited. Although she knew that he was there she felt alone. In fact it was because he was there, and looking at her that she felt so alone. She was shut off from his reactions, the only requirement of her to be obedient to him and stand as requested.
She was startled by the gentlest of touches running along her lower arm. “Shhhhh, keep quite still. It’s only a feather, I am going to use it to show you just where I am looking and to help me keep my focus because you really are rather lovely my dear.”
She felt the feather move slowly down from her wrist to her elbow and then circle it, and then continue along her arm. The point of contact hypersensitive from the combination of the tormenting touch and knowledge that that was exactly where he was looking. She did not have to focus her thoughts she could only think of one thing HE was looking at the point which the feather tip was touching. She could visualize herself, see what he was seeing. As he reached her shoulder she expected the feather to travel towards her breasts, but instead it circled her neck and traced along her other arm to her hand.
“Keep still for me”, he whispered once again.
The feather moved from her for a moment, her attuned ears heard him move around her, the feather touched her hand again, this time tracing each finger in turn. Along the finger, then back along the line between them. He studied her in intimate detail. He was in no hurry and wished to know everything of this girl who was so willingly giving herself to him. It was also important that she knew that he had seen everything of her, it was the first step to making her truly naked.
“Lift up your hair please.” He couldn’t resist brushing the back of her neck with his lips as she offered it to him, the soft downy hair teasing him. An undergarment to her neck, rarely shown, a delicate covering. He blew at it with his breath, smiled and kissed her again.
When he had planned this weekend, he had not planned the journey his feather would take, but instinct led him. He traced down her spine, twice because he rather enjoyed the way it rippled, traced around her shoulder blades, making the feather curve with his wrist. He tapped her lightly just below one, whispering “do you know you have the tiniest of little moles here?” He trailed the feather down first one side of her back, and then the other. Her shape so feminine, so right, so tempting. Then the line where her bottom joined her thighs, the back and outside of her thighs, the creases behind her knees, caressing her calf muscles with the side of the feather, all the time taking in the curves of her body, the colour and texture of her skin.
He returned so he was facing her again, and marveled at her stillness. The only sign of her reactions, her unsteady breathing, the odd gasp or held breath. Just occasionally through his desire he had flashes of incredulity that she was really there.
He traced around the edge of her blindfold, wondering about the eyes which they hid, but later. Playfully he flicked the feather along her nose and watched her come alive. Her cheeks lifting as her mouth curled upwards, the sharp out-take of breath and tiny shudder as she silently giggled, and then stillness again. His love for her threatened to overflow and make him embrace her again and thank her again, but he restrained himself just in time. Torturing himself further as he fueled his passions to a height he had never known. Making himself breath a few times he regained his composure. Well, enough to continue.
As her face relaxed he stroked under her chin and then down, stopping as he reached the start of the swell of her breasts, and unable to help himself, his lips touched first her right nipple and then her left.
She was in agony, the sweetest of agonies. In pain from the touch of a feather and the lips of the man she had chosen to obey. Her flesh burning, pleading with her to pay attention to its demands. More and more of her body begging her to release the tension, to move, to touch herself, to beg him to take her. She wanted him so much. But wanting him was being willing to obey him. Her toes curled tight as the tip of the feather ran over the upper swell of her breast, her face screwed up as she fought the desire to let her body explode in orgasm, clutching her fingers together so tight that they hurt. And still the feather moved. Biting her bottom lip she tried to relax and failed. Then it stopped, the touch was gone, she was filled with a different torment. Confused as she came down from being so close to giving in to suddenly having nothing.
“Just wait there my dear, I will only be a moment or two.”
Her mind was not coherent enough to consider trying to interpret what she could hear, although the sound of running water did permutate. She struggled to stay in position, her legs shaky, her mind; well her mind had been consumed. If she had tried to think she would not have known how, but she did not try.
She was aware of activity in the room, but for some reason did not try to make sense of it. All her efforts focused on one thing. Where he was. When she could locate him she felt secure, when she could not she felt anxious and alone. The tempo of her breathing reflecting her degree of certainty of both his location and proximity. The closer he was, the slower and more relaxed breathing, when she could not hear him her chest tightened and her breaths shortened.
His hand touched the small of her back, guiding her sideways, back to his bed. “You may use your hands for the moment. Sit down and lie back.” She did as she was told the soft bedding feeling harder than she had expected. “That’s it, now put your hands back behind your head, and part your legs as wide as you comfortably can.”
She knew what he was doing, they had agreed that he would, that was why he had put a towel over the bed. Lying back she felt so relaxed, so calm, each muscle group in turn letting go, finally, even her brain letting go. Not thinking, just being there, safe in his presence. She could feel him between her legs, the skin of her mound being lifted slightly and heard the elongated crunch of her hair being cut and then felt the skin returning. The same again, although a little to the left, and then again. Her chest lifted with a sharp intake of breath, and as he lifted one of her lips a ripple of desire travelled slowly along her spine before she relaxed again. Her lips parted, the moist tender flesh exposed to the air, a touch more gentle even than his feather, more arousing than anything she had felt that day. Tension tugged inside her. Each time he lifted and trimmed she felt the same thrill, although each time that thrill was augmented. Then nothing. She was close to sobbing in frustration as she heard him walk away. She wanted more. She yearned for his direct touch. She yearned for any touch. Her limbs tense with restraint. She wanted him.
Locked in her prison of tension she missed hearing the water run, missed hearing his return, but relaxed and whimpered as she felt a heavy hot damp cloth covering her. His hand pressing down, comforting; the bed moving, rolling her slightly to one side, his lips touching, resting on her cheek. His encouraging whisper, “well done”.
Holding the flannel over her as she lay there he marvelled at the simple trust she was giving him, he marvelled at her femininity and felt male. Felt humbled too by her gift, and possibly more masculine than he had ever felt. He was overwhelmed by his desire to possess and protect his prize; but first he had to continue stripping her. He got up from the bed knelt again between her legs and uncovered her.
She was not expecting the sudden cold touch as he trickled hair conditioner onto her, and she jolted up, tensing, her legs closing either side of him for a moment before opening to offer herself again. His fingers eased over her seductively as he coated her. And then she felt the cool touch of the razor. She trusted him completely, but could not help but think just how vulnerable she was to him. Thoughts rapidly overtaken by the thrill of the intimacy, his touch warm and caring, almost non sexual, his actions further sealing the bond between them.
His slow careful movements calmed both her nerves and shyness. His desire overcoming his anxiety. They had long ago agreed that they would aim to know each other completely and this was just a step in the process, but oh how she wished he would touch her more intimately. Touch where she had touched herself at his instructions in the past, touch where she ached for him.
He looked down as he stood up from washing her, so pleased. Once again he had to fight to keep to his plan, it would have been so easy to take her. To let them both enjoy what they wanted to so much. But a voice managed to whisper just loud enough in his head that he would never have this ‘first’ opportunity again, the edge would never be quite so acute, so he restrained himself.
“Give me your hand.” Trance like she offered it to him, his tug pulling her to her feet. He broke his resolve for a moment and hugged her, just holding her tight to him, holding his girl. “Are you okay darling?” Her head nodded against him. “Oh yes Sir, very okay.” “Good, then kneel down for me please.” He let her go, she released her arms from around him and she knelt. “Now all on fours please.” He watched approvingly as she did his bidding. “Thank you, and open your legs a little more and arch your back.” She welcomed his instructions and wallowed in being able to follow them, wallowed in the simple beauty of giving him what he wanted.
The imp in him whispered that he could push her further, test to see what else she would do, and with a smile he promised that imp that he would, but not now. Instead he took his feather again, and teased her nipples as her breasts hung. He went behind her and crouched down, drawing the feather slowly up the inside of her a thigh, watching the tiny changes in the way she held herself as she tensed. And then he touched her clit with his feather. “Shhhhhhhhhh, he instructed as she shuddered. Remember; control.” His feather drawing inextricably slowly down between her parted slit. Her cry of agony broke his control.
“Kneel for me girl.” The change in tone in his voice made her move quickly and urgently. “Kneel and take me in your mouth.” He held himself for her, her moist lips and tongue touching him doing nothing to help his remaining strength. Her warm moist breath coating him, calling to him to release. Her coaxing actions which she had described so often and he had lived in his mind, now a powerful reality. He held her head, his body trembling he gave up his seed. Tears of so many emotions filled her eyes as she accepted it. Holding him secure in her mouth, the man who grown to mean so much to her, she waited.
He turned her head slightly so that it was looking up at him, gently removed her blindfold, and as he looked into her eyes for the first time he nodded his approval and whispered “you may swallow”.
_________________________________
Unable to see she had no idea what the time was, but she felt him moving next to her. Not the slow languid adjustment of position of which she had been aware of during the night, but bigger and more determined movements. Her cheek was slowly brushed and behind her blindfold she savoured the soft caress. A caress which was followed by an equally tender kiss. ‘Did you sleep well my darling?’
She murmoured a reply, indulging once again in the wonder of being close to him. With an understanding chuckle he asked her to roll over and he untied the bow.
His head was oscillating with emotions. He was concerned for her muscles because she had had her arms tied all night, he remembered the once when she had woken up with pins and needles and he had watched her face in agony as together they had restored circulation to the arm she had been sleeping on. He had to keep giving himself a reality check to reassure himself that she really was next to him in his bed. Oh, but above all he wanted to progress to what he had planned. Thinking how he could indulge all three, he asked her to roll onto her front and he massaged her shoulders, his fingers working, seeking out any tension. His eyes looking at her laid there before him, not only in his house, but in his bed. And then….sighs, yes and then…, he let his thoughts and emotions float at will.
Reaching across her, he pressed the play button on the cd player and as the opening bars of Brahms’ potent adagio filled the room, a tear rose in his eyes as he whispered “Darling, I would like to see you now.” “Stand up, next to the bed, and take your nightdress off please.”
She breathed in and her body was suddenly filled with nerves and excitement. Not of any determinable kind, just pure undirected emotions. She moved carefully to the side of the bed, felt the floor with her feet and stood on it. Feeling the edge of the bed with her knees so she that knew she was facing the right way and she took a tiny step backwards and holding the fabric from in front of her thighs, pulled it up and over her head. For a moment she wondered what to do with the garment, and then just let it fall to the floor.
She heard him sigh and adjust his position on the bed. The power of the violins and piano both supporting and taking them higher, the harmonious counterpoint reflecting their relationship as she stood feeling the air touching her, knowing that his eyes were probably touching her in exactly the same way.
He had pictured her many times in his mind, but now had the reality was before him. Perhaps not quite as perfect as the images which had came unbidden into his mind, but real. Real and offered to him. He stared, thankful she could not see, grateful he did not have to monitor his reactions. Grateful he had already planned what his next step was to be, or he would have had her return to his bed immediately.
She heard a much bigger movement on the bed, and then felt his hand in hers and a soft kiss. “Thank you darling. Thank you. You really are beautiful.” He moved away from her, pulling gently, and she followed.
“There, yes, I can see you better now. That’s quite perfect. Now just put your hands up behind your head, with your feet comfortably apart… Hmmmm, yes, just like that.”
As she stood correcting her posture and balance she waited. Although she knew that he was there she felt alone. In fact it was because he was there, and looking at her that she felt so alone. She was shut off from his reactions, the only requirement of her to be obedient to him and stand as requested.
She was startled by the gentlest of touches running along her lower arm. “Shhhhh, keep quite still. It’s only a feather, I am going to use it to show you just where I am looking and to help me keep my focus because you really are rather lovely my dear.”
She felt the feather move slowly down from her wrist to her elbow and then circle it, and then continue along her arm. The point of contact hypersensitive from the combination of the tormenting touch and knowledge that that was exactly where he was looking. She did not have to focus her thoughts she could only think of one thing HE was looking at the point which the feather tip was touching. She could visualize herself, see what he was seeing. As he reached her shoulder she expected the feather to travel towards her breasts, but instead it circled her neck and traced along her other arm to her hand.
“Keep still for me”, he whispered once again.
The feather moved from her for a moment, her attuned ears heard him move around her, the feather touched her hand again, this time tracing each finger in turn. Along the finger, then back along the line between them. He studied her in intimate detail. He was in no hurry and wished to know everything of this girl who was so willingly giving herself to him. It was also important that she knew that he had seen everything of her, it was the first step to making her truly naked.
“Lift up your hair please.” He couldn’t resist brushing the back of her neck with his lips as she offered it to him, the soft downy hair teasing him. An undergarment to her neck, rarely shown, a delicate covering. He blew at it with his breath, smiled and kissed her again.
When he had planned this weekend, he had not planned the journey his feather would take, but instinct led him. He traced down her spine, twice because he rather enjoyed the way it rippled, traced around her shoulder blades, making the feather curve with his wrist. He tapped her lightly just below one, whispering “do you know you have the tiniest of little moles here?” He trailed the feather down first one side of her back, and then the other. Her shape so feminine, so right, so tempting. Then the line where her bottom joined her thighs, the back and outside of her thighs, the creases behind her knees, caressing her calf muscles with the side of the feather, all the time taking in the curves of her body, the colour and texture of her skin.
He returned so he was facing her again, and marveled at her stillness. The only sign of her reactions, her unsteady breathing, the odd gasp or held breath. Just occasionally through his desire he had flashes of incredulity that she was really there.
He traced around the edge of her blindfold, wondering about the eyes which they hid, but later. Playfully he flicked the feather along her nose and watched her come alive. Her cheeks lifting as her mouth curled upwards, the sharp out-take of breath and tiny shudder as she silently giggled, and then stillness again. His love for her threatened to overflow and make him embrace her again and thank her again, but he restrained himself just in time. Torturing himself further as he fueled his passions to a height he had never known. Making himself breath a few times he regained his composure. Well, enough to continue.
As her face relaxed he stroked under her chin and then down, stopping as he reached the start of the swell of her breasts, and unable to help himself, his lips touched first her right nipple and then her left.
She was in agony, the sweetest of agonies. In pain from the touch of a feather and the lips of the man she had chosen to obey. Her flesh burning, pleading with her to pay attention to its demands. More and more of her body begging her to release the tension, to move, to touch herself, to beg him to take her. She wanted him so much. But wanting him was being willing to obey him. Her toes curled tight as the tip of the feather ran over the upper swell of her breast, her face screwed up as she fought the desire to let her body explode in orgasm, clutching her fingers together so tight that they hurt. And still the feather moved. Biting her bottom lip she tried to relax and failed. Then it stopped, the touch was gone, she was filled with a different torment. Confused as she came down from being so close to giving in to suddenly having nothing.
“Just wait there my dear, I will only be a moment or two.”
Her mind was not coherent enough to consider trying to interpret what she could hear, although the sound of running water did permutate. She struggled to stay in position, her legs shaky, her mind; well her mind had been consumed. If she had tried to think she would not have known how, but she did not try.
She was aware of activity in the room, but for some reason did not try to make sense of it. All her efforts focused on one thing. Where he was. When she could locate him she felt secure, when she could not she felt anxious and alone. The tempo of her breathing reflecting her degree of certainty of both his location and proximity. The closer he was, the slower and more relaxed breathing, when she could not hear him her chest tightened and her breaths shortened.
His hand touched the small of her back, guiding her sideways, back to his bed. “You may use your hands for the moment. Sit down and lie back.” She did as she was told the soft bedding feeling harder than she had expected. “That’s it, now put your hands back behind your head, and part your legs as wide as you comfortably can.”
She knew what he was doing, they had agreed that he would, that was why he had put a towel over the bed. Lying back she felt so relaxed, so calm, each muscle group in turn letting go, finally, even her brain letting go. Not thinking, just being there, safe in his presence. She could feel him between her legs, the skin of her mound being lifted slightly and heard the elongated crunch of her hair being cut and then felt the skin returning. The same again, although a little to the left, and then again. Her chest lifted with a sharp intake of breath, and as he lifted one of her lips a ripple of desire travelled slowly along her spine before she relaxed again. Her lips parted, the moist tender flesh exposed to the air, a touch more gentle even than his feather, more arousing than anything she had felt that day. Tension tugged inside her. Each time he lifted and trimmed she felt the same thrill, although each time that thrill was augmented. Then nothing. She was close to sobbing in frustration as she heard him walk away. She wanted more. She yearned for his direct touch. She yearned for any touch. Her limbs tense with restraint. She wanted him.
Locked in her prison of tension she missed hearing the water run, missed hearing his return, but relaxed and whimpered as she felt a heavy hot damp cloth covering her. His hand pressing down, comforting; the bed moving, rolling her slightly to one side, his lips touching, resting on her cheek. His encouraging whisper, “well done”.
Holding the flannel over her as she lay there he marvelled at the simple trust she was giving him, he marvelled at her femininity and felt male. Felt humbled too by her gift, and possibly more masculine than he had ever felt. He was overwhelmed by his desire to possess and protect his prize; but first he had to continue stripping her. He got up from the bed knelt again between her legs and uncovered her.
She was not expecting the sudden cold touch as he trickled hair conditioner onto her, and she jolted up, tensing, her legs closing either side of him for a moment before opening to offer herself again. His fingers eased over her seductively as he coated her. And then she felt the cool touch of the razor. She trusted him completely, but could not help but think just how vulnerable she was to him. Thoughts rapidly overtaken by the thrill of the intimacy, his touch warm and caring, almost non sexual, his actions further sealing the bond between them.
His slow careful movements calmed both her nerves and shyness. His desire overcoming his anxiety. They had long ago agreed that they would aim to know each other completely and this was just a step in the process, but oh how she wished he would touch her more intimately. Touch where she had touched herself at his instructions in the past, touch where she ached for him.
He looked down as he stood up from washing her, so pleased. Once again he had to fight to keep to his plan, it would have been so easy to take her. To let them both enjoy what they wanted to so much. But a voice managed to whisper just loud enough in his head that he would never have this ‘first’ opportunity again, the edge would never be quite so acute, so he restrained himself.
“Give me your hand.” Trance like she offered it to him, his tug pulling her to her feet. He broke his resolve for a moment and hugged her, just holding her tight to him, holding his girl. “Are you okay darling?” Her head nodded against him. “Oh yes Sir, very okay.” “Good, then kneel down for me please.” He let her go, she released her arms from around him and she knelt. “Now all on fours please.” He watched approvingly as she did his bidding. “Thank you, and open your legs a little more and arch your back.” She welcomed his instructions and wallowed in being able to follow them, wallowed in the simple beauty of giving him what he wanted.
The imp in him whispered that he could push her further, test to see what else she would do, and with a smile he promised that imp that he would, but not now. Instead he took his feather again, and teased her nipples as her breasts hung. He went behind her and crouched down, drawing the feather slowly up the inside of her a thigh, watching the tiny changes in the way she held herself as she tensed. And then he touched her clit with his feather. “Shhhhhhhhhh, he instructed as she shuddered. Remember; control.” His feather drawing inextricably slowly down between her parted slit. Her cry of agony broke his control.
“Kneel for me girl.” The change in tone in his voice made her move quickly and urgently. “Kneel and take me in your mouth.” He held himself for her, her moist lips and tongue touching him doing nothing to help his remaining strength. Her warm moist breath coating him, calling to him to release. Her coaxing actions which she had described so often and he had lived in his mind, now a powerful reality. He held her head, his body trembling he gave up his seed. Tears of so many emotions filled her eyes as she accepted it. Holding him secure in her mouth, the man who grown to mean so much to her, she waited.
He turned her head slightly so that it was looking up at him, gently removed her blindfold, and as he looked into her eyes for the first time he nodded his approval and whispered “you may swallow”.