Excellent stuff Wolffie. You will ALWAYS push the right buttons. :bondage:
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Excellent stuff Wolffie. You will ALWAYS push the right buttons. :bondage:
Thank you Nik. Call me Old Pushbutton.
A belated Super Bowl Sunday story.:rolleyes:
The Gamble
Mad headed down the stairs to the basement going slow and quiet. He really wanted to surprise her. She'd shown up for the game dressed just like he'd asked, wearing her shoes, collar, and an overcoat. No problems there, she was starting to understand the importance of her lessons. Naturally she wasn't going to watch the game with him. He brought her down to the playroom, took her shoes and coat, and locked her inside the cage.
The cage was steel 32" high 30" wide and 48"long. She could stay on her hands and knees or lay curled on the blanket he so generously allowed her, but there wasn't enough room for her to turn around inside.
Once she was locked inside he reached between the top bars and stroked her back his hand running down along the curve of her bottom. She began to purr like his good little kitty. Reluctantly he pulled his hand away and headed for the door.
" Do you know what tonight's lesson will be?" he asked her
" Never bet against your Master. Even when you win you'll lose." She repeated as if she'd memorized the words. They had a fifty-dollar bet on the game. She'd picked the Steelers so he was stuck with the Seahawks.
"Think on it a bit. I'll be back in a while." He told her just before he flicked off the light and closed the door.
That had been almost two hours ago. The first half was over, Seattle had already lost the game, they just weren't ready to admit it yet. But before being put out of their misery there was going to be an interminable half time show with some geriatric rocker trying to recapture his better days. Mad had a better idea for a halftime show.
So here he was sneaking down to the playroom hoping to surprise Nikki as she huddled alone in the dark penned in by steel bars. He was half way down the stairs when he heard voices coming from the playroom.
" Only seven points but they're still winning?….Seattle must really suck, but Pittsburgh is looking good right Jazzy?…. The Steelers', they have it in the bag right? What about Mick?…. He is, which one?"
Either Nikki was cracking up from a few hours of solitude or it sounded like the little minx was on the phone. But that was impossible, he didn't even have a phone jack in the playroom. All thoughts of stealth evaporated as he pounded down the last few stairs. She heard him coming.
"Oh shit! I gotta go Jazzy he's coming."
He threw open the door and flipped on the light and caught a glimpse of Nikki trying to stuff something under the blanket.
"Where is it?" he demanded.
"Where's what?" she asked stalling for time but unable to really hide anything in her cage.
"The god damn phone! How the hell did you get it in here?" he sounded as mad as he was.
She winced at his raised voice and blushed like a virgin. Her head was pressed to the floor of the cage trying to hide the lump under the blanket.
" Give me the phone! Now!"
She meekly raised her head and reached under the blanket. He was crouched at the side of the cage now where she could see him. She knew with just a glance she was in real trouble. Now was not the time for cute comments. With a trembling hand she dropped the cell phone into his palm.
It was a Nokia ® 3220, hard to believe they made them this small.
"What's the meaning of this?" he asked shaking the phone under her nose. Of course there was no good answer to that question but she gamely tried to come up with one.
"I needed a light, I get scared down here in the dark, and then while I was waiting here Jazzy called, and it was on vibrate, and so I had to answer, and then you heard us and …
Am I in trouble?" the last words were accompanied by a petulant pout.
He turned the phone over in his palm. It was incredibly small and light. Less than a half inch thick maybe an inch and a half wide and four inches long. Still she'd gone into the cage wearing nothing but her collar so how the fuck had she gotten it in there. Suddenly a knowing smile lit his face and he sniffed the phone suspiciously. Her flushed face glowed a brighter shade of red as she squirmed on her hands and knees.
"Damn it girl, looks like we're gonna have to do full cavity search before each session."
Not that he had any real problems with that.:noprobs:
Mad
Thanks Mad ---I enjoyed that :ra
Great, Mad!
Sometimes simple is the best, isn't it.
Wolffie
Great story. I especially enjoyed the part where she is em-bar-assed when he sniffs the phone...:crawlgirl
:bondage:
Just Another day in The Forrest
By Wolff
2006 (c) by Wolffwerks
There was this merry little girl who liked to wear red parka with a hood. But, since she kept the hood down so that her cute wild ponytail could swing wild and free she was known as Little Red Riding Ponytail.
Every day she went into the forest to bring mushrooms to her ‘grandma’. Hippity hop.
First she went to a sunlit clearing where a thick long mushroom grew. It was caped by the appropriate purplish hat. She played with it a bit and the voice said:
“I am Cick the Magic Mushroom.”
“Ooo, “ she said. “How so?”
“Suck on me and find out!”
She sucked and oohed and ahhed and was soon rewarded with the delicious mushroom milk which she gulped hungrily, wiping the last drops from her rosy cheeks. Then the other mushrooms stuck their heads out and voices rang:
“We are Magic Mushrooms too. Suck us too!”
So she spent one happy hour in the sunlit dale, merrily crawling around, sucking c… mushrooms, rolling around and jubilantly greeting each pearly geyser as it erupted and shone as fresh milk in the sunlight, before caching most of it on her face and mouth. Her parka was all wet too, but she rolled on the sticky grass and licked it too. Yumm.
Then, sated for the moment, she gaily ran into the forest. Hippity hop.
** ** **
Back on the clearing the guards from nearby castle pushed off the leaves they had covered themselves with.
“You just have to love this part of forest!”
“Yes, but there are other paths with other ponytails running them at various times… let’s hurry.”
** ** **
Happy that she made those silly guards happy... and in a such delicious way … she hippity hopped on and ran into the Big Bad Wolf.
“Good morning, Sir Wolff”
“Good morning, Ponytail, “he woofed. “What are you up to this fine morning?”
She drew circle with her toe (and pretty toe it was). “Nothing much, Sir Wolf. Just visiting my ‘grandma’ as usual.”
“No sh … ehem. Show me your hood, little Ponytail.”
She turned around (her ponytail swishing merrily) and showed him the hood on her parka. It was empty.
“Not that one. The OTHER one... the one you love to pull back to expose your nub.”
She blushed (prettily, of course.) “Can’t do that, Sir.”
”Yes you can.”
“No I cannot Sir!”
“Oh yes, you SO can!”
”No, Sir, I cannot. Sorry, Sir.”
He lunged on her. She dance away gaily and ran back into forest. Hippity hop.
“So this is the name of the game today! Two can play it, you naughty ponytail you!”
** ** **
She ran fast and laughed like a silver bell on the nipple ring of the forest dryad in bondage. She was not too concerned as she walked and ran after butterflies. Afore mentioned bondage dryads envied her but she wasn’t into play with them in the morning. It was more of an evening game. She ran towards her ‘grandma’s’ house. Hippity hop.
** ** **
In the gloom ‘grandma’ seemed pretty big and covered up to her chin, but that was all right.
“So what do you have such large eyes, ‘grandma’?”
“So I can see your hood better.”
“Ooooo. And why do you have such large ears?”
“So I can hear your screams and pleas better.”
“No sh … uuumm. Oooo. And why do you have such large hands ‘grandma’?”
“So I can grab you better and spank you till sun goes cold!”
“Oooo. And why do you have such big c… “
“Enough of foreplay, you bitch!” he roared and rushed out of the bed, grabbing her. He was still wearing grandma’s shift and a cap but the glassed flew off.
“Ooo, Sir! Fie Sir!”
He manhandled her and she was naked in no time. She was also on her knees in no time and sucking on his peerless pestle. Hippity hop.
He then put a brand new body harness on her and holding the reins drove her around the room using a cane as a goad. Then she was on her knees again and sucking his cock some more. Hippity hop.
Then he tied her to a ceiling hook and she hung horizonaly, trussed up, her legs open and bend in the knees. He produced the dog whip and used it. She swung and screamed.
“Helicopter, Sir!”
He swung her in a circle, then let her go. Little Red Riding Ponytail flew around the room propelled by the whip.
”Hweeeee!” She sang, leaving a fine spray of her liquid behind her. The whip cut that mist to connect with her HOOD repeatedly. Hippity hop.
The door crashed and the hunter rushed in, shotgun ready.
“Unhand the maiden you bad wolf you!”
Big Bad Wolf whirled, almost tripping in the shift. Ponytail was still circling and wheeeing.
“You ATE grandma! I know it!” he pointed the shotgun at him
Big Bad Wolf seemed confused. (Ponytail wheeed in the background).
“Why, yes. Of course I did.”
“Then I will liberate her!” His finger tightened on both triggers.
The door to the back room - the one with the hole! - flew open revealing a disheveled and very flushed ‘grandma’.
“What are you doing, young man? He was playing such a nice and innocent game with my granddaughter here! If you let them be He might eat me AGAIN!”
The hunter grew very red and dropped his eyes on the shot gum. It seemed to grow limp.
Big Bad Wolf grinned evilly.
“Grandma,” he inquired, smirking, “do you have those strap-ons still?”
“Sure do, son.! What do you have in mind?”
“You just bring them. And that special harness too.”
He laughed at the frightened hunter, smoothing the shift..
“Then we will all visit ponies.”
Ponytail giggled.
“Oooo Sir!”
Clipty clop.
** ** **
As the group went to pony stables Puck unglued his nose from the window. He ‘adjusted’ his pants and whipped his brow.
“Oh, man. That was something. Well, I guess it is back to dryads for me. I wonder if they can run on all fours carrying the donkey.”
And he hippity hoped back into the forest.
It was not Midsummer Eve, but, it will soon be. If he trained them hard enough ….
In the distance a pony brayed. It was still early morning.
THE END?
I thank you dear Wolffie
For writing this story,
It's sure to make some readers horny.
*It's a terrible rhyme, but I want you to know, I really like your tail.
It's been hard trying to write from an androgynous point of view. Anyways, it's time to revive this thread... and I think my sex is fairly clear this time.
I smiled at Chloe as she rubbed her gagged mouth against my crotch. A smile formed around the black ringgag as well when she felt my hard shaft straining against my jeans. It always pleased her that the mere sight of her bound and helpless created such effects upon me. She was absolutely beautiful kneeling by my feet, her arms laced tightly behind her in an armbinder, her thighs, calves and ankles buckled together by leather belts. The only other articles of clothing she wore were the thongs binding her toes and a now drenched crotchrope snug in her pussy.
Protruding her tongue, she lapped along the faded fabric. I can feel the firm pressure of her tongue, betraying her eagerness and I knew it would not be long before the object of her desire would peak above the waist of my low rise jeans. She had behaved exceptionally this week and this moment is no exception. Her birthday was this week and she desperately wished for the present that she had wanted for a long time. With great effort, I stopped her, holding her hair so she gazed up at me.
I leaned down and softly traced my tongue along her lips, tasting the moist flesh and the leather of the gag. She moaned into me and I pulled back, "Are you ready for your present?" She just moaned louder. Her eyes lost in mine, nodding her head.
I pinched her nipple as I helped her up, causing more juices to run down her quivering thighs. Leading her to the playroom, she let out a gasp of delight. In the middle, a velvet cloth covered a large box from view. It stood about three feet high, three feet wide and six feet long. She started licking my cheek with her tongue, pushing her ample bosom against my arm, thanking me profusely. It was the cage she had hoped for.
If she wasn't so excited, she would have noticed the hint of mischief in my smile. "Want to try it?"
She nodded immediately, her pussy overflowing, purring into my ear. I unbuckled the ringgag from her but she kept silent like a good girl, licking her lips instead. "Close your eyes and no peeking." Then I lifted her into my arms and she squealed a soft surprise. Her frowns communicated the thought running through her head. Afterall, why would I need to lift her into a cage? But she obediently kept her eyes closed. Carrying her over to the object, I removed the cloth covering the container beneath, revealing a giant fish tank.
Holding her fractions over the water, I smiled widely again, "Happy birthday," and dropped her into the tank.
Ooooo...water torture? You got played by the double post demon.
Typical fantasy. Version 1.
I trembled at the contents of the box before me. Concealed snugly among the velvet cloth was an object smaller than a Duracell C battery. But after going seventeen days without an orgasm, it would still send shivers through me even if it was the size of a transistor. Regathering my thoughts, I looked around furtively before snaking my hand beneath my barely acceptable skirt. It was a good decision to have the video teach the class. My hand shook in the dark as I reached for the egg vibrator and proceeded to insert it deep within my moist pussy, trapping it against the double pearl thong digging between my engorged lips.
Shifting behind my desk, I clenched my pussy against the oval object, barely supressing a moan before I realized some eyes in my direction. Embarrassed, I quickly veiled my face with a tissue, pretending to blow my nose. What if they knew? Distracted by these thoughts and the heat accumulating between my legs, the public announcement system jolted me back to reality.
"Ms. Friedan please report to Mr. Marston's office at the end of the period." It was not often that I am needed by the principal and considering under ten minutes remained, I dismissed the class early.
"I am afraid Mrs. Belluci is unable to speak at the assembly later this afternoon." I can feel my heart sink knowing that it would probably be eighteen days now. "Since you are a close collegue and have assisted her in the presentation, I would like you to fill her place."
"Certainly. It would be my honor," I replied mechanically, avoiding any movement that may cause the pearls to rub agonizingly against my slit. Walking back to the classroom, I wondered what could have occupied Mistress and in turn the orgasm I desperately needed.
The rest of the day passed in a blur like the words currently echoing from the microphone. Sitting on stage, I began to feel nervous at the entire school population before me. I tucked several times at the hem of my skirt and crossed my legs when a vibration roared in my pussy. I froze immediately.
If Mistress was not here, who is controlling the remote to the vibrator? My attempt to solve the mystery proved futile against the waves of pleasure resonating from my aroused core. My hands instinctively reached for my bosom before I caught myself. I can't do this on stage! But it's been seventeen...my thoughts melted against the pulsing of the toy. If this keeps up, I am going to cum, no, explode in three minutes.
Of course, at that moment, it was my turn to speak. Struggling to my feet, I trudged towards the podium, my hips swaying, the vibration growing. Fighting to control my voice, I leaned over the microphone, my eyes level with the entire student body when I realized that I had left the box out on my desk! One of the students must have found the remote.
Frightened to no end, a long embarassing silence passed before I spoke. Unable to hear myself, every single nerve ending in my body focused on the humming between my weakening legs. My grip on the podium tightened and I can feel my toes curling, the blood rushing to meet the vibrations on the clit, my voice is close to a moan, moments before I release seventeen days of denial and teasing infront of everyone in the school. The struggle to hold back combined with the shame and humiliation would undoubtly make this the best orgasm of my life.
Then it stopped. Fractions from the edge. I immediately slumped to the stage, buried my fingers deep inside me, my skirt above my waist and screamed my orgasm.
Thanks for the hot short triad! What a way to end it! :cool17: ...or should I say HOT?? ;)
I agree with LTP that was very HOT!
Me thanks Triad :ty
for reviving this musty old thread.
and in such a nice way, so what does "Typical Fantasy version 1.2 entail?
just curious
Mad Lews
Version 1.01
I wonder if the students accepting my handshake and certificate can smell my arousal or see my juices running down my legs past the tight miniskirt. In fact, I am certain everyone can see the glistening juice due to the bright stage lights. I have no doubt that Mrs.Belluci is taking her time reading the names as I struggle to compose myself. But the battle was lost before it started; after all, it has been seventeen days.
The buzzing of the toy drums relentlessly, sending shivers to my toes, marching me towards an inevitable climax. I clench my teeth behind the forced smile, determined not to cum. Whatever it may take, I will not succumb to the humiliation even if my face is flushed, pulse racing, pussy pulsating and dripping. I simply will not allow it.
The eyes of the entire student population is before me and the school staff is behind me. I stand in between, my hips trying not to gyrate to the pleasurable humming within. I want to give in to the vibration, let it spread throughout my body. No, I must fight it. Not infront of the whole school.
At last the ceremony draws to a close but I linger around, waiting for others to leave. Mrs. Belluci remains with me, her hand inside her pocket, never missing a beat playing with the remote control. I stand bowlegged, my thighs clamped together, knees bent, attracting a few curious stares. I am gasping for air one moment and holding back my moans the next. My eyes plead desperately with Mrs. Belluci but she just smiles to the students exiting, an armslength away from the stage.
My eyes follow the last student out and immediately I sink onto all fours. My body trembles all over and my heels dig into the floor as the orgasm crushes over me. Instinctively, I cover my hands over my mouth to muffle my loud screams of ecstacy.
Version 1.02
My eyes follow the last student out and immediately I sink onto all fours.
"Please..." my voice trembling and barely audible.
"Hmm?"
"Please...let...me.....me...cumm.." I have trouble speaking and my shoulder slumps to the floor providing an unobstructed view of the broken dam that is my pussy swaying wildly in the air.
"Can you image the sight you present now?"
I would have made an effort to answer except she turned the toy to max and all that escaped was the screams of my ecstacy.
Version 1.03
My eyes follow the last student out and immediately I sink onto all fours.
"Please..." my voice trembling and barely audible.
"Hmm?"
"Please...let...me.....me...cumm.." I have trouble speaking and my shoulder slumps to the floor providing an unobstructed view of the broken dam that is my pussy swaying wildly in the air.
"You should have came earlier when you had the chance."
"...but...all the students..." I almost shrieked as the toy abruptly stopped. "NO! Please turn it back on. I NEED TO CUM. PLEASE." I am wailing on the floor of the stage on all fours. My hair in disarray and close to tears.
"Maybe tomorrow."
I held back my sobbing for the eighteenth time.
Version 2.0 forthcoming. It will be radically different but still retains exhibitionism and most likely orgasm denial. I think.
Version 1.04
"Please...let...me.....me...cumm.." I have trouble speaking and my shoulder slumps to the floor providing an unobstructed view of the broken dam that is my pussy swaying wildly in the air.
"You should have came earlier when you had the chance."
"PLEASSSSE," I am grasping at her ankle.
"No, you may not cum," her voice was firm.
"But...I can't....hold...back...any longer....." and it was true. I was reaching my limit.
"Then you might want to beg me to stop before you regret it."
There was a long pause as I struggle with the situation. I am so close to cumming in seventeen days. My pussy is leaking like a faucet. Choking back tears, I stammer hesitantly," Please....stop. Turn it...off."
"Are you sure?" She teased mercilessly.
"Yess....please...I am going....to cum...I ...can't hold...back..." My voice left as the toy stopped, replaced by a most frustrated whimper of resignation.
WOW!!
i can't decide which one i like best - i just know i want to read MORE!!
I'm a firm believer in windows 98 SE but you've got me wondering.
Maybe it's time to upgrade to version 1.03
as long as the switch isn't too frustrating
Mad Lews
A few random thoughts that I felt might fit in this thread.
Something I'd been toying around with for a bit this morning.
Olivia's behavior had given her Master numerous nights of
restless sleep of late. Fitful dreams when they came at
all of her unwillingness to accept herself and the role
she was born to fulfill.
"My heart aches when I have to raise my hand to you
in disappointment and sorrow," he whispered.
She struggled to turn her head and see her Master, to follow
his voice but her purple leather collar had been secured to
the table top by the small silver rings adorning it.
Her legs had been splayed open with the use of a spreader
bar which was secured to her ankle cuffs, then connected by
silk rope to each of the table legs on either side.
She lay prostrate before him, her body naked, exposing her
backside to him. Both hands bound one over the other
had been held aloft above the middle of her back by more of the
silk rope which looped over a beam in the ceiling above.
He'd placed a small azure blue square shaped pillow beneath
her mound to give her some measure of comfort where she bent
at the hips over the edge of the table. It would also help to
prevent any chaffing between the rough surface of the table
and her cunt mound when he disciplined her.
"I apologize Sir, I ask that you forgive me for my lack
of self worth, my disobedience and dishonor of your teachings,"
Olivia whimpered.
Master Feather watched with growing desire as Olivia's coppery
hair brushed over the milky white contrast of her shoulders as
she tried vainly to turn her head toward his voice.
The fire red mane fell about midway down her back, dancing over
the smooth pallet of her flesh like an artist's sable tip brush dipping
and swirling amid a sea of polar white.
"I truly ache that I must shear you my precious lamb, that I must
remove your identity so that you will grow and bloom again just as
your hair will in time."
Salty rivulets of tears began cascading down Olivia's cheeks and
pooling between her lips as she thought of being born again.
A part of her shamed by thoughts of losing her womanly beauty,
another part of her joyous that she would sacrifice her vanity to be
whole, to be complete in her Master's eyes.
Master Feather walked around to the opposite side of the table
taking Olivia's face in his hands. He leaned down and kissed the
tears which ran copiously down her cheeks now, his lips and tongue
tasting the untainted emotion that was spilling forth from his mate.
"This is not loss Olivia but rather a rebirth, a reawakening of who you
truly are inside and I do all that I do for you in love," he said as he
gave her forehead a final kiss.
Leaning over her he began gathering up Olivia's fiery locks into a tight
spiral with his sinewy hands. Twisting the coppery strands tightly till
they bunched up and threatened to rip free of their roots, he slipped
a thin piece of pink elastic from his wrist and rolled it down to the stalk
of hair to her scalp.
"Cleanse me Sir, take away all the filth that I've let myself become,
all the dishonesty, the vanity, the sin of pride and doubt in myself."
"Make me whole again in your eyes and with your discipline, truly
mark me as the whore I've allowed myself to become," she sobbed
watching Master Feather's hand reach to encompass the SOG Bowie
knife.
The honed edge of the six and a half inch blade slid beneath the
loop of Olivia's shock of hair. Slow even slashes of the ebony edged
steel began slicing through years of denial, of deceit and what she was
born to be in a life wasted in hiding from herself!
She could feel the feathery wisps of her own hair raining down on her
shoulders and tickling against the globes of her bare breasts as they
floated about her stiffening nipples. She felt a dull ache begin pulsing
wihin the pit of her tummy and tiny droplets of her own wetness drizzle
between the folds of her cunt.
Olivia was being reborn in the eyes of her Master and most importanly
being reawakened from her slumber of self denial. From this day forward
she knew she belonged totally and would never decieve herself or deny
her desires no matter how shamefull others might think them.
The ultimate in submission is being totally nude from head to toe...
You seduce with your tome, Sir. My favorite parts of your vignette:
I was near tears as she pledged her submission and then,Quote:
The fire red mane fell about midway down her back, dancing over the smooth pallet of her flesh like an artist's sable tip brush dipping and swirling amid a sea of polar white.
Here is a sentence every sub should feel at least once in his/her lifetime:Quote:
The honed edge of the six and a half inch blade slid beneath the loop of Olivia's shock of hair. Slow even slashes of the ebony edged steel began slicing through years of denial, of deceit and what she was born to be in a life wasted in hiding from herself!
Thank you for sharing that pulse.Quote:
She felt a dull ache begin pulsing wihin the pit of her tummy and tiny droplets of her own wetness drizzle between the folds of her cunt.
Scorpio'sWill2Power
With thanks my good Sir for reviving this long dormant thread.
Such a wonderful little vignette of deep-seated submission,
A sub wavering between shame and pride.
Your descriptive prose does her justice.
May all your subs be a little bit rebellious.
It makes life so much more interesting
Mad Lews
Olives destiny makes me sob.
You are a Master of words, good Sir.
Posted with thanks to my dear friends here, and in particular Qmoq and Alex Bragi[/I]
__________________________
“In two hundred yards you will have reached your destination” said the automated voice of the satellite navigation system.
If only that voice knew, she thought. Looking at the displayed map she pulled over just before the final bend in the road and nervously brushed her hair, again, and checked her light application of make-up, again. She re-read his final instructions, although earlier in her trip she had amused herself by repeating the whole letter, word by word from memory. In just a few minutes she would be with him for the first time. With the man who had written those words. The man who she had first chatted to online, and then spent hours on the phone with. The man who had become the centre of her universe.
“When you arrive at my house, park on the left hand side of drive next to my car. Once you have stopped the engine running and removed your key ring your friend to trigger your safe call. You will not be returning to your car until it is time for you to return home, so make sure you bring with you everything which you will need. Lock your car, put your bags on the doorstep and then ring the door bell. I will be waiting for you, but will give you enough time to put on the blindfold which is enclosed with this letter. I look forward to seeing you. ”
Inside the house he tried to relax as he waited for her arrival. It had been nearly a year since they had met in that chat room, and it was now only minutes before they would be in a real room together. But he couldn’t relax, he paced the floor anxiously running over every detail of the weekend making sure there was nothing he had missed. She had rung him, as he had requested when she was five miles away, she had to be nearly there now. He struggled not to peer through the window to spot her coming, but restrained himself, as he strove to hear the sound her engine as she pulled onto his drive.
His bell rang, and he made himself count to thirty before he opened the door. Why had he chosen such a high number? He hurried his count. And there she was. Looking just as she had in her photos, but on his doorstep, clutching her handbag, a small case beside her, wearing the clothes he had sent, and at his request, blinded to the world. What threw his remaining equilibrium though was her stance, perfectly balanced on her three inch heels, her feet slightly apart and head bowed, nothing moving. At that point his carefully made plans for the evening nearly went, but he took a deep breath, kissed her cheek and whispered “welcome’. Taking her bags he placed them just inside the door and gently took her hand saying “there’s a low step just in front of you. Come in my dear”.
His hand gave her the support which she needed. Support not so much to enter blind into a strange house, but to calm her souring emotions. Wrapping her fingers around his she stepped over where she assumed the threshold to be and continued into his home until stopped by his whispered instruction. Then his hand was gone. The heavy wooden door, the last thing she had seen, closed behind her with a thud. And then silence.
Well, silence until she strained enough to hear the imprints of an occasional foot step on a thick carpet. And then came the instruction she had been expecting. “Hands behind your back please. ” She felt him loosely tie her wrists together, the ribbon smooth and cool, holding her for him. The end of the ribbon placed in her fingers, reminding her that she only had to pull and the bow would undo and she would be free.
When he had chosen her outfit he had envisaged how she would look, how the soft dark leather corset would shape her, aid her posture, both conceal and present her breasts, how the silken fabric of the skirt would fall gracefully from her hips until it just covered her ankles. What he had not envisaged was how he would feel. The surge of pride from knowing that she had come to give herself to him, his amazement at the trust which she so simply gave him.
She felt his hand run slowly and gently down her arm, each nerve ending standing to attention and then relaxing as his touch whispered to each in turn. He sighed, “beautiful…”. Collecting his wits, he led her across the room, and bid her kneel. Never before had she appreciated that carpet made a noise as it was crushed.
In her head she followed the sounds of his footsteps out of the carpeted room and onto a hard floor. She heard the fridge door open and close, a chinking of glasses, the glissando of them being filled and his returning steps.
He thrilled to see how she had not moved, his fear being that she would have become nervous and undone the bow holding her wrists, but she was just as he had left her; her breathing slow and relaxed, her posture correct but not taut.
There was a creaking of leather, and a hard cool smooth glass touching her lips. “Drink, my darling. ” She opened her mouth a little and felt a cold liquid smother her upper lip as he poured a little of it into her. Then the glass was removed so she could swallow her favourite fruit cocktail.
He wished he could see her eyes smile as he watched her mouth curl upwards in recognition. Her easy, appreciative acknowledgment that he had remembered. He was so grateful to himself that he had saved their early conversations, including the one where she had let the recipe slip. He offered her another sip, intoxicated by her presence and the power he was experiencing.
A ringing in her handbag broke the moment. Muttering silently to himself he went over to it and removed her phone, and pressing the green button held it to her ear. She was supposed to slip a code word into the short conversation she was having with her trusted friend to indicate whether all was well or whether she needed help. Instead all she did was whisper the word, pause and then repeat it more confidently, twice, and eagerly say goodbye to her link with the outside world. He stroked her head as he pressed the power button on the phone before returning it to her bag.
“I need to do a few things in the kitchen, please wait here for me. ” There was a soft click as he turned the cd player on, and as he reluctantly left her for a while Elgar’s cello concerto enveloped her within her thoughts.
"Ready, my dear?" His words cut into her trance and she felt his hand on her arm. "Come and eat. " Her bearings now completely lost, she carefully stood and let him guide her. Standing still when he stopped, side stepping in response to the pressure on her left arm, and then sitting as the back of her knees told her he had positioned her chair. Her bound wrists and corset making her sit upright and her feet tucked under the chair she whispered a ‘thank you’ as she felt him place a napkin over her lap.
The scent of a subtle spicy candle set the scene for her. Obediently, and without ceremony, she opened her mouth each time she felt the hard metal of the fork touch her lower lip, accepting the food he offered her. Instantly she recognised what he was feeding her. They had chatted about food many times, and this was the only savoury dish he claimed he could reliably make. Whether it really was the food served to the gods which is how seemed to be at the time she would never really know, but it was perfect. Warm rich flavours teasing her senses, each morsel offered as she was ready, the occasional sip of a deep, mellow wine sending her head spinning more than any alcohol ever could. Then the cool desert, sweet and slightly tangy, sometimes soft, sometimes crisp. Only once did a little fall from the spoon onto her breast, the imprint of his finger where he had wiped it from her burning and calling to the essence of who she was.
After dinner, as she sat on the floor by his feet, her head resting on his thigh the outside world ceased to exist and they were in a place that time had forgotten. They talked about everything. About philosophies and elephants, about music and rivers, about their pasts and their dreams for the future. Just occasionally, seemingly when she was least expecting it, he would caress her. Sometimes her arm, sometimes her face or neck, and sometimes the swell of one of her breasts. Each time so tender, and so short.
The evening was both infinite but soon gone. He led her into the bathroom where he untied her wrists and guided her around the room, using her hand to show her where everything was, including a bag containing what he wished her to wear to bed. Finally he asked her to close her eyes and he removed her blindfold. Keeping both that and the ribbon, he closed the door behind him. Later she would ask herself why it did not occur to her open her eyes, but the thought did not cross her mind. She felt her way around the strange room, the texture, temperature and shape of each item so sharply defined in her dark world she soon prepared herself for bed. Breathing in she loosened the ties on her corset and stepped out of her skirt as it rustled to the ground. She did her best to fold them and put them to one side. Then she felt over to where he had left what he wanted her to wear. Standing naked she wondered what she would find. Her imagination led her in all directions, but never to the correct place. Her fingers touched a cool and slightly hard fabric, and lots of it. She recognised the feel of crisp cotton as she picked it up and chuckled to herself, she struggled to make sense of the garment, if only there had been a little less fabric. Finally she found the top and the sleeves, and identified the back by the label, and slipped it over her head. She ran her hands over her clad body and realized that with the exception of square neckline she was completely covered. She was surprised, not sure if she was pleased or not, it was so contrary to her expectations. Even her arms were covered.
As he had heard her preparing herself for bed he struggled with what he had given her to wear, he would so much have liked to have had her come out of the bathroom naked and present herself to him. He even considered changing his plans there and then, the thought of her unclad and so close was tormenting him, but clinging to his original plan he waited. And following her call, as he entered the bathroom and saw her modestly covered and already kneeling for him, he was pleased that he had. This was so perfect; he was right to let them both savour each step.
He bent and kissed her forehead, whispered “thank you darling”, and taking her hand he helped her to her feet. She was now so comfortable being led that she followed him easily, stopping where he indicated, and when he pushed something against the back of her legs, at his word, she sat on it. She didn’t hear him kneel behind her, but her heart sighed softly as he placed her hands behind her back and once again lovingly wrapped and tied the ribbon loosely around her wrists. She could not interpret the next set of sounds, but knew exactly what he was doing when a brush touched the top of her head.
“Count one hundred strokes for me” he whispered, with just the smallest of chuckles in his voice. Purring, she did so. There was not a nerve in her body or a cell in her brain which was not tingling or crying out for him, crying out for all they had ever talked about and imagined. “…ninety eight, ninety nine, one hundred. Thank you, Sir. ” She heard the soft thud of the hair brush being put down and trembled as she felt his hand running over her hair giving it the hundred and first stroke.
Leaning over her, he kissed her cheek, put his hand under her arm and whispered “bedtime”. He led her along the side of the bed, pulled back the bedding, and fought the urge once again, but obedient to his plan he turned her body and helped her into his bed. His eyes lingering, caressing, he walked around to the other side and took his place next to her. Enclosing them both in the soft cocoon and holding her to himself, he slide his hand inside her nightdress, held her nipple tightly between his thumb and forefinger, and twisted it as far as it would go. “Tomorrow darling, tomorrow…”
CC,
You are a romantic tease. *hugs This is a beginning part to a story that has much promise and you ended with with a sadomasochistic twist to torment your readers. I'd like to read more. Will you continue it? :)
Nikita
She did do a wonderful job. I would be most interested in seeing
a part 2 myself.
Well SB, as you know that was a development of the first assignment you set me in writers' block. My current plan is that section 2 will form the first assignment in level two. So just maybe...
cariad
silent tears of joy