Part IV
Him
"My turn." I hear my own words echoing in my mind. On the threshold, I
quickly pull you to me, my thigh moving rapidly between your legs as my
arms crush you to me. You gasp, but are quickly silenced by my lips as they
devour yours, our tongues battling there as you instinctively move against
me.
I walk you inside, still kissing, my arms lifting your feet from the
ground. Despite your skirt, your legs move up to wrap around my waist. As
we step inside the door, I push you against the wall, and you can feel my
hardness against you, as through our clothing my body finds yours and we
begin to grind against each other.
Mindful of the expensive nature of both our clothing, but still wishing to
not delay, I push you away from me. You stand, panting, your thighs lewdly
splayed, as your hand reaches up and further unbuttons your skirt. I stop
you, spinning you around and putting your face to the wall. Your hands
caress the smooth plaster and I step behind you. I push your legs together
as you squirm at my touch, then all is revealed to your questioning mind as
my fingers find the hem of your panties and I tear them off of you.
You gasp as you feel the soft tug against your flesh, but flimsy as they
are, there is not much resistance. Then I grab each one of your wrists,
pulling them behind your back and securing them to each other with the
remnants of the torn material. You cringe a little, almost afraid at this
new development, but I whisper in your ear.
"Hush, my love. You are mine to enjoy, mine for my pleasure. But you are
also mine to love, and I will never hurt you."
You relax, instinctively knowing such things, but still apprehensive about
something new, even though new things for us always mean new pleasures.
I turn you to face me, but quickly your view is blocked by a silken
blindfold produced from a hidden pocket in my coat, knowing that our
arrival home would be followed quickly by such an encounter. You feel my
hands begin to undo the belt at your waist, followed quickly by the skirt.
Then, each button of your blouse is undone, and it too is pushed aside,
bunching at your bound hands. You arch your back, knowing instinctively
what your bustier has done to the curve of your breasts, and knowing that I
cannot resist them completely. But I do, at least for now.
You hear me sliding something from another jacket pocket, and soon you
sense the bindings of your bustier being loosened, one by one. Then the
coolness of the air in the house hits your skin, as you realize that your
bustier has been cut away from you, and your nipples harden at the thought
of both your naked state and what I plan to do with it. I soon cut away the
blouse too, promising to replace it soon, on one of our memorable shopping
trips.
Then I step back, and watch you, breasts heaving, legs wide, and your hands
squirming to free themselves of the bond of their restraints. I see your
head turning to where you think I am, and your tongue leaves your lips,
tracing a path from side to side, so gently, as you wonder what will come
next.
I too wonder, but I would rather ponder you for the moment...your stocking
clad legs spread for me. I can see the moisture that has been building as a
bit of it breaks free and begins it slow path down your inner thigh. I
track its path, knowing that soon my tongue will be following that same
path to its source. I tell you this, about the moisture you can feel and
the tongue that you can imagine, and I notice your nipples hardening again
ever so slightly at the thought. I watch you lick your lips as you hoarsely
speak.
"What now?"
I chuckle.
"Great and wonderful things, my love."
Then I step to you, and our lips meet, our tongues battling as we kiss. My
hands do not caress you, and you whimper, straining for touch. But touch
will come. Yes, it will come.
You stand before me, as anticipation tinged with a slight unknowing fear
washes electric across your skin. Your mind is at battle again with your
desires, telling you that yes, tonight will be one for the ages as they
say, but wondering if now would be the time to cry, "Mercy," bringing us
back to events better understood, yet less inviting, less tempting in the
ways of forbidden pleasures. For it is pleasure that we share, knowing that
within us lies one of the other, a body and mind only complete when joined
in intimate carnal bliss. You feel my fingers along your choker, the velvet
transmitting my touch in muted tones, but still loudly proclaiming to your
body what my intentions are for you, for tonight and many nights to come.
In its center, at the hollow of your neck, is centered a ring, deceptively
delicate in its construction, yet strong enough to withstand a great deal
of stress. You smile at the memory of my explaining the nature of the
velvet choker, and its attached ring. You asked me then what its uses were,
but I only smiled, and walked away. You trembled then, for you could guess
what lay ahead. Yes, guess, but perhaps even your adventurous mind could
not begin to open itself to what I have planned for you. And you tremble
now as you did then, for again you are afraid of yourself, knowing that
there is little you will not endure for the sake of pleasure. For pleasure,
like a great many things in your life, is part of the ritual, a sense of
purpose with which you do nearly everything.
And this is the "why" for tonight, for tonight I wish to take you...no,
take us, somewhere as yet only discussed in the purest hypothetical
verbiage.
I speak...
"Tonight begins a journey, my love...a journey that has no foreseeable end,
but has many branches along the way. Until now we have played at games,
games that will lead to an ultimate game...tonight. Tonight you will be
mine in ways you and I have only begun to imagine. Tonight I am not your
lover, the man who shares your bed. Tonight, until you cry "Mercy," I am
your Master. I am your whole world...I am the answer to your every need,
your every desire...I am the only one who you will ever want inside you.
And I will be inside you in every way. But I am not merely going to use you
for my pleasure. I am going to use you for our pleasure, as it is a
blissful ecstasy that awaits."
You turn your head to my voice, then hear a slight snap...it sounds
like...no, but that can't be...it CAN'T be...would I do that to you? Yes,
your mind answers, he would, your Master would. And then you feel a slight
tug as the leash is tightened, and my voice tells you to follow me.
We step through the entryway, and then to the 2nd bedroom, my study. At
least that seems to be where we are headed...blind except to what your
mind's eye pictures, you can only guess at our destination.
I lead you, and then you hear the door shut...it's strangely quiet in here.
You hear your blood pounding in your ears, and that is all...startled by
the touch of my lips near your ear, you hear me say:
"You may have guessed, my sweet submissive angel, that we are in my study.
But not the study you would assume. I contracted with some men who have a
certain artistic bent to their remodeling work. In my daily absence, they
have been here...first of all, soundproofing this room. Not just to keep
others from listening to what is about to take place, but to keep the
outside world at bay as much as possible."
I remove your blindfold, and you gasp at what lies before you. I study you,
wondering what your reaction will be.
"My angel, you are not to speak unless spoken to...is that understood? And
any response you give me will be followed by 'Master.' Is that clear as
well?"
"Yes Master," you barely say, hardly able to contain the emotions churning
in the silence.
"Good. Look around, drink it in. For soon your eyes will be covered again,
and we will begin."
Your eyes are drawn first to the candles, and you smile, knowing what the
flickering firelight on your skin does to me. Gone are the books that
usually line these walls, and candles are everywhere. The room is a vast
flickering sea of flame, a picture that your body paints well. You notice
too that the walls are padded, thicker... the soundproofing of which I
spoke. Along the walls are hanging various handcuffs, a gag or 2 (you
shudder at their presence here), and several silken scarves. Also along the
walls are what appear to be some feathers, but next to them are some other
implements that give you pause, implements that look as though they might
cause pain. I see your eyes drawn to those, and I speak again.
"My angel, those will only be used if you should ever request them. You
know me now...my torture of you will only be sweet, and otherwise to touch
you would only be at your word to me. Never will I force such a thing upon
you."
You relax, uncertain if such things would ever bring you pleasure, but safe
in the knowledge that it would be yours to control. Safe. But is it safety
you seek? You feel an odd tinge of disappointment that perhaps there are
boundaries to what I would have from you.
"But know one thing..."
At this your shoulders tighten...fear? Hope? Your emotions at war with your
sensible self, as you hang on the words that come next.
"...In all other things, you are mine."
You relax only slightly, still feeling that odd disappointment at what may
not take place. But such a feeling is quickly swept aside, as your eyes are
drawn to the centerpiece of the room...there are some other fixtures here,
but this one, for now, holds your gaze. It is a masseuse's couch after a
fashion, black leather gleaming dully in the candlelight, and there is the
place to lie face down comfortably, but then the top and bottom have
extensions attached. There are arms and legs pointing off at 45 degree
angles from the couch, and attached to them are what appear to be silk
lined manacles and cuffs. You look at me, so many questions dancing in your
eyes, but the blindfold returns, and I am lost to your vision.
You feel me behind you, undoing the bonds of your wrists, and then you are
led to the table. I lie you back, and quickly, expertly it seems, fasten
the restraints for your wrists, your ankles, and then, a touch unexpected,
a silken strap goes across your body at your waist. You are unable to move,
and again that touch of terror at your helpless state. Your breath
quickens, and then my hand is on you, caressing your body, and you are
calmed once again.
You lie there, helpless, as you strain to listen for any clue as to what
comes next. Then you heard the dreaded clink of ice cubes in a bowl, and
you stiffen, wondering how they will come into play. Then the first icy
drop strikes your right nipple, then the left, then 2 more in the auburn
patch of need that strains for greater contact.
Again the icy caress...first the right, the left, then the very center of
your desires. The drops come irregularly, an exquisite adaptation of
Chinese water torture, until suddenly, without warning, one of the
offending cubes enters you, slid into you by my fingers. You gasp, your
muscles clamping uncontrollably around the icy shock to your heated core,
wanting to rid yourself of it, but not daring, as the alien sensation
triggers a trembling in you.
As the ice melts, and your body's heat again conquers your hidden place,
you feel unfulfilled, knowing that you want more, a great deal more. But
knowing too that such a thing is indeed my place, my decision to make.
