Obsession Part 1 (Elric the Albino) (bd, fdom, rom, span)
Ever since first we met, I have done my utmost to convince you of your
true worth. I recall that day we ate lunch together in the Mall. I was
fascinated by you. I was obsessed. By your independence, your distance,
everything.
I gazed at you across the table, and I knew with a certainty I had never
known anything before, that I had to win your love, your trust. But you
had been before, and I knew you wanted to put that behind you.
I never wanted anything so much in my life as I wanted you.
Subconsciously, I knew there was no shortcut to your love and your
trust. I would have to earn it. I would have to show you that love need
not be synonymous with possession, manipulation, emotional blackmail,
anger.
And then that night when, alone with you in your room, I could stand the
uncertainty no longer. God, did you know how my every waking moment was
occupied with thoughts of you ? How could you sit there and say you
weren't sure of your feelings ? Couldn't you see there was nothing left
for me to give ? In a city hundreds of miles away from my nearest
relative, out on a limb to an degree. What more did you want of me
? How else could I convince you to love me ?
I don't remember what I said exactly, or what you said. But I know I
hurt you with my bitter words. And we slept apart, as we had for so long;
after all we were in your house. I couldn't sleep. I knew I had
to give up this deluded hope and go back home.
I so nearly did. Christ, what if I had done so ? You wouldn't have
stopped me. There would have been no begging on your part to make me stay.
That's not your style. (And it's one of the many reasons I fell so
hopelessly in love with you, my darling). We would have gone our separate
ways. Oh to think of it! How could I have gone on with my dreary life
without you ?
It must have been 3 in the morning or some other such ungodly hour when,
unable to sleep, unable to endure my own company, I crept into your room,
touched your shoulder and woke you.
You woke easily, as one does from a troubled sleep. I could see the
night had not been easy for you either. There was pain in your eyes, and
helplessness.
I told you I was sorry for what I'd said. You listened, holding my
hand. I could sense the strong exterior crumbling about you, but I had not
been expecting it. You started to say something. You wanted to tell me
things, wanted to sort out your own feelings for me. But there was always
that dreadful experience you'd endured, being with someone you hated for
years, who used you relentlessly to deal with his own demons. When I'd
said those things in anger, I'd been like him, you said. And it all just
came back. You weren't sure you could deal with it ...
And then a look of such pain and came over your pretty face. And
you cried. And I cried. And we held one another, tightly.
I will never betray your trust, my love. I will never use you. I am
not like him. I am me.
From that night on, things would never be the same. We had had such a
tumultuous initiation to love. Neither of us had ever experienced it
before. I had experienced loneliness through actual isolation, and you had
experienced the loneliness of a relationship without a future. We threw
ourselves into it with abandon. We went everywhere together, did
everything together. Spent whole days in bed, fucking each other's brains
out.
God how your body fascinated me. You would lie atop me, naked, your
perfect ass in my hands, your long, waist length honey hair rippling
down your back, creamy white skin, so soft. I thought I'd died and gone to
heaven.
We saw films, ate pizza, drank wine, debated, laughed, cried. I wrote
poetry for you.
I remember I washed every inch of your body when we showered. Kneeling
before you, soaping the backs of your legs, your ass, your stomach, and you
shampooing your hair (always an involved process). Working my way to your
golden pussy. I was inexperienced, but by christ was I motivated to learn.
I teased your clitoral bud with my tongue as you draped a leg over my
shoulder, leaning back against the wall.
Afterwards, you lay on the bed, a white towel around your waist, me
kneeling between your ivory white legs and bringing you to another climax.
I love it when you come. A flood of juices drowning my face in your
essence, your entire body feverishly hot, as you pull me up to kiss me and
tell me in no uncertain terms that I have pleased you.
And then, recovering within a minute, you are on all fours on the bed,
presenting your ass to me, and looking over your shoulder your blue eyes
say : "Fuck me".
I cup your grapefruit sized in my hand as I slide into you. I kiss
your neck, shoulders, your hair.
I fuck to please you, and therein please myself. You fuck to please
yourself. You are my dream woman.
I remember also when we went to a Classical Music concert together. I
watched you dress. Is there anything as erotic as watching you dress ?
Black silk sliding up your creamy white thighs. Black lace
brassiere, draped over your breasts. You turn face on to me and step into
black lace panties, sliding them up to your hips, unfortunately for me
hiding your from view. You look at me with that self-possessed
expression that I adore so much, the one that says you can never be owned
by anyone, including me, but that I am yours.
You turn around and reach for your brush but I have already anticipated
you and soon I am standing behind you, combing your long hair. I am naked
and my erect cock is just above your coccyx, my shaft chafing against the
lace of your panties. The head of my cock is surrounded by the feathery
ends of your hair. Your perfume (dolce vita, it drives me wild) surrounds
me. You stare at me in the mirror with that same expression.
When I have finished, you turn around, looking up at me (I am 6'2" and
you are 5'8"), put your arms around my waist, and cradle your face into my
chest. I love holding you this way. I kiss the top of your head, your
forehead.
I help you into your dress. A long, silky blue, indian style gown, a
present from me. Ankle length, but semi transparent. Then you hold up
your hair as I encircle your neck with a silver chain and clasp it.
Finally, your shoes, black strapped sandals with 2 inch heels. I watch as
you place your foot upon the footstool and ease your foot into it, toenails
painted in blood red. Late afternoon sunlight streaming in behind you,
silhouetting your body beneath the gown beautifully for a moment.
You glance at me and laugh. "Put some clothes on."
The music that evening is wonderful. They play Symphony No. 4 by
Mahler. My favourite composer. Since I introduced you to him through
numerous playings from my music collection, you've come to appreciate the
emotional intensity of his music as well. It expresses some of the
feelings I have for you in a way I could never communicate in words. It
speaks of passion, obsession, yearning.
No matter how much I get of you, I can never get enough. I yearn for
more.
We catch a taxi home, one long unbroken kiss all the way there.
Once inside, the door barely closed, I fall to my knees. You reach down
and lift the hem of your gown up to your waist. I am about to bury my face
in your but you push the back of my head there anyway.
You're so wet as I lap your covered lips. Fingers in my
hair.
Somehow we make it to the bed. We get out of our clothes and I thrust
into you lying on top of you. When I'm on top, I like to keep my left leg
straight, bend my right knee, and massage your as I fuck you with
gentle but rhythmic strokes. You dislike being roughly taken. What you
want is a slow, sensuous fuck, with me your earlobe, your breasts,
kissing you everywhere, while I whisper in your ear of how I adore you.
Those first few years I strove to open you up, free your soul. Get you
to realise how beautiful you really are, how precious. Gradually, slowly,
you began to see things my way. To become aware of your beauty, your
sensuality, your gentle, loving nature. To exalt in all these things.
I worked part time teaching. You finished your Ph.D. in Sociology.
Soon after, you took a University position in research. My job became full
time, and suddenly we were making $100 000 a year between us. Finally, we
could afford to buy a home. We found a wonderful place for ourselves.
Quiet, open. Polished wooden floors, homely. A fireplace. A big bedroom.
A big bath. All the important things.
We had come so far together. I had watched you developing into a more
and more confident woman. The fact that you earned nearly twice what I did
underscored that. And I had always wanted it this way. The strength of
our love for one another was greater than ever. But subtly, the dynamics
of our relationship had changed. You had become more and more dominant,
and I had become more and more joyously your devoted servant. You read
those on internet sites written by with D/s fantasies, and in
most of them this change occurs very suddenly. He comes home one day to
find her dressed up as a dominatrix and demanding that he scrub the floors,
cook dinner, and lick her boots. Or he convinces her to tie him up, and
she takes to the role so much she decides she wants to keep things that
way. With us, it wasn't like that. Instead, over the years, you resisted
my need to be dominated less and less as you became more and more self
assured. I never even said I wanted it explicitly. But you knew. And
whereas once you had been embarrassed (for me mainly) to see me on the
floor before you kissing your feet, now it seemed far more natural that I
should do so. I had taken on more and more of the housework; your hours
were much longer than mine, so it was inevitable. With the exception of
the cooking. You are such an incredible cook, and you like to be in
control of that. You leave the associated menial labour to me - chopping,
peeling, general preparation, cleaning up. Nevertheless, there were a few
moments that could be regarded as turning points of a sort. For years
you'd been working out, unsatisfied at how easily I could beat you in an
arm wrestle. After sex, we'd sometimes play around. I remember how I'd
hold you off with one hand while you pushed down at me with all the
strength in both your arms, giggling uncontrollably. But after five years
of constant weights, that had all changed. Outwardly, you hadn't changed
greatly. More toned perhaps. But you'd always been slender and you'd
always had a great body. The main difference was in your stamina, your
energy, and your strength. I guess I really started to notice not long
after we got some gym equipment installed, and turned the basement into a
home gym. Bench press. Tread mill. Weights. I would come in now and
then while you worked out. Help you with your warm down. Or just watch. I
loved to watch you lift weights. I began to notice muscles in your arms
that I hadn't noticed before. Christ, what a sight. Lying back, in that
skin tight white cotton leotard, lifting, up and down, up and down. Sweat
lining your legs, your thighs. You quickly realised how turned on I was
watching this. One warm summer day, during your weights training, you
stopped, sat up on your elbows and looked over at me. A sultry smile on
your face. Reaching up, pushing the straps off your shoulders, and peeling
down to your waist. Exposing those gorgeous firm tits. Nipples erect,
showing your arousal. Then you went back to it. It was the first time you
deliberately used the occasion to do something overtly sexual. The next
time took me by surprise. I came back from work to find you lifting
weights. Gone was the white leotard. Now you were in a lycra leotard,
almost entirely transparent, and heels. I nearly creamed myself there
and then. I came over and stood beside you, looking down at you. You
stared up at me with that self possessed half smile. "Get undressed." You
told me breathlessly. I undressed before you, and stood to attention at
your feet. "You're all excited about something." My cock was hard as. You
stopped lifting for a moment, and then lifted your foot and rubbed the heel
against my shaft. Then you pushed the instep against my head and pinned it
to my stomach. You giggled. I groaned. I couldn't stop staring at your
pussy. You stood up and walked over to a stretching bar. I'll never
forget the sexual tension of that moment. At the rear, the leotard was a
g-string, leaving your firm, tight ass entirely exposed. You walked
slowly, with measured steps. Ass swaying seductively. Then you reached
the bar, turned side on to me, and lifted your leg up to hang it on the
bar. I watched you flexing. You stopped looking at me, that lost in your
own world look came over your face. For what seemed ages I stood there,
just watching you. You did the other leg. You did some leg squats.
Facing me. Turned away from me. When you faced me, your hair came down to
just under your ass. "God you're beautiful Jane." I said. You closed your
eyes and whispered "Sshhhh." I wanted to touch myself, but somehow I knew
you didn't want me to. Then you got up, walked toward me. Stopped about a
pace from me. Planted your feet apart a little, put your hands on your
hips, and tossed your hair over your shoulder. Looking up at me with those
arresting deep blue eyes of yours. There was a mirror that dominated the
wall behind you. I glanced at it and the sight of you standing there
before me, legs planted apart in that dominating stance, your long long
hair coming down to your ass, just made me even more turned on. No words
were needed. I got down to my knees. I was so aroused I was trembling. I
looked ahead and saw an amazing image. Of me kneeling, framed by your slim
white legs. I was about to look up at you, but I felt your hand on top of
my head, pushing down gently but firmly. I could smell the incredible
combined scent of dolce vita and your juices. I saw you peeling down
your leotard. Off your shoulders, exposing your creamy white back. Until
it hung off your hips. Your hands fell to your sides. "Get it off me."
You ordered quietly. I love how your voice, which is so quiet, gentle,
almost hushed, can at the same time be so commanding. I peeled it down off
your hips, studying your for a moment. You always keep it trimmed
into a neat golden triangle about an inch and a half across. A small brown
mole just under your left lip that's been there as long as I can
remember. You were wet, your pungent scent was all around me. I know you
were really turned on by the dynamics of the moment too. I slid it down
your legs, then let it drop to the floor at your feet. You slid it away
with your foot. I bent down and kissed your shoe. Funny how I knew
exactly what I had to do. I licked the heel, swirling my tongue around it.
I could hear your finger gently teasing your clitoris above me. Your
breathing becoming laboured. I started kissing my way up your lower leg,
licking the salty sweat off it. One thing that has really improved over
the years is your legs. They've become more athletic, sinewy. You like to
take your time with orgasms, so I took mine, although what I'd have loved
more than anything was to fuck your brains out there and then. But then,
this was a lifelong fantasy of mine come true. No whips, no chains, no
corny phrasemongering. Just a sensual scene in which you were unmistakably
in complete control, and the focus was entirely on your pleasure. Up your
leg, inside your thigh, your juice running down your leg, giving me
my first taste of you. I could hear you moaning softly, muttering soft
oaths to yourself as I neared the underside of your heavenly sex. I busied
myself with cleaning your essence off your inner thighs as you finger
fucked yourself. I looked up, despite myself, and saw your gaping inches above me. Some drops fell on my face. You had your middle and
index finger inside you, your hard little clit between them. Rapidly
massaging it back and forth. Just then you reached down with your free
hand, grasped me by the hair and lifted me up firmly, causing me to wince.
With a shudder of your entire body, you squirted a brief flow of your
essence onto my upturned face. Your legs were trembling and I reached out
to hold them. I lapped up whatever I could gather of your nectar. You
pushed my face into your sopping mound, leaving me in no doubt that I
should now clean you out. And clean you out I did, with joyous abandon,
lapping it up like a starved dog. After that, we showered, washed each
other, my raging prick begging for release. You were behind me, arms about
my waist, digging into my back, soaping my dick with long, smooth
strokes of your delicate hand. I love the feeling of your hand on my cock.
Your hands are so small, fine bone structure, delicate. You started
rubbing your against my back, and then your against my ass,
kissing my neck. You know just how to wank me. When you get to the
sensitive point just under the glans, you swirl your finger against it. I
groaned, bucked my hips, and blew my load onto the shower screen, with the
image of you in a skin-tight lycra leotard doing exercises in
my mind. Certainly an intense moment I'll never forget.
Not long after that, you received a professorship and I had to endure
longer periods apart from you. We talked about moving to the US, but it
would be hard for me to find work there. Still, we could easily make ends
meet on the $75000 salary you were on alone. You never tried to pressure
me. I knew how important it was to you too. The academic who had
supervised your honours research was there, and he had helped you work on
your Doctoral thesis. He was internationally known in the field, and I
knew that if we moved to the US, your career would leap ahead by bounds.
You told me once, "I don't ever want to do anything that would put strain
on our relationship, Steve. That will always come first.".
Meanwhile, our sexual relationship continued to develop as you became
more and more confident a woman. At 30, you were more beautiful than ever.
I had to marvel at how much you had grown since that shy 21 year I'd met all those years ago. And what made me so proud was knowing that I
had had a big role in that transformation. You know I will never rest, as
long as I live, doing all I can to make you happy. I attended a public
lecture you gave once. It was fantastic. You made Darwinian science sound
enthralling. I loved the barbed remarks directed at Creation Science !
We got one of those fashioned bath tubs, the kind you can carry
around. You've always loved baths. You wanted to put it on the balcony so
you take long baths outdoors in the fresh air. Our balcony overlooks a
vacant of hills, so there were no problems of prying eyes. I would
get the water ready while you did something else, like working out. After
a while you'd come. The water would be ready and I'd have brought out a
table with anything else you needed - oils, soaps, shampoos. A glass of
your favourite red. You would come in your white terry cloth robe, fresh
from the exertions of your exercise routine. A glance of satisfaction to
see everything was prepared, and then you'd stand before me as I knelt
beside the tub and allow me to untie your belt. A brief glimpse of your
perfection before you give me a loving tousle of my hair, then turn and
climb into the tub. I would wait on you all afternoon as you lazily read,
masturbated, or just soaked. Help shampoo your hair, scrub your back, soap
your legs and arms. Then you'd get out and let me towel you dry. Waiting
on you hand and foot like that was, and is, such a pleasure for me. After
the bath, it is time to shave your legs and pussy. This is a task that I
have only been rewarded with after some time. At first I would just watch
you, and you would glance up at me now and again and smile. When I asked
if I could do the work for you, you were reticent. But at some point you
let me try, and I performed the task to your satisfaction. You sit in a
wicker chair, and I do the front of your legs. Then your pussy, which I
trim into a nice neat triangle. Then you stand up, turn around, and I
shave the backs of your legs. At the end, I bathe you in oil of your
choice. Sometimes, you are a bit horny and when I start kissing and
licking your ass, you grind your asshole into my nose, as I tongue your
rosebud or lick the underside of your cunt. But sometimes you laugh
quietly to yourself when I try, turn around, squat down eye level with me,
kiss me lovingly, thank me, and leave me there with a huge erection.
We were having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants one night,
when you handed me a letter across the table and asked me to read it. It
was from the Professor who'd supervised your thesis. He wanted you to come
over and work with him. He had arranged a position for you at a prominent
New York university. He wanted to write a book with you. He greatly
admired the book you had had published recently. The position was a
professorship. $US 120,000 a year. Jesus H. Christ. I looked at you in
disbelief. "All I want you to do is think it over," you said, holding my
hand across the table. "If you don't want to do this, then we won't. I'm
happy here. I'm happy as long as we're together." There was no doubt in my
mind. "There's nothing to think about, darling. We have to go. Just
think of what it'll do for your career." You sighed. "Steve. This isn't a
bedroom game anymore. If we go, we're going into the unknown. And what
about your career ? What about your life ?" I shook my head. "I don't
have a career. And my life is nothing without yours." "Don't say that.
It's not true. What about your writing ?" I'd made a lot of abortive
attempts at writing a book. "I've got at least as much hope of finishing
my book there as I have here." "What about your ?" "I've lived a
long way from them for ten years. Being further won't make much
difference. And with this sort of money we can visit regularly anyway.
I'll get a part time job I'm sure." In the end I convinced you it was what
I wanted too. It was a bit painful leaving. Something in me knew I
wouldn't be coming back to live for a long time. It cut both our mothers
up for sure. But I knew we were doing the right thing. This was your
dream. I had my own, sure, but they were just as pursuable there as here.
We settled in easier than I'd thought at first. They took care of a lot of
stuff - accomodation (a wonderful apartment in the heart of town, way
bigger and plusher than anything we'd ever lived in), working permits and
visas, and a host of other annoying paperwork. You started work fairly
quickly after we arrived, leaving me at home. Not since we'd first met had
being apart from you been so hard. But I threw myself into turning the new
place into a home, making life comfortable for you when you got home. I
even learned some new recipes ! I got in lots of piano practice. Added a
bit more to my book. Went shopping and bought you things. One day I was
passing a specialty clothing store. On impulse I went inside and looked
around. I'd seen shops like this before, but this had a range that left
any others I'd seen for dead. I'd hinted at my fantasies about female
domination to you before, but we'd never tried this stuff out. I gazed at
the corsets, boots, whips, paddles, cuffs, masks, and clamps in
fascination. I kept picturing you in the outfits. Then I tried to think
about something else because my dick was getting pretty hard. The next
thing I knew it, I'm standing outside with 2 boxes full of stuff. Jesus.
What if you said you didn't want to do this ? Oh well, what was done was
done... I went home, put them in a secret place, and forgot about them for
a while. You were so busy at the time. But you were doing something you
really loved, and when you got home, although you were tired, you
invariably wanted attention. Then, a few weeks after I'd bought that
equipment, the turning point came. I came home after seeing an evening
movie one Saturday night. You were away for the weekend at a Conference in
Boston. I wasn't expecting you back until Sunday evening. I got home, in
from the driving rain outside, and hung up my coat in the hallway. A
scent. The smell of lavender. You loved essential oils. It was dark, but
here and there were candle burners on tables. I knew you were home. On
the table I found a note, with a single rose laid across it. I picked
it up and read it. It was written in your neat, flowing script. "I'm
waiting for you darling. Come into the bedroom when you are ready. Don't
say anything. Take off your clothes, put on the blindfold at the foot of
the bed, kneel there, and await my arrival." Signed with an ornate J. The
letter smelled of dolce vita. I breathed it in and I got a little hard at
just that. If only I had known what awaited me. Our bedroom afforded a
wonderful view of the city. I came in to find the rain had stopped
outside, and the moonlight bathed the sky otuside in an ambient glow.
There were a couple of oil burners, one of the bedside table, one on the
dressing table. There was soft music playing on the stereo. Laid back
jazz/soul. Just below and to the left of the window, the fireplace with a
good blaze going steadily. A single wicker chair before it, and a
footstool beside that. At the foot of the bed I found the blindfold. I
undressed and put it on. I knelt, and waited. I waited for what seemed
like an hour. I think it was an hour. I thought about us. About how
lucky a I am to be with such a wonderful woman. I thought about what
this all could mean. What were you going to do with me ? And then, when I
was about to give up hope you would ever arrive, I heard the door open. Or
did I ? I listened. Silence again. "Jane ?" I said aloud. I had
forgotten the dictum in the note about not talking And then I heard
footsteps. Very slow. Measured. High heels. But a heavier heeled sound
than I was unfamiliar with. My heart beat loudly in my chest. I fought
the urge to take off the blindfold. Then, the unmistakable scent of your
perfume, and oh, Jesus, the unmistakable scent of you. You were right near
me. Something hard and cold touched my right shoulder, and trailed across
my chest as you walked past me. I heard you giggle softly. Your hand,
clad in what felt like a leather glove, touched my head and grasped my
blindfold. "Close your eyes, my love, and keep them closed until I say
otherwise." You gave me a tug on the blindfold to make me face a different
direction (the window on the other side of the room ?) I closed my eyes.
The blindfold came off. It was strange after all that time feeling the
cool air on my face. Your steps receded. Then they stopped. Silence for
a minute or so. "Open your eyes, my love." I opened my eyes. I was bleary
after all that time blindfolded. I looked up across the room, and saw you,
dimly, standing by the window. You seemed to be wearing a long, flowing
black robe, very silky. There was something in your hair. A glass of wine
in your hand. "I'm so happy here, Steve. I love the work I'm doing.
You've made so many sacrifices for me." I was about to speak, but then I
remembered what you'd said in the note. I bit my lip. My eyes had
adjusted to the darkness. I could see that it was a flower in your hair.
Perhaps a rose. Yes, I'd bought you a bunch of roses recently. You set
down your glass on the table nearby, turned away from me. "I know you love
me. I know we'll always be together." You slid out of the robe. I gazed
dumbfoundedly at the image before my eyes. Your legs were clad in a pair
of inky black leather boots that looked very familiar. Four inch stiletto
heels. Your body encased tightly in the black lace teddy and garter piece
I'd bought you years ago, my first erotic present to you. About your slim
waist was a broad black belt. Hanging off this were a pair of handcuffs,
and at your right hip a riding crop. Black leather gloves came half way up
your upper arms. They looked familiar too. You were standing beside the
fireplace. Between your parted legs the fire burned steadily, showing
quite clearly your silken hairs, wet with your anticipiation. You
turned to look over your shoulder at me, and smiled like nothing out of the
ordinary was happening here. Then you turned to face me. I looked at the
walking wet dream in front of my eyes. You had put on a little makeup.
Red lipstick. The teddy pushed your up, presenting them like ripe
fruits, barely covering your nipples. Your gorgeous framed by the
straps of the garter belt. You're dreaming this, Steve. Wake up. That
rose in your hair was a lovely touch. A look of virginal innocence coupled
with the severe black leather, the blue eyeliner, the whip hanging off your
belt. My heart was beating furiously, my ears were hot, my mouth was dry,
my cock was aching like hell. I wanted to jerk off at the sight. The
thought of touching you was almost sacrilegious, so perfect were you. You
ran your hands over the tops of your boots. "You didn't hide these very
well. But then, maybe you wanted me to find them huh ?". You threw a
knowing smile at me and laughed. "Mmm, they feel nice." I watched you walk
over to place your foot with careful deliberation upon the footstool. You
ran your hands over your leather-clad thigh. Eyes closed, you reached up
to pull down the lace teddy a little to free your tits, and cup them in
your gloved hands. Sweet Lord, what a sight. Your finger inserted itself
between your swollen lips and made circular movements around your
clit. A soft whimper escaped your lips. You stopped, took your foot off
the stool, and came to assume a commanding stance, hands on hips, a sultry,
deadly serious look on your sweet face. There was a brief silence that
seemed like ages as you stared at me intently in a way I've never seen you
stare at me before. Somehow I knew you were taking this fantasy of mine
very seriously indeed. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe. You
reached down and pulled the riding crop from the side of your belt, and
shook it out onto the floor next to you. "Do you want me to use this,
Steve ?" I gulped. I nodded. Your expression was back to its familiar
soft, gentle, and caring nature. "Are you sure darling ?" I nodded again.
I had never been more certain of anything in my life. I could tell that,
although you were aroused by the feeling of power you had, you didn't want
to me. But my eyes implored you. You gestured toward the bed with a
nod of your head. "Kneel at the foot of the bed facing me." I crawled over
and knelt at the foot of the bed. After a moment you started walking
toward me. I saw you approaching, like a calculating tigress stalking her
prey, until you were standing right over me. "Lick me." Without thinking
(I swear I wasn't trying to get punished), I lovingly cupped your
incredible ass in my hands and buried my face in your bush. After feeling
heaven for but a brief moment, there was a searing pain across my naked
back. I howled in surprise and jumped back, knocking my head against the
bed posts. "I told you to lick me, not touch me." You pointed out coolly.
You reached out, held onto the bed posts, and put a leg either side of my
head. All I could see was your beautiful wet above me. "Lets see if
you can get it right this time. Start with my feet." I knelt right down
and my tongue found the smooth leather of your boot heel. This is where I
had always wanted to be. This is where I belonged. You masturbated as you
oversaw my work. Breathing heavily. You were as aroused as I. Hours may
have passed as I gradually wound my way up your legs. You were in no
hurry. You savoured every moment. I had reached your boot tops when I
looked up hopefully. But you were engrossed, massaging your tits, eyes
closed. "Lick my Steve." I began delivering long, loving flecks to
your searing pussy. You wedged your clitoris between your index and middle
finger, and began frantically rubbing it. "Lick ... my asshole. Don't
touch me." Your asshole tasted delicious like the rest of you. I heard you
groaning. I was surrounded by you. Your hands were twining my hair
roughly. Then I felt you yank my head back firmly and lift my jaw upward
to look into your lovely eyes. "Get on the floor and lie flat" you
breathed down at me brusquely. I lay down looking up happily at my
Goddess. With calm deliberation, you placed your hands on your thighs and
then squatted right down over my face. It was getting hard to take this
teasing, but I knew I was entirely at your mercy and that is what I wanted.
I stared up at your face, despite wanting to study your beautiful forever. Placing your fingers around your clit again, you eyed me like I
were a new pair of shoes you were considering for purchase and said : "I'm
going to come now." And then you calmly, methodically, squirted a stream of
warm juices all over my face. I cannot begin to describe the
eroticism of that moment. "Drink it my darling." And you began to giggle.
You were holding onto the bed, your body trembling as yet another orgasm
racked your perfect form. From that point on, your ownership of me was
complete.
Part 2
We'd been overseas for well just under 2 years. In that time, you'd
taken up two new pursuits : riding and martial arts. The riding didn't surprise me, but when you first started attending tae-kwondo
classes that threw me. After all, you'd never been particularly
aggressive. But I soon began to realise that you liked the way tae-kwondo
could help you focus your pent-up frustration and stress. The fact that
you were incredibly fit when you started made things pretty easy for you.
You'd been doing fairly intense gym training for about eight years when you
started. When you first asked me to be your sparring partner, I agreed,
naively thinking I could adequately defend myself. I was quite wrong. My
sluggish reflexes were no match for yours. There was nothing particularly
sexual about these sessions at first. You just wanted to keep practising,
particularly when we went away to our retreat in the country, a place we'd
bought so we could go some place to unwind - rolling hills, woods,
tranquility and nobody but us. At first I avoided too many sore balls and
bruises, but that was only because you were being easy on me and you were
still learning. Then, gradually, you got better, and you eased up on me
less. You had come to know the full extent of my need for punishment at
your hands, and so I think you felt ok about doing your worst. One weekend
we went away to the retreat. It had been a particularly stressful period
for you. You were working on another paper, the most important one yet in
your career, and the stress of meeting the deadlines involved had taken its
toll on you. That was why I'd suggested we go away for a while after you
finished, and you'd happily agreed. We got there and unloaded our stuff
(well, I unloaded it, while you went outside and gazed at the wonderful
scenery from the balcony). I watched you while I unpacked in the kitchen.
Your back was to me, and you were wearing a white sundress and brown
strappy sandals. Your hair was - you'd dyed it recently again. You
stood holding onto the railing looking out while your dress fluttered
around just above the back of your knees. Legs parted, your head tilted
back slightly, you breathed in the fresh air deeply. I realised I'd not
been doing much packing for about two minutes and my dick was hard as
steel, but I managed to get myself back into it. You turned back to look
at me and smiled, that mysterious, knowing smile I know so well. It means,
"I have something planned my little boy, and you are a pawn in my devious
scheme." We had watched a film a while back called The Weatherwoman. It
was a cult Japanese film about a weatherwoman who takes over from the
regular one and decides to boost ratings by flashing her at the end
of the weather report. So you took hold of the hem of your skirt and
flashed your sheer white laced at me and laughed. I told you I
loved you, and finished my work. Over the last couple of years, I'd
learned (finally) to cook. Traditionally, this had been your territory,
and one you did not really want to rescind. But eventually I convinced you
to show me some of your favourite recipes, and I found I was quite a good
cook when I put my mind to it. Maybe not quite your standard, but good
nevertheless. I was stacking the fridge and had just turned around when I
found myself looking to your feet and your lithe white slender legs either
side of me. I was about to look up, but you put your right heel on top of
my head and gently but firmly pushed down. "So - what are you making for
dinner ?" "Ah ... chilli con carne ?" I offered hopefully. "Mmm sounds
nice. Maybe if its really good, I'll let you fuck me." It had been over
two weeks since we'd last made love. You'd had your period, and then you'd
been too busy with work and too tired. You told me not to so
that it would be really nice when we finally got around to it again. I
kept my head bowed while you took your foot off me. Then I heard you
sliding your off above me. You let them fall to the floor at your
feet. I could see they were very wet. You stepped aside from them and
pointed. "Taste me." I raised your to my face reverently. They
smelled like perfume and juices, as they always did. Uniquely you. I
licked the dampness from your panties. "I'm going upstairs to change, then
I'm going outside to do some Tai Chi. Before I do, I'll leave something on
the bed for you to wear. When you've got dinner on the simmer, go upstairs
and put it on. Then come outside." I kissed your foot lovingly. With us,
there is no "Yes ma'am" or "Yes Mistress", unless you tell me you want me
to address you that way, usually when we're having a proper domme session
with you kitted out in dominatrix gear. And I never have to worry you'll
punish me for touching you uninvited; you quickly inform me when you want
me to get my hands off you, and if I am so foolish to forget after that,
then I suffer badly (it hasn't happened very often). I was excited. You
went upstairs to change while I got dinner started. Chilli con carne is
easy. There is about twenty minutes of general preparation, and then you
gradually add all the ingredients to a big pot before leaving the whole
thing to simmer on very gentle heat for about three quarters of an hour. I
made the necessary preparations, and then went upstairs. I hadn't seen you
leave after you went upstairs, so I assumed you'd gone out the back way.
On the bed I found a pair of pink thong briefs, and a pair of pink socks.
That was it. I had to admire your cruelty. There was a quite a cool wind
outside. I stripped down and pulled on the briefs and socks, and then went
downstairs. I found you outside on the grass, eyes closed in
concentration, while you moved about gracefully. You were wearing a long,
flowing black silk robe that went right down to the ground, your long
rippling flying about everywhere. I sat down and watched you in
fascination, as always mesmerised by your loveliness. You ignored me for
about ten minutes and then you stopped, picked up a bottle of water a took
a long gulp. You reached inside your robe, pulled out your favourite Japanese-style hair clasp and pinned your hair up in a bun atop your head.
You looked over at me. A serious, penetrating glare. I knew then I was in
for a rough time. "Kneel there." You pointed to a spot a few yards from
you. I went over and knelt down. You hand't told me to bow my head, so I
watched you unbutton the robe and toss it aside. I caught my breath,
managing not to exclaim when I saw you there in black leather thigh highs
with sturdy inch-square heels and a very brief black cotton sleeved
leotard. "Get up." I got to my feet in a dreamy haze. I was just staring
in awe at you. Jesus fucking christ you were gorgeous. With no warning at
all, you lifted your foot and dealt me a firm kick to the chest. I fell
back heavily, totally unprepared. I was on my elbows when you stood above
me, heel in my groin. "Is this turning you on ?" you asked needlessly. My
cock was so hard I thought it was going to explode. "Yyes my angel." I
whispered. There was no way I could win this contest. So I planted my
lips to your leather boot and kissed it hopefully. You snorted
disdainfullly and walked back to where you'd been. I gazed at the g-string
dividing your hard ass cheeks as you walked away. You turned back and
slowly peeled the leotard off your tits. "If you want to touch these,
you'll fight. Now get up." I got up sheepishly. You just stood waiting
for me, hands on hips, in a very commanding, dominating gesture. All I
wanted to do was kneel down and lick your and ass, but I knew you
meant business. And I trusted you. You wouldn't me irreparably. I
knew I had to attack you somehow. I edged toward you, and tried to kick
your shin, but you calmly stepped sideways. With your exposed I had
yet another distraction. You jumped forward suddenly and threw a high
punch to my head. I knew your kicks were far deadlier than your punches,
particularly with those boots on. But I was starting to see they were more
for show and to distract me than anything else. My chest still ached
though from that kick. I somehow managed to block it with my forearm, and
tried to strike your abdomen with my fist. I knew that your belly was like
a wooden board and it would just bounce off, but I had to do something to
pass the time before you tired of the game and kicked the living shit out
of me. You couldn't be fucked blocking it and let my feeble blow strike
your stomach. What happened next took me by surprise. You stepped back
and leftwards with catlike grace and kicked me heavily in the groin. I saw
stars and felt my knees buckle. I sank to my knees with a groan. In my
haze of pain I saw you standing before me peeling off the rest of the
leotard to expose your trimmed lush bush. It was a peculiar thing : a
sight to make my balls ache with longing, while my balls ached with the
painful kick you'd dealt me. I collapsed backward, gazing up at the sky
and waiting for that awful agony to subside. Then your boots framed my
face and your descended down to me like a gift from the gods. You
guided my face into your treasure and I suddenly forgot everything else as
I hungrily lapped up your oozing essence. You were nicely aroused and I
got you off quickly, without much effort, circling your hard clitoris with
my tongue, honed after many years to give you oral sex just the way you
liked. You let me tease you for a while and then crushed my face with your
pussy and ass, using my nose and tongue like a dildo. God, that smell of
leather, and your sweet scent mingled together was so arousing I felt like
I was inhaling an aphrodisiac. You grasped my hair firmly in your bunched
fist, crying out and bucking your hips, and then came the gush of warmth
over my face as you climaxed. Then you were lying atop me, lips gently
caressing mine, telling me you loved me, treating me like a doting does her beloved son. My cock, erect and dying for your inner warmth,
pressing against your wet lips. You have this amazing habit of ever
so gently, teasingly, rubbing your lips against the sensitive area
just beneath the head of my cock that sends shivers up my spine and makes
my balls ache with desire. And you know just when to stop, just when to
prevent me going over the edge. You were doing it then, alternately
teasing my cock with your and your tight asshole. "I want to fuck
you so bad, my darling." You smiled, and kissed me lovingly. "Come on,
lets go and check on dinner."
We lit the fire inside and I made preparations for dinner by the fire,
along with a nice merlot. Merlot for some reason relaxes you and makes
your horny, Cabernet Sauvignon just gives you nausea, unless it's a
particularly good quality wine. I had dragged the chairs and table over to
beside the fire and set out the candles. You'd gone upstairs and came down
now looking more beautiful than ever. A black leather skirt that barely
concealed your incredible ass and pussy, black heels, and a lacy, sleeved
transparent blouse. You'd put a little eyeliner on and some lipstick, and
your hair was piled up elegantly. You descended the stairs like the
Goddess you are. When you reached the table I pulled out a chair for you
and waited for you to seat yourself. Regally, you planted your sweet butt
on the chair. "Thank you my love." I kissed your neck, and was about to go
when you reached out and cupped my groin in your hand, and pulled down my
briefs. You pulled me forward and smoothly took half of my eight inches
into your mouth. My body went rigid as a board as I felt your tongue
tickling my head. You fondled my ass for a few moments and then let my
cock bounce back over my belly with a plop, pulled up my briefs, and gave
me a slap on the ass. "Run along now." You giggled, looking up at me
mischievously. I smiled. We ate together by the fire, gazing fondly at
one another across the table. I had to steady my hand when you started
digging your stiletto heel into my shaft. Then we finished up dinner and
sat enjoying the wine. You were on your third glass, which is easily
enough to make you a little tipsy. After finishing it you stood up and
walked up to me, swung your leg over my lap and stood there, hands hanging
at your sides. I looked up at your perfect tits, covered by the
transparent black lace of your blouse. To my surprise, you put out a hand,
held onto the top of my head, and lifted your right leg to plant it in my
lap on my throbbing dick. As you did so, the short leather skirt rode up
and revealed your trimmed golden pussy, beckoning at me like some
unattainable treasure. "Oh Jane, my love -" You teased my aching cock with
your stiletto, running one hand through my hair while you masturbated
openly before me with the other. "I got a real turn-on kicking the shit
out of you today, darling." You laughed throatily as you do when you're
aroused. "Get him out for me" you gestured, digging your heel into my
shaft. I unzipped my pants and allowed my proud cock to spring forth. You
reached down, picked up your glass of wine, sipped and giggled. "Hmmm he's
all hot and bothered isn't he ?' I was breathing rather heavily at this
point. "I think he wants to be in here." You put your hands on my
shoulders and lowered yourself onto my cock as I held it in place. I slid
easily into you. Jesus, it felt good. You fucked me steadily. After a
minute or so, you could see I was losing it. I was trying not to come too
soon, and it was pretty difficult. You slowed down. You looked into my
eyes intently. You sipped your wine as you fucked me slowly. "It's
Valentines Day soon." You said. "Yeah. I have to think of something
special for you." Your eyes closed as your fingers worked you clit. I saw
you were nearing orgasm. You smiled to yourself and I leaned forward to
kiss your tits. As I on one of your nipples, you arched your back
and that sent you over the edge. With a cry you came, flooding my lap with
your warm juices.
Valentines Day came a few weeks later. I was excited, but a little
nervous. What we had decided to do would mean a major shift in our sex
life together, and we hadn't taken the plunge lightly. I guess it was a
testament to our complete trust in one another, and our mutual confidence
of the devotion we had to one another.
I'd been out the whole day. I'd bought a few things we needed, a few
things you needed. As arranged I arrived home about 5 in the evening and
made the arrangements for the rest of the evening. I got dinner started,
put on some soothing music. When I'd got everything simmering I went to
the bedroom and found your written note reminding me of your specific
instructions.
I set up the for filming. We'd filmed some of our lovemaking
before, but tonight would be somewhat different. I took out your attire.
The silky black lace top stockings. The lacy black corset garter belt.
Your silver necklace. Wispy black thong panties. Your strapped 6"
stilettos. And finally the gorgeous transparent black peignoir I'd bought
you as a Valentines present for this year.
I put on my cock ring and butt plug and my black g-string briefs.
There was a little time left before you arrived so I went into the
lounge, poured myself a scotch, and sat down to watch and session of
ours.
The player started and I saw myself kneeling at the foot of the
bed. Behind me, a partially open window allowed a soft breeze to blow into
the dark room, lit by candles, none of which could be seen directly. My
face was bowed. I wore my collar, and my cock ring.
Without ceremony you enter the scene. Your perfect body is encased in a
patent black leather teddy, belted firmly at the waist. Fishnet reach to your upper calves, where thin leather straps hold your garters in
place. Your rippling reaches down to just above your sweet ass,
the globes of which are divided by a single thin black leather string. You
place your feet either side of my hands and assume a dominant stance over
my bowed form. You place your hands on your hips. You sigh. "My sweet
slave. Worship me." I gaze up. Lovingly, I kiss your knee. "My Goddess.
My sweet." I slowly lick up to your upper thighs. You observe me, gazing
down upon me. "I am not worthy of such beauty as yours." You laugh to
yourself and slowly unzip the front of your teddy. I cannot but help stop
and stare up at you. "Oh Jane. Jesus you're beautiful." Your is now
visible between your parted legs. Damp and moist and ready for attention.
You wet your fingers and feed me, smearing some on my forehead. "I know my
love." You turn to face the camera. You close your eyes, cup your breasts.
"Worship my ass." You say softly. Kneeling behind your ass, I tease your
asshole with my tongue. "Would you like to fuck me my sweet slave ?" you
whisper softly to me. "Oh ... yes my angel." I say, worshipping your
buttocks. You laugh to yourself.
With an effort I stopped the recording. You'd be here soon. I went
back to check on dinner. It was nearly ready. Then I heard you coming up
the stairs - with him. I rushed over and opened the door, just as you were
about to open it. You were dressed in a black overcoat, your fair long hair falling behind your back in an impressive mane. He came climbing
behind you. Robert. I'd heard a great deal about him. He was fresh
faced, looked about twenty, although you'd already told me he was twenty
four. He was a touch shorter than me, and of slender build. Very dark,
almost black hair, and intense grey eyes. He reminded me of myself at that
age. There was a humour in his glance, mixed with a curious wonder that
suggested lack of experience and a willingness to learn and take risks.
|
|
