by Jeff Sinclair
Illustrations by Dale
Originally Published in Bondage Life No. 57 October 1994
Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46wStory Codes: M/f, bdsm, reluct, cons, ropes, gags, humil, naked, collar, X
She knew. They were hers.
She knelt, naked, by the TV in her leather wrist and ankle cuffs. Her ankles were crossed, secured by a steel rod through the cuffs' metal rings. The eyelet at the rod's end was padlocked to an eyebolt between her toes, and her arms were folded behind her, wrist cuffs pinned above one another by sliding the same rod through their rings and, in the final step which perfected her bondage, the smaller eyelet atop the rod was snap hooked to the back of her tall collar.
She was neatly, inescapably fastened, and the rod was short enough to arch her spine in a sharp bend that woke quivering strain in her thighs and belly. But this was bondage after all, and delicious as gentle, nibbling love play was, occasional rigor was important too. Or it was for her, and she knew her bondager was too big a pussycat to do anything harsh ... which was why she could enjoy such strenuous moments.
Her recorded squeals rose a notch and her belly jerked as she panted in strain and delicious embarrassment. She wished she could see the screen, but confined as she was, all she could see (assuming she ever stopped blushing long enough to look) would be Duncan's happy eyes, savoring the bondage which had been while he looked forward to that which was to be.
Her recorded sounds grew louder yet. Soon, she knew, they would become an imploring madness, frantic and pleading yet rendered wordless and futile by the fat ball in her mouth. The same ball she sucked now, moaning as hot, thick wetness welled slowly down her tanned thighs and her trapped tongue tasted the countless marks her teeth had made in the past three years.
None of which prevented her first marriage from being a disaster. Not that it had been her fault, though it had taken years for her to truly believe that. Unfortunately, all she'd seen at the start was a gorgeous face and physique wrapped around a college football star named Jason Harder.
Jason was a graduating senior and she a lowly freshman, so his interest in her was devastatingly flattering. He talked her out of her virginity with absurd ease (though to be fair, she'd been eager for him to do that) and into dropping out to marry him with only slightly more difficulty. Of course, she hadn't realized then how very little there was inside the lovely package.She found out all too soon. Jason was arrogant, self-centered and cruel. His casual, constant put-downs had chipped away at her self-esteem in a way she'd once assumed was unintentional. But she suspected now that he'd known all along that she was brighter than he and chose to deny it to them both. Whatever his reason, his thousands of slighting references to the career dreams she'd shelved to wed him slowly turned to fleering contempt ... and worse.
But it wasn't until Jennifer was born that he first struck her.If not for Jennifer, she would have left him, or so she thought. It was hard to be sure, for he'd smashed her self-image. Deep inside she'd believed his put-downs, for she had given up her dreams for him, and surely no one with strength and intelligence would have done that!
She'd never actually thought it out, but she'd hung in there, accepting his abuse, doing her dutiful best to be the subservient wife he demanded. She'd known she was turning into a drab little mouse, yet there seemed nothing she could do, and her days had been filled with a gray, monotonous misery.Until Jason met Rita and walked out on her.
Elaine was devastated, convinced she must have failed somehow, that, as Jason claimed, it was all her fault for being so inadequate as a woman, until she slowly realized what a favor Rita had done her. Hard as it had been for a twenty-four-year-old divorcee with a three-year-old daughter (and Jason was no better about paying child support than anything else) to start over, she'd done it. She'd picked up the dreams she'd put aside for wonderful, manly Jason and gone back after the art degree she'd abandoned for him.She still felt like a mouse, and she de-emphasized her looks as much as possible, but she did it. And if she and Jennifer too often dined on macaroni and cheese, she'd hung on and made ends meet somehow. Along the way, she'd rediscovered things like pride and self-worth, and finally, she'd landed a job with Vaughn and Associates, a fledgling ad agency owned by one Duncan Vaughn.
Duncan was the quiet, non-abrasive sort of man Jason contemptuously categorized as a "wimp," and not even his mother ever accused him of being handsome. His nose was too big, his teeth were crooked, and his hairline was receding... rapidly. He'd also broken his left leg badly as a child and walked with a distinct limp and he was as dark as Jason had been WASP-blond.But Elaine had nursed a deep bitterness toward all things male. She knew it was wrong, there had to be some decent men, but some of the "friends" who'd offered "help" had been insultingly obvious about the "help" they had in mind. So, it was good Duncan was so unlike Jason. She'd been wary enough as it was when he offered her the job of art-director straight out of school.
The money wasn't all that good, but he "sweetened the pot," as he put it, by offering her thirty percent of Vaughn and Associates' stock (which might or might not be valuable someday). His generosity made her suspicious until she realized that it made hard, practical sense to him because he'd recognized something Jason had never wanted to see in her: Talent. And, unlike Jason, he'd been delighted by it, for he needed her flair for design, and her talent and self-confidence had thrived under the demands he placed upon her.That was the start. Duncan wrote the copy and handled the clients, Elaine designed and produced the art, and their successes mounted. Slowly at first, but their client list grew steadily, and it was exciting to be doing something, accomplishing something, building something. That was important to them both, and in five years of hard work, they turned Vaughn and Associates into a firm with thirty employees and an annual billing of over three million dollars. Best of all, they did it as a team, as friends and equals who knew perfectly well that neither could have done it without the other. As time passed, Elaine's wariness of Duncan slowly faded. Her defensiveness eased, and she began discussing non-business things with him, for he was a good listener who offered advice (when he had it) without Jason's Olympian air of stooping to solve some stupid female's silly problems. She felt comfortable with him, yet it never occurred to her that it was any more than friendship between two professionals who respected one another. But then, after they'd worked together for almost six years without ever really socializing, he unexpectedly asked her to the theater for her birthday and she suddenly had to decide how she really felt about him.
She considered very carefully, and her conclusions disturbed her. She certainly didn't feel the bright, jagged, hormonal thing she'd felt for Jason before it turned gray and dreary, but what she did feel was softer and warmer; gentler, with the capacity to do what her feelings for Jason had not – last.And that worried her. She'd survived a terrible marriage, not without scars, and she was thirty-three years old, with a daughter who was eleven. Did she want to risk another disaster? Worse, did she want to risk the relationship they had? She doubted their friendship could survive an unsuccessful attempt to make it something more, and she'd seen other successful creative teams crumble when feelings began to cross with business. Nor was her own experience with Jason calculated to make her confident.
Yet when she got that far, she realized Jason's shadow still hung over her like a malignant ghost, and that recognition made her suddenly furious. Damn it, she wasn't the vacuum- minded punching bag Jason had tried to make her. She'd proved that professionally and it was time she did the same with her personal life. It was Duncan she was interested in, and the important point wasn't how Jason had treated her, but how Duncan would.And when she considered it that way, deliberately comparing them, it wasn't even a contest. All Jason had ever had were looks and physique, and she knew what those were worth. In every quality that really counted, limping, homely, slightly overweight Duncan was so far ahead Jason wasn't even in sight.
So, she accepted his invitation and the evening was perfect, from the opening moment at the theater to the post-midnight dinner in the intimate little restaurant. They were friends, but there'd been a warm, gentle undertone, a tenderness, which left no doubt they were about to become more.Elated happiness put a new sparkle in Elaine's eye, and she laid in a whole new wardrobe as she rediscovered the joys of attractiveness. Not only that, but their working relationship actually improved. There was a new bubble in the creative juices, an awareness that verged on telepathy. They still had disagreements, they'd always had them, where their work was concerned, and sometimes they'd been fiery, but their disputes were purely professional, and Elaine knew how excruciatingly rare it was for two people in love to be able to steer clear of disastrous ego-involvement in arguments.
They quickly became lovers, not without embarrassment on her part. Her love life had been non-existent since Jason and she'd felt oddly timid and inexperienced for the mother of a pre-teen daughter. There was a brief moment when she felt almost agonizingly clumsy, but it passed, and that, she realized was because Duncan had understood and been, the memory could still turn her a delicious pink, extremely deft. He might not be a handsome man, but someone had certainly taught him things Jason had never known! Of course, Jason wouldn't have bothered to learn them. He'd always been more interested in his pleasure than hers, though she hadn't realized it until Duncan showed her the way things could be.And yet ... and yet, there was a curious hesitation in him, one she couldn't quite pin down but knew was there. She knew he loved her, yet there was a ... stopping point, a degree of commitment he hesitated to make. Or was it that he hesitated to ask her for one? That was certainly possible, yet she was certain he must know how eager she was to do just that!
But she was no longer shy, mousy little Elaine. So, she sent Jennifer to her grandmother's for the Memorial Day weekend and invited Duncan to Friday supper.It was, she acknowledged, sneaky of her, for she hadn't warned him that Jennifer was away, and he was coming under the misapprehension that it would be a family affair, which, she was determined, it most definitely would not!
Her penniless days were behind her, and she prepared with care. For a man who respected professional women, Duncan was a sucker for ones who looked delicately feminine, and she took unscrupulous advantage of his weakness. Her makeup was sultrier than she ever wore to the office, and her long-sleeved blouse was white silk, delicately embroidered and frilly. A high-waisted skirt of heavy, burgundy velvet clung to her shapely legs, emphasized her tiny waist and swirled intriguingly when she moved. The lingerie under it was her Sunday punch. Her wispy pushup bra puckered her blouse with her uncovered nipples, and she wore smoky-white nylons and a sexy garter belt. Her panties were silk, plunging in front and absurdly tiny, and as a final touch, she purchased a brand-new pair of the spike-heeled sandals Duncan loved.He never had a chance. She smiled at his dropped jaw when she opened the door and her eyes danced as his nostrils flared to the sweet, slightly decadent scent of her perfume. He wore casual denims and a sports shirt, and the contrast between their clothing was perfect. It emphasized her own deliberate preparations and sweet sexiness.
She ushered him into the candlelit dining room, and he sat in a daze. She'd taken tremendous pains over supper, but he scarcely noticed, for his attention was fixed exactly, and flatteringly, where she'd intended, on her.And then she faced him over the empty plates, sipping wine. Her stereo played softly. Mellow candlelight spilled over her dark hair and glowed in her eyes, and Duncan's face showed exactly the mix of relaxation and desire she'd wanted to create. The moment had come.
"Duncan," she said softly, "you know I love you. Do you love me? If her question surprised him, he didn't show it."More than I ever thought I could love someone," he said simply.
"I'm glad," she said softly, eyes bright with joy. "But if you do, and if you know I love you, why are you holding back?"He froze, and Elaine caught her breath at the tension which flashed suddenly through him. What in the world could have caused it?! This anxious, almost frightened man wasn't her gentle, confident Duncan ... yet he was.
"Why," he asked, carefully. "Do you think I'm holding back?""I don't think you are, I know you are. And I don't want you to, Duncan. Whatever's bothering you, worrying you, share it with me, please."
"I... don't know if I can," he said finally. "No, I can, I just don't know if I should, because I do love you, God, how I love you! And ... " he frowned down into his wine, "I... don't want to lose you.""Lose me?" Elaine stared at him in astonishment. "Unless you're and ax murderer, you're not going to 'lose' me Duncan!"
"Oh?" He smiled crookedly, "not even if I'm interested in bondage?"For a moment the words didn't register, but then shock hit. Bondage? Her gentle Duncan was into bondage?! That was... it was impossible!
"Bondage?" she said finally, her soft voice just a bit frightened. "You mean like whips and chains?""Chains, maybe," he said unhappily, "not whips. And your question's the reason I never told you, Elaine. It scares you, doesn't it?"
She wanted to deny it, but she couldn't and she nodded, gripping her hands together in her lap and staring at him as if he'd become a total stranger."I knew it would," he sighed. "God knows the last thing you need after the son-of-a-bitch you married is to feel threatened by a man who says he loves you! I don't want to scare you, and I'd never ask you to do anything you don't want to. I hope you know and believe that."
He met her eyes levelly, and again she nodded. It was odd. She seemed to have become two people, one who recognized her own Duncan, and another who was terrified of the stranger he had become. Yet she was exquisitely, perfectly balanced between her two selves, as if a breath could tip her either way."I dropped a few hints that went right by you, so I knew you'd never even thought about it, and I wasn't going to ask you to. But then you asked, and you deserve my honesty." "Bondage doesn't have to be what the world assumes, Elaine. You asked about whips, and that's what most people seem to think of as soon as they hear the word. They think it can only be an expression of a need to put down and hurt the other person. That anyone who wants to tie someone up has to be sick and anyone who lets someone tie them up has to want to be hurt."
"That's why I never mentioned it. How could I, after what you've been through? But bondage, my kind of bondage, isn't like that. It's not an excuse to abuse someone. It's ... a love game, a fantasy. Something to share. You don't have to be some sort of chauvinistic creep to think women look soft and sexy in bondage, and you don't have to be weak to let someone put you in bondage. What you do have to have is total, mutual trust, and I think that's part of what makes it so special to me."But," he held her eyes with the same level gaze, "I watched you put yourself back together after that bastard. You never said much about it, but I know he was more than just verbally abusive, and I would never, never, do anything to hurt or diminish you. So, I decided I'd never even ask you to try it, because I can live without it, Elaine. I enjoy bondage, I don't need it, and I do need you. But when you asked, well... " he smiled a sad little smile, "One thing I can't do is lie to you, especially not when that could hurt so much if you found out later and didn't understand why I had."
"But you would like to tie me up, wouldn't you?" Elaine asked softly, eyes huge in the candlelight, and he nodded slowly."I would. I do, but I can live without it. I won't pretend there won't be any regrets, but I've already decided I can handle those, and I'll never pressure you about it."
Elaine knew she was breathing hard and sweat prickled in her shaven armpits. He meant it. Every word of it. He wanted to tie her up, and he'd really intended to never even ask her. He knew what she'd been through, how the thought of restraint must frighten her, and he'd refused to frighten her. She could tell it was more important to him than he wanted her to think, yet she was more important still. And despite her shock, despite a feeling that the world had turned to quicksand, that touched her. Jason would never have admitted his desires unless he meant to hound her into submitting to them; Duncan had admitted them, knowing they might turn her away, and he had no intention of pushing her at all.And that, she thought, was the true difference between them.
She rose wordlessly, mind whirling, and gathered the dishes. She carried them into the kitchen, feeling his tension behind her as she left the dining room but she couldn't speak. She had to think. She had to understand.How could it be the way he said? To tie someone up had to be a putdown, didn't it? And she knew how cruelly she could be hurt and humiliated by someone she thought she loved. Wouldn't tying her be a way of saying she was less important than he was? That Duncan held the power, the authority, in their relationship? And could she renounce her hard-won freedom, submit to being tied, without diminishing herself?
She didn't know, and she wondered how she would have reacted if he'd asked her months ago. What if he'd told her what he wanted at the very start?She paused, a plate poised over the dishwasher, astounded to discover that she had absolutely no idea! On the one hand, the idea frightened her with its echo of Jason; on the other, the suggestion would have come from Duncan. Sweet, gentle Duncan, the one man she truly, completely trusted. Would she have agreed? Would she have tried it to please him? And if she had, how would she have felt? How would she have reacted? Responded?
She didn't know, yet there was a strange tingle within her. One mixed up with her anxiety and shock, but neither anxious nor shocked. It was a quivery shiver, and it glowed with sensuality. To be tied, she thought. To be bound, utterly in Duncan's power. To make love that way ...What would that do to her? To know she'd surrendered herself to him totally, however temporarily?
Trust. That was what if came down to, wasn't it? Trust ... and the knowledge that she loved him and he loved her.She put the plate in the dishwasher, squared her shoulders and opened a drawer, and her breathing was just a bit harder than usual.
Duncan looked up as she returned and she saw it all in his eyes, desire for her, awareness of her loveliness and fear that he'd frightened her away forever."You say you want to tie me up," she said softly, "and you're right, I would have to trust you. But you have to understand, Duncan, it's more than just trust. I...it scares me, because you're right about how far back I had to come after Jason. But then, you helped me do that, didn't you?
"You would've done it without me," he said gently."I didn't say you did it for me; I said you helped. You did, and I do love you ... and trust you. And I think ... " she drew a breath and brought her hand in front of her, showing him the shrink-wrapped cotton clothesline from the drawer, "that we'd better find out how I feel about bondage."
She watched his face, and his joy reached out to her like a caress. She saw his delighted, erotic eagerness to bind her, but there was gentleness behind the delight. A tenderness that recognized how much her offer cost her and he loved her for her courage. Yet he sat motionless and spoke softly."Are you positive, Elaine? I'd be lying to say I don't want to do it, but are you sure you want to try it?"
"Want to?" Her ripe lips trembled slightly. "No, I'm not sure I want to, but I need to. I have to know Duncan, and I want to trust you and show us both how much I do. Does that make sense?""It does to me," he said quietly. He rose, holding out his hand, and she surrendered the clothesline almost timidly. Her muscles quivered with shuddery uncertainty and her breath came quick and fluttery, but her anxiety mingled with her other feelings and a bright tide of sensitivity and sensuality seemed to be pouring through her veins.
Crinkling plastic rattled as he opened the package, and she stared at the smooth, white rope. Five minutes ago, it had been every day, ordinary cord; a friendly household servant, convenient for its utility and totally unthreatening. Now it had changed. It had become the tool of her surrender, a braided emblem of trust and a frightening magic wand to turn her whole world topsy-turvy.He uncoiled the cord, smoothing the kinks between his fingers, then laid it on the table and turned to her. He opened his arms and she burrowed into them, clinging to him desperately. She'd never done anything like this, never even considered it, and she felt frightened and a little bit wicked, all at the same time. This was forbidden, taboo, and exciting, and she began to tremble as he unbuttoned the back of her blouse.
It was far from the first time he'd undressed her. He loved to peel her garments slowly and teasingly, drawing out the moments of her revelation, and she loved for him to do it. But tonight, was different. Tonight, he was going to tie her up, and that made everything new and fiery and anxious.The blouse opened and she clung to him like a reluctant child, releasing her hold only when his gentle hands insisted. She stood before him, staring at his shoes, unable to meet his eyes as he eased the silk down her arms, and she felt his eyes, smoky with desire, on her naked nipples. Nipples, she realized with a blush, as high and hard as they’d ever been in her life! She closed her eyes and savored the strange sensations rippling through her as he unhooked her skirt. Her skin shuddered with cat-footed shivers, as if someone were scrubbing his nails over a blackboard, yet a hot, liquid heat pulsed deep within her. She felt it in her womb, damp and urgent between her smooth thighs, and a slow, sensual moan trembled through her as her skirt fell about her feet in a heavy, wine-colored puddle.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispered, and she bit her lip against a startled cry as he caressed her bare ribs and fluttering belly. His touch was so unexpected it shocked her, but that was part of the magic. She had no guide, no warning of what would happen, yet her uncertainty wasn't the cold, scary thing it would have been with Jason. This panting ignorance, this singing, exciting tension, was bright-edged lightning in her nerves.His hands were so gentle, so utterly familiar ... and so totally strange! They belonged to a stranger, she thought, shuddering as they stroked her firm bottom and the backs of her thighs, a stranger who knew her intimately. Someone who knew her every secret, her every sensitivity. His touch was fiery above her nylons, and she opened her legs, spreading them to offer him their softness. Moth-wing fingers caressed the satin of her inner thighs, and her hips spasmed at the sudden fire in her belly and blood.
But then those gentle hands gathered her wrists before her, and she wanted to look into his eyes, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. She could only stare at their hands, her own limp and trusting, his were stranger's, as he crossed her delicate wrists and reached for the rope.Thin cord looped and tightened, and her eyes widened. Her hips rolled and breath hissed in her flared nostrils. I felt so strange! It was too snug to slip, impossible to escape, yet gentle, constricting but not hurting. It embodied a subtle paradox of tenderness and compulsion that perfected one another in some mysterious way she understood no more that she understood the silken fire in her veins.
And then he knotted the cord, and her bound hands fell, too weak to resist gravity. She gasped as they brushed her pelvis, and blushed as she smelled her own passion. The fingers of one hand curled of their own volition, half-shielded by their restrained companion as they stroked her molten core through her panties, and a spike of fire roared within her.She raised her eyes at last, and they were wide and soft, appealing to him for instruction while she squeezed her own wet softness through her sodden panties. She'd never done anything like that in her life. Never stood before husband or lover and caressed herself, yet now she couldn't stop herself! It wasn't a compulsion. No one had asked her to. It was just ... inevitable, and as natural as breathing.
He kissed her, and his tongue snaked into her mouth ruthlessly, like a man claiming his treasure as his own, yet it was a shared ruthlessness; breathless, but not frightening, and her liquid tongue met his ardently, inviting it deeper as she moaned against his mouth, pressing her breasts against his sports shirt and squeezing herself harder than ever.She'd never felt such wonderful hunger and fulminating need! That small edge of fear still touched her, but somehow it only made the moment even more perfect, and she whimpered when he broke the kiss at last.
"Not yet," he whispered, licking the tip of her nose, and stepped back, tugging on her wrist rope. She followed with hip-shot grace, and her eyes were a fiery glory. She preened, feeling his desire as if their minds were linked, and moved with a sultry grace as he drew her back to the table and picked up his wineglass.He raised it wordlessly to her lips, holding her bound hands down with their tether, and she drank thirstily. Wine had never tasted so sweet, and she knew it was the way it was offered, the way he held the glass when she could not, which made it so. A ruby drop splashed her breasts and trickled down her cleavage, and it’s cool, wet kiss was yet another lover's caress.
"Now," he murmured, and set the glass aside. He gripped her shoulders gently, urging her backward, and she went eagerly, all hesitation lost. She'd strayed through Alice's looking glass, and her familiar dining room was a place of exotic mystery, filled with the erotic secret which Duncan was about to teach her.The table pressed her bottom, and she whimpered as he eased her back. She lay across the white tablecloth, bound hands rising to her breasts in an instinctive pretense of modesty, and he smiled.
"None of that now!" he teased, circling the table with her tether. "Give me your hands, Elaine," he commanded softly, and she gasped as he pulled.Her hands rose, as obedient to his command as to his cord, and she closed her eyes once more, belly fluttering, hips jerking to a drum roll flicker of fire as he stole her arms. They framed her face, the delicate, acrid smell of her armpit's perspiration mingled with her perfume in her nostrils, and the cord trembled as he tied it. Then it was done, her arms were bound above her head, pinning her to her own table, and he circled back to her feet.
He knelt, and she raised her head slowly, opening her eyes with carnal languor, and blushed. She could see only his eyes over her pelvis, eyes, inches from the wet, silk-covered swell of her mound. She knew he saw the tendrils of passion leaking from her panties, for she felt them on her smoking skin and smelled them ... as he did, she thought. As he did.But then the rope bit her left ankle, as gently, implacably tight as the cords on her wrists, and her head fell back, rolling in the triangle of her arms. She whimpered as he lashed her small foot to the top of a table leg, cording it back and to the side, lifting her toes from the floor and parting her thighs, and then be began to tie her other foot! She held her breath, shuddering, eyes closed, and it was done. She was bound to the table, exposed, a fragile sacrifice to his passion, and she'd never felt so delicately, desirably female in her entire life.
He'd done it, she thought wonderingly. He'd tied her up, and there was no more fear. There was only this exultant glory and sense of her own beauty; the knowledge that she could surrender to him, trust him. And joy and discovery banished Jason's ghost at last. It’s cold, selfish cruelty could not live in the bright light of Duncan's tenderness."There," he said softly. "You're bound, but not entirely. Do you want it to be perfect Elaine? Do you want to be bound completely?"
"Yes," she whispered hoarsely, blushing at her own eagerness. "Yes!""Then open your mouth," he murmured, and she heard the rustle of cloth as he balled a linen napkin tightly. She moaned, but her mouth opened wide, and she strained her jaws to admit it as he packed it tenderly inside.
Yet she felt no fear. Anxiety, yes, but it was a bright thing, a breathless awareness that she stood on the cusp of the new and wonderful, for this was Duncan. Her Duncan. He had the power to do whatever he wished with and to her, but he would never, could never, hurt her. She knew that, knew it beyond the shadow of a doubt, and in that moment, she understood exactly what he'd meant about trust. The total, uncompromising faith in his fidelity which let her put herself at risk and prove their love to them both.
She opened her eyes slowly, staring up, slender and powerless in his ropes, and shuddered at his expression. His eyes glowed, and she swallowed behind her silence-swollen mouth as she realized she wasn't powerless at all. She was imbued with the magic power of her love and her courage to yield. Her trust was stronger than any chain, inescapable as any rope, making him hers as she had made herself his, and bondage diminished neither of them, for there was no question of superiority and inferiority, but only her gift, her gift of herself, freely given and gently accepted.He smiled and went slowly back to his knees, and she stared up at the ceiling, trembling and taut in the stretchy mastery of his cords. His fingers hooked into her panties, easing them down, and she whimpered as he bared her silken wedge and swollen petals. She knew they were wet, delicately unfurled, beckoning to him, and she groaned as hot breath flowed over them. Her bound hands clenched in fists, and her spine arched as his mouth touched.
She moaned, then sobbed, then squealed under the merciless magic of his lips. She wailed, thrusting against him, joyously shameless. She became his silk-skinned wanton, without hesitation or reserve, and wept as the soft, liquid sounds of his mouth filled her universe and stoked the roaring furnace within her. She smoked and fumed, wailing and alive, trembling on the lip of eruption.And then he stopped. Stopped instantly, without warning, and she sobbed, the sound a hacking groan of gagged protest. She rolled her hips blatantly, frantic to entice his mouth back, and he laughed softly. So softly! There was no mockery in it, only an endless, loving, teasing tenderness.
Then the ice bucket clinked and something gurgled. She raised her head, her brown eyes wild and fiery with need, and wailed in protest as she saw him pouring wine. He only smiled, and then nested the cold, wet bottle into her lowered panties! The silk held its chill, slick glass against her molten loins, and she squealed in shock as he sipped."Not yet, sweetheart," he whispered as he lowered the glass. She moaned pleadingly, hips squirming, gasping as the cold bottle caressed her like a deliciously perverse lover, and he tickled her deep, fluttering navel.
"You'll just have to wait, won't you, you hot little darling?" he teased, and she sobbed with imploring, honeyed acceptance. "I'll make you come ... eventually. but waiting's part of the game, Elaine, part of being mine." He reached out and turned the bottle slowly, smiling as she groaned and pressed her hot, clinging wetness to the chill glass."I'll just finish this glass," he said lovingly, "and then I'll play with you some more. A lot more. And when you're ready to come ... " her eyes brightened as he paused tantalizingly, "I'll stop for another glass."
She sobbed, rolling her head. It was awful! Terrible!! She was dying, burning to windblown ash in the furnace he'd lit within her, and he wouldn't do anything about it! No, that wasn't right, he was going to make it worse ... and so much better!He took another sip, a longer one, emptying the glass, and her eyes glowed as he removed the bottle gently. He went back to his knees, and the soft breath of his laughter flowed over her fevered flesh.
"You know," he teased, "that bottle's almost full. It'll take quite a few glasses to empty it, won't it?" His tongue darted wickedly, and she squealed in frantic, hungry delight. Then he pulled back. "Poor baby, you'll probably be right out of your mind before it's all gone, won't you?"She writhed urgently, her eyes afire with the wonder and delight of her bondage, and he leaned forward to kiss her belly.
"Glad you tried it?" he whispered, and her loving croon and frantic nod answered. "Good. Because this is going to take all night, I think, and then there's the weekend." She moaned in delight, and he laughed, but then he spoke again, his soft voice infinitely tender."You've given me something I would never have dared ask for, Elaine, and I love you. I love you so much!" Then he grinned impishly, banishing his sudden tenderness, and his eyes glinted with deviltry.
"But just because you're brave, beautiful and wonderful doesn't mean I'll show you any mercy! I expect you'll carryon quite a bit, like this ... " his darting tongue wrung a joyous wail from his pulsing girlfriend, "before we get to the happy ending. But we'll get there, Elaine, I promise, and then ... " he licked her again, and her frantic squeal was shrill and jubilant, "we'll live happily ever after."He bent back to his loving task, and Elaine's world dissolved into bright, pulsating glory.