Femdom Fantasies

by kurius © 2009
Kurius’ blog

The sweat rolled off George’s forehead and soaked his hands from the 98 degree heat of the day. He wiped his forehead and then his hand on his golf shirt as he got set for the last drive of the day of the golf tournament. The swing was full and strong as the club face made contact with the little white dimpled ball that sat on the tee. The contact was so explosive the whole team knew the drive was long and hard as the sweet sounding spwiiiing emanated from the club. George held the club up at the top of the follow through watching the ball careen toward the fairway. The ball landed just shy of the 150 yard marker and rolled another 12 yards after. The team was lying in a great position. Everyone on the team gave him a fist bump as that would be the drive they used to finish the round in first place, so long as they could make the green in two and putt for a birdie.

George thought about that final drive as he walked to his little red sports car waiting for him in the parking lot. The team didn’t take first place, the team got to the green in two but the best shot was 15 feet from the cup and down hill. All of their mulligan’s had been used to keep them even with the second place team. He came the closest to the hole with his putt, but it rolled around the cup and out. All in all it was a great afternoon, exhilarating even but just not as satisfactory as if the team had won first place.

Staying late to boast and rehash every shot and missed opportunity was not in the cards for George tonight. He had to get home and spend time with the love of his life. It was an hour ride from the course to the house and he needed to be home in 45 minutes. George took the chances he knew he could to take to push his powerful little car as fast as he dared without getting caught. His timing was perfect on the most heavily monitored road, George had just passed a young guy in an old model car and the guy decided to speed up to pass George. Knowing this section of the highway very well, he let the youngster pass him by and sure enough just around the bend a traffic cop was waiting.

He pulled onto the street where he lived and looked to see if his wife’s car was already in the drive. Lucky for him or so he thought she was not yet home. He pulled his car into the side drive and left his clubs and gear in the back. He walked across the drive found his house key on his keychain and opened the front door. As usual on Friday nights the house quiet, he yelled out “Is anyone home”? There was no answer.

He emptied his pockets and stripped off his sweaty clothes and walked into the bathroom to take a shower and clean the days golf round down the drain. As he lathered up the soap to wash his hair, he heard the bathroom door open. “Tiffany, is that you Princess?” Tiffany is George’s wife, a woman with Oriental ancestry from southern California, with a knockout body, long black hair and a face so beautiful and exotic she could have launched a thousand ships. At least that is how he saw his Princess. The first woman he ever truly loved and the only woman he would do anything in the world for. “Yes George, who else would it be on Friday night? Hurry up in there I don’t want you taking another 20 minute shower.” “Yes Princess.” George replied in a matter of fact tone. He quickly lathered up his body and rinsed off. Grabbing one of the big red fluffy towels that were on the towel rack, he dried off then wrapped the towel around his 36 inch waist and walked the short distance to the bed room.

Tiffany was in the room and standing by her dresser looking in the mirror brushing her shiny black hair over her shoulder. She glanced at him through the mirror and a slight smile whisked across her face.

“Drop the towel boy!” his Princess demanded. “Then I want you over here and give me a kiss.” George did as he was told, always ready to obey the woman that he admired most. As the towel dropped to the floor Tiffany turned around facing him with hands on her hips. He was wearing the chastity cage that she had placed on the vanity in the bathroom. He had pledged to her three nights ago that he would wear the cock control device when she desired for her to control his physical pleasure and needs. To Tiffany it was the ultimate in surrender, to George it was a gift to his Princess, the last part of him that could be freely given. She had stood strong that night, having the desire to lock him up right away and to feel the power and the control over his manhood, with her being the only one allowed to access his cock. That was what made her wet now, seeing that not even George had the power to throw her on the bed and make hard passionate love to her. That was unless she unlocked the cage and demanded it.

George stepped over to her, grabbing her slender waist with his left hand and the back of her head with his right, and gave her a deep and soul full kiss. Each of them probed the other with their tongues, eyes closed as she reached down to his cock secured in hard plastic. She continued to kiss him knowing that deep passionate tongue swapping made him hard and ready in a few minutes. What would have normally stopped them from kissing was George’s boner sticking hard and straight in the air, but this time it didn’t. Instead Tiffany stepped back and looked down at his hard plastic cock and giggled as she put her left hand over her mouth. “My you are excited early tonight my pet. I don’t even have my clothes off.” He looked down at his encased dick.“ Oh, sorry my pet that is your cock cage, not your cock being hard. Tiffany turned back to the mirror and started brushing her hair again. “George, why don’t you go get us some drinks ready and meet me in the living room. Oh and George, just your silk shorts tonight. I think tonight will be a night for some fun.” He put on the shorts that were lying on the bed and went to the kitchen to make the two of them drinks.

He waited for about 30 minutes before his Princess finally came out of the living room. George reached for the remote to the television and turned it off and then hit the power for the stereo and the soft music started playing in the background to help set the mood. Tiffany was dressed in a black see through teddie with matching panties and no bra, George’s favorite outfit on his wife. He bought it for her two years ago and only saw her wear the outfit on special evenings.

She sat down next to him on the rug as the two leaned against the couch. She accept the short drink he handed her and then placed it on the floor. The next move was what George was waiting for. “Well pet, are you going to ask for permission to kiss my tits?” She asked as she shifted the strap that held the teddie in place revealing a well rounded breast with a pert nipple. “Princess may I please kiss your breasts?” he asked, moving himself to a position where he could better reach her beautiful breast and kneeling in front of her. “Yes my pet, you may kiss them… let me see though. I think 10 times each will do.” George did not hesitate he bent into Tiffany’s breast on the left side and wrapped his lips around her nipple and flicked the tip of it with his tongue lingering on the nipple for just a brief second or two. “One Princess.” George said and he continued to worship her breasts as she held his head to her chest each time he kissed her and softly whispered to him, “Good boy, you like this don’t you? Is your cock getting hard in that cage? Does my pet want me to take it off?” as she reached down and grabbed hold of Georges balls sandwiched between the cock cage and the security ring and squeezing lightly. When she asked the question he quickly replied “Yes Princess, I like this. If it pleases you to remove the chastity cage then it pleases me” and he went back to the task at hand of worshipping her breasts. She squeezed and massaged the other breast pinching her nipple as she became more aroused. He was having a difficult time in his groin but could not reach to adjust the cage as she made sure his hands did not stray away from her breasts.

As he counted 10 on the second breast and leaned back on his heels, he asked her in a quiet and respectful manner…”Princess, may I kiss your pussy, please?” She hesitated in her response, watching him make a move toward her womanhood and then hesitate himself as she had not given permission. She smiled. “Yes, you may worship my pussy.”"How many times may I kiss your pussy Princess?” She thought for a few seconds, and while thinking her right hand reached for his left nipple and began massaging the nipple and then pinching it watching him wince in pain. “You may kiss my pussy 10 times.”"Yes Princess.” he replied. George moved to a better position to be able to kiss his wife’s pussy. As he moved she placed her hand on his back and glided it down toward his ass, and squeezed his cheek. “This seems to be getting a little soft there boy. Perhaps you need to start working out more.”"Yes Princess, I will work out more starting tomorrow Princess.” he replied as he moved his wife’s panties away from her now moist pussy and he gently placed his mouth just above her clit and moved his tongue eagerly over her sex. Tiffany’s hand moved to his head and kept his mouth on her pussy for a few seconds and then she let go. He lifted his head slightly and stated in a calm whisper; “One Princess”. He could feel the tension growing in his groin and his cock trying to get hard in the cage that imprisoned his manhood. As he reached ten, she held him down toward her pussy and she slid her panties off her legs and tossed them to the side. “Make me cum my pet. I want to be rocking my hips in your mouth and have you sucking my pussy juice as I squeeze your balls and bite your nipples.” “Yes Princess as you command.” He eagerly took his wife’s pussy against his mouth and his tongue darted quickly toward her clit. Tiffany could barely stand the power that George was feeding into her, he was sucking her pussy and licking her clit like he had never done before. Shortly her hips her bucking in the air and she grabbed his head and kept it there while he struggled to breathe and keep his tongue going at the same time. As he continued to satisfy his wife his own desire for sexual release subsided, he knew that what was more important than anything else right now was her pleasure.

She stopped him before she pumped all her juices into his mouth and she said while panting heavy; “Ohhhh, I want a hard cock in my pussy right now. Oh goodness George what have you done to me, I’m so hot right now. I need to have a hard dick in me right now. Roll over on your back my pet.” He rolled over on his back and she straddled him with her warm pussy sitting on his caged cock. She grabbed hold of the plastic and tried to stick the head of the plastic encased cock inside her wet pussy. He was getting hard inside the cock cage and was trying to thrust his hips and cock into his wife. She looked down at him with a disappointed expression saying; “Well this isn’t going to work, is it?” He started to say something but she reached down and put a hand over his mouth. “No. My pet is not allowed to speak right now. I need to figure out how I’m going to get off with my cock all locked up.”

She looked down at him and then started playing with his nipples, and running her hands down his chest. When she got to the cock cage, her right hand pulled up on the cage and she noticed his cock was leaking pre cum. “Wow, you are excited aren’t you.” She reached under the couch and pulled out a vibrator that she had placed there earlier in the day. “Since your cock can’t satisfy me then my friend here will have to. As a matter of fact, why don’t you do the honors George?” He was looking at the key on the gold chain around his wife’s neck and was hoping she would unlock him, but he dared not say anything since he gave her control of his manhood. The only thing he could do was to satisfy his wife with the vibrator. “Yes Princess, I will please you anyway you desire.”

He used the vibrator on her sliding the toy in and out of her pussy and occasionally pulling it out as she commanded so that he could lick her juices off the hard solid vibrator. She played with her breasts pinching her nipples and massaging them, making him kiss them and flick his tongue over them on occasion. He was as excited as he has ever been, and getting more and more frustrated at the desire to even just touch his cock and stroke it while she was thrusting her hips again in pleasure. “My goodness, George, I’m going to cum…, oh no here it comes… oh goodness, get your mouth down here now and lick me hard!” He did as he was commanded and as he set his tongue to her pussy and licked her clit, her orgasm was so intense she squeezed her legs together so tight it was all he could do to breath. He was tasting his wife’s cum in ecstasy and pleasure. She sat up after a few minutes of lying peacefully on the bed and started stroking the head of the hard plastic cock that encased his cock. “Good night my pet, sleep well.”

George didn’t get to sleep until around 3:00 am, thinking about the events of the evening and if this is what he really wanted. Here he was filled with excitement and his own cum boiling inside and there was no release. He thought about reaching across his wife and taking the key from around her neck and jerking to relief but he knew that would be taking back his gift, and that would strain the relationship. Finally just from exhaustion of the long day and the great sexual experience he had given Tiffany he faded into sleep. Frustrated, horny and yet satisfied that he has now provided his Princess the ultimate gift.

She had mentioned that we would be having an unique evening together this evening, but she never really quite explained what unique was to entail. It was about mid afternoon when she had made that proclamation and as she was doing so, her eyes lit up with that very special bratty look that I have come to enjoy.

“Now my pet, I have a special treat for you before we begin this adventure.”

With those words she then shows me a some type of leather restraint and has a very big grin on her face, as I mentioned.

“Now pet, you will slip this cock ring on. Do it now, so I can observe and see how the leather straps secure and bind you…just for me. Mmmmmmmmmm…”

As she sat down, I took the cock ring and gazed at it monetarily. I then slipped the ring around my cock and then secured the leather straps around my balls. After I felt it was secured, I presented myself to for her inspection.”

“This looks very nice on you pet. I so love how the black leather contrasts with your pale skin tones. Very lovely contrast, if I do say so myself.”

She then slips her fingers between the leather straps and my skin, slipping them along the underside. Then she whispers very seductively.

“You may tighten the straps another notch pet. I desire that you be completely aware of this restraint whether you are aroused or not. I want you to feel the sensitivity of your balls. I want to know that I own you…and that I control you…completely. That is what you want, isn’t it my pet?”

“Yes Mistress…completely,” I softly whimper.

I then loosen the straps and then tighten them an additional notch. As I do so, I can feel them securing my balls, very completely. Not excessively tight, yet to the point where I can feel the restraints tightening against my skin. After I have the device secured, I again proceed to present myself to her.

Then she slips a finger inside the straps, and notes the fit is much more secure, which causes her to smile a wicked grin.

“Excellent my pet,” she whispers. You have pleased me very well. For the remainder of the day, you will wear this device, and you will enjoy both the pain and the pleasure that it will give you.”

She then notes the look of question in my eyes. The device is only a ring and a couple straps. How is this going to cause me both pain and pleasure. Then she takes her long, feminine, red nails and begins to instruct me.

“Feel how sensitive your balls become dear, as I stroke them with my sexy, red nails. They are so firm being held together…and oh so very sensitive to the touch. So amazing how that occurs. Then while I caress your balls and seductively whisper like this, I know you cannot resist becoming aroused. It’s so easy to become aroused for me, my pet, as I control you. You are here to please me and pleasure me. Yes pet…that’s right…feel yourself expanding into the cock ring. To the point where you fill the ring completely, yet your arousal continues to build…and grow.”

“Awwwwwwwwww…poor pet. I bet that ring is now biting into your very erect cock, causing you some discomfort. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm…and all for me. Yes, excellent my pet. As this is how I intend to keep you for the remainder of the evening, aroused at my whim, yet helpless to do anything about it. Oh did I fail to mention that the ring makes it very difficult to orgasm as well pet? It seems that with the ring wrapped around you like that, it just won’t allow you expand completely…or come… without extreme effort. So I know we will have an enjoyable remainder of the day my pet. Now draw me a bath and call me when it is ready dear.”

“Yes Mistress” I immediately respond.

I proceed to leave while my cock, I mean her cock, is thrusting straight ahead like a guide. The ring biting into it…yet feeling so pleasurable. I add her favorite oils and fragrances to the bath water and adjust the temperature to her liking. When the tub is full, I announce that her bath is awaiting her.

She appears in the bath, wearing only her lacy, black panties. I can see the bratty look again beginning to appear in her eyes, as she knows precisely the reaction she is going to obtain. She is beautiful and the sight of her causes me to grow and expand again, into the restraints of the cock ring. She smiles a knowing smile as she simultaneously watches my cock…and my frustration slowly begin to build. She then runs her red covered index finger along her pet’s cock.

“Such a “good boy” you are my pet.”

I immediately feel a wave of pleasure rush through me, as my hypnotic trigger takes control, and I become lost in her whispers. The pleasure so sensual…wave…after wave. Followed by the knowing tightness of the restraint. Pain and pleasure combined. Mistress is so good to me.

“Now pet, you may go. I wish for privacy during this bath so I may become lost in the relaxing bubbles and in the very pleasurable thoughts about our plans for the evening. You may leave until I am finished here. Of course it goes without saying, you may not touch yourself. Now be gone!!”

With that I exit the bath as I hear her adjust the CD player to some of her favorite music. I leave her to her wishes….my arousal still pointing the way. I am so completely hers…completely.

After what seems to be an eternity, she beckons me to return to the bath, this time to assist her from the tub and to towel her dry. I take one of the thick, soft towels and gently begin to pat her body. The towel absorbing all of the moisture beads while my eyes absorb her lush body completely.

While drying, I occasionally place butterfly kisses along her skin…along her neck and shoulders…and then down her back as I slowly slide down her body. The kissing and the toweling continuing until I am kneeling at her feet, toweling her sexy red toes dry and then kissing them very sensually as well.

“Excellent job my pet. You are a quick learner. I may just have to retain for future consideration.”

“Thank you Mistress” I reply. “You know I solely desire to please you.”

With that she smiles and runs her fingers through my hair.

“Such a good boy” she whispers…..as I melt away…again. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm…

“Now my little pet, you will continue to drift and float here so peacefully until I return. You know it feels so good to please me pet. So very good. Such a good boy.” she whispers as she leaves.

I am really not certain how long I have remained kneeling here. There are no thoughts floating through my mind, only her instructions to remain here…for her. That is my only thought and desire…to please and obey her.

After some time has passed, I take in her fragrance again. It’s so feminine and sensual as the scent infiltrates my thoughts and my mind. I know she has returned, as I feel her finger grazing down my cheek and coming to rest upon my chin, while applying a slight upward pressure to my chin.

“Gaze at me pet. Look deep into my eyes.”

As my eyes slowly open, they immediately focus on her, becoming lost in her deep, brown eyes. I notice her smile at me so sweetly. Then she whispers to me…

“This evening will be a very special evening my pet. This evening I will control you…dominate you. You realize this is what we both desire…and what we both have been waiting for. Now pet, as you lower your gaze, you will take in my attire completely. You will drink in every inch of me, as you savor this very special moment. When your gaze meets my sexy red toes, you will worship them…completely. That is where you belong my pet…at my feet.”

My gaze slowly slips down from her eyes. She is wearing a very alluring black leather halter top. It ties together with leather closures…and exposes her cleavage as well as some of her chest. The top ends just above her hips. I hear myself softly moan.

“Yes pet…very good. Drink in every inch of my attire…and of me. Mmmmmmmm..”

As my gaze slips down even lower, she is wearing a short, black leather skirt, which complements the leather halter perfectly. The skirt ends well above her knees, as my gaze continues to slowly slide down her body.

“Such a good boy. Continuing down my pet. Gaze at my legs.. My sensitive insteps. Notice the thin black leather straps along my sandals, which are sensually encasing my lovely feet. Drawing you in so easily my pet. Deeper and deeper…Mmmmmmmmmmm.. ”

As I listen to her voice guiding me so easily down her legs towards her feet, my eyes lock on the sexy open toes sandals she is wearing. The thin straps wrapping around her ankles as I instinctively lean over to kiss them. My lips kissing her sexy right ankle… licking the thin leather straps as my kisses slowly slip down towards her toes. Kissing and licking each toe very lovingly. My vision being completely consumed by her red toes. As my lips and tongue tenderly wrap around each toe, I hear Mistress softly release a very content sigh. She then moves her foot ever so slightly, so that my lips may worship the sexy heel of her sandal as well, as the heel gradually slides between my lips.

I then turn my attention towards her left foot. This time I begin by sucking on her red toes. Taking each one and wrapping my lips and tongue around and around, bathing them completely in my adoration. My lips then slowly move along her foot, placing tender, loving kisses on the top of her foot, between the black leather straps.

Then my lips and tongue linger upon her very sensitive left instep. I hear her sigh so very contently as my tongue licks so sensually along her sensitive instep, followed by kisses along the black straps that are encompassing her ankle.

“Yes my pet, that is this is definitely where you belong…on your knees…pleasing me. However pet, place your hand within mine…and rise and follow me as we still have so much more to explore this evening. As we walk towards the bedroom, take in the scent from the supple leather that is caressing my body pet. The leather feels so soft…so sensual…so very arousing…Mmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

In a few moments, we are in her bedroom. She instructs me to lie down on her bed. As I do, I notice all of her toys are laid out neatly along side of the bed. My mind is racing, yet so slow, all I can do is take in the images, not really thinking about what is to come. As I settle in comfortably, she walks along the side of the bed, and retrieves a black leather blindfold…and slips it over my eyes, throwing me immediately into complete darkness.

“Mmmmmmmmm.. I so love using a blindfold pet, as it causes all of the other senses to intensify. It also creates a feeling of not having control and not knowing what may occur next. The blindfold causes you to focus even more intently on me…and the feelings that I create deep within you. The leather scent from the blindfold filling your mind with the thoughts of the soft leather that is caressing my body. The leather that you can no longer see. Mmmmmmmm…”

She then runs hers long red nails over my skin, causing me to shudder ever so slightly. She then runs her nails over my cock, and I can feel it twitch and attempt to expand even more, while the cock ring continues to bite into it even deeper.

“Just like that pet. Mmmmmmmmmmm…no control at all. Completely here to surrender to my needs…to my desires. Aren’t you my pet?”

“Yes Mistress,” I somehow manage to reply.

“Excellent my dear. Now let us continue, as you slip deeper into my control. Now extend your right arm towards me pet. Yes, very good. Now feel the red silk scarf as it caresses your wrist as I secure your arm to this corner of the bed.. I so love using silk as it’s so very sensual…so very erotic…and so very strong. Now pet, your other arm please…as I drape the silk and secure it as well.”

“Extend your right leg now love. Good boy…mmmmmmmmmm. Feel the pleasure washing through you pet. Silky pleasure from the scarves and the pleasure knowing that you are pleasing me greatly. Finally, your left leg, as the silky restraints are secured. Try as you might, you are not going anywhere little one. You are now completely mine. Mmmmmmmm..”

I can hear her talking, as well as securing the devices, but I also sense myself slipping towards subspace. I know it’s so early to be happening…yet she knows exactly what buttons to push to send me there so easily…and she knows I will not resist.

“Now for my next treat pet,” she softly intones.

Then I feel her leaning over me. The sensual leather top caressing my bare chest. The feelings are incredible. Then I feel something cold being draped along my chest. I shudder ever so slightly.

“Oh you feel the chill dear one? Let me take your mind off that.”

In a moment I feel her lips and her tongue upon my left nipple. A sudden wave of pleasure consumes me, as I release a soft sigh, which then changes to a moan as I sense her teeth biting down on my nipple. All the while I feel my nipple becoming stiffer and stiffer. Then I feel the coolness again….as I moan loudly as I feel a clamp being applied to my left nipple.

“Oh my pet is feeling some distress. Let me take care of that pet. I have just the right solution for that problem.”

With those words she then begins to lick and suck on my right nipple. This time she is much more teasing with her tongue, as she slides it over the very sensitive tip of my nipple. By then my thoughts had slipped away again to pleasure…and she applied the other nipple clamp, again sending me into that painful pleasure mode. She then pulls the chain that evidently connects both clamps, and I again moan in pain.

“Mmmmmmmmmmm…you sound delightful pet. I so enjoy both pain and pleasure. Of course the pain is all yours…and the pleasure is all mine. Now let’s see…what shall we do next. Yes…I know”

I hear her move about a bit…then quiet fills the room. I know she is close by…but my thoughts are still focused on my nipples returning to a normal, dull throbbing state. Then I feel something across my shoulder.

“You like my flogger pet?” This is a new one that I purchased just for you. I wish you could see the strands of suede. They are a very deep shade of blue…that would match your eyes…if they were open.”

With those words, she giggles and proceeded to use the flogger along my shoulders…dandling it over my chest…stroking the inside of my thighs…and spinning it along the top of my cock…as I feel it twitch to the strokes.

“I so enjoy a flogger. The strokes can be so soft and sensual…or firm and controlling…all at my whim. And this is all about my pleasure pet. I know you are still here with me…barely. Just knowing you are pleasing your Mistress…pleases you deeply. Such a very good boy you are. Mmmmmmmmmmmm..”

Mistress seemingly stops with the flogger and I hear her moving some items around. Then I sense the chain on the nipple clamps being tugged…firmly…as I moan. Then she runs her nails over my cock…causing it to twitch…and shake.

“Just pain and pleasure my pet. No thoughts…Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

I begin to feel something very soft caressing my skin. Very furry and warm. Mistress is saying nothing, yet caressing my cheeks…my arms…my legs. My reactions are soft sighs of pleasure. Still no words…but being so good. So lost here in this moment.

Eventually, the soothing caresses cease. The room grows silent again. Earlier I would have thought about what she may be doing…yet now my mind is so empty. Floating here in these sensations. Then I feel the bed move…and feel warmth upon me…as she is straddling over me. Very slowly she settles down upon my, rigid cock as it nestles deep inside her wet sex, as she settles down atop me.

“Remember pet…your pain…is my pleasure..” as Mistress tugs on the chain connecting the clamps…then shifts her body just slightly causing pleasurable feelings.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm pet. You feel so good when your cock twitches like that so deeply within me. I bet that cock ring is biting in so firmly now pet. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm…that must be the ultimate in pain and pleasure dear, as it feels so pleasurable to me.”

“I’m thinking you wish you could see me here pet…sitting upon your chest. My body caressed by the supple, black leather. The look of desire upon my face. Feel my heat and wetness as I shift…and slip up…and then down upon you pet. Controlling you completely. Your cock so hard…my pussy so wet. Pleasing your Mistress. Mmmmmmmm..”

She then tugs upon the nipple clamp chain…causing another wave of pain to wash through me.

“Mmmmmmmmmm…I so love that control pet. Feel me slipping along your cock…a bit faster….as my breathing is becoming more erratic. I know you can sense that pet. My pleasure increasing. Now pet, you will NOT come pet. You will please me completely like the “good boy” you are. Yes…enjoy those feelings pet. Now meet my thrusts pet….faster….deeper…harder. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…pet. feels soooooooooooooooooo good. Coming…..please me pet… NOW!!!”

I can feel her sliding up and down my cock…faster and faster. Then I heard my phrase…and don’t recall much else as her pleasurable words consumed me again. Thrusting harder…deeper…pleasing her. Mmmmmmmmmmm…

I sense her slump down along side me. I wish I could wrap my arms around her and hold her so close. I still sense my cock within her…still so hard…so wet. Her breathing slowly stabilized and soon she began to move ever so slightly, sliding off me and snuggling next to me.

I sense her finger caressing my cheek. then slowly slipping under the blindfold.

“Slowly becoming accustomed to the light my pet. Feeling so good…waking so easily.”

She then softly kissed me. My eyes opened….and gazed at her…so beautiful her along side of me. Our lips meshed longingly. The sense of pleasing her filling me completely.

Then I realized my wrists and legs were no longer restrained. There were no nipple clamps attached to me. As a matter of fact, everything is still precisely where it was when we began. She smiled a very knowing smile at me.

“Thank you Mistress” I whispered…and wrapped myself close to her, still not quite certain if I had just dreamed these events…or had they actually happened. It appears only she knows….and she’s not sharing.

by Arafin © 2009
Lost Harbour (Arafin’s blog)

Creator of Image Unknown. If this image is your property and you object to its use here, please notify webmistress and photo will be removed.

It had been nearly 35 years since I had been in Corsica, and though elsewhere on this rugged little island much had changed, in this area on the West side of the Cape time seemed to have stood still. Dry stone houses, some in good repair and inhabited by people, some minus roofs and windows and home to various small birds and rodents, all gave a pleasantly eerie and sleepy feeling to the little hamlets that nestled here and there amongst the steep mountain sides, like ancient gnarled hands trying patiently to cling to a forgotten age. Narrow winding roads switched back and forth between terraces of meager gardens and chestnut trees while goats fed obsessively on anything not protected by desperate fences. Now and then a rooster would tell all the world how very important something was, but who was listening? Old women dressed head to toe in thick black wool toted impossible bundles of firewood down narrow dirt paths, their wide feet plopping along like old cats meandering home to rest. Men in baggy pants and small caps stood in the doorways of dingy cafes, clutching glasses of wine and puffing distant stares with their Gitanes and Gauloise.

I enjoyed walking these tiny roads now as much as I had in my youth. Back then I had been in love with a French woman of dizzying beauty fifteen years my senior. Fifteen years that could have been a thousand for the distance between us in knowledge of life and how to live it. I had been so tragically naive and she so elegant and wise. My heart could still recall the pain of unfulfilled yearning as I now placed one foot in front of the other and ascended yet another steep bend to look out at last upon a little valley, greener than the rest for some reason, almost an oasis in this otherwise dry and rocky landscape. At the far end was a tiny village of perhaps no more than a dozen houses. The road ended there, I knew, and tonight I planned to lay my head to rest at the humble bed-and-breakfast I had booked over three months ago. A week here in peace and solitude would do me a world of good. I would dine on fresh fish and lamb, I would drink the local wine, and I would go for long walks on the mountain paths which laced upwards and over the crest of this peninsula, there to dwindle Eastwards down the more gentle and less windswept slopes that fell once again into the soft Mediterranean blue.

As I ambled more slowly now on level ground, letting my heart and lungs adjust to an easier pace, I passed by one of the many springs that dot this part of the world. Ages ago someone had driven a metal pipe deep into the hillside to channel what nature had brought to the surface for us to drink, and then someone else had constructed a high stone vault around the end of the pipe and added the face of a mermaid, from whose mouth the cool water now flowed. Wives would wash their laundry in the stone basins here and the men would quench long thirsts on their way home from town. Birds would perch above in thickets of bramble and wait their turn while young boys would splash delighted screaming girls who would then race home to tell their knowing mothers. Future husbands, those, unless the girls should be so lucky to attract the eye of a more prominent man from the city. Bastia, city of pirates, across the ridge and many kilometers to the South. The men there were rascals all, their furtive minds set on larceny of the heart in order that they might know the pleasure of the loins.

I stopped to drink. The water was icy cold and my common sense warned me to temper my slake before I felt pain, yet so delicious was this nectar after the long trek up here that I ignored the first warning and gulped greedily, soon regretting my weakness and trying to laugh as I stood upright and massaged my temples. As the temporary headache subsided I was about to bend to drink again, this time more patiently, when I noticed the painting on the back of the stone vault. Was this here when I had first visited this place decades ago? I did not remember. The image appeared almost as if a sepia photograph had been somehow developed onto the yellow plaster. It was a woman’s face, beautiful, dark and mysterious with great sad eyes. Or were they laughing? It was hard to tell. The full light of day did not reach back into this recess of some fifteen feet, and so I had to strain to see more clearly, allowing my eyes to acclimatize to the dimness. Then I got the idea to take the flashlight out of my pack.

As soon as the white LEDs shone forth onto the painting it vanished!

I was shaken. Was the painting real?

I immediately switched off the flashlight and waited. With a strange mixture of disbelief and hope I stared agape as the painting gradually began to reveal itself once again, almost as if it was coming out from within the rock. Her face was so lovely, her mouth seemingly on the brink of smiling, teasing me. Her left hand was encased in what looked like tattered black gossamer which mingled with coy grace into her raven tresses, a dark copse of hidden secrets far too rich to understand. Dizziness began to engulf my mental focus and vision as I continued to gaze. The sound of birds chirping madly behind me seemed far more distant than the few feet I reasoned it to be. I was slipping out of consciousness into dream, yet I was standing upright, both feet firmly on the stone floor below. The sound of the water gurgling from the little spring wavered on and off, warbled and trilled, and then became so loud that it hurt my ears. I tried to reach to cover them but could not move my arms. The gentle light from outside mirrored and danced off the surface of the water in the stone basin in front of the spring, and I thought I could hear within the quivering light the sound of laughing voices. Or was it one voice? Her voice?

“So, my little wanderer, you have come back to me at last. I told you that you would, but I also told you to forget that I told you and to remember to forget that you had ever seen me. But now you are here again and I want you to come inside with me again, just as you did years ago.” Her voice was like bubbles of mischievous jokes tickling my mind. I had the uncontrollable urge to laugh and was surprised that I could hear myself chuckling while still remaining paralyzed.

“Come inside the wall, my little wanderer. Come to me. Come to me!” And I could not resist. I was at once helpless and afraid, enraptured and thrilled. I wanted to walk into to wall, to join her, but I also wanted to turn and run. As if completely unaffected by this contradiction, my legs moved me forward in a rather jerky and unnatural gait, much as one would expect someone to walk if they were pretending to be a robot. I felt my temperature rising and noticed beads of sweat beginning to drip down my face. I could even smell my own body odor as I plodded forward, a madly perspiring zombie about to merge headlong with ancient stone.

“You tried to do this before, didn’t you? You tried to run, but you could not. Do you remember now?” And she laughed like shimmering happy thunder in my head, a singular shattering aria of terrible sweetness and frightening lust. Yes, lust. Lust so strong it was almost unfeasible to behold. I knew I was being drawn into her carnal embrace once more as I watched the last thoughts of escape slip away, only to be replaced by ridiculous raging desire as it filled my entire body and soul. I no longer wanted to run away. I wanted to plunge forward into her realm, into her lightning embrace, to be struck mute by her words, blind by her eyes. No longer caring about anything at all except to go to her, I stumbled into the shallow stone basin and took no notice whatsoever of the chill water that danced and bubbled around my shins. It was effervescing and glowing with a light of it’s own, a deep turquoise blue, and the sound of singing angels roiled within it as if such mellifluous turmoil was her blood, gushing forth from the tiny spring as might passion gush forth from a long denied heart on the very threshold of final romance.

I reached the end of the basin and moved into the rock. It was cool and inviting, a welcome relief from the heat in my veins. I could feel her taking hold of my hands, pulling me inwards, deep, deep inside the stone where she lived. She had looked almost shy when I first saw her face a few minutes ago, ……. a few decades ago, ……. but now she was smiling with unabashed craving, her lips shivering with anticipation, her eyes flashing with wild ravenous hunger. In an instant I was within her full grasp and felt myself grasping back, clawing and digging with my fingers to feel her torrid flesh, aching with all my might to be swallowed whole by her insatiable mind. I was hers now. I knew it and cared not about anything else.

*********************

Outside and old man stopped to quench his thirst and noticed the backpack leaning against the side of the stone basin. Had she caught another one? Deciding against drinking too much from the ageless spring, the old man shuffled back along the road towards the little village at the end of the valley. His wife would have his supper for him and afterwards they would roast a few chestnuts for dessert. As he walked slowly in the afternoon heat he thought back to the time he had imagined he had seen a face, the face of a beautiful woman, in the stone wall at the back of the arched vault where the spring was hidden from the light of the sun and the moon. The legend that men in these parts told was that the vault had been built to protect the spring from the sun, because it’s light would sap the magic that it’s waters contained. The legend that the women told was that the vault had been built to keep the moonlight from mingling with the waters as they first shot forth from the rock, lest that water become a potion of love and lust so powerful that none could withstand it’s flavor and remain in the world of daylight. The water was the blood of an ancient sprite, said the women, and that sprite never forgot the essence of a man’s hopeless infatuation once she had tasted it.

“La Violacciocca”, they called her. “The Wallflower”.

THE END

by Arafin © 2009

Creator of Image Unknown. If this image is your property and you object to its use here, please notify webmistress and photo will be removed.

They had driven all day and part of the night, having spent too much time at the party. Intending to reach their next gig by noon tomorrow was now a foolishly unrealistic goal, so a gas station phone had been used to make a foolishly unrealistic excuse to the club owner. Was it accepted? They would find out in the afternoon. Their schedule was not as full as they would have liked it to be, hypnosis stage shows these days being a dime a dozen, but they still offered something others did not, ….. a chance to think they were making love with one of the performers. This tactic got them work in places where they would otherwise have been unwelcome and made them unwelcome in places they would otherwise have gotten work. It was a trade off and anyone’s guess as to whether it was a wise one.

The road was nearly invisible now through the howling tempest of rain and wind and the lights from oncoming transports was a heart stopping agony of blindness and fear. Several times the old Cadillac had nearly found the ditch. Too tired to drive any longer they turned off the highway onto a frontage road at the next town and began searching for a motel. This would mean yet another phone call to the club owner, but hey, he was probably so ticked off with them by now that they had lost the gig anyway.

With no motels displaying “Vacancy” signs anywhere to be seen, they pulled into a gas station and inquired as to where they might find a place to stay. A gap toothed teenage boy with multi-colored stegosaurus hair shuffled in from the pumps and spoke with a drawl so disingenuous that it was laughable. He was putting on an act and he was terrible at it. “Yawl kin try the Cherry Top down the ole’ highwayyy, ……… but it’s plum weeeee-ai-yurd!” He rolled and fluttered his eyes when he said this, dislodging little clumps of cheap mascara onto his sweaty face.

They paid for the gas and took notes for how to find the “Ole’ Highwayyy”, dashed out into the rain, and were gone. Exhaustion had set in hours ago and although the car was now freshly fueled they were both running on fumes. Windshield wipers frantically bashing against sheets of water, defroster trying to breath fire against foggy glass, the Caddy pushed away into the night, weaving it’s way like a blind man through back streets and tangled turns. At last an old road with cracked pavement snaked off towards utter blackness, it’s signpost long ago fallen to ruin and now resting peacefully among soggy weeds.

“How far did that punker say it was?” she asked as he peered forward into the tumultuous gloom.

“He said fifteen miles.” The words fell out of his tensed mouth like flakes of ash dropping from a cloud of volcanic doom. Trying to see the road and stay on it was the most miserable of tasks. How wonderful it would be to rest in a bed! “Damn, this road is a mess!” Pothole after pothole was irritating both of them, and it was wearing away their usual good nature. Mile after mile they pushed on, the Cadillac taking the beating like a trooper. At times it would bottom out, sending a brief flash of orange sparks scurrying forth like soldiers being sent out of the trenches into withering machine gun fire of relentless rain. The promised motel could not come too soon.

After what seemed like hours, (but was probably less than one), a bright red neon sign announced the presence of The Cherry Top Motel. The rain seemed to lessen as they exited the car and walked hastily into the office lounge area. It was dingy and sparsely lit. An old red vinyl clad sofa tried to hide shamefully against one wall, it’s covering having seen far better days. Above it hung a fluorescent on black painting of a cowboy riding a giant wild boar. The logo “Cherry Top” was finally understood by the ridiculous vision of his bright red hair. Clearly meant to portray a rodeo clown, this piece of art, (if one dared call it that), was beyond cheesy. It was downright vulgar in it’s ugliness. The young woman drew a disdainful breath in while stifling a laugh. Behind the desk sat an old native woman with hair in pastel blue curlers. She eyed the young couple as if she were a cougar eyeing a pair of unsuspecting lambs.

“You want a room?” she queried with absolute seriousness, the obvious stupidity of her words irritating the man to the very brink of explosion.

“No!”, he spurted sarcastically. “We just want to use the pool!”

“Ain’t got no stinkin’ pool, sonny. But for you I’ll make a special deal and let you roll around naked on the wet grass!” And with this she let forth a raucous gaffaw that sounded for all the world like a cross between a donkey braying and a bear scratching it’s claws on a blackboard. This did not impress the weary and dripping couple in the least, but the young woman withheld her wrath long enough to sign them in and obtain a key. She would join her husband in a tirade once they had gained access to a room with a shower and a bed. What a day it had been!

Fears that the room would be as tacky as the rest of the establishment proved unfounded and instead the pleasant surprise of newly renovated and spotlessly clean quarters greeted their tired eyes. Flinging suitcases upon the bed they hurriedly unpacked and headed for the shower. Ten minutes later they were ready for bed and soon fell fast asleep, the renewed lashing of rain and wind outside a thousand miles away. Dreamless depths engulfed them as their worn bodies slowed to the crawl of bottomless delta sleep. And as they slept, many miles down the road behind them, a great gust of wind ripped a tall aspen tree from it’s roots and sent it across the wires that supplied power to the motel. Blackness came which could take days for power crews to repair.

Morning arrived clear and cold. Although the storm had blown out in the night the lack of electric heat had made the room so cold that breath could be seen if one expelled sharply. The young couple longed to be on their way, grateful at least for a night’s solid rest. However, upon undertaking the process of checking out they had learned that the road was severed in both directions by a washed out bridge ahead and downed power lines behind. An irate inquiry revealed that no other roads connected this forlorn location to the rest of the world. They would just have to wait it out for a few days. There was some good news, and that was that a generator would soon be up and running, providing enough electricity for light. Heat would be another matter and everyone would have to make do with other means. A fireplace had been lit in the lounge and to this the old native woman, the young couple, and the only other guests, two middle aged salesman, made their way. The warmth felt good and as bodies thawed so too did conversation.

At first the salesmen lamented about the state of the roads in these parts which was followed closely by a long story from the native woman about the old days before the interstate had been built and this road had been the main course of travel. The couple were bored to tears and offered little more than the odd head shake of agreement or hum of consent. Then in a moment of boyish mischievousness, he turned to his wife and whispered, “Let’s have some fun with these yokels and hypnotize their brains out! Let’s really mess with that old woman!” Her quick and evil grin let him know that his idea had been accepted with enthusiasm, and they set about bantering with the others in the room, using purposely lowered volume of voice and strangely confusing patterns of language. The young woman walked back and forth in front of the salesmen as she spoke, making sure that their eyes never left her long legs covered in black fish net stockings, flashing like deadly serpents about to strike their naughty minds. The young man stood directly in front of the old woman and mirrored every move she made, whether it was as slight as a brush of the hair or as pronounced as a stretch of both arms. Within less than ten minutes the two salesmen were out like two low wattage light bulbs and the old native woman was nodding like a willow frond in a gentle breeze. Now the fun could begin.

First his wife gave suggestions of extreme arousal to the two salesmen which she then anchored to the unlikely trigger of seeing the old native woman stand and walk. Next the young man tried to give suggestions to the old woman that she would fall in love with the first two men who showed sexual interest in her, but a curious thing happened. With every word he spoke, the old woman began to raise her head higher and higher, until at last she was facing him directly with eyes wide open. Very wide open. He tried to stop speaking at this point but found he could not. He was prattling on uncontrollably as his wife asked what was wrong. In an instant the old woman waved her hand high in the air and shouted a single word in a tongue long forgotten in that area, and as if hit by a bolt of lightening, the young woman fell silent as stone and just as immobile. Her husband fell silent as well and stood in front of the old woman with his eyes shut tight. Try as he might, he could not open them.

The old native rose and walked close to the young woman, stretched slightly so as to be closer to her ear, and whispered for a long time words both secret and powerful. Now she strode to the husband and whispered into his ear the same ancient phrases. Both husband and wife stood like statues unable to move, and both were quite, quite unaware of what was about to happen. Faint sparks of electricity began to dance at their fingertips as the old woman resumed her perch upon the worn vinyl sofa. The two salesmen now appeared to awake, yet with the most odd and disturbing expressions of deranged glee on their faces. They looked at the young couple without appearing to see them.

Suddenly the old woman clapped her hands and the show began. The young man walked quickly out of the lounge as the others all followed, the old woman cackling to herself with crazed abandon. Straight like a beeline to the newly renovated room the young man went, and once inside he lay belly up across the bed. Now his wife mounted his face and began rocking back and forth across him as if riding a horse in a rodeo while he clutched at her with his hands and probed at her underwear with an insatiable tongue driven mad with the most profound lust. The two salesmen clapped their hands in mock jubilation and began to dance a macabre jig, their eyes still lunacy wide as if possessed. The young couple moaned and writhed as the last shred of their consciousness understood the cruel joke the old woman was playing on them. She had done this many times before, of course, and for nearly seventy years since the time her grandmother had taught her the magic of her people so primeval and so strong. It had been her grandmother, last official medicine woman of the tribe, who had, as legend told it, ensorcelled a young cowboy who had made fun of her in front of her friends. He had then mysteriously dyed his hair bright red and ridden a very large pig about town while proclaiming his undying love for the old woman.

******************************

The day passed in laughter for the old native woman, in bedazzled idiocy for the two salesmen, and in terrible unsatisfiable desire for the young hypnotist couple. How they ached to release! How they would have given anything, absolutely anything, to orgasm and fall into sleep. But that was not their fate, and all day and for part of the night they thrashed and groaned, gyrated and whimpered, till at last the old woman let them slip into dreams. Dreams of what they had just experienced, yet with an even stronger haunting presence of the medicine woman’s mind overpowering their own. In the morning the power was back on and the bridge ahead repaired so that the young couple could continue on their way, but not before apologizing through horrified eyes full of tears to the grinning old proprietress of The Cherry Top Motel.

by Free Thinking Writer © 2008
(Part two of a continuing story)
Part One

— Alan —
The next day was Thursday. I woke early after a night of odd, half-formed dreams. I didn’t even know what she looked like, I didn’t know what her voice was like, but I was dreaming about her. In my dreams she had long black hair and flashing, exotic eyes. Her voice was like honey. And… Man, I hate dreams, I never remember the best details.

Work was hectic. It’s always hectic. I rescheduled my day to get out by 5:00, which meant I was actually out the door at 5:20. Enough time to get home, change quickly and get to the restaurant.

At home, I changed into a suit and tie. I had a purple Jerry Garcia tie I love, and I was actually looking forward to wearing it.

— Valeria —
I fretted all day. Last night it had all seemed so clear. Even when I’d written the advertisement, it had seemed clear. But now reality sunk in. I had no idea what I was doing.

What was Alan expecting? I shudder to guess. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expecting what I had to offer.

Society has this image of dominant women. Well, multiple images. Some of them involve the B-word. More of them involve leather and whips.

Was Alan expecting some corset-clad dominatrix? That is so not me.

I just… like having things my way. I’ve tried the traditional relationships and even the very traditional relationships. I’ve let the man assume control. I’ve tried relationships where we’re equal partners. The first was always a disaster, and the second was more of a disaster.

Sometimes my boyfriends have been very adventurous in bed. I tried to indulge their fantasies. That’s what you do, right? To be fair, for the most part they also did their best to indulge me. But no matter what happened in the bedroom, once we left, they always thought they should be the one behind the wheel, the one to hold the clicker.

But that advertisement. Why did I write that advertisement?

— Alan —
I parked and was in front of the restaurant 7 minutes early. I hate being late to anything. It always leaves me frazzled. And when I’m running late, my driving suffers as I attempt to make up for lost time. So I was early.

I was nervous. I don’t know why. I’ve certainly had dates before. Most recently wasn’t that long ago. Eight months isn’t that long, is it?

I tried not to pace the sidewalk.

— Valeria —
I was early. I didn’t want to be early. I wanted Alan to be waiting for me when I arrived so I could check him out before I even parked.

I drove past the restaurant. There were a few people on the sidewalk, but only one of them was male and clearly waiting for someone. How could I tell? He glanced at his watch as I drove past then scanned the sidewalk in both directions. He was dressed in a suit, but I didn’t get much of a glimpse of his tie to be sure it was he. I was going to have to park and check him out by foot.

Maybe it was good if he was expecting a leather-clad dominatrix. He wouldn’t recognize me.

— Alan —
Why is it when we’re meeting someone, but we don’t know what the person looks like, we still peer intently at everyone to see if she is the person we’re meeting? Everyone ignored me and hurried past, either down the road or several into the restaurant.

— Valeria —
I took a deep breath and got out of the car, pulling my coat around me. Underneath I was wearing a red dress, but the September evening was chilly. My boot heels made clicking noises on the pavement.

When I said I wasn’t wearing leather, I meant I wasn’t wearing strictly leather. I loved those boots.

As I turned the corner, I applied a blank face. If the gentleman in the suit was wearing a purple tie and a frightening countenance, I didn’t want him to recognize me. He had his back turned away, so I checked him out.

Not too bad. Hard to tell under the suit, but it seemed he’d been fair when he described himself. I had several seconds to scope him out while I walked in his direction. He looked comfortable in the suit, not fussing at it like someone does when wearing unfamiliar clothing. As I got closer, my boots heralded my approach, and he turned to face me.

— Alan —
I heard the sound of heels against sidewalk and turned to face the approaching woman. My breath caught in my throat.

If this woman is Valeria, I’m way out of my league.

— Valeria —
My first thought when he turned around was simple. I wanted this man. I then experienced something I’ve never had before. I had a series of images flash before me: Alan underneath me, silk wrapped around his wrists; Alan kneeling in front of me; Alan’s tongue inside me.

I felt myself start to flush.

I don’t believe in love at first sight.

Lust, on the other hand, lust I had bad.

— Alan —
“I love the tie, Alan,” she said to me, holding out her hand. I shook automatically, but then she continued to hold my hand, her left coming up to cup the back of my neck. She pulled my head down while leaning towards me, kissing my cheek. After the kiss, she whispered quietly in my ear, “You don’t need to be so nervous.”

Before I could protest, she’d released me and entered the restaurant, ruining my chance to chivalrously hold the door. I followed on her heels.

Once inside, she looked over her shoulder at me and said, “Take my coat,” starting to shrug out of it. I caught it before it could fall, and she gestured towards the coat check on the right.

I caught up to her at the maitre-de’s station.

— Valeria —
I was pleased with my attempts to hide my blush; I don’t think Alan noticed. I decided immediately I was going to have him. I could tell by the way he looked at me I could have him using a more traditional approach, but I wanted him on my terms, and I wanted to set the ground rules from the beginning.

And of course, the best defense is a good offense.

— Alan —
I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t let me have the menu! She whisked it away from me before we were even completely seated, then asked a few generic questions about my food preferences. The waiter arrived to take a drink order, but she ordered both our meals with barely a glance in my direction.

— Valeria —
Poor Alan. He was too shocked to stop me. I hadn’t planned that, and watching his mouth gaping open, I thought I might have overplayed things. I don’t think he would have been any more shocked if I’d started undressing in the middle of the restaurant.

And this so wasn’t me. Or didn’t seem like it. But my mind kept flashing images in front of me, and with each one I grew increasingly sure of what I wanted.

For this to play the way I wanted, he needed to be kept off balance and nervous, but no so nervous he ran away.

— Alan —
“Give me your hand,” she said.

The demand broke me out of my silent shock. “Why?” I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. She was intelligent and lovely, and I could feel myself reacting to her, but I wasn’t used to being pushed around like this, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

If she was like this already, what would she be like if I let her get her hooks into me. She didn’t say anything when I asked why. She just softly smiled, her left hand resting on the table, palm turned up. I stared at her while she waited. Her smile never faltered; her gaze never wavered. She simply waited.

I looked down at her hand as it rested invitingly on the table. Her fingers were long and delicate, her skin looked soft and inviting.

— Valeria —
When he balked and said “Why”, I knew I’d pushed him pretty hard. I smiled, unsure what I could to do convince him it was safe to trust me, that I wouldn’t hurt him.

I really wanted to touch him, to feel his strength.

To feel his surrender.

We continued to stare at each other silently. While still smiling, I mentally began to compose a speech. Something along the lines of, “Alan, I’m not a bitch.” No, that’s not it. “Alan, I really like you.” Eww. “Alan, I want to climb over there and rip your clothes off, right here, right now.”

Well, it was the truth.

Then he dropped his gaze to my hand held out waiting for his. I stopped composing. When he placed his hand in mine, everything else that had been going on my head was replaced with one simple thought.

Mine!

— Alan —
Her fingers wrapped around mine, her hand on the bottom, mine cupped over it. She looked down then reached over with her other hand and with just her index finger began lightly tracing designs on the back of my hand. Her eyes came back to mine, and she spoke.

I have no idea what she asked me. It just felt so nice to be touched.

— Valeria —
Mine!

— Alan —
Dinner was fabulous. I think. I don’t remember.

She turned my hand over eventually and slipped her fingers inside my shirt to touch my wrist, lightly, so lightly.

— Valeria —
Dinner was lovely. I probed Alan’s mind until the food arrived. Simple things to start. Where he grew up, what he wanted to be when he was a kid, that sort of thing. He spoke intelligently and confidently, even able to tell a story many would be too embarrassed to admit.

Reluctantly, I let him have his hand back when the food arrived. But once we’d eaten and the plates had been taken away, I didn’t have to say anything. I set my hand on the table and he immediately gave me his.

— Alan —
“Would you be so kind as to order dessert for us?” she asked.

I scanned the dessert menu. “We’re sharing?” I asked her. She nodded. “Tiramisu?” I said after a moment. She smiled.

— Valeria —
If there’s any desert that’s my weakness, it’s a well-prepared tiramisu.

I waited until the second bite was in his mouth before I asked him, “What did you think about the reading I assigned last night?”

— Alan —
I froze then swallowed. I used the napkin to buy myself some time, dabbing at my lips, then took some water.

“I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “The entire idea seems a bit contrived. “

—- Valeria —
I felt myself frowning, even though I was expecting a reserved response from him. “You responded to my ad. Why?”

He paused then looked embarrassed. “It was that phrase you used,” he said quietly as if worried anyone would overhear.

“What phrase?” I asked him. I knew exactly what phrase, but I wanted him to be thinking about it.

He turned a lovely color and tried to hide behind his water glass.

“What phrase?” I asked again, somewhat more insistently.

“The shiver of restraint,” he finally said, barely above a whisper.

I reached across the table and captured his hand again, circling my fingers around his wrist. He resisted me a little, but I think he was surprised by my strength. There was no way I was stronger than he was, but after just a moment’s resistance, he acquiesced to my control. I continued to stare into his eyes while clasping his wrist.

I smiled childishly and picked up my fork with my free hand. I used the tines of the fork to draw a dotted line across the top of the tiramisu. “That’s your half,” I gestured with my fork. Then I slowly stabbed through the desert, making sure I was well over the line when I did so.

— Alan —
I still wasn’t sure I liked her. I was even less sure I trusted her. But when the bill came, she released my hand, and my instant feeling was one of disappointment.

She glared at me when I reached for the check. Her hand was already on top of it. “This was my invitation, which means it’s my treat.”

I tried to argue, but her glare deepened, then she smiled. “You’re a good man,” she said as she handed a credit card to the waiter. “You can pay next time.”

I wasn’t sure there was going to be a next time. She was lovely and intelligent and even seemed to like me. But she was so not my type.

Do I even have a type?

— Valeria —
Now what?

— Alan —
She waited for me to fetch her coat from the coat check then allowed me to slip it over her shoulders for her. She thanked me with a kiss on my cheek.

I’ve helped many women put their coats on. Most of the time, they thank me. But that was the first time the thanks included a chaste kiss.

And yet, it didn’t really feel that chaste, either.

I managed to get to the door ahead of her; she thanked me as she stepped through then took my hand when we reached the sidewalk. She pulled my arm to her then wrapped her arms around it, clutching tightly and leaning against me slightly. I loved having her that close. My heart was dancing.

I had no idea what I was doing.

After a moment, she drew us towards the parking lot. “Which car is yours?” she asked. “Wait, I bet I can guess.”

She reviewed the choices then pointed to a pink Cadillac. “You seem like the outgoing Mary Kay type,” she told me with a grin.

I laughed.

“No?” She pulled me further into the parking lot, stopping in front of a BWM roadster. “This one’s cute,” she said, looking back and forth between me and the car. I didn’t say anything. She grabbed my arm again, leaned her head on my shoulder for a minute, then turned us both around to look at the cars across the driveway from where we stood. She pulled on my arm, walked us both to an unassuming Ford, then abruptly pushed my back against the passenger door and leaned into me, pinning me against the car.

— Valeria —
“Do you want this to go any further,” I asked him, our faces only inches away.

He gulped. He actually gulped. I found his nervousness an additional turn on. He finally nodded silently.

“On my terms?” I added.

He looked away. If I’d given him the room to do so, he’d have backed away, too. I wasn’t going to give him too much room, and I wasn’t going to let him think too much, either.

Well, he was going to think, but his thoughts were going to be on my terms, too.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sure I’m your type.”

He was exactly my type! He didn’t know it yet, but I was his, too.

“You don’t want to make me happy?” I asked him, pouting a little. Okay, that wasn’t entirely fair, but I wanted him further off balance.

“It’s not that,” he started to say.

“You don’t think I can make you want to make me happy?” I said, pressing more firmly against him.

“Um-“ He put his hands on my hips, and I could tell he was about to try to push me away. I didn’t let him. I reached down and grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away, then up and to the back of his neck. I held him like that, my wrists resting just behind his ears, his hands awkwardly behind his head. I used my hold to pull his head forward and kissed him.

— Alan —
She was kissing me. I’d never felt so out of control of the situation. Her tongue teased my lips briefly before she slowly broke the kiss.

Still pressing against me, looking up at me, she smiled. “I think you might like doing things my way.”

She didn’t wait for me to respond, but kissed me again, but this time didn’t linger. “You just need a little convincing,” she said. She adjusted her grip, holding both my index fingers with one hand. With her other, she reached into her purse.

My eyes widened when I saw the handcuffs. She didn’t ask permission before snapping it around my right wrist. She tried tugging on my arm with the cuffs, but I resisted.

“Alan,” she said quietly. “I won’t hurt you.”

I looked into her eyes. My emotions were all over the place. It was probably stupid, but for some reason, I trusted her. I let her pull my right wrist down and behind my back. The left followed, and she clicked the other half of the handcuffs around the wrist.

She kissed me again.

She hadn’t even finished kissing me before her hands were in my pockets. I squirmed to get away. “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Looking for your car keys,” she said. “Ah, here they are.” She pulled them out, pressed the unlock button on the key fob, and the car I was pressed against did it’s normal beep-beep when it’s unlocked.

— Valeria —
I opened the front passenger door of his car then pushed him in, making sure he didn’t hit his head. I got him seated in the car and buckled him in.

That’s when I got serious with the kissing.

He kisses nice.

With a small sigh, I pulled away, looking into his face for a moment. He was so sweet! His eyes were still closed. I patted him on the cheek, then pulled my head out of the car and closed the door. I practically ran around to the driver side, got in and started the car.

— Alan —
“What are you doing?” I asked her.

“Kidnapping you,” she replied. She turned to look at me, her head cocked to the side. She reached out and loosened my tie, then started unbuttoning my shirt. Her fingers slipped inside and began to play with a nipple.

I shuddered.

“I’m going to take you home,” she said quietly. “I’m going to slowly remove every piece of your clothing.” She unbuttoned more of my shirt, caressing my skin with the backs of her fingers as she did so. “I’m going to tie you to my bed.” She loosened my belt and pants then slipped her fingers inside.

I was waiting for her. She looked down, then looked back and me and smiled. “And then I’m going to spend hours driving you crazy.”

She was already driving me crazy.

— Valeria —
Mine. Oh, definitely mine.

— Alan —
“Before I’m done with you, I think you’ll be ready to agree to any demands I make.” She cocked her head again, her hand clutching me. “Am I right?”

I gasped then nodded.

She gave me another squeeze, and I almost fainted. Then her hand withdrew and she kissed me on the nose.

— Valeria —
If you love a thing, set it free?

Oh, I hate that aphorism. But in this case, it was probably good advice.

— Alan —
“Unfortunately, as much fun as all that would be, it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you, not to me.”

“What?” I asked.

“Alan, I play for keeps. As worked up as you are right now, you’ll agree to anything, but you might not mean it in the morning.”

“Yes, I would,” I protested.

“Like I said, you’d agree to anything right now. You have a lot of thinking to do, Alan.”

She fished in her purse and pulled out a pad and pen, wrote her address down, and set it on the car dash.

“Saturday night, dinner, my place.” She reached behind me, fumbled with my wrists for a moment, then suddenly my arms were free. I squirmed a little to get comfortable again, and then she was kissing me again, quickly.

“We’ll talk. And then we’ll see.”

I was still stunned. She was leaving me?

“You don’t want me?” I think I asked her quietly.

— Valeria —
“Oh Alan,” I told him. “I want you more than you can imagine. But I need you to come to me with a clear head.”

Getting back out of the car was the hardest part of the entire night.

(Continuation of “The Mark of Excellence” and “Whimsy”)

by Arafin © 2008

Catalina had long known about her grandmother’s mansion in Tuscany. Although she had never visited it she knew from the photographs sent to her by the caretaker what a beautiful structure it was, and the reputation of the area was widely known. Many people would have given their eye teeth to live there. With the full onset of winter now bearing down upon the ranch there was little to do outside and she noticed that Rowdy was becoming restless. Perhaps now was the right time for that little vacation she had been planning?

It was easy enough to convince Rowdy that northern Italy was where he wanted to be right now. A few long-standing triggers here and there, a few new suggestions about how much fun it would be, and that smile of hers, against which he was totally defenseless. The time that elapsed between his initial objections and his enthusiastic agreement could have been no more than three minutes. Clothes were chosen and bags were packed. Care for her horses was arranged and flights booked. As they bounced down the icy dirt road towards town she turned to look at him and smiled to herself as she noticed his obvious eagerness to continue pleasing her. They ditched the old Jeep in town behind the gas station and caught the bus into the local airport and an hour and a half later they were in the city.

They spent that night in a hotel by the airport and she worked her magic on him and she always had, a gentle smirk here, a stroke of her finger against his cheek, the soft whispers which rendered him totally helpless, and then the earth shaking sex. Rowdy was a goner and he knew it, but he just didn’t care. Why would he? This was paradise most men would die for. Tangled together like two vines they drifted asleep and woke to a crisp, clear morning with not a cloud in the sky.

He bathed her with loving tenderness as he did every morning, patting her silky skin dry with a soft, warm towel and then rubbing in just the right amount of that French moisturizer she swore by. Although his hands were rough from a lifetime of working outside the gentleness of his touch was beyond measure. He treated her with his hands as if he was praying to a deity. To him she was a goddess, his reason to live, his reason to serve. As they dressed she coyly inquired if he still wanted to go. She was teasing, of course, and knew what his answer would be, but she loved to do this, to test the bonds which she had tied so expertly around his mind. Rowdy vigorously answered in the affirmative that he not only wanted to go to Tuscany but had wanted to go there all his life. Catalina almost laughed. Before yesterday afternoon he had never even heard of Tuscany.

They chatted on the flight about little things of no importance and played games by watching the other people on the plane and betting on their actions. There was a young couple across the aisle from them, perhaps newlyweds, perhaps just very intimate friends. Their affection for each other was obvious. Every once in awhile the young girl would offer a knowing nod to Catalina and Catalina would return the gesture with a nod of her own or smile. The unspoken language between two beautiful women who knew how to get what they wanted from their men and leave the men with the complete faith that that’s what they wanted, too. As the plane finally touched down in Turin, Rowdy was staring out the window at the unfamiliar landscape like a little boy agape with awe on his first trip away from home.

Leonardo, the old caretaker, had dutifully driven all the way in to meet them. He spoke not one word of English and Rowdy spoke not one word of Italian so Catalina translated the greetings between them. Of course, she spoke fluent Italian and could affect the local dialect as if she had lived here all her life. Back on the ranch she had looked as if she had been born a cowgirl on the range, but here she looked as if she had been ever the sophisticated lady of means. The drive from the airport to her grandmother’s mansion was a happy mixture of local gossip offered from Leonardo, affectionate thanks from Catalina, and laid-back country humor from Rowdy, which Leonardo seemed to understand perfectly. They had both grown up working the land and so had that common ground between them.

The mansion was just as she had seen it in the pictures. It was an absolutely gorgeous seventeenth century estate house with long stables in the back and several cottages for various servants here and there. An oval pond stood directly in front of the house upon which a small flock of black ducks paddled and quacked and nibbled at water bugs. Long vines swirled around the pillars in the front of the house, now bereft of their leaves, yet showing a lovely reddish-brown color which seemed to go perfectly against the light orange stone. High arched windows with too many panes to count and the grandest front door for miles around, carved by hand from ancient oak, fitted with massive bronze hinges, and decorated with copper inlay which had long ago turned a delicious shade of green. Leonardo bid them enter and held the door open for them, actually bowing as they passed. Rowdy found this amusing. No one had ever bowed to him before. For Catalina, to be the recipient of such respect was common.

Although the air outside was chill and crisp for this locale it seemed balmy when coming from the high plains next to the Rocky Mountains in the dead of winter. Leonardo introduced them to Sylvia the young maid. Sylvia spoke a little English and proudly explained that she had set a fire in the living room. Back on the ranch this weather would not have been cold enough for a fire but here it was not at all unusual. The house had long ago been modernized and had radiant heating in the floors, but the black walnut logs crackling amidst yellow fingers of flame was a welcome sight. Sylvia offered to prepare some supper immediately though Catalina quickly explained in Italian that she and Rowdy wished to have some time to relax alone, and with the little grin she added at the end the young maid easily understood what had been meant by “relax”. Leonardo had not been so quick on the uptake and it required a tug on the elbow from Sylvia to shepherd him from the room.

They both stood in front of the fire for a moment and admired this beautiful setting. Catalina was used to such elegance but to Rowdy it was grander than anything he had ever seen and it made him a bit uncomfortable. Turning to look at the picture of her grandmother over the fireplace, Catalina slowly began to undress. Although he had seen her do this more times than he could count, to witness her disrobing with others so nearby, as well as in a strange location, had his mind boiling in seconds. She noticed this, in fact she expected and wanted it. It was part of the game. When nothing was left but her lace panties and thigh high velvet boots she carelessly shuffled the discarded clothes across the slippery floor with her foot, turned directly to face the fire, and then threw a challenging glance back across her right shoulder at the bedazzled cowboy. He knew that look and in an instant began shucking off his clothes as if they were painful to wear.

“Do you see this picture? This was my grandmother. Her name was Catalina, too, and as you can see she used to play music. It was said that her voice was that of a nightingale and could bewitch any man in seconds. I only met her once when I was very young when she visited my mother in New York. We spent an entire afternoon chatting and she taught me many things. Would you like to see some of the things she taught me?”

And with that Catalina smiled at Rowdy with that little mischievous look of hers that let him know he was about to embark on yet another deep and wonderful journey into the mysterious pleasures of her exquisite imagination. As the heat of the fire lapped against their bronze skin she slowly, ever so slowly, drew the back of her right index finger laterally across his chest, the nail leaving a faint red line like that one might make on the map of an expedition one intended to take. Rowdy’s mind raced a little harder, a little faster, and then her whisper met his ears. That one word, a mere hush of breath, almost a kiss, ………. and he was gone.

Just outside the door Leonardo and Sylvia bent to share glimpses through the keyhole and strained to listen. Things were beginning to get interesting and both the old caretaker and the young maid began to recall the local tales of the sorceress who had built this place and the spells she had woven.

by Lunarlens © 2008

Can you imagine for a moment what it would be like to be a Christmas tree for your Mistress? I am expected to stand there, straight and tall, motionless, with silver and gold garlands draped around my arms and torso. Brightly colored reflective balls hang from the garlands and are clipped to my ears and nipples. One golden ball hangs from my excitement. A string of LED lights completes the effect. I stand, a festive display,

She comes over to admire her handiwork. A mischievous smile plays across her lips. “Very good,” she says. “You are doing so well. I’m very pleased. Such a good boy.” My insides melt with pleasure at her words and my excitement grows, just knowing I am pleasing Her.

“Now just stand there and focus on my words,
my soft, soothing words that slip into your mind so effortlessly.
That’s right, feeling those words as they touch that deeply submissive part of you.
You want to submit. You ache to submit. You aim to please.
And you are so pleasing.
Feeling the floor beneath your feet.
Feeling the stability as it seems your feet are rooted there.
It feels good to be so stable, so firmly rooted to the floor.
It feels good to be standing there, pleasing me.
And you notice the feeling of stability moving up from your feet.
And as it moves up, you feel yourself slipping down into trance,
but you are rooted to the floor and remain standing, like a tree.
and Five.
The feeling of stability moves up into your ankles
Into your calves as you fall deeper.
Into your knees and up through your thighs.
and Four
Through your pelvis
Up into your stomach
Dropping deeper.
So easy to stand firm now.
So stable.
So strong.
and Three
Up through your chest.
Into your arms.
Deeper and deeper.
So stable.
So strong.
and Two
Up through your neck.
and One
Into your head.
All the way up, now as you go down into
Zero
deep sleep
standing firm
Standing strong, like a tree.
Firmly rooted to your place.
Standing easily
comfortably,
but firm and strong.
and so very happy to be so pleasing
So warm and excited.
Feeling so good.
And you know you can remain there until I release you.
knowing you are such a good boy
standing so strong
And you know that you will remain there until I release you.
Coming up now
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Wide awake now.
Standing so strong, so firm”

And I stand there. Feeling my connection with the floor, feeling rooted, feeling strong and firm as She stands admiring the tree she has made. How long this goes on I cannot say. My only thought is how pleasing this is to her and how good it feels to please. Until she says, “You have done very well and made an excellent tree. I’m very pleased. I release you,” and I can move again. As I watch her smiling at me with a twinkle in her eye, I think, “What next?

by Gail Tgirl © 2008

The warmth from the fire coupled with the peaty pure malt whisky was having a soporific effect on him. He felt mesmerized by the flames dancing across the top of the burning log in the hearth, and Lady J’s soothing words seemed to be dropping him deeper and deeper into a warm comfortable and very private space. Vivalid’s Four Seasons played harmoniously in the background, creating an erotic ambiance. It was so cozy sitting on the couch next to her, her delicate fingers massaging that spot on the back of his hand, painted nails tracing a pattern of red against white.

“Deeper down, down deeper”, she hushed. “Tonight you are going to perform for me and excite me. You are going to be my orchestra and puppet dancer, and I am going to be your conductor, musician and audience. You are going to long to please me, excite and thrill me, show off your talents”

“To do that, we will need you to change into your performer’s attire – no clothes will be best! And what dancer doesn’t have their finger and toe nails painted – a bright red will do best I think! Raise your arms, pet and let’s tie them to those velvet ropes hanging from the rafters. Up on your toes, for tonight you will swing like a puppet. But first a warm up”

The leather strap swung lazily across his buttocks, leaving a broad red stripe. He shifted on his toes uncomfortably, as stroke after stroke burnished his glowing behind. Glowing red in the firelight, warm from the hearth and fiery from the strokes, he began to hum in pain. It was the first kiss of the cane that made him kick his legs up. Swinging wildly as Lady J picked up the rhythm and began to stripe the glowing flesh. Candy stripe welts sprung up, as her conductor’s rod beat the rhythm across his flesh. As he spun wildly on his strings, he glimpsed her flushed face. Her hands held the rod delicately in her fingers, her red nails picked out in a startling red white pattern against the lightly grasped ash white cane. Swish, swish, swish as she flicked the gyrating thighs and bottom, painting a pattern of stripes and exquisite agony.

“And now for the choral, my little Puppet”, she cooed, her mellifluous voice starting to get husky with sexual excitement. Her finger danced a light waltz across his engorged organ, teasing and denying release. A pair of nails reached up to pinch his erect nipples, causing exquisite agony, and a song of pain and pleasure to sing from his open mouth.

With a shudder he reached a climax and slumped down, help up only by the ropes around his wrists

“…and when I reach 3, you will be wide awake and feel refreshed and energized”

He opened his eyes, and looked into Lady J’s eyes, amazed to find he was still dressed. But a telling bulge and damp spot on his trousers drew an amused raised eyebrow from the Lady he adored.

by Fish © 2008

Twas the month of December and all through the land, thoughts were flowing of monies that would soon change hands. The decorations had been hung several months ago. Displays set up in August to ignite the flow of memories in the snow and ice, while bikinis and tans still occupied minds of man. It was this time that our neighbor Mrs. Noel would come around to have me help her with her decorations. It was an annual event for me ever since I was a young teen. I might have ended it if it had not been for the Houston’s putting their house on the market. It was the next house over from my parents, with Mrs. Noel between us.

My name is Lyle, the newest homeowner on the street and still Mrs. Noel’s neighbor. I had gone to the local university, and graduated in the upper tenth of my class. As a computer science major I was able to pick and choose where I wanted to start my career. I decided to stay at home, mostly because I loved the outdoor activities the area afforded. My enjoyment of the outdoors had a beneficial effect in keeping me trim. I had not had a steady girlfriend since graduation, but that really was not a problem since the new job and new house kept me busy. This was to be my first Christmas decorating my house and I wanted to outdo Mrs. Noel, or at least equal hers. Now the fact that I was helping her with her decorations would have seemed like I had an advantage, but the reality was that she had a lot of older decorations that were no longer available. Our themes would be a bit different.

We decided that the first weekend of December would be perfect to put everything up. Mrs. Noel would have the list of boxes to come down. We started with the centerpieces for her tables, and progressed on to her windows and doors. After getting that accomplished on Saturday, I went home to start on my interior during the evening. Since this was my first I had decided to mainly do the exterior, and let the interior be just a tree and two snow globes. My exterior decorations included strings of red lights around each window and door and an inflatable snowman and snow globe on the front lawn. I even had the icicle lights hanging from the gutters across the front so that the whole house was framed in white lights. I had my exterior done in short order since there was no need for checking lights or untangling cords. I had my artificial tree assembled, but decided not to decorate it until the following day. That night I went to sleep with a satisfied smile. My house was 90 percent done and I knew that it was as nice as Mrs. Noel’s.

Early the next morning I knocked on Mrs. Noel’s door and when she let me in, I was a bit surprised because she had her tree assembled. She had always used an artificial one. I told her that I would do the exterior first. She had planned on having two colors of lights, red and white. Like previous years, she had planned that each window and doorframe be outlined. She had the lighted reindeers made of wire for the front yard along with a bale of hay so that they appeared to be grazing. The last thing I had to place outside was a new-lighted wreath. I should have expected that she would have it color coordinated. The wreath was frocked with red ribbons and red and white lights. She then pulled out the controls. I was shocked to see that she had purchased a mini computer light controller. I had thought she would use the usual alternating socket that let separate strings appear to be blinking, but with this she had them in a cascade pattern. The lights started on each side of the house and continued to cascade coming to meet at the new wreath. When the lights met at the wreath, the lights started circling around the wreath and meeting in a star pattern at its center. I had to hand it to her - she always seemed to be able to bring something special to Christmas decorations.

I just had to finish trimming her tree. There were annual specialty ornaments for every year, and a few of those old silver mirrored ones too. At the top she had me place her angel. It had been hand made to resemble Mrs. Noel when she was my age, and the eyes and halo blinked on and off. Well it did that in previous years, but this year she had it and the entire tree lights connected to another mini-controller. The result on the tree was that the lights circled around it moving to the top. The final part of her decoration was an automatic fresh tree scent dispenser.

After I finished, she had a cup of cocoa and cookies for me. As we sipped, she was telling me how happy she was with the tree this year. I must have been wearier than I had thought because as I was looking at the tree, and listening to her tell me how each ornament represented a retracing of the past to the present that was the angel, I was getting sleepy. By the time she reached the story about the angel, I felt like I weighed a ton. I was so calm and relaxed that I thought I would be snoring in her living room. Instead I just sat there listening to Mrs. Noel, with the flashing lights shining on my relaxed face.

Mrs. Noel started speaking to me about the past, telling how she liked to look at the tree and its lights. How, as she allowed herself to relax, she would remember the years past. How it was the calming flow of the lights that almost took her on a path back there. It was so nice to hear her talk about it that I started to relax a bit also. She pointed out the bottom ornament bulbs and lights as she sighed. That was the first one I always placed on her tree. She continued on pointing out one ornament after another as she moved up the tree, each time sighing after relaying a memory from the past. I had been following her path down memory lane with ease, and reflexively letting out little sighs also. By the time she had reached the ornaments in the middle of the tree I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I even had to stifle a couple yawns. She continued on in her sweet tone framing thoughts of the past as she described her ornaments. The lights continued to rhythmically light the room. As she reached the top of the tree coming closer to the present I had ceased participating in the conversation. It was just her voice sweetly heard in the room and in my head. My conscious mind had long relaxed into the memories of her past. In the present it was my own sub-conscious that was listening and agreeing with her. Finally she pointed out the angel sitting atop the tree and I heard her say, “Ho ho ho helper.” That was when I realized that Mrs. Noel was my Christmas spirit, and I wanted to do whatever she wanted.

She said I had been such a good boy for helping her that I deserved a treat. My reward was to be allowed to give her a massage, starting with her feet. As I rubbed her toes and the soles of her feet I could hear her soft sighs. Making sure that each foot had received my tender attention, I then moved to her ankles, while letting that foot rest upon my beating heart. As I paid attention to that leg, she had the other foot pressed upon the side of my neck. We were connected by heart and mind as I tenderly caressed her. I continued this until I was sure that each leg had all hints of stress released, and each muscle had been warmed. I worked my way up her body to her waist making sure I was not hurting her in any way. After I reached the bottoms of her shorts I changed to her hands, tracing across each finger, She had such strong but delicate hands. I then moved up her arms, thinking of the joy that she can give with just her embrace. As I moved to her neck, I could feel the blood flowing through her veins. Tracing a thumb down her back was wonderful.

As I soothed her shoulders, she turned to look back at me and said, “Good boy, stop for now. When you return home, I want you to watch this DVD. Your instructions for the holiday season are on it. Now, wake up and remember your instructions, and that you enjoyed helping me.”

When I awoke, I thanked her for the cocoa, and told her that her house showed the most holiday spirit on the block as always. She thanked me and said goodnight. As I walked down the steps I heard her talking to someone named Tyler. She was saying, “Now you see how it’s done. After he watches the DVD tonight, he will be able to help you also.” I went home to start a new holiday tradition.

That night as I climbed into bed I turned on the TV and flicked in the DVD meant only for me to see. The screen was white with a single word, “WAIT” written in red. The next and last thing I remember was hearing Mrs. Noel’s voice saying “ Ho, ho, ho helper.’ The rest of the night the bedroom scene was the flickering lights from my custom DVD. Tyler was there dressed in a red mini with white fur trim smiling with glee, as I repeated, “Yes Ma’am” while staring up from my bended knee.

For all you out there helping with decorations: May your Holidays be filled with the spirit; be it looking downward or lovingly upward from one or two knees.

by Arafin © 2008

You’ve been dreaming and planning your winter vacation for months, haven’t you? Soft imaginings of warm sun on your skin to drive away the damp and cold that seems to permeate your body at this time of year. It will be so nice to leave all that behind and just sink into the pristine white sand of that little tropical island only a few days distant in time, thousands of miles distant as the crow flies. Altogether, so near you can taste it. Warmth! How you crave warmth.

The days pass and the island grows nearer.

You pack your bags and arrange for the mail to be held. You adjust the timers on your indoor lights and notify the neighbors to take the papers from your porch. A friend drives you to the airport. You yak about school days and how you used to steal apples from the tree next door. The plane is on time. You board, find your seat, and settle in for fourteen hours of bad coffee and worse food. You sleep a lot.

Morning comes bright and clear as the plane begins to descend, the stewardess nudging you gently awake and offering you yet more lousy coffee which you politely refuse. Can’t wait to taste a fresh coconut lhassi served with bits of tangy orange and sweet melon. Tires screech as they bite the tarmac and the thrust reversers kick in, throwing you against the seatbelt. The ramp is wheeled up to the door. You wait your turn and then grab your luggage and exit into …………..

Ahhhhh ! That delicious air! So tantalizing and warm, so friendly and inviting to the skin, so lazy and rich and thick through the mind. Relaxation is not just a way of life in this place, it is quite simply what happens to everyone who arrives here whether they like it or not.

A little moto-rickshaw delivers you to your hotel on the beach on the far side of the island. An almost sacred space of alabaster sand and swaying palms, tender evening breezes and radiant stars, whispering ocean waves lullabying you to sleep, there to dream of peace at last, peace at last.

You unpack, shower, and put on a white muslin shirt and sarong. Stepping out onto the verandah you just drink in the scene of paradise and let go of what last remnants of tension had clouded your thoughts. No place for business here. No climate for worry.

Down to the shore and the half hour walk towards the village, there to arrange for delivered meals, washing, and a daily Thai Massage. The locals are only too eager to please in this manner, offering their humble services from the heart, so glad are they to see outsiders smile and appreciate their garden of eden. Well, the money helps, too.

Just as the village comes into view you see a rather striking woman walking towards you, a small cloth bag with handles over her shoulder. She is dressed all in black. Satin slacks that shimmer in the tropical light like obsidian and a blouse of inky silk which fails to hide her ample breasts as they whisk the low cut opening sending an instant impression of her smooth skin reverberating through your mind. Her feet are bare but her toenails are bright crimson, as are the nails of her graceful fingers. Her hair, yards of it, jet black mane of night, drifts and flows behind her as she glides over the stark contrast of the snow-like sand. For and instant you think of saying hello, but are suddenly hesitant, and then it is too late as she is past and behind you now. She did not even look at you yet your heart is racing. You think you caught a brief scent of her perfume, …. or was that hyacinth blooming nearby?

You discuss the terms of your housekeeping with the little man behind the bar, your meals with the waitress, and your massages with the old woman who always sits at the back. The young girl she will send to massage your weary body is simply the best there is, so skilled has she become under the tutelage of the old woman. You marvel at how they treat you as a family acquaintance although you have only been here twice before. These people are friendly the way all people should be friendly, never judging harshly by one’s appearance and never prying beneath the surface to see what unpleasant secrets one wishes to keep hidden. You have a few drinks at the bar and chat with the English journalist who was here the last time you visited. You discuss the weather back home but avoid any topics more serious. Such things do not belong here. It is almost an unwritten rule.

As you leave the little bamboo and thatch building and walk down the steps back onto the beach you see something glimmering in the sand. You stoop to pick it up and for some reason are a bit surprised to find that it is a lady’s watch of elegant design and expensive brand. Why should it be such a surprise? People drop things everywhere but for some reason this seems out of the ordinary, though not nearly as out of the ordinary as what you do next. Almost as if you were acting in a dream of which you had little control, you put the watch into your shirt pocket instead of taking it to the bartender and turning it in. This is not like you and as soon as you begin to question your action all memory of it mysteriously begins to slip away like footprints in the sand being slowly erased by the incoming tide, bit by bit, grain by grain. You begin to walk back towards your bungalow.

Half way between the bar and the bungalow is a large white boulder worn smooth by eons of surf and sand. It is too large to climb atop and you often sit, leaning against it, just enjoying its presence. It seems ancient and unexplainable in an oddly comforting manner, this lone monolith from some forgotten age. The drinks from the bar are buzzing softly in your veins and your head is slightly woozy. You are not drunk yet you have a “glow”. The sound of the waves, so rhythmic and ceaseless, seems almost to speak to you, urging you to sleep, and you begin to drift down, down, into the hazy delicious energy of this island paradise.

“Do you intend to return my watch or do you intend to keep it?” The voice is soft, barely a whisper, but it startles you awake and surely would the roar of a lion and you bolt suddenly upright and stare in shock at the beautiful woman standing over you. It’s her, and the lady dressed all in black. Her eyes seem to burn into your soul and you feel an absolutely helpless urge to answer truthfully to what she asks, although the words do not come easily and you stutter.

“I, ……. have no excuse, ma’am. I, …….. don’t know why, …… I just, ……. put it in my pocket. Yes. I was, …….. going to keep it. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I, …………” You fall silent, sitting stupidly like a naughty child about to be spanked. All the blood in your body seems to have rushed to your face and you can feel a hot blush and cold sweat betraying your nervousness.

“A thief! I knew it as soon as I laid eyes on you! The locals here have very strict ways of dealing with people like you. Do you know that?” Her countenance is stern as cold steel and the blue of her eyes seems frightening in a way you cannot understand let alone describe. Will she turn you in to the constable? Will you face a trial and a fine? Perhaps worse! Will you be banned from ever returning to this Eden?

Her eyes penetrate deeper into your mind. Her lips so beautiful yet so terrifying by the power that lies behind them they seem to rip and tear at your heart as she rebukes you. “Well, what you have done is very serious. That watch is very important to me and I am not about to let the locals show you any mercy. I will deal with this myself.”

She seems to swell up larger than life and become almost lighter than air, ready to float. Her hair, once hanging like a silken mantle around her neck and shoulders and cascading down her back, now begins to waft up slightly as if it might be drawn by static electricity from above. The very atmosphere around her seems to be charged with an unseen power, both terrible and mesmerizing. She speaks again.

“RISE!”

It is a command and you discover to your amazement that you have obeyed without thinking. There you stand like a puppet on a string awaiting guiding tugs.

“FOLLOW ME!”

And like a wisp of smoke being drawn by a vacuum, you follow, sucked along helplessly behind this chilling vixen, this sorceress of the night who walks by day. Straight past your bungalow and into the jungle at the end of the beach. Turning to the right she leads you up a narrow path into the hills. As the two of you walk thusly, she leading you like an obedient pet on a leash, the birds in the immediate vicinity grow silent as you pass, somehow sensing the power that this woman wields and not daring to challenge it with song. And so you travel on in a bubble of silence, up, up into the hills until eventually the ocean behind you is only a line of blue in the distance.

It is mid afternoon and the air away from the sea has grown hot and oppressive. You have never strayed far from the water when you have been here. No tourist does. Aside from the one road which cuts across the interior between the and airport and the village, the jungle here is undeveloped in any way. Even the natives seem to shun it, preferring to fish for a living or serve visitors. It is much drier than the coast here and the lack of moisture makes you feel uncomfortable, as if you were in danger of desecrating. On she walks and on you follow, your willpower nothing more than a memory now and any thoughts of returning to your bungalow as far away as might be dreams of distant youth. She has you and you know it.

Eventually you come to the top of the highest hill, and from there you can see down towards the other side of the island. Far to the right you can make out the glint of glass that you know to be the airport and the small city nearby.

“Put your hand in your pocket, thief. Take out my watch and hand it to me. Kneel as you do this.” Her voice is less stern than it was on the beach but she still commands with an absolute authority and you still obey with absolute compliance. It is as if her words directly control your body, bypassing your mind altogether. You watch yourself as if from outside your body. The sensation is both traumatic yet strangely distant and you notice the compulsion within you growing to simply stop caring. It is almost as if you are tired and want to fall fast asleep. Kneeling, you pluck the watch from your shirt pocket and hold it up to her with head bowed as would an errant knight offer to return a sword to the Queen who bestowed it before the knight went astray.

She lifts the watch from your hand and slips it over hers. Raising her wrist in front of her she turns it to inspect the timepiece, rotating her forearm slowly this way and then back as she begins to murmur softly. What words she utters are either too week of volume or unfamiliar of tongue for you to comprehend, yet you do not care. You listen as you might to far off music, too remote to identify, yet just barely loud enough to enjoy in a lazy, dreamy sort of way.

The air seems to become hotter and drier and almost shimmer and quake as can a desert mirage. No breeze stirs the leaves of any tree and no sound other than her muffled whispering exists. Time seems to slow down to a crawl, and then like a heavy freight train rolling gradually to a dead stop, it seems to cease altogether. Reality appears to quiver and vibrate and you watched dumbfounded, with mouth open, as the clothes upon her change before your very eyes.

Where once had ridden satin pants and silk blouse now hangs a gown as dark as midnight and shiny as glass. A long slit runs from just below the waste all the way to the ground where the fabric bunches and trails slightly behind as would a wedding dress. Multiple layers of lavender chiffon hide behind this jet barrier, filtering the heat that emanates from her exquisite body before it mingles with the heat of the air. Her legs are clad in dark lavender stockings that shine and wink as if wet. High spiked red heels contain her lovely feet which stand upon the stone of the earth proclaiming, “This is mine”. In her left hand she holds a folded oriental fan of red silk, embroidered with gold, and bordered with green. In her right hand she holds a silver dagger, its handle an orb of ivory. A curious headdress of dark beads adorns her forehead and from its center descend several strands across each eye and down her chiseled cheeks, then wrapping around behind her neck, there to vanish in that impossible mane of her magnificent tresses.

That hair! So lavish and thick, yet so wispy and ethereal as it begins to rise, floating higher and higher around her as if she were underwater and slowly descending. She is proud and strong and fearsome and you have the unmistakable feeling that you have gotten in way over your head in every possible respect that you can imagine and in many that you cannot. She looks straight at you and into you, her will, her scrutiny, unstoppable and totally without mercy.

“COME!” The command is brief, final, and terrible and you fear for your very life. At the same time you find it extraordinary that you wish with every fiber of your being to obey her. You cannot resist and this frightens you. You do not want to resist and this enthralls you. She begins to walk again, this time very, very slowly, a Queen conducting a ceremony of high court, a warrior goddess leading a stately dance of victory.

You had not seen it before, a path of ancient fitted stone perhaps thousands of years old. Bits of grass and weeds now grow between the cracks. Into the thickest of the jungle it winds in slow sweeping turns as the foliage seems to close in around you, almost choking in its teeming complexity. Soon you come to a tiny open space before a great stone wall against which the jungle appears to have beaten itself like waves beat upon a cliff, unsuccessfully and with only the slightest tale told of the struggle. Branches of trees and vines attempt to gain a foothold on this barrier yet cannot cross. In the middle of the wall is a rectangular opening barred by an iron gate of intricate filigree. She stops and turns to look at you here, the fan in her left hand and the dagger in her right, as if she was contemplating which to employ in your demise. You would tremble if you could yet you are so paralyzed by this mighty sorceress that you can only stare like the statue you are. Again she gazes straight into your soul and slowly speaks.

“You have stolen from Me and now I claim YOU as My property. This is My law and so shall it be.”

Your conscious awareness seems to be fading as if you are slipping ever deeper into an impossible dream, yet this is no dream, it is as real as real can be. Staring past her for a second you notice a strange land beyond the iron gate. The trees in the foreground are not those of the jungle at all but rather of a temperate hardwood forest. In the background rises an enormous volcano, its slopes streaked with snow. The sky above is not a sky of a tropical clime but that belonging to an alpine land. How can this be? How can such a place exist in the middle of a small tropical island?

“It exists”, she says, “because the island that you stand upon the edge of is but a mirage fabricated by Me in order to hide My realm. What lies beyond this gate is the reality and it is into that reality that I will take you, to serve Me without resistance until I deem that you have earned your freedom, should you ever be so lucky.”

At once you’re thunderstruck to realize that She can hear your every thought. As the shock from this realization subsides you are overwhelmed with a sense of confusion regarding what She has just told you. The island nothing more than a façade? How was it that you came here twice before on vacation? Did not the plane that you arrived on land at a real airport and did you not talk and interact with real villagers?

She does not speak as you think these thoughts but you can see from the look in Her eyes that She understands. The tiniest wry smile graces Her ruby lips. You want so much to cry out with questions but cannot. Your throat feels dry and your mouth is numb. She has completely disabled you with Her magic and your vulnerability is total.

The gate behind Her begins slowly to swing open and She turns to pass through. Without uttering a word, without making a single gesture, She draws you to follow Her and you obey as would a puff of mist obey the wind. The air of reality is cool upon your face and refreshing beyond anything you could conceive of. You feel the heat from Her body in front of you, and as an irresistible desire within you builds you begin to wonder just what type of service this supremely formidable enchantress has in mind for you.

“Welcome to My home, little slave. Can you hear the gate behind you closing?”