3 comments/ 48891 views/ 29 favorites Meeting By the Lake By: JackBandit I made my way along the dock at the edge of the lake—heading, for the first time in a while, towards nowhere in particular. Nine months out of the year, I taught classes on the side at Burbage University in Massachusetts, where I was spending my third year as a literature grad student. This year had been cut short by my father's heart attack, After I spent three weeks by his side in the downtown hospital in Boston, my mother and aunt finally sent me away against my wishes, and ordered me to get some rest. Dad, when he could speak coherently, sided with them. After a call to a friend, they'd managed to get our old lakeside cabin in Norfolk reserved for a week. I hadn't stayed in the place since a summer twelve years ago, when I was twelve years old, but now I had it to myself for a week. I had an icebox full of cold ham, a few bottles of beer, my books, and a week's worth of free time to kill. In winter, thick blankets of snow covered the landscape in mountains of downy white fluff. In summer, the green of the trees and the patchwork colors of wildflowers were like an oil painting. Now it was spring—somewhere in the middle of all this change. The lake was just warm enough for swimming, and the breeze was pleasantly cool. Before I'd made my way back from Burbage, I'd been teaching a first-year class in Shakespeare. In idle moments, sometimes I still called upon memorized speeches when I needed something to occupy my mind. Now, looking over the lake, I flashed back to The Tempest. "Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves," I softly whispered to myself. I looked over the sand at the shore, and up at an inky blue sky smattered with stars. "And ye that on the sand with printless foot do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him when he comes back," I continued. I made my way to the end of the dock. Then, taking in the slivers of reflected moonlight on the water's still surface, I saw a shadow come into view, treading water just beyond the light. There was a splash, and a head broke the surface. In the light of the moon, I made out pale skin, red lips, full cheeks, and neck-length hair the color of aged red wine, wet and slicked back against a cat-like face. For a moment, I couldn't speak. But my mind flashed to Much Ado About Nothing now. A prettier piece of flesh than any that is seen in Messina, I thought. But the woman, whoever she was, spoke before I even parted my lips to address her. "Hey there," she said. "Good night for stargazing?" "I..." "Take you by surprise?" she asked coyly. One side of her mouth curved into a mocking smile and she raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should have hid in the bushes." "I didn't know you were out here!" I insisted. "I wasn't—" "Shhh, hold on..." she cut me off. "Let me get a good look at you. Then we'll talk." The water sloshed as she paddled, gracefully, spreading her arms and drawing them close. She brought one elegant hand up to the edge of the dock and drew herself up from the water. My breath caught in my throat. My eyes darted to the side, for a moment, and I saw a sky-blue dress dumped in a pile on the far side of the dock, a white towel hanging nearby on a wooden piling. My eyes travelled back to the woman, who was standing with her hands on her hips, fixing me with a cold, unwavering gaze. She was naked. Naked, dripping wet, and wearing nothing but a scowl. "Well? Anything to say?" she demanded coldly. "I swear, I didn't—" "Oh? That's supposed to make it all better? You think I'm some kind of floozy? You think I like to be watched?" Her words were hard and clipped, her tone smoldering, but I couldn't help it: my eyes were drawn like magnets to the sight of her pale ripe breasts, her erect pink nipples, the slicked-down red hair of her trimmed bush. I gave myself a mental slap on both cheeks. I wasn't here to watch. I wasn't supposed to enjoy this. "I'll go. I'll go. I'll go," I spat out nervously, trying to ignore the whine in my voice. "Look, I'm sorry. I'll go. We'll just forget about this. You'll never see me again." "Like hell," she said in measured tones. "You don't walk away that easily. You're staying right here." "But—" "Until I say so." She didn't bother to cover herself, but she put a hand to her cheek, contemplating my fate. "You're not gonna...tell anyone, are you?" I asked. "And if I do? You got a problem with that?" she challenged. "It was an accident!" "Hush, now. Let me think," she ordered. A moment passed. The ghost of a smile crossed her face. "Well, I can't think like this," she said pointedly, looking down at herself. Droplets of water dripped from her bare breasts. It took all I had not to stare as the tiny rivulets of water trickled down over her soft, ample breasts and down her taut belly. "You see that towel over there?", she asked me, gesturing with her chin. My ears perked up. "Go grab it for me. Quick, now," she ordered. I scampered over to the edge of the dock, and picked up the towel. With my eyes cast down, I went back over to her and dropped it at her feet. I looked up and her eyes narrowed. She folded her arms across her breasts and tilted her head down, glaring at me with ice-green eyes. Such beautiful eyes. For all I knew, she'd leave me bruised and bleeding on the dock. But she had beautiful eyes. I couldn't shake that thought. "You come over here unannounced, enjoy the show of a lifetime, getting your rocks off watching me—" "But I didn't—" "Shut up. You enjoy the show of a lifetime, getting your rocks off watching me strut around for you, naked as a baby and chilled to the bone, and now you come around dumping my towel at my feet? No. I'll tell you what you're gonna do: you're gonna pick that towel up, you're gonna get on your knees like a good little boy, and you're gonna dry me off," she said. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "W-what?" I stammered, dumbfounded. "You heard me. You're gonna towel me down. You're not too good to dry a girl off after a swim, are you?" she asked innocently. My eyes travelled up the length of her body, studying her flat belly, her slim legs, her well-muscled thighs, the swelling curves of her pink-tipped breasts. Her cold gaze made me shrink back, but God...I wanted to be close to her more than I could say. I wanted to touch her. You're not supposed to enjoy this, I told myself. You're just doing as you're told. But that couldn't stop the steadily swelling erection that was starting to make my boxers feel tight. I bent down to pick up the towel. "Good..." she purred. I moved to touch the towel to her stomach, and felt her hand on top of my head, gently nudging me down. "Get on your knees", she said, "and work your way up," I let my knees bend, and let myself fall to the dock, feeling lake-water soak through the dark denim of my jeans. "That's it..." she cooed. One corner of her mouth twitched in cruel amusement as she watched me kneel down before her. I took the towel in my hands, and touched it to her dainty feet. Each of her toenails was painted a dark, oxblood red. Her toes were soft and slender. Then I wrapped the towel around her left leg and slid it upwards, admiring the firm contours of her muscles through the soft fabric of the towel. Her skin was silk, luminous in the moonlight. I slowly moved the towel over her legs and thighs, my heart speeding up with every moment I felt the outline of her body against my hands. "Good boy," she cooed. I felt her hand touch my head, drawing me up, slowly. She was just toying with me now and I knew it, but I couldn't pull myself away. Without taking the towel from her skin, I moved it upwards dabbing at the slick hair where her legs met, then wiping the water from the sides of her hips, slowly moving the towel around until I felt the soft flesh of her bare buttocks against my hand. She chuckled at my hesitant touch. "Come on, baby, don't be shy," she teased. "You know you want to touch me. You like to watch me, don't you?" This time, I didn't bother to deny anything. I gulped audibly, a fat bead of sweat forming on my brow, as I felt the ample curve of her soft, plump bottom under my hand, brushing the towel across the small of her back and the cleft of her buttocks. The minutes ticked by, and I caressed every inch of bare flesh that I could reach through the towel. Bringing myself slowly up to a hunching position, her luscious breasts were at my eye-level, heaving slowly up and down in time with her even breaths. "Well?" she asked. She put a hand to my chin and tilted my face upward to meet her gaze as she spoke. I raised the towel and draped it across her chest, gently cupping her left breast through the fabric as I wiped it dry. With trembling hands, I dried her right breast, and with that, she plucked the towel from my hands and hung it around her neck, grinning girlishly at me all the while. The dimples in her cheeks deepened as she smiled, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. Those beautiful eyes. "Thanks. Didn't think you'd play along. Maybe you are a gentlemen", she teased. With no coverage but the towel around her neck, she turned around and tiptoed over to the piling at the other end of the dock, where her blue dress hung. I felt my jaw drop as my eyes drew to the curves of her well-rounded backside, gently swinging back and forth and just barely jiggling as she walked over to her clothes. With a walk like that, she just had to know I was watching her. I imagined her smiling to herself as she thought of the look on my face. In one elegant motion, the woman swept up her dress and slipped it over her head, letting its thin fabric drape over her newly dried form. It was a summer dress, just heavy enough to ward off the breeze of the lake, with white flowers stitched into the neckline, its hem just barely covering that magnificent bottom. She turned around to face me with an easy smile on her face, anger long forgotten. "Oh, come on. Nothing to be afraid of, now," she said, sensing my apprehension. "I was just having a little fun. I'm not mad." "Doesn't mean I'm not still sorry," I said sheepishly. She laughed at that, brushing off the remark with a toss of her hand. "Hey, I've only been staying on the lake a couple of weeks. You're the first guy my own age I've run into. I'm just glad for the company. Didn't want to scare you off," she said. "I just got here yesterday," I said. "Thought I was the only one around." She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "Hell of a first impression," she said. In spite of myself, I smiled at that. I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly more at ease than I'd been since catching my first glimpse of her. "Well, I guess I can't just leave you like that," she said, extending her hand to me with a glint in her eye. "Proper introductions, then: my name's Grace. Grace Noelle." I took her hand in mine and gave her a mocking little bow. "Roland Marx," I said. "My friends call me Rolly." "Rolly-Polly, then?" "Hey, we just met. Guess now it's just Roland," I told her. "We'll see about that," Grace said. She gestured with her hand to a little white cabin that sat at the top of the hill. Its windows were dark, and a few traces of Spanish moss hung from the eaves. "I was just heading back up to my cabin. Want to join me?" she asked. I gave a nonchalant shrug. But inside, my heart was racing. How could I turn her down? "Sure," I told her, doing my best to sound calm and collected. She smiled, her face lighting up. We fell into stride and made our way up the hill "So how long have you been around here?" I asked Grace. There weren't many cabins around the lake, but most of the old retirees had stopped coming since the last time that I'd come up here. If Grace was one of the new regulars, I knew I'd have to find excuses to start coming again. "Since February," she said. "But I come here all the time now. A friend of mine back in art school told me about it. It's the best place there is to paint, if you can find a place to stay. My place is small, but it works. I make some extra cash with my art now, so it's worth it." "You paint?" I asked her. Back at Burbage, I'd once dated a freckled brunette with a pixie cut who worked as a nude life model for the art department. Ever since then, I'd had something of a fetish for women that knew how to handle paintbrushes. "It's easier if I show you," she said, as we approached the front door of the cabin. Grace bent down to grab a key out from under the welcome mat and opened the door. The distinctive smell of wet oil paints struck me as I entered. There were no ceiling lights, but Grace immediately busied herself with switching on the few lamps that lay perched on tabletops. The cabin was just one room, and smaller than most of the ones around the lake, but that just made it more cozy. There was no bed in the place, but Grace had a feather mattress laid out on the floor in front of a well-stuffed blue couch. There was an icebox at the far side of the room, a clothing chest at the wall, and a table piled high with painting supplies in the middle of the floor. As Grace lit the lamps, lighting the place up bit by bit, I saw a painting of the lake come into focus. Its colors were vibrant, and its lines were sharp. She'd captured the lake at sunrise, with the sun's golden-red reflection spreading across the water's surface. Next to it, there was a half-finished painting of a mountain range, the deep stone grey of the mountains contrasting with the white snowcap at the top. "Beautiful," I breathed. Grace blushed. "I guess I'm alright," she said. "I get my share of bad reviews, but I do alright. Same as anybody else, I guess." "Hey, I'm a professional bookworm," I admitted. "Art was never my forte. As long as it looks good hanging on a wall, it's good enough for me." She laughed at that. "See, this is why I like guys like you. You're good for my ego." Next to an empty easel, she had at least seven more paintings lined up along the wall, some finished and some unfinished. I moved a step closer to get a good look at them. I felt Grace's hand on my shoulder. "Give me one second. I'll be right back," she told me. I nodded, and surveyed the row of paintings. Most of them were more nature scenes—mountains, lakes and beaches—but at the end of the row, I spotted a nude portrait. The figure in the portrait was painted from the back, but visibly male. He had a muscular torso, well-formed shoulder blades, and firm buttocks. I'd spent enough time around artists that a painting of a nude man didn't catch me off guard, but I raised an eyebrow when I caught a better look at it. Instead of standing proud or lounging nonchalantly in the standard nude poses, this man was kneeling on the ground, and his wrists were cuffed behind his back with a pair of metal handcuffs. Looking closer, I realized that Grace had taken the time to paint a series of pink welts on the man's back, obviously from some kind of whip or cane. It was barely distinct enough to notice, but the man's firm bottom also had a pink handprint standing out against his pale flesh, as if he'd just endured a spanking over someone's knee. With a figure that accurate, this had to have been painted from life. But what man had let Grace bind him with handcuffs just for a painting? Next to the painting, there was another portrait done in charcoal pencil. This one showed a man lying on his back in a four-poster bed, wearing nothing but a leather collar and a blindfold, with his hands and feet tied to the bedpost with rope. A short beard darkened the lower half of the man's face, and his genitals were rendered with careful detail. Suddenly self-conscious, I looked away and found myself looking at a tabletop covered in pencils, tubes of paint and clean brushes. In the middle of the table, there was something that didn't belong there: a red leather flogger with its tails splayed out. In spite of myself, I felt my cock twitch at the sight of it. I looked behind me, worried that Grace had seen me scrutinizing her intimate portraits and flogger, but she was preoccupied, bending over with her back to me over a wooden chest stuffed with spare clothes. After a few moments of rummaging through the chest, she pulled out a pair of lacy white panties. Oblivious to my hungry eyes, she stepped into her panties and bent down to pull them up. I got another peek at her plump bottom as she pulled her dress up and wiggled into her underwear. Feeling voyeuristic, I turned back around, and found myself once again transfixed by Grace's portraits. "Oh, no..." I heard Grace say sheepishly. I turned around to face her as she approached me, and saw her covering her mouth in embarrassment. "I forgot I left those out. I swear, normally I never leave them hanging around. I know they make people uncomfortable," she said. "It's alright, I've seen worse," I said, feigning calm, but feeling my heart rate accelerate as she closed the space between us. "Is there a story behind those?" I asked, gesturing at the portraits. "Well... If you really want to know, it started with my first roommate back in college, when I started studying art. Her name was Sarah. Gorgeous girl. One of the sweetest people I ever met. I walked in on her once with a guy tied to the bed, just like that," she said, gesturing at the charcoal sketch. "The first time it happened, I just got embarrassed and walked out. I figured she and her boyfriend just liked it rough sometimes. But then it happened three different times in the same semester, with three different guys. Every time, she was standing over them dressed up in black leather with a whip in her hand. I got curious, and I asked her what was up. It turned out there were guys at our school who paid her to do it. Fifty bucks for an hour of fun," she told me. "Were you...into it too?" I asked nervously. Grace shifted uneasily on her feet and smiled sheepishly. "I guess I was never into the leather and the spikes and the 'Yes, mistress!' and all that. Not my style. But, you know... The idea excited me. The power, the intimacy, the struggle... And Sarah could tell I was curious, since I asked her so many questions. So one night she offered one of her 'friends' a free session if he let me paint him. It turned out to be one of the best portraits I ever did," she said. "That was all you ever did?" I asked her. "The painting?" Grace's smile deepened. "Well... I did a few paintings. But then Sarah offered to take me under her wing for a session one day. I was her apprentice, I guess. We took some guy together, and gave him the time of his life for fifty bucks. She said I was a natural, but I guess I was too wrapped up in my art to do anything serious with it. I wasn't like her. Every once in a while with a boyfriend, though..." she said, her voice trailing off. Grace took a lighter out, and busied herself with lighting the logs in the fireplace. A few minutes later, a fire was crackling. Then she sat down on the couch and pointed to the spot next to her, motioning for me to sit with her. I walked over and sat down, and she slid close to me, brushing her shoulder up against mine. This is really happening, I thought. I moved to put my arm around her, and she giggled coquettishly. A moment passed, and I savored the warmth of her body. "Did you like what you saw back there?" she whispered in my ear. Her lips brushed my ear, then my neck, raising goosebumps all along my arms and legs. "Oh, you have no idea..." I murmured. My voice trailed off as I reached around to cup one of her breasts. Meeting By the Lake She gave a mischievous little giggle. "Oh, I think I might." Grace turned and straddled me in one smooth motion, looking deeply into my eyes. She raised one hand to stroke my cheek. "So you did enjoy that? Hard to tell, with the way you were stuttering," she said. "I—". "Shhh..." she cooed. She put a finger to my lips to quiet me, and I shut up. "Accidents happen, baby. I know they do. But you enjoyed it. Didn't you?" Her voice had a sharp edge to it. She was still teasing, but she wanted my answer. I shut my eyes, remembering the feel of her soft, pale flesh under my hands, and the way her skin shone in the moonlight as she stood naked by the lake. When I opened them again, her pale green eyes were fixing me with an unblinking stare. I felt my cock begin to swell, and my cheeks flush with chagrin. Her hands moved faster than I could catch them. With one hand, she grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. With the other, she closed her hand around my crotch, feeling the imprint of my stiffening cock. She smirked. "Thought so," she said. "You know what I have to do now, right?" My eyes widened "You've been peeping. And now you're lusting. Now I have to make us even." "Even?" I asked, playing along. "What are you going do?" "Isn't it obvious?" she asked, leaning closer to my face. "I'll have to punish you now." I smiled tentatively, and she let my hands go. "Tell me the score, then," I said. "It's real simple: you do what I say, or the night's over. Nothing happens unless I let it. You don't touch me unless I say so, you don't kiss me unless I say so, you don't come unless I say so, and you do everything I tell you to do. Anything happens between us, it happens on my terms, and my terms only. If you got a problem with that, the door's right there," she said, pointing. "And if I don't?" I asked. She smiled. "Then we start out simple. First, I make us even." She rolled off of me and sat down next to me on the couch, getting comfortable and propping her feet up on the stool in front of her. "Get up. Go stand over there," she ordered, pointing. I stood up and walked slowly to the middle of the living room, stepping gingerly. "How's this make us even?" I asked. "That doesn't. This does," she said. She smirked, and her eyes narrowed at me. "Take off your clothes," she ordered. Every time I'd ever made love to a woman, I'd done it in a darkened room. I remembered the dizzy, light-headed moments that came when I pawed at women's clothes, when we wound up naked together before I knew what had happened. This was different. It was a well-lit room and she could see every inch of me as she lounged on the couch. Just the thought of undressing under her piercing gaze made me nervous. "Got a problem?" she teased. "You saw me naked. Fair's fair. I slowly began unbuttoning my shirt. I didn't know what she'd do next, and I wasn't sure that I'd like it when I found out. I'd take it slow. I let my shirt fall to the ground. From her space on the couch, she gave a playful little giggle. "Good boy. Now turn around. Face that wall," she ordered, pointing. I nodded and turned around. My heart was starting to thump in my chest, and my erection was fading, but I wouldn't disappoint her. If I broke it off now, I'd regret it for the rest of my life. I unbuckled my belt, fingered the buttons on my jeans, and let them slide down around my ankles. Then I kicked them to the side. "Stop right there. That's good for now," I heard her say from the couch. "Now don't move a muscle." A minute passed. From behind me, I heard the floorboards creak as she made her way to her feet. Another minute. Then I felt soft hands clamp around both of my wrists. I gave a little gasp. I hadn't heard her come near. She pulled my hands behind my back, as gently as she could manage. She knew I wouldn't fight her. "Shhh..." Grace cooed, as she felt me trembling. "Sorry," I whispered. "Just nervous." "Nothing to be nervous about, baby. You're being handled by the best," she said. "Handled?" I asked. I felt a cold circle of metal clamp around my left wrist with a little click, then the other. Handcuffs. She was handcuffing me. "Handled," she said, pressing her body firmly against mine as she finished with the cuffs, my erection springing back into life. I felt her fingers slip into the waistband of my boxers. My muscles tensed. One hand slipped in to caress my backside, and I gasped again. "That means I get to do whatever I want to you. Starting with this." In one swift movement, she pulled my boxers down to my knees. I felt my cock stiffen even more as it emerged. Instinctively, I tried to cover myself, pulling at my bindings, but the metal of the handcuffs bit into my skin and held me fast. The sight of it was too much for her. She tittered like a schoolgirl. "That makes us even," she said. "Just the way we met." My cheeks were flushing. I tried to step out of my boxers, just to make it complete, but she put a hand to my shoulder to stop me. "Uh-uh, don't you dare," Grace said, leaning over to whisper in my ear. "Now you shuffle your cute little ass over to the couch. This is where your punishment comes in." "Punishment?" I stammered. "I thought this was the—" She gave my bare ass a hard slap to shut me up. I bucked and gave an involuntary yelp, but I stayed where I was. "This is just an appetizer. I'll show you what punishment is, baby. Now shuffle. We're really gonna get to know each other now." My boxers around my ankles, and my hands cuffed firmly behind my back, I did what she said and shuffled over to the couch. Grace smirked at me the whole time, hiding her mouth behind an elegant hand as she laughed. Now more self-conscious than ever, I looked down at my exposed cock. To my surprise, it was getting harder, although I'd have given anything to be able to cover myself. Grace sat back down on the couch before I could. As I stood naked before her, she pointed down at her lap, motioning for me to sit with her. "Come here, baby. Want to cuddle?" she asked sweetly. I wanted to caress her body so badly, but I didn't know what the hell she'd do to me if I let her touch me. I knew better than to argue. I turned around. As gracefully as I could with my hands bound behind me, I moved to sit down in her lap. I felt her hands grasp my elbows and lower me down into a sitting position. As soon as I was in her lap, she wrapped her arms around me—a romantic embrace, but just tight enough to remind me that I was at her mercy. She gave a barely audible purr of satisfaction. I felt her lips brush my neck, then my ear, planting soft kisses everywhere she could reach while her hands caressed every inch of my exposed flesh. Grace dragged one hand across my nipple, twirling it around until she heard my breath quicken. Then, without warning, she wrapped her fingers around the base of my cock and gently, just enough to make me light-headed, started to play with it. "Oh, god... You don't know what you're doing to me..." I moaned. My cock was so hard it hurt, but Grace continued edging mercilessly, keeping me just on the precipice of coming. "I know exactly what I'm doing, baby," she teased. "Making you suffer and enjoy every second of it. Don't pretend you're not loving this. I wanted to stay still, I really did. But the feel of her hand against my stiffening cock just made every dirty thought in my head bubble to the surface. I thought about massaging her breasts, about sucking her rock-hard nipples, about grabbing and pinching the springy flesh of her soft dimpled buttocks, about— "Ahhhh..." I felt warm pre-cum soaking the tip of my throbbing penis, every muscle in my body tightening up as she brought me right to the edge of orgasm, only to take her hand from my cock and move it to pinch my nipple as hard as she could. I heard a hard clank of metal on metal. The chain of the handcuffs snapped taut as I strained against them in an involuntary spasm. It was no use. She was my only hope of release. "No need to be manly. You're at the lake, baby. There's nobody around for miles," she reminded me. "If you want to scream, you go ahead and scream. Nobody's gonna hear you. It'll be our little secret", she whispered, sliding her tongue down the length of my ear. I shivered. "I can take it," I breathed. "I can take it." I wasn't going to deny Grace her fun, no matter how hard it got to play along. "Oh? And are you comfortable, baby?" she asked me, twining her arms around me in another romantic embrace. The metal of the handcuffs bit into my wrists, making my hands numb. "Well, uh... I wouldn't call it comfortable, but—" I started. She gently moved my head to the side and leaned forward to meet my face, planting a kiss on my lips to quiet me. "Aw..." she cooed, her voice heavy with mock concern, when she let me go. "Well, honey... I wish I could say things were about to get better." She slipped out from under me, let me fall back against that couch cushions, and stood before me. Our eyes locked. "Do you really want to do this?" she asked me. "This is your chance to back out." I nodded silently. "What's our safeword?" she asked me. "You're the one getting punished. That means you get to choose it. I'll allow you that, at least." "Falstaff," I said. It was the first word the popped into my head. "Falstaff," she repeated. "Got it." Then she got down on her knees and pulled my boxers off from around my ankles, leaving me wearing nothing but my handcuffs. My underwear wasn't gone for long, though: as soon as she plucked it off, she twisted it into a short rope of cloth, wrapped it tight around my ankles, and pulled it into a tight knot. "Do you trust me, Roland?" she asked me. I thought about it for a moment, and then nodded hesitantly. "Good," she said sweetly. I tried to move my ankles apart, but her makeshift binding held them fast. "Can you move?" Grace asked. I shook my head. "Good," she said, grinning. Then she got rough. In one quick movement, she knelt over me, grabbed me by the arms, pulled me up off of the couch, and threw me onto the mattress face-first. Instinctively, I went to raise my hands to break my fall, but I felt the handcuffs biting into my wrists again, pinning them hard behind my back. I tried to flip myself over, but I felt Grace's full weight on my back, driving the air out of me as she squatted down to straddle my body. She wasn't a big woman, but goddamn... She knew how to keep a man still when she wanted to. I felt the heel of her hand driving deep into the flesh of my shoulder blade, softly kneading the muscles there while her fingers spun in tiny circles, massaging the knots in the rest of my back. I expected pain, I expected humiliation, but the sudden pleasure of the massage caught me off guard. Unprepared, I gave a sigh of satisfaction as I felt my muscles loosen. "What are you doing to me?" I breathed, in between sighs of pleasure. "What's it feel like? Just loosening you up. You're tense as hell, baby. You could use a massage," she said. Her hands moved down my back, softly caressing my naked body. I felt her hands massaging the small of my back, working their way down to my bare ass. I went limp, hanging loose in my bonds, and let her take over. "Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked. "Simple," she said. "I worked as a masseuse for five years, back when I was paying my way through art school. Best job I ever had. I know all the ways to work a man's muscles." She was starting to breathe hard. I could feel sweat coating her hands as she put her back into kneading my muscles. "I worked on all kinds of guys in that place," she continued. "Fat, skinny, old, young, handsome, ugly... But guys like you were my favorites. Shy as hell, blushing, afraid to look me in the eye, ready to go to pieces if I smiled at you..." She lay down on top of me. I felt her hand brushing my backside, giving it a playful pinch. I tensed up. "But then I'd get you into that room all alone, face down on that table, wearing nothing but a towel. And then I'd start to touch you. And then I'd feel you go limp under my hands..." She moved to clasp one of my cuffed hands, twining her fingers around mine. "I never took it that far, but sometimes I wondered... Sometimes I wondered what guys like you would do for me if I really had you at my mercy. Know what I mean?" "I thought I was gonna get punished," I breathed. She giggled. "Oh, you are," she assured me. "Working at the massage joint? That was how I learned to love this shit. Can't understand pain if you don't understand pleasure. Can't learn how to torture a man if you don't know how to make him beg for your touch." She knelt down to kiss my ear. My cock grew hard again, straining against the mattress. Then I felt her weight being lifted off of me as she got up and pulled herself to her feet. The floorboards creaked as she walked away, but I couldn't see where she went. A moment passed, and the floorboards creaked again as she came near. Then she knelt down and straddled me again. I felt long, soft threads of some leathery material being dragged across my back, tickling me and raising goose bumps all along my back. "What are you doing? What's that?" I demanded. "This is Sally. I know I saw you looking at her earlier." Sally? Oh god, the whip... "I try to travel light when I come down to the lake. Just some books, my painting stuff, some food, a few bottles of wine... But Sally? She goes everywhere I go. With Sally and a pair of handcuffs, I can have all kinds of fun with a guy like you." SMACK! She swung the whip down in a fast arc, bringing the leather tails snapping against my bare ass with a hard crack. I yelped, I twitched, and I fought to crawl away—but her weight held me down, and with my hands cuffed behind my back, I didn't have a chance in hell. Then she really went to work on me. In one graceful motion, Grace crawled off my back, grabbed my arm and flipped me over on my back. For the first time in a while, I got to look her in the eye. A smug smile was on her face, and she draped the tails of the whip over her arm as if it was a favorite pet. "Now this is the only way to do it," she said, studying me lying there on the mattress. "I like to see the look on a man's face when I beat him." SMACK! SMACK! The whip came down for two hard blows, stinging my chest and my belly. Instinct kicked in. My skin already burned where the whip had stung me. I had to get away from it. Every muscle straining in one direction, I tried to inch my way off of the mattress. Grace's bare foot came down to rest on my neck, just hard enough to stop me in my tracks. "Uh-uh," she said, shaking her head. "You're staying right there." SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Blows rained down on every bit of exposed flesh Grace could find—a wide selection, since she had me stripped naked. She never whipped the same place twice, and she never once broke eye contact with me. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Like a finely tuned instrument, I whimpered and cried out with every stroke. With every scream, I could see Grace breathing just a little bit harder, the look in her eyes becoming fiercer. Her hands trembled from the thrill of it all. Sweat soaked her arms, legs and neck. Her wine-red hair was askew with exertion. But in spite of it all, she wouldn't let up. And the worst part? For all my pain, for all my humiliation, for all my fruitless arousal at her coy beauty...I liked it. Aside from a quick pinch or a bite between kisses, no woman had ever dominated me. Not like this. I should have been exhausted, I should have craved respite. Instead, every stroke of her whip just lit me up like a livewire. I was more awake and aware than I'd ever been. I didn't want to sleep, I didn't want to lie down—the more Grace beat me, the more I just wanted to pull her to the ground and drive my cock into her until she screamed my name. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Three quick blows from the whip left their pink marks on my waist and thighs. Grace leaned over me. She was panting hard now—with exertion or arousal, I couldn't say. Whatever it was, she was nearly as tired as I was energized. "Talk to me," she breathed, draping Sally's leather tails across her arm. SMACK! SMACK! She snapped Sally back, and two more blows grazed my bare legs. I cried out in pain, feeling my voice growing hoarse from screaming. "I mean it, baby. Don't just lie there and take it. I want to hear your voice while I beat you. Is that too much to ask?" she asked. SMACK! The whip's tails came down right at the sensitive skin around my right nipple. I grunted with pain, but I brought myself to speak. "You've...you've been hearing me scream for the l-last half hour," I said through trembling lips. "Isn't that enough for you." She squatted down and straddled my bare hips, the thin lacy cotton of her panties just barely tickling the shaft of my erect cock. Then, without a word of explanation, she leaned over and kissed me hard on the lips for a good five seconds. As jolted as I felt, my nerves were far too jittery to fight her off. I lay back and let her lips embrace mine. "I'm a complicated girl, Roland," she said, after she let me go. "Any man can scream for me. But tell me: how do you feel?" "L-like I just f-fell down a flight of stairs. And like I was too drunk to notice." She laughed, and reached down to wrap her fingers around my penis. I shivered, and it slowly rose up to full throbbing hardness. She absent-mindedly stroked the sensitive rim of the head with her thumb while she looked down at me. "But you liked it," she said mischievously. "I can tell." The sting of the welts on my body fought with the warm glow of pleasure from my cock for my attention. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head. "Goddamnit, you're insane..." I moaned. "Why the hell are you doing this to me?" She slowly slid her hands up and down the shaft of my cock while she talked, making me tremble. "Can't you tell?" she asked. "I like to torture men. Nothing wrong with that, as long as I've got a willing victim." Torture. Victim. Just the sound of those two words on Grace's lips made my cock pulse in time with my racing heart. A willing victim? Was that what I was? The things I'd done that night went against every standard of decency I knew. There was no way in hell I should have been enjoying this—but I was. "This is wrong..." I breathed, as Grace's soft hands continued to work my cock. "This is so wrong..." "Is it?" Grace asked innocently. "Ain't like it's any dirtier than anything else you'd do in a bedroom, is it? Hell, that's the best thing about torturing a man. It's just the same as making love to him, but I get to control every step." "Just the same? How's that?" I asked. Grace laughed girlishly. "Just look at you, baby. You looked like I just fucked you senseless," she teased. "God no," I said. "You're too much of a tease for that." "Yeah, I'm a tease. I don't make excuses. But a fuck just lasts two minutes. What I just did to you? Hell, you're not going anywhere, are you?" She dragged a hand across my tied-up ankles, as if to remind me that I was still bound. I shook my head. "No, you're not," she said, smiling. "That means I can make it last hours if I want it to. And it just ends the same way for you. With you on your back, naked as a fish, all hot and sweaty, breathing hard and screaming my name." Meeting By the Lake She reached down and pinched my left nipple between her thumb and forefinger as hard as she could, and began to twist it. I little moan of pain escaped the back of my throat, but I fought to stay quiet. SMACK! She brought the whip down on my chest, and I let out a stifled scream. "Screaming my name, baby. That was your cue," she said. SMACK! She snapped the whip against the soft flesh of my bare stomach. "Grace!" I screamed, as the whip connected with my flesh. SMACK! SMACK! She twisted around to look behind her, and brought the whip down twice against my exposed thighs. "Grace! Grace!" "Louder!" she ordered. "GRACE!", I screamed, my voice cracking in strain and desperation. I waited with eyes clenched shut for the sting of the whip. But instead, Grace leaned back, and slowly hitched her dress up her thighs, and slid a trembling hand into her panties. Deeper and deeper she worked her fingers into the folds of her sex, rubbing herself and working her fingers around in tight circles as she shut her eyes tight and started to sigh. For at least five minutes, she just sat there on top of me, digging her fingers into her lacy white panties and softly sighing to herself as her body started to tremble. With my hands bound under me, I could do nothing but lay back and watch her. For five minutes, I just lay back and savored the brief respite from her beating, letting the burns of my whip-marks die down to dull aches. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, put a hand on my chest to steady herself, and looked down at me. "You've got no idea how much I love hearing that..." she breathed, already panting with exertion. "Oh...I think I might," I said. She smiled. "Good boy," she said. "You're learning. She stood up, leaving me lying back on the mattress, and turned around to walk across the room. From my spot on the floor, I got a brief peek up her dress. Her panties, visibly soaked from the thrill of beating me, were catching in the crack of her ample bottom, which gently swayed from side to side as she walked. I felt my cock grow hard just from the sight of her. She made her way over to the icebox at the end of the room, opened it, and pulled out a bottle of wine. A wineglass was already waiting on the table. She filled the glass halfway, swirled it a few times, and took a sip. "Want some?" she asked me. "It's Zinfandel." I nodded eagerly. She filled a second glass and brought it over to me. "Open your mouth," she ordered. I obeyed, and she bent down and tipped the wine into my waiting mouth, sip by sip. When she stood back up, I was grateful for another peek up her dress. I smiled, enjoying the view. "You staring at my ass, Roland?" she asked, looking down at me. "You shouldn't peek. You'll make a girl blush." She hiked the hem of her dress up her thigh, just high enough to expose the crack of her ass. She tried to twist around to look down at her own ass as best she could. "All that time I spend in the gym, all those laps I swim in the lake... I'm always trying to work off that oversized ass of mine. And now you can't take your damn eyes off it," she said. I tried to spread my wrists, and felt the chain of my handcuffs snapping tight. "I'd do more than just look if I could," I breathed. "Would you?" she asked, coyly. She reached down to slip a finger into the elastic band of her panties. As slowly as she could—making me wait as long as she could—she pulled them down, slowly exposing her butt. My heartbeat sped up, making my cock pulse even harder. The chain of my handcuffs rang like a bell as I futilely strained against them, and I heard her chuckle. The whip was nothing, I thought. This is real torture. Grace straightened and let her panties fall down to her ankles, then daintily stepped out of them as they hit the floor. "Beating a man gets tiring after a while," she said, twisting around to look down at me. "I think I need to rest. You don't mind, do you?" "Mind? What do you—?" I started. Before I could finish, Grace bent her knees and squatted down. In one quick movement, she lowered her bare butt down onto my face, cutting me off mid-sentence. Panic set in. The warm flesh of her buttocks, like two silky pillows, enveloped me completely, sinking over my mouth and nose and cutting off my air. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. I could do nothing but futilely thrash and squirm on the mattress—and that suited Grace fine. For at least a minute, she just let me suffer there on the mattress while she held her position, not moving a muscle while she smothered me. After half a minute, I gave up struggling and just tried my best to hold onto my last breath. After a minute, I felt lightheaded and started struggling again. It didn't matter—with my ankles bound and my hands cuffed, I could only roll from side to side and kick my knees. Finally, just when I thought I might pass out, she propped herself up and shifted forward to sit on my chest. Her body weight still pinning me to the mattress, but I savored every hitched breath I could manage. Grace twisted around to look down at me, a content smile on her lips. "I thought I already tired you out with the whip. But you've still got plenty of fight left in you. That's good. Feeling you squirm's the best part," she said. "So...so this is how you get off?" I panted, gasping for breaths. "Get off?" she asked innocently. "Hey, I'm just having a little fun. The best way I know how: making you suffer." She propped herself up and eased her ass back onto my face. In the half-second before she sat down, I gasped for a single breath and held it. I was blind and smothered, but I could still hear perfectly. And as soon as I felt her buttocks pressing down on my face, I heard Grace laughing at me. She made a game of it, now, bouncing playfully on my face as I lay on my back, going longer each time before letting me breathe. After she'd been at it at least ten minutes, I watched her peel her dress off over her head while she sat on my chest, leaving her just as naked as I was. Then I closed my eyes as she sat back down. A minute passed. I felt sweat coating her buttocks as the sound of her panting got louder. Gingerly, she reached down, took my cock in her hands, and began to stroke it. "You like that, baby?" she asked coyly, though she knew I couldn't answer. My cock buzzed with pleasure so fiercely that it left me dizzy. But I remembered what she'd told me when we started: You don't come unless I say so. "I said—you like that, baby?" she repeated, lifting her butt and moving to straddle my chest. "Y-yes..." I stammered. She wouldn't take her hands off my cock. With her hands working it that fiercely, I could barely form a coherent thought, much less speak. "But you look so tired," she said, stroking my erect penis. "I'm not wearing you out, am I?" If she didn't let me come in the next minute, I knew I'd start to beg. I couldn't stand the thought of begging for an orgasm, but I had to make it stop somehow. "Please..." I whispered. "I've had enough. I...I can't take any more." "What's that?" she asked innocently. "Please...I need to—" "Louder, baby. I can't hear you," she said. "PLEASE! LET ME GO!" I yelled. She took her hand off my penis, turned around to look down at me, and smiled. "Alright, baby. If you say you're done, you're done. But what about after that?" she asked. "Please, I'm dying here. You've got to give me some relief," I breathed. "What do you mean? You want to fuck me? Is that what you're saying?" she asked. "Do you even have to ask?" I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady. Her smile took on a cruel edge. The dimples in her cheeks deepened. "You just got one detail wrong, Roland. You don't get to fuck me. I get to fuck you," she said. "That's right," I said, nodding. Then she pursed her lips and absentmindedly put a finger to her cheek as she contemplated my naked form. "I think I've punished you enough for one night," she said. "But if you want me to fuck you, you've got to pay your respects first. You want to make me feel loved, don't you? I nodded obediently. "Good," she said, satisfied. She slid off of my naked body, got down on her knees, and slowly started to untie the bonds at my ankles. I felt my tied-up boxers sliding off of my legs, savoring free movement. "I'm leaving the cuffs on. I can't have you totally free yet," she said. I nodded. She stood up and looked down at me, giving me a full view of her nude body. I stared and stared, just as transfixed as when I'd first seen her climbing naked from the lake. "Now get on your knees, Roland," she ordered, a touch of tenderness in her voice. I moved to obey, climbing up from the mattress to kneel before her. We were in the same positions as when we'd met. Only now, both of us were naked. And now, with my hands cuffed behind my back, I couldn't leave even if I wanted to. Grace extended one foot in front of her, pointing it like a ballerina, and gestured to it with one hand. "Kiss my foot," she ordered. I knelt down as low as I could, lowered my lips to her foot, and planted a kiss on it. "Good," she said, barely stifling a giggle. I raised my head and got back on my knees. Slowly, Grace twirled around, exposing her bare butt to me. She put one hand on the smooth, round masses of her soft, pale buttocks, and pointed right to the two dimples at the small of her back. "Now kiss me again, just right there," she ordered. I raised my head as high as I could, while still staying on my knees, and pressed my lips to the dimples right above the crack of her ass. As tenderly as I could, I kissed them. Then I felt Grace's hand on the top of my head, holding my head in place for a good 15 seconds. When it was over, and I withdrew my head, she turned around again to face me. She motioned upwards with her hand, gesturing for me to stand. Slowly, I began to rise, just high enough that her breasts were at eye-level. Then she gestured to her left breast. "Kiss my tits, Roland," she said mischievously. "Left one first. Then the right one." I didn't need to be told twice. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, and closed my lips around Grace's left breast. I kissed it, running my tongue in circles around her nipple until I felt it harden. Then she nudged my head, and I closed my lips around her other breast, softly sucking at her nipple and making little smacking sounds. When I felt that nipple harden, she nudged my head again and let me go. Grace pointed down, gesturing me to kneel again. A hard wooden chair sat behind her. As I went back down to my knees, she turned around and sat down in it, lounging comfortably while I drank in every inch of her naked, sweat-soaked body. Then a sly smile crept across her face as she planted her feet firmly on the floor, spread her legs apart. She gestured down at the exposed folds of her labia, slick with arousal, her clit as hard as it could be. "Go on, baby. You know what to do," she said knowingly. "I come first. Then you come." I tried to struggle out of my handcuffs, and felt the chain snapping taut as I grunted with exertion. "Come on, just let me touch you," I begged. She giggled. "What do you need to touch me for? You've got a tongue, don't you?" Unable to argue, I bowed my head obediently and pressed my lips to her labia. In slow movements, I parted her lips and began to stroke her clit with my tongue. I could feel my dick throbbing, begging for attention, but Grace wouldn't let me go until I gave her one good orgasm. I lost track of time as I heard her to give a series of long, heaving sighs. Before long, I felt her plant a firm hand on my head, holding my head to her crotch as I ran my tongue in tight circles, pushing it deep within her, pleased with the sound of her rapid breaths Finally, when I felt like I'd been kneeling for hours, her sighs grew louder and gave way to cries. "Oh God... Oh yes... Oh yes... Oh yes..." she moaned. She bit her lip and leaned back deep into the chair, grabbing big handful of my hair in her fists as she moaned deeply, over and over again, her hips twitching in the afterglow. As soon as she let my hair go, I knew it was time to stop. Just as she had by the lake, she put a hand under my chin and tilted my head up to look at her. She smiled, more satisfied with me than she'd been all night. "You know how to make a girl feel appreciated, Roland. I think you've earned a year's worth of fucks," she joked. With that, she grabbed a little silver key from a table by the couch. She leaned over me, her bare breasts pressing against my face, and reached back behind me to unlock my handcuffs. With a soft click, they fell free. Grace plucked the cuffs from my wrists. While I rubbed my wrists, red and sore from the tight metal rings, Grace set the cuffs down on the table by the couch. It took me a moment to realize what had just happened. For the first time in hours, I was well and truly free. "Well?" Grace said, raising one eyebrow. I hesitated, unsure of how to start. I felt my erection pounding and pulsing like a drum, as rock-hard as ever. I moved to embrace Grace, but she was too quick for me. She grabbed both of my wrists and let herself fall forward, putting all of the weight in her petite frame on me. I felt myself falling with her, struggling to flip myself over so I could take her. But after an hour of beating and smothering, I was too weak to fight. With her hands never leaving mine for a second, Grace bent her knees and mounted me, inching herself closer and closer to my erect penis. I sat up and moved my face to meet hers, planting kisses all down her ear, her cheek, and her neck. Then she took my cock in her hand, just to make sure it was as hard as ever. For one moment, I shivered at her touch. Then I leaned forward and kissed her hard on the lips. With our lips tight together, she propped herself up and plunged herself hard down onto my rigid cock. The two of us sighed and moaned, in perfect harmony, as her warm and wet folds enveloped my penis. She leaned forward, and I felt the erect nipples of her bare breasts brushing my chest. As I felt her start to bounce up and down in my lap, I reached back and gripped her buttocks tightly, lifting her up higher out of my lap with every thrust of my hips. Sweat soaked my body. My muscles ached. My breath felt hot in my throat. I tried to keep it going as long as I could—I really did. But I knew I'd already satisfied Grace as much as I could in a single night. She wanted my body, and I wanted hers. But the sex wasn't what truly excited her that night—it was the thrill of dominating and controlling me more utterly than any woman ever had, of feeling my raw desperation at the end of it all. When she looked into my eyes, she saw a man who'd do anything for her. Neither of us needed to say it, but we knew it was true. I took the chance to fuck her, but I'd have spent the night bound and naked on the cold hard floor if she'd ordered me to. I'd have spent a week in her cabin, taking her torture as often as she liked—with that sweet smile of hers and the promise of release all the reward I needed. But none of that mattered now. Now, I just thrust my hips, savored the sight of sweat beading on those rhythmically bouncing breasts of hers, and let myself go. Time slowed, enough that I could count every breath that entered my lungs. My limps trembled in a quick spasm, then went limp. I clenched my hands into tight fists, then let them go. My hips bucked, and I held them high as long as I could before I let them fall. The blood drained from my head and left me dizzy. Spots danced in front of my eyes. And I let myself come, a deep spasm of pleasure coursing through the lower half of my body as sperm coursed from my rigid cock in long, hot bursts. Immediately I lay back on the mattress, my energy spent. Grace was quick to follow me. She lifted herself off of my cock, grabbed a quilt from a nearby tabletop, and lay down next to me as she draped it over our sweaty nude bodies. "You were fantastic, baby," she said slyly, already closing her eyes. "I think I'll let you rest now. But I'm not done with you. Not by a long shot." She reached over and cradled my balls in her hand, then squeezed them playfully. "You ever been in the lake in the morning?" she asked me. "It's nice to see the sun rise over the water." "No," I whispered. "You? "Lots of times. But never with a partner. Want to go for a swim when we wake up?" she asked. "Oh God, yes..." I said. "What about after that?" She chuckled. "I'll think of something. Those cuffs still work, right?" she said. "I'm yours," I said earnestly. She planted a kiss on my ear, and then brushed her hand across my nipple. "And don't worry about getting dressed in the morning," she said mischievously. "I think I like you better this way."