11 comments/ 201231 views/ 4 favorites Under You By: KR * * * * * Click Here to listen. (28 min/mp3) * * * * * For 'Tony' -- you know who you are. "I don't do Doms anymore," I told you. "I'm too willful to be a slave." "I don't want a slave," you replied. "I want a companion who enjoys erotic play in all its forms, and I think you are the one I have been waiting for." And so you set about convincing me that you are the one for me. You've wooed me for months, with the patience and determination of a man of your age, mindful of my reluctance to become involved with anyone at this place in my life, particularly with a Dom. Always the gentleman, you have allowed me the illusion of control when we've spent time together, conscious that we needed to build trust. We have talked, kissed, touched, but you have not pressed me for sex, and I have not asked for it. Until now. Now, I am so attuned to you that the sight of you makes me tremble. You voice caresses me like your eyes do, like your hands want to, and I am instantly wet, longing for you, longing to be yours, as I have never longed for another. The sexual tension within me has grown so unbearable that I am distracted randomly all day long, waves of heat rolling over my skin, melting my core, making me ache. And so I called you, and propositioned you, and you accepted readily. I have a roommate, you have guests, and so you booked a room at the Mark Spencer hotel and dinner six or eight blocks away at the Brasserie Montmartre. We arrange to meet in the lobby, and I have been waiting for just a short while when suddenly you are standing there before me. I look up at you from my seat and I can see that your eyes are dark and alert, and that there is a hint of a smile on your mouth. "Shall we?" you ask, and hold out your arm. I rise and take your arm, for which I am grateful, as I usually wear flat shoes, but tonight I am wearing heels. For you. I am also wearing a dress Grandmother had made some 50 years ago from silk she purchased in Singapore. It is the same dusky pink colour as my nipples, with a black and white cherry blossom brocade. It is a form-fitting, tailored dress, the bodice clinging to my breasts, the skirt cut to fit a woman's shape, fuller at the hips and narrowing over the thighs until it stops just above the knees, a scant two inches beyond the tops of my sheer silk stockings. I can feel your eyes on me, and they are frankly admiring, but not lustful. Not yet. "You look lovely, my pet," you say, making me blush. From the hotel we slowly walk south to 6th Avenue and then east toward the Park blocks, where the Brasserie is. I love its black and white checkered floors, the velvet upholstery, the seafood crepes, and the excellent wine list. When we are sat at our table I sit next to you, so I can touch you. As we sip wine and listen to tastefully unobtrusive jazz, we converse on a wide range of topics. Every once in a while I slide my hand under the table and trail my fingers along your thigh, or touch your arm lightly. My skin is sensitized and I know that I am squirming occasionally, but I cannot help it. I am here, physically and mentally, exchanging ideas and opinions with you, and enjoying it immensely. You have a good mind, a lively intelligence, and it makes you most attractive to me. I want you, my mind tells my body, and my body reacts, and my arousal spirals upwards. Over dessert you say something that makes me laugh, something I don't seem to do as often as most people. The laughter somehow causes the weights in the ben wa balls to roll, and an orgasm takes me completely by surprise, rising from my pelvis up my torso, setting my nipples aflame, and sending a wave of colour up my neck to my cheeks. I stiffen and squeeze your thigh, my eyes opening wide for a moment, and then shutting tight. I breathe in to moan, and then realizing where I am at the last possible moment, exhale it in a long, low whimper instead. It sets me aquiver, this orgasm, and the knowledge that I am having one in a restaurant full of people electrifies me as much as the need to suppress my reaction does. I have no idea how long I rode out my pleasure, or how long it took you to figure out what was happening. All I know is that at some point you put my hand on your erection and kissed me in a way that left me in no doubt that you found the scene very provocative and wanted to make love to me that moment. I had this mental image of you taking me from behind, my torso pressed into the table top and my legs kicked apart, and the wide-eyed shock of the other patrons as they watched you lunge into me. Yes. Shudder. Yes. Mmmmmmmm yessssss. As the giddiness passes, the waiter arrives with the check. You efficiently pay the ticket and before I know it we are outside the restaurant, walking at a good pace back the way we came. I protest that we are going the wrong way and you turn into a dark doorway and pull me hard against you. I can feel your erection through the heavy silk fabric of my dress. "That was a naughty trick," you say, your voice rough and dangerous. Your hand slides under my dress and up between my legs. You pinch my labia together, rolling my clit, making me gasp. "Here, or the hotel," you say, thrusting your hips against me. You know what my answer will be, but you give me the choice. I close my eyes and lean my head against your shoulder. "The hotel," I answer, my voice muffled. Your other hand runs up the back of my neck. You pull my head back and look into my eyes. "I didn't hear you," you say. We both know you did, but we also know that you want me to say it, looking at you, acknowledging the import of my answer. "The hotel," I say again. You kiss me then, on the forehead. A gentle kiss. You smooth the skirt of my dress back down over my hips and then you tuck my hand into your arm, and resting your own over it, step back out onto the sidewalk. To all appearances we are enjoying a late-summer night stroll, our heads bent toward each other was we speak with low voices upon some interesting topic. In reality, your fingers are playing with mine, and you are telling me how much it turned you on, seeing me climax there in the restaurant, how much you wanted to take me there, just as I had imagined. It makes me shiver and tremble, realizing how closely aligned our minds were in that moment. In the elevator you take me in your arms and kiss me, a nice lingering kiss, and when you break it, you murmur something in my ear that makes my heart lurch in my chest. "You know I'm going to have to punish you for being naughty, little wench." I nod, trembling again. I want you to punish me for my naughtiness, for using ben wa balls without your knowledge, for coming without permission. I want to feel the flat of your palm against my skin, stinging me, awakening my flesh to pleasure through the low-level pain. You open the door for me and I pass through, stopping just inside, awaiting your instructions. The bed seems awfully big in the room. It is all I have eyes for. I remind myself to breathe, that this is what I want, that I want to be here, with you. Your arms come around me from behind, one hand sliding up to cup a breast, the other downward, cupping my mound. You kiss along the side of my neck and I relax a bit, leaning against you with a sigh. A moment later you swing around and press me to the wall with your body. I can feel your cock against my ass, your chest pressing into my back. Your hands run down my arms until they have hold of my wrists, and then you raise them until my hands are above my head, pressing against the wall. You pin my wrists there, with one hand, and with the other, unzip my dress, very slowly, teasingly. Your mouth touches the newly exposed skin of my back, making me shiver and moan, making me press back against you, wanting you. You release my hands and tell me to stay where I am, and I do, even as I want to protest you backing away, your heat leaving me. You flick a switch and the room is flooded with mellow light. You are quiet, I cannot hear you, and a minute ticks by, two minutes, and the only proof I have that you are in the room is the feel of your eyes on me, watching me. I try not to squirm there, pressed against the wall. I school myself to stand still, calming myself with slow, deep breaths. There is a creak, and you tell me to turn around. I do so in silence, and see you sitting by the desk, in a nice leather captain's chair. I meet your eyes as calmly as I can. I am feeling a bit anxious, seeing the bed there, knowing we will end up there, wanting it and fearing it at the same time. "Undress for me," you instruct me. Your voice rolls over my skin, plucking at and releasing my nerves with the mastery of Segovia on his guitar. I move to slip the dress down over my shoulders, but the sound of your voice stops me. "This won't do, Kay," you say. You sound mildly irritated or frustrated. I look at you, my eyes wide. I find myself wondering if you have changed your mind, if you don't want me after all. "I love the sound of your voice, baby. I want you to respond when I tell you to do something." I look steadily at you, knowing what you want to hear, but I won't give it. I won't call you 'master'. You haven't earned it yet. You prove that we are on the same wave-length. "I want you to say 'Yes, Tony' or 'Yes Sir.' Do you think you can do that for me?" you ask with a raised eyebrow. It is a challenge and a compromise. I accept both. "Yes, Tony," I say, and continue undressing. Slowly. Easing the small cap sleeves down my arms, pressing the bodice of the dress downward, exposing my breasts and the black bra. I move my hands back to unfasten it, but you tell me to leave it on. I say "Yes Tony" again and pull downward on the skirt of the dress, shimmying out of it as it slips over my hips. The little ben wa balls rock to the movement of my hips. Stepping carefully out of the dress, I shake it out a little. "May I hang this, please, Tony?" I ask, not wanting to ruin the mood, but not wanting to damage a dress that has great sentimental value for me. You look pleased and nod your head and I turn to the closet, slipping the dress quickly onto a hanger, then returning to where I was standing before. I am still wearing a black skirt slip, and I ease it down over my hips, letting it form a pool around my feet. I am wearing nothing more than a black bra and panties, the sheer thigh-high stockings, and my heels. I take a deep breath and raise my eyes to yours. "Come here," you say, and I respond as you have instructed me, with a "Yes Tony" as I walk slowly up to you. You run your hands over my body, their heat branding me. Breasts, waist, hips, thighs, ass. 'All mine,' your hands seem to say to me. You pinch me through my panties again, trapping my clit between my labia and rolling it between your fingers. I gasp and a moan escapes me. "Beautiful Kay," you say, your voice a little deeper, a little tighter. "Such a little pleasure...kitten," you amend. The word 'slut' hangs between us, unspoken but still there. I let it go, appreciating your effort not to use words that I object to. "Time for your punishment," you say, and instruct me to lay over the narrow end of desk, with my head turned so that I am looking at you. You want to watch my face as you spank me. You slide the chair forward, and remaining seated, you begin administering the spanking. The first sharp light smacks on my ass make me bounce and cry out in surprise. The ben wa balls inside me roll and rock, seasoning the pain with pleasure. It has been years since I have been spanked, and you go easy on me, not swatting too hard. But you still do a thorough job, covering my ass and then my thighs, making them sting and itch, not stopping until I have tears in my eyes and my hands are gripping the edges of the desk. Your hand pushes the hair away from my face and you lean forward to touch your tongue to one of my tears. "There's my good girl. That wasn't so bad now, was it?" You run your hand down my back and I start trembling and crying. You pull me into your lap and hold me, making comforting noises. I cry it all out, the fear and the anxiety and the tension, and when I am done crying I feel loose and relaxed. You set me on my feet and finish undressing me, tenderly, and then guide me to the bed. You pull the sheets back and tuck me in, and tell me to rest there for a few minutes. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I know, you are in bed with me, your body slipping up behind mine. You smell good and you are so warm compared to the cool sheets. One of your arms slides under my neck, the other around my waist, pulling me snugly against you. "Tony," I moan and suck my breath in between my teeth, loving the feel of your hardness pressing against my ass. "Yes, baby," you respond, your mouth hot on my shoulder. I turn in your arms so that we are facing each other. I thread my fingers through the hair on your chest, scratching gently at one of your nipples. You make a purring sound in your throat and move to kiss me. I offer my mouth to you with a groan, kissing you back. Our tongues brush and dance and I slip my hands up to cradle your face. We kiss for a long time, feeding on each other's passion. I part my thighs and hook a leg over your hip, opening myself to you. "Please..." I murmur against your lips. "Please what, Kay?" you ask, then nip at my bottom lip. "Please touch me, Tony?" I ask. "Feel how wet you make me..." Your hand slides from where it was tormenting my nipple and works its way down my belly, down over the smooth skin of my mound, all freshly shaved and oiled for you. You cup me, your fingers pressing lightly against my pussy lips. They are plump, my outer lips, and only slightly wet. Your fingers press between them, and there are my inner labia, somewhat slicker. Gently, you quest, looking for the promised wetness. You caress my labia, seeking the entrance to my vagina, there, somewhere, so close. "Here," I sigh, and with my hand, I hook your fingers upward, parting my inner labia, opening the floodgates. You suck in your breath between your teeth as your fingers touch it. Hot and wet and slippery, just like I promised. You groan and kiss me, and your body moves, grinding your cock against my hip. You begin murmuring to me. Murmuring how much you want me, how much you want to be inside my hot wet little pussy, how much you want to fuck me and make me yours. You slide a finger inside me and it feels so good I clench down on it, squeezing for all I'm worth. I press my lips to yours, sucking on your bottom lip, scraping it with my teeth. My nipples brush against your chest, making me gasp as your hair teases them. Your fingers abandon my pussy and you suck on them, then kiss me. The smell of my juices on your face makes me wild. I start whimpering, my body rocking, jolting as the pleasure surges through me. "Oh god, I want more of that," you say, trying to press my shoulders into the mattress, starting to move down my body. "No. No please, I want you inside me," I say, tugging urgently at you. I find your cock, slide it in my hand, pulling the foreskin forward toward me. I hug you closer with my thigh, my foot pressing against your ass. I wriggle closer, urgently, until you are there, pressing between my lips, just outside the entrance to my pussy. I dig my fingernails into your shoulder. "Please," I beg. "Please, Tony. Oh please god, I want you inside me." You groan and push forward into me perhaps an inch. We both suck our breath in. I feel your weight pressing into me, and you slide in a little farther. I tug on you, trying to worm my leg under you, to get you between my thighs. You go still for a moment, and then we are both moving, and you are laying on your back, with me on your chest, and a wet slippery mess between us as your cock slips out. I make disappointed noises and squirm against you. "Hold still!" You say, and I freeze. Your fingers quest between my lips. You press two into me a little ways and separate them inside me. "Push the ben wa balls out," you tell me. "I don't want to hurt you, baby." I had forgotten about them! I winced, thinking about how that would have hurt, and bear down carefully on your fingers, squeezing and releasing my muscles until I have expelled them from my body. "So hot," you say, and press one against my skin. Wow! I am amazed by the sear of the metal against my flesh. It makes me want you inside me even more. I want you to feel that heat, I want to make your cock that hot. I shift to a squat above the hand I have wrapped around your cock. I tug firmly upward, pulling your foreskin up, far over the head of your cock, and then down, a nice long stroke that exposes it to my gaze. I lower myself slowly onto you, until the purplish head is completely inside me, and squeeze my muscles. You moan, and your hands come up under me to cup my ass. "Yes baby!" you hiss. "Take that cock!" I ease a little further down on you, until I feel you against my cervix, three or four inches inside me. My muscles clench and release, making room for you. Your cock is so hot and it twitches inside me, making us both moan. I flex my thighs and raise myself up, until you are all the way out, and I slip the head of your cock along my slit until it nudges my clit and wrings a gasp from me. Then back inside me, slow glide three or four inches deep, until you press my cervix again. I hold my breath and press down a little more. Pressure. Pressure. And there, there, you're past it, sliding along the neck of my uterus, pressing deeply. Not much room there...but it feels so good. I rest my knees on the bed and lower myself until I'm resting against you. I can feel myself shaking. I try rocking a little against you, but I'm shaking too much. I lean forward, resting my head against your chest. Your arms come up to cradle me against you. "Please, Tony," I say. "What baby? Do you want to stop?" you ask. I can hear the tension in your voice. The last thing you want to do is stop. "No! No. I--I don't want to be on top," I say, finally. I crave the feel of you over me, thrusting into me. I want to wrap my legs around your waist and dig my nails into your back. Your arms tighten on me and then we are rolling, and in a heartbeat I am where I want to be. Under you Under Your Control Scene 01 He positioned me on the floor, my body naked and glowing white in the bright candlelight against the dark red of the rug. The thin rug cushioned my body slightly and saved it from the coldness of the black, hard wooden floor. I looked up and caught him smiling down at me. The charm of his smile could almost make you forget the immorality of the mind that lurked beneath. I knew his hazel eyes would have shifted colour to gleam green with his delight in watching me, vulnerable and needy at his feet. The flush of my arousal tinted my face as the warmth of desire spread through my body and made my flesh tingle in the cold draughts that circled and played across the room. The cold teased my swollen breasts so heavy and full that they ached to be touched by him. A moan of wanting escaped my lips and his smile deepened. "Happy, my angel?" He asked. He knew I was; the question was not asked for me to reply, it was but a tool to deepen the connection between us. It increased the intimacy of this moment and prolonged the exquisite torture of waiting that sent tremors dancing through my soul. He knew so many ways to make me want him. He moved from standing over me and disappeared from my view only to return within seconds and place a chair where previously he had stood. "Open your legs." He murmured. I obeyed and he placed the chair to fit in the gap I had now created. The chair legs rested just beneath my knees and prevented me from closing my legs again, even had I wanted to. I felt rather than saw his smile this time but I knew it was there and the thought that I had pleased him made my pulse race. The chair moved as he sat astride it and the chair legs pinched into my soft skin tenderly. I sighed with pleasure. He laughed and leaned forward to pick his cigarette packet and lighter from the floor, he had left them there so casually earlier but now I knew he had deliberately placed them there with this scene in mind. I watched as his elegant fingers extracted a cigarette and lit it, his actions so precise that they made the ordinary task a delight to watch. I knew the touch of those fingers so well, the pleasure they could bring and when he wanted, the pain. The cigarette smoke drifted from his lips and trailed down to me in gentle wisps. Our eyes met and locked together in a long gaze of eloquent silence. I felt myself sink into those eyes, drowning beneath the strength of his will. His eyes travelled down to my parted lips, and lingered there as he watched my tongue moisten my bottom lip. "Stroke your breasts for me." The words floated out with the cigarette smoke and he leaned forward as I rushed to answer his command. "No." He snapped, "Slowly." I ran my fingertips lightly across my stomach and slowly, gently moving them up until they reached the heavy under curve of my full breasts. I spread my fingers and caressed upwards until I felt my hard, erect nipples graze against the palm of my hand. I groaned and arched my back to better press them against my hands. The intensity of his gaze combined with the slow stroking of my hands made the wetness between my legs gush and seep. I could feel my juices dripping down, my thighs stretched too far apart to prevent the torrent making a glistening river of need that moistened the rug beneath my bottom. My hands moved down to my stomach, tantalising my flesh as I writhed beneath my own caresses. He leaned further forward and flicked his cigarette ash onto the floor. The musky smell of my desire floated between us and the only sound was my panted breaths and the creak of the chair as his weight shifted. I moved my hands ever closer to the centre of my need, my fingers left trembling flashes of pleasure on my overheated flesh. I squirmed beneath my own touch and my panted moans signalled my torment at having to proceed so slowly. "Ummm, not too fast, baby." He growled, his voice thick with controlled lust. The glow of the cigarette highlighted the chiselled planes of his face as he continued to watch the progress of my hands trailing down my shaking body. My fingers had reached the triangle of blonde strands that defined the centre of my aching. The strands felt silky against my questing fingers as they moved ever downwards. The soft fleshy lips of my sex were slightly open, prevented from hiding my desire by the chair's immovable presence. My fingertips dipped into my wetness, and grazed across the hard, rigid nub of my clitoris. I gasped as pleasure stabbed through my being. The pure wave of delight, caused by that lightest of touches, forced a long moan from my parted lips. I met his eyes again; mine pleading and soft, his dark and unyielding. "Stroke yourself lightly." He groaned. I whimpered as I complied with his request. My fingers slipped in my glistening moisture, tantalising my clitoris into tremulous sensitivity as spasms of delight throbbed in time with my fingers movements. My moans deepened as he watched my fingers slow stroking. "You are so damn hot." His tone was accusatory, almost as though he wished my need was not so evident or so appealing. "Taste yourself." I moved one hand up to my mouth and continued my rubbing with the other. My sexual juices clung and coated my fingers, heavy and thick with the evidence of my desire. My tongue lapped at the liquid, cleaning droplets off of my fingers and I ravelled in the erotic taste of my desire. He groaned, "Too damn hot. Come for me. I want to see you come." My fingers moved faster, pressing down harder on my tender clitoris in response to his command. The pleasure coiled and danced through my body as I reached for my orgasm. My whole being paused as the first wave of contractions spread out and I heard myself cry out. The room seemed to darken and spin as my body bucked under the force of the pleasure that pulsed through me. The tremors weakened and I sank back against the floor, letting the gentler quivers of aftershocks pulsate through me. He sighed, the sound echoing between us and removed the chair. He stood and holding my gaze, began to slowly unbutton his shirt, "And now for the main course." He smiled; from his mouth those words were both a threat and a promise. Under Your Control Scene 02 Being near him, breathing in the air he had only just exhaled, created a languorous heavy lust inside me that slowed time. Fantasy had met reality and now the edges of both were so blurred that I could not recognise where one started and the other ended. I was still lying at his feet, naked and trembling after the first orgasm he had made me give myself. My mind was still too dazed at the intensity of the feelings that this man could provoke in me to even attempt to move from the softness of the rug he had placed me on. I knew he was considering what next to do with me. I could see the thoughts flicker across his face, as he unbuttoned his white shirt. I watched his long fingers, deftly elegant, as they released each button and revealed his broad, smooth chest to my heated gaze. The candlelight sketched his profile in the darkness of the room; the strong, hard planes of his face and the sternness of his features were clearly defined, and currently unbroken by the warmth of his smile, as he concentrated on removing his shirt. "Kneel." He said gently. He turned away, secure in the knowledge that I would obey, and I half smiled, as I moved to answer his command I watched his back and admired the tautness of his skin as he precisely folded his shirt. A slight smile pulled at my mouth; he always folded his clothes so neatly whilst mine were scattered around the room. My new green dress and red satin knickers decorated the oak floor of the sitting room, whilst one of my glossy stiletto shoes balanced on the edge of the low oak coffee table. I had been so eager to undress that I had not considered where my clothes fell. He, unlike me, always considered everything. My full lips trembled as I bit back the smile and fought the urge to move towards him. I was kneeling now. My bottom rested lightly on my heels, my back was achingly straight, my shoulders were pulled back as far as I could get them and my head was held high; just as he had taught me. I could already feel the muscles in my thighs, calves and back straining as I fought to hold the position. I shifted slightly as he moved back towards me, and pulled my shoulders even further back so that my full breasts pushed out to meet his gaze. I watched his eyes travel over my body and was filled with the pride that he had given me. I no longer felt embarrassment at my full curves or the softness of my white thighs; he had taught me to see myself as he did. He had used his desire for me as a much kinder mirror than the cold glass I had previously judged myself against. "Pretty angel," he purred, as he held out his hands for me to see the black velvet ribbons spilling over his fingers. I bit the inside of my lip as I tried to imagine what he had decided to do. The confusion must have clouded my eyes because he paused. His hand reached out and, bending to my kneeling level, he ran a single finger down my cheek to my lips. The finger gently smoothed along my full bottom lip, leaving a tingling tenderness in its wake. He took my hand and pulled me up, lending me his strength so I did not overbalance. Still holding my hand, he led me to the coffee table in the centre of the room. "Sit here, baby," he said. My confusion was now complete; he wanted me to sit on the coffee table? "Yes," he smiled, "on the table." He released my hand so he could move my discarded shoe, and frowned as he did so. My untidiness was an irritation to him that sometimes caused me great delight. I sat carefully on the edge of the table. The cold smoothness of the wood gripped my bottom as I tested its ability to take my weight. My confidence in its strength complete, I moved slightly further back so that my knees were bent over the edge and my feet were just touching the floor. "Ummm," he murmured. "Perfect. Lie down but leave your feet touching the floor." I did as he had asked and shuddered as the chill of the wood touched the warmth of my shoulders. My back was arched against the unyielding hardness and I moved slightly in an attempt to fit my body to its flatness. My arms lifted automatically to above my head as I held the table edge to give my body some help while it adjusted to its new position. His hand gripped my right ankle to hold it steady whilst he secured it to the table leg. The softness of the ribbon caressed my skin as he worked, first wrapping the ribbon around my ankle and then around the wood, until the two were joined to his satisfaction. "Not too tight, baby?" he asked. "Can you move your foot, still?" "Yes," I replied, and wiggled my foot so he could see that I was telling the truth. He had bound me firmly but not tightly. The ribbon held my foot lovingly but securely, I would not be moving anywhere until he released me. His warm hand captured my foot and moved firmly down over it, a trailing finger tickled deliciously at my instep. "That tickles," I giggled. His hand became more insistent and the tickling feeling subsided into a tantalising tingling. I heard the whimper of need escape from my lips just as I felt him remove his hand. "Good girl," he praised, as he began to bind my other foot. With my feet now both bound to the table legs, my thighs were stretched wide apart and I was again fully displayed to his marauding eyes. I sighed; my impatience to touch and be touched was rising with every passing second. My first orgasm had only slightly diminished the ache inside my body, I wanted so much more. He rose and moved to stand beside my prone body. "You are beautiful," He murmured, almost to himself. I turned my head slightly to look at him but his face was hidden in shadow. I could smell the heady scent of his musky aftershave as he bent to take my arm and pushed it gently into place by the nearest table leg. His touch prompted another moan from my lips; my body was on fire with need. He knelt beside me and I watched as he trailed the black velvet ribbon, first around my wrist and then the table leg. He turned his head and his eyes stared intently into mine as his lips brushed across my tied hand. The heat of his breath seared the palm of my tied hand as his tongue slid across it. "I want you," He sighed. I swallowed, my throat was thickened with lust and I could only moan a reply. I watched a smile flash across his face, and then he stood, moving out of my vision to cross to the other side of the table. I turned my head quickly to watch him capture my unsecured arm and tie that too. "Let's make sure you're comfortable, angel." He grinned. "You are going to be there for a while." He picked up a cushion from the chesterfield and tenderly lifted my head to place the cushion beneath it. His hand smoothed my blonde hair and, like a cat, I moved beneath his hand to better luxuriate in his touch. We exchanged a smile that held between us, as he stood and again moved from my view. I tried to lift my head to see where he had gone but my arms were too securely tied to enable me to move to that extent. I could not hear his breathing anymore. Where was he? He would not leave me here, alone. Would he? The thoughts rushed through my head as I panicked that I was alone. The chill fear crept across my heated skin. Then I heard him. My body relaxed again, he had not left me. He came to kneel at the side of the table, a glass of ruby red wine in his hand. He sipped as he gazed at me, and an indulgent smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Are you thirsty?" He asked. I nodded my head in reply. He dipped two fingers into his wine and swirled them in the liquid. "Then I must remedy that." His fingers, soaked with the wine, dripped across my cheek as he sought out my mouth. My tongue eagerly lapped the liquid from his skin. I felt a trickle of wine escape from my mouth and run across my cheek. He saw it also and bringing his lips to it, licked it away. I wanted to grab his head and force his mouth over mine. I wanted to feel his tongue enter my mouth and ravage it. I wanted... I could not move and groaned my frustration at him. I arched my back to demonstrate how much I needed him to take me. "Not yet, baby," He laughed. "Please," I begged. My husky voice spoke of my need but he shook his head. He placed his hand on my neck and moved it slowly, down over my breast. My nipple, hard and achingly sensitive rubbed against the edge of his palm. I felt the answering throb deep between my legs and my juices again spilled and dribbled down between the cleft of my bottom. My body instinctively moved under his questing hands, as he lavished caresses on my full breasts. The aroused flesh flattened and rose as he kneaded and squeezed. I moved my head from side to side unable to escape from the sensations pulsing through my body. The heat of arousal was becoming unbearable, my body throbbed and burned. "Mmmmm, you are getting amazingly hot," He chuckled, against my ear. "We may need to cool you off. And how do you think we are going to do that?" "I don't know." I whispered. "Well, the wine is quite cool?" He replied. "I'm not thirsty." I grinned. He returned the grin, picked up the wine glass and stood. "I know you're not thirsty." He said, as he looked down at me. "I remember once being told that to put out a fire quickly, one most go to the source of the flames and extinguish them." He lifted the wine glass, and as it caught in the light, the wine gleamed blood red as he moved it to hover over my stomach. I caught my breath as I realised what he intended to do. "Such soft, creamy, white skin." He whispered, as he poured the wine slowly over the mound between my legs. "Red and white, white and red." He breathed. "Stunning, my gorgeous harlot. You are quite, quite stunning." I moaned, and shifted my hips as the cool wine trickled between my shaved lips and met my heated juices. The liquids pooled beneath my bottom and my wetness was complete. "Ummm, you should never waste good wine." He sighed. "And that merlot is extremely good." He moved to the bottom of the table and knelt. I felt his hands grasp my bent knees as he steadied himself, and bent over me. He inhaled deeply to capture the smell of my hot arousal and the now heated red wine. "Oh, baby." He sighed, as his mouth touched the inside of my thigh. His lips slid upwards in the wetness of my juices and the red wine. I so wanted to see him but I could only feel his lips and his breath as he worked his way up my thighs; feasting on the flesh that was open and pliant beneath his mouth. My eyes closed as his mouth reached my lips and he drank greedily from the liquids caught between them. The greedy slurping of his mouth and my gasps were the only sounds in the still room. My hips writhed beneath his mouth as he reached my clitoris and caught it between his lips. I cried out, the sucking on my engorged flesh was caught between pain and pleasure, as the intense sensations circled out and pulsed through my body. I heard his answering groan as he pushed his hands under my bottom, up to my frantic hips and securely held me down as he fastened his mouth even tighter to me. His fingers gripped and sank into my flesh as his mouth suckled at my tender clitoris. My body strained to escape but the ribbons held me to the table. I could feel the sensations building in my stomach as my pleasure spiralled towards its peak. My cries were intensifying as the waves of pleasure flooded through me. He felt my body tense as the first flood of my orgasm spilled out into his mouth. He pulled me even closer to his mouth and rode my contractions as I screamed unrecognisable words. The pulsing remained, heavy and intense, as his mouth continued to work on my cooling flesh. He released me, only to move his body up over mine and capture my gasping mouth for a deep kiss. His lips and chin were slick with my liquor, liberally mingled with the fruity wine. My tongue danced around his mouth cleaning, tasting and drinking the rich mixture. He pulled away. "Ummm, I think I need another glass of wine," He said. "We have a long night ahead of us." Under Your Control Scene 03 He lay on the chesterfield, lazily smoking a cigarette and slowly sipping the aged merlot. He watched her as she slept; curled on her side on the rug, in front of the fireplace, remaining exactly in the position he had told her to take. She had been disappointed when he had untied her but it had been a necessary lesson for both of them. She had to learn that the lure of her body was resistible. He smiled, for it was a lesson he too must learn. The curves of her body fascinated him. The sweep of her back that disappeared into the full, plump cheeks of her bottom begged to be stroked. The exaggerated flare of her hips that tapered into soft smooth thighs haunted his thoughts even when he was apart from her. She stirred slightly and her arm slipped giving him a glimpse of the full breasts and proud nipples that he loved to suck. The reflected glow of the flames tinged her creamy white skin with an orange glow and turned her nipples a dark, deep red. He knew that if he reached out a hand it would take only a single caress to bring her responsive body back to full arousal. He sighed and a languid curl of smoke dribbled from his stern lips and fogged the gaze of his green-tinged eyes. He pondered why he found this one so unique. She was like a drug he could not live without; he both found and lost himself in her arms. It was not because she was beautiful, though there were occasions when the light caught the blue of her eyes a certain way and her face was tilted to his, that he almost saw an unearthly glow surround her. It almost transformed her pretty features into something that surpassed physical beauty. He shook his head almost sadly; the magic that she wove around him had him so transfixed that he could not even begin to imagine how she did it. What her particular difference was probably did not matter; the very fact that she existed was enough. He sipped his wine again, the heavy fermented scent of the grapes reminding him of how well her juices had mixed with it and improved its bouquet a mere hour earlier. He grinned. He just knew that she would be a merlot; heavy, sensual, mature and indolent. Each woman had her own wine: champagne for the young and giggly, a fresh sharp white for the strong, athletic career women that he so loved to introduce to the exotic pleasures they had forgone in favour of their professions, but it was a rare woman that could blend so seamlessly with the rich earthy delight of his favourite merlot. The throbbing pleasure of his own unsated arousal flowed around his body and centred in the solid bulge of his black trousers. He loved being aroused, maybe more even than orgasm. An orgasm signalled an end, whereas arousal was a controllable source of erotic energy that enabled pleasure to be given and taken endlessly. He would wake her in a moment, he thought; it was time for his pleasure to start, but first he needed to get everything ready. He drank back his wine quickly, and grimaced as the fiery liquid stung the back of his throat, stubbed his half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray and with one fluid movement was standing and walking out of the room towards the bathroom. He did not glance back at her as there was no need; she would not move until he told her to. He allowed himself to feel proud of her and of himself. The bathroom, just like the rest of the house, was old. Heavy pipes festooned the uneven walls and gurgled soothingly as he opened and closed cupboard doors. He hummed the chorus of an old Nina Simone song under his breath, as he gathered all the bits and pieces he would need into a neat pile. A moan of contentment interrupted his tune as he found a large metal bowl. "That is truly excellent" he murmured, as he filled the bowl with warm water. He grabbed a couple of hand towels and bundled everything into his arms to carry back to her. He placed everything he would need on the coffee table, all precisely lined up in order of use. The reflection of the candlelight flickered across the razor, highlighting the sharp, shiny edge. The low, cushioned stool in the corner of the room was just perfect; he smiled, not his normal quick grin that never reached his eyes but a true smile of pure happiness. He paused: he could not remember the last time he had felt this type of elation at just being with someone. It was as though everything in his world had fallen into place. He leant over her, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Wake up, my angel." He allowed his hand to drift down her arm, savouring the softness of her skin, and smiled a greeting as her eyes flickered open and looked at him. She smiled a warm drowsy smile, filled with her trust in him. His passion surged and he fought to control the urge to crush her to him and ravage that innocent pouting mouth with hard, furious kisses. "Lay flat on your back and raise your legs and bottom in the air. I need to place this stool under you" he said, and watched as she immediately obeyed. He slid the stool into place and arranged her so that her legs were spread wide. She was now fully exposed to his gaze, her intimate secrets revealed and available to do with as he wished. He knelt before her and gazed for a moment at the perfect pink wetness of her. He leant forward and took a deep breath, drinking in through his nostrils the heady musk of her sex and the faint scent of the merlot that he had earlier poured over her. Dried trickles of the wine could be traced down her thighs, in a fine cobweb of dusky red. He took a precisely-folded face cloth from the coffee table and dipped it into the silver bowl. He was aware that the position in which he had placed her hid his actions completely. He could see her anticipation, the tension in her legs as she strained to stop herself from closing them. He grinned; her desire to please him was being tested against her fear of the unknown, exactly as he imagined it would be. The face cloth dripped wetly across her thighs and he saw her body shiver as he wiped firmly up one thigh and down the other. The water sparkled across the smooth skin and she moaned as the warm water cooled. He wetted the cloth again and dribbled the water across the core of her wetness and watched her body jerk in surprise. "Stay still," he barked, hiding his amusement in sternness, and thankful that she could not see the humour in his face. He worked diligently at her softest places with the face cloth, stretching her skin one way and then another to clean her tender lips and the swollen clitoris that peeked out shyly but rigidly from its fragile hood. He completed his task by wiping down the cleft of her buttocks and rubbing gently at her tightly closed anus. He felt her embarrassment in the clench of her buttocks and knew that her pretty face would be hotly blushing. "Good girl" he praised her softly. "All clean". As he stroked across her plump mound, the fine trimmed hairs tickled his fingers and he chuckled unable to contain his delight in her. He took the shaving gel and squeezed a generous amount onto her mound. "Don't move a muscle, baby. I don't want to slip with this." He bent forward so he could see her face and showed her the sharp razor he held in his hand. Her face stared back at him, her eyes wide and scared. He smiled and patted her stomach. "I'll be gentle, if you stay completely still." The razor swept smoothly across her mound, the gentle rasp loud in the silence of the room. He could hear her breathing quicken as she felt the sharp steel sting her flesh. As he moved the razor down, he placed a finger into her vagina and spread his fingers to hold her lips apart. He heard her muffled groan and felt her juices trickle out of her to run across his palm. His face was a mask of concentration as he focused on the razor, firmly grazing down and across her mound. He removed his finger from her and began tracing the razor down and around her lips, holding and touching each tender part of her to keep her flesh taut. He worked slowly, cautiously, stretching out the pouting lips to enable the razor to access to her most intimate parts. He made a final quick sweep of the razor across her mound. She shifted automatically, and the razor nicked a small cut in the perfection of her plump flesh. "Damn," he said as he watched the ruby red blood swell into a glossy tear. His head bent over her and his lips fastened around the small wound. He sucked and tasted the metallic tang of her blood. She moaned and lifted her hips as he suckled at her. He pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He shook his head in despair and groaned; she had an effect on him that was so powerful it shocked him. The need to be part of her was agonising: he wanted to possess her totally; he needed to own her completely. He reached over, took her hands and pulled her on to the stool, wrapped her tightly in his arms and kissed her with all the passion he felt for her. His lips ravaged hers; she struggled but could not move against the iron clasp of his arms. She clung to him, powerless under the attack of his lips, his tongue forcing her lips apart and plundering her mouth until she could barely breathe. He bit down on her bottom lip and she instantly stopped struggling and lay still in his arms. He pulled back from her and looked at her sweet face, her eyes watching him warily, and he smiled as he released her. "Kneel and bend that sweet body over the stool," he said, backing away to give her some room to answer his command. He unbuckled his belt and let his black trousers fall to the floor. As normal he wore no underwear and he stood naked, looking down at the rigid hardness of his penis. The head swelled angry and red, slick with the seeping pre-cum that had flowed since the moment he had stripped her naked so many hours ago. He stroked a hand along the length of his shaft and shivered under the pleasure of his own hand. He viewed her raised bottom with delight; the firm, fleshy roundness was spectacular in its ripeness, so completely, ridiculously delectable. He knelt behind her and moved her knees further apart the better to display her. His fingers searched out her clitoris and steadily stroked her. She was already dripping wet, the slickness covering his fingers immediately. He spread her juices down and through her cleft. He slowly eased his swollen head along her parted lips so that it rested on her clit, and bit back a moan. The slippery heat of her tantalized his penis and tempted him to enter her but he restrained himself. He rubbed his head against her wetness, coating himself in her juice and revelling in the soft, silky feel of her against him. He pulled back again, and examined the secret place normally concealed by her ample buttocks. It peeked, tightly closed but now glistening with the oily liquid that he had spread upon it. "Relax, darling," he murmured, and stroked a hand gently down her flank. His touch soothed her and he felt her body surrender to his voice. His finger probed the tightness gently. He rubbed his finger around and against the entrance, pushing tenderly whilst his other hand rubbed her swollen clit. Her breathing was heavy and she moved her hips languidly under his caresses. Her juices spilled and dripped out of her, making his fingers slide. She was so decadently wet and responsive that it humbled him. The strength of her sexuality hung between them, a sweet musky haze that drowned out the rest of the world and suspended time. As he stroked her clit, he moved the head of his penis against her anus and pushed lightly. He felt the resistance and pushed steadily against it. The taut band held against him, then suddenly succumbed and the hot stickiness of her insides enveloped his shaft. He gasped, and her heat combined with the tight embrace of her muscles almost made him lose control. He paused, whilst the throbbing in his body gentled. He rested his hands on her hips and lightly stroked her satin skin; she trembled beneath his caress. He moved in and out of her, unhurriedly. He probed the depths of her slowly, fascinated by the feel of such an intimate part of her body and luxuriating in her body's acceptance of him. A faint sheen of perspiration gleamed on her skin and he bent over to lick a droplet away. The salty taste flickered for a moment in his mouth. He moaned and pulled out of her slightly, before tenderly moving forward again to savour the hot grasp of her anew. Every one of his five senses were sharpened; he heard her soft moans as though he had made them, the faint scent of her perfume swam around him coating his pleasure in vanilla. He examined the arch of her back minutely, spellbound by the texture and richness of her creamy skin. He could feel his seed beginning to rise, the ache for release teetering between pain and pleasure. He bent over her and thrust forward hard as he began to spurt. She whimpered and his hands gripped into her flesh, desperately pressing as deeply into her as he could, and unburdened himself into her insides. The pulsating shudder of his orgasm spiralled out from his core and he staggered against her, spent. As the last of his seed flowed, he rested his head against her back and kissed the nape of her neck. There was so much he wished to say to her, but at this moment, words were not enough; instead he allowed his arms to wrap themselves around her, and he held on.