Trust and Control

Chapter 2
As I walked downstairs, I let out a sigh of relief. This was going to be difficult.
Oliver and I had been dating for quite awhile, and had (quote-unquote) "done it" a few times; but generally, it was completely "vanilla," as they say; nothing remotely in the neighborhood of kinky or weird. And he was always in control. If I had anything to say, during, it was phrased as a question. But this time...it wasn't really about the sex. It was about the trust. The sex was just a rather entertaining means to an end.
I prepared a tray with some items I had previously decided on, then returned upstairs. He was sitting with his back against the headboard with the blanket pulled up to his waist. I set the tray on my dresser, then stood in front of it so he wouldn't see what it contained.
"Glasses off," I said. He and I both have amazingly bad eyesight.
He removed his glasses. I crossed the room and retrieved them, then put them in a glasses case on my dresser, next to the tray, from which I took two items.
"Sit on the edge of the bed, on top of the blanket." He did so; I saw he was still wearing his underwear.
"I thought I told you to get undressed, but I suppose we'll remedy that shortly. Lie back." He did so, resting his hands on his chest; I walked around to the opposite side of the bed. Taking each of his wrists in my hands, I bound them together over his head, checking to make sure that he still had adequate circulation. I saw him smile.
"Is something funny?"
"No, ma'am." The smile disappeared.
"A simple 'no' will suffice. Lift your head." I tied a length of cloth over his eyes to serve as a blindfold, checking to ensure that he wouldn't be able to see.
"Your legs and mouth will remain unbound unless you create a situation in which they need to be. I will return shortly. You should be in this same position when I return."
***
I heard her footsteps receding. Already I was beginning to see her point; I felt rather exposed, lying like this. I assumed she would return momentarily, as she had the first time, but after a few minutes, the room was still silent. I began to move somewhat, and realized that the ties around my hands gave much less than I would have assumed; I actually couldn't free myself. It was kind of unnerving. After awhile longer, I couldn't stand it anymore. "Lauren?" I called; no response. "Lauren??"
"You will speak only when spoken to. Is that clear?" she purred; I could feel her breath on my cheek. She smelled of coffee. I hadn't heard her return.
"Yes."
"Good." I heard her walking around; she wasn't trying to be silent anymore. I had a vague impression that she was standing over me, but understood that I shouldn't say anything. Suddenly I felt three ice-cold drips on my abdomen; I arched involuntarily.
"Stay still." I felt the bed depress as she knelt next to me, then cold discomfort as she traced the ice cube along my cheek, neck, shoulder, chest, along the underside of my upper arm. I tried not to writhe, which was intensely hard (though that wasn't all that was hard at that point...) The ice cube disappeared for a few moments; then her hand tangled in my hair as her mouth crushed down onto mine in a nearly-bruising kiss. I was frozen (no pun intended) for a second; her kisses were always so gentle, so hesitant. When I was finally able to respond, I opened my mouth slightly and felt a sliver of ice pass from her tongue onto mine. She broke the kiss; I then felt her tongue tracing the path the ice cube had left across my skin as the sliver melted in my mouth, along with an occasional nip or scrape from her unusually pointy eyeteeth. The ever-shrinking coherent part of my brain wondered vaguely if she was dressed. Her fingertips traced gently along my side; I shivered. I felt her stand up from the bed, then heard the telltale crack her knees always make when she kneels as she did so on the floor in front of me. Her fingertips hooked around my waistband.
"Hips up." I arched my back as she pulled my boxers down over my hips, thighs, painfully slowly. She then, equally slowly, tortuously, ran a fingernail lightly across the soles of my feet, up the inside of my legs, up my inner thighs, then - as I was sure she would finally come to the place I was waiting for, she skipped up to my hips, up my sides again, over my abdomen. Finally, I felt her now-warm hands adjusting the position of my knees, then gripping my hips firmly.
"You will restrain yourself.” I barely had time to process her implications before she engulfed me in her mouth.
***
He was uncomfortable. This was actually kind of fun, but I didn't want to break character and laugh. As I ran my tongue along the tip, his hips twitched, probably involuntarily; I removed my mouth.
“You will not move unless told to do so, is that clear?”
“God…”
“I can stand up right now and leave you like this; is that clear?”
“Yes,” he said weakly.
I returned to my ministrations. Expanding my throat as I did when I sang, I took him deeper, then…hummed.
“Jesus Christ!” he cried out, as my throat vibrated around him.
I removed my mouth again.
“Sorry, sorry…”
“Good boy.”
When I felt that he could handle keeping himself still, I removed my left hand from his hip, using it to begin to prepare myself for what came next. When I was ready, I stopped, stood; he whimpered. I stood over him for a moment, staring; he was beautiful like this.
I straddled him, placing a knee on either side of his hips; I braced myself with one hand on his chest, which probably hindered his breathing a little, using the other to guide him into me, then clutching his sides with both hands. I plunged down; usually he allows me a moment to adjust, but I began moving immediately, but this time I wanted the pain. It felt a little awkward (he was always on top) but eventually I found a rhythm, digging my fingernails into his sides; I was fairly sure it hurt, but doubted the pain was at the forefront of his mind. When we were both close, I slowed, moving just enough to keep us both on the edge, holding him down. He cried out in frustration.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes…”
“Do you want it?”
“Yes…”
“Do you need it?”
“God, Lauren, yes!”
“Say it. Tell me what you need.”
“Fuck, Lauren, let me come!”
“Come with me.”