Red Silk

this is a challenge piece written for one of the groups i'm on. the challenge was to use the sentence As she stepped into the dimly lit bedroom, she saw where he had laid out a pair of red silk scarves, a feather, massage oil, and a paddle. we were supposed to use in a short story or a poem. my short story seemed to take on a life of its own and so, instead of posting it to the group's mailing list, i decided to share it and post it here. its supposed to involve one of Alan Rickman's characters, but as i haven't seen many of his films, i decided to leave the male nameless so that it could be any one of them. then the focus of my inspiration turned and, well..... this is what came of it.

it did get a little long, so be sure to bring a towel, something cold to drink, popcorn or chips and a sandwich, any handheld devices you might need and just about anything else that you can think of.

i offer this to you. i hope you enjoy.

Red Silk
~~~~~~~~~~

She stared at her reflection in the glass and wondered just what the hell she was doing. She couldn't recall ever having done something like this before. In point of fact, she couldn't recall the last time she'd had any kind of encounter. She knew it had been a long time, probably more than three years, because she'd closed herself off from people after the last fiasco of a relationship. Oh, she had her friends that she hung about with. Girls' night out was fine. But she steadfastly avoided being put into situations where she might find herself alone with a man.

She'd had a few boyfriends over the years. Not many, but enough to have experience and to miss the touching and human companionship that came with an intimate relationship. Her girlfriends couldn't provide her with that, though one was willing to try. A girl she worked with had made it perfectly clear that she was more than willing to engage in some between the sheets romping. The idea had never appealed. Not that she wasn't interested in women, but she wasn't interested in this particular woman.

She knew she was lonely, but she couldn't help but be a little frightened by the idea of trusting in a man again. Each and every man she'd established a relationship with had managed to be a complete and total loser. They'd all found a way to hurt her and steal just that much more of her pride and dignity. Ever since she'd discovered that her last dickhead (That was what she called them all now. Dickhead instead of their names) had only been toying with her, she'd been shy and skittish around men. She'd done a damned fine job of closing her heart off from them and now it was small and empty. She'd been a long time without love and knew that the longer she cut herself off, the harder it would be to find it. She honestly feared she was incapable of feeling anything anymore, but she didn't dare trust in someone enough to attempt another relationship.

Which brought her to where she was now. Sitting in the front seat of a brand new Jaguar with a man she'd only met half an hour ago. In a bar. It had been a girl's night out. But Trisha and Deena had left almost as soon as they got there, having gotten into some kind of argument in the bathroom, and Felicia had left her at the club to go home with some guy who'd groped her tits after he'd bought them both a drink. Once her friends were gone, she'd sat and drank. Normally, she only had a few glasses of wine. Not too much, but just enough to ease the tension. Tonight, she'd skipped past the wine and gone straight to the shots.

Half a dozen shots of tequila later, she'd literally fallen into a stranger's arms. She was uncoordinated on heels at the best of times and so rarely wore them. With alcohol in her system, it was a miracle she hadn't fallen and broken and ankle, her nose, an arm and cracked her head open. She had tripped, though. On what, she couldn't be sure. For all she knew, it was a piece of dust. She'd been expecting a huge impact and had even geared herself up for it. But it hadn't come. When she'd looked up, anything she might have been able to say with some clarity fled and she was left to stare at him stupidly.

Her savior was dark headed, his hair cut some what short and fluttering about his head like an unruly halo, and dark eyed. Said eyes were staring deeply into her own with a knowing glance and the faint hint of promise to them. She could see, even in the dimness of the bar, that he was tanned enough to be healthy but not so dark that it would present trouble later in the form of health risks. She had felt the strength in his arms just by the way he held her up and his smile was like something from the paintings of one of the great masters. It was angelic and beautiful and filled with just the smallest amount of wickedness blended in to draw people into him further. Against all of her better judgement, she fell for it.

She'd allowed him to escort her to the closest table and settle her into a chair. She knew she should run, but something about him made her want to stay and find out if the promise was mere illusion. He'd bought her another drink, with her permission, of course, and they had chatted amiably for a few moments about any and everything that came to mind, then he'd leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips from across the table. When he'd moved back to his orignal position, he'd lifted a single brow in query. Before she'd known what she was doing, she had nodded and stood. And now she was ensconced in his plush car, staring at the passing scenery as he took her to a motel that they'd mutually, and silently, agreed upon.

Lights flashed across the glass, streaks of illumination that slid past as rapidly as thoughts shot through her head. Even now, she could feel the faint tingle in her lips that lingered from his short kiss. It was a kiss that hadn't been designed to do anything. There had been no teasing with it, no promise, nothing. And yet, her lips buzzed with anticipation of another. One that came with more emotion behind it. She glanced over at him a moment, studying the profile of his face. The line of his chin was strong, his jaw loose despite the concentration he gave the road before them. She could see that his nose was long and straight, perhaps a little bigger than normal and his cheekbones helped to give him a strong profile. As if he sensed her staring, he turned and smiled at her.

She felt the blush rise up to stain her cheeks and she was glad that it was dark so that he couldn't see it. Turning her head, she went back to staring out the window. She still couldn't believe she was doing this. But that innocent kiss had woken something dark within her, a passion she'd long ago buried deep inside of her where it had sat, forgotten and unused. Until now. Now it was clawing at her determination, demanding she allow it out to play and be satisfied. A slow throb pulsed with life between her thighs that she couldn't ignore, no matter how badly she wanted to.

There was no need to talk. The car's interior was filled with the sounds of Mozart, the soft strains of strings, woodwinds and gentle percussion just enough to make speech an obscene intrusion into the tranquility of the music. She could feel the car slowing and looked out the windshield to see that the expensive automobile was gliding over to take the coming exit. She could see a rather posh hotel along the road, the kind she knew would have valet parking and bell hops in crisp uniforms. It was the kind of hotel that undoubtably rented rooms for a sum no less than three digits for one night's stay. Fear suddenly sprang to life in her breast, warring with the desire his chaste salute had woken up.

She looked to him again, wondering if she dared ask for an explanation. But he was intent on the road, so she remained silent a moment or two longer. A small sporty car that looked suspiciously like a Porsche darted around and past them, gunning its engine so that it shot through the intersection rapidly. It left behind the sound of growling, as if the mechanical beast enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. The Jaguar turned smoothly into the parking lot of the large, glowing building and stopped before an eagerly awaiting valet wearing a white, long sleeved button down and a black vest.

Her door swung open, a doorman wearing a long coat and hat holding a white gloved hand out for her to take. Silently, she put her hand in his and allowed him to help her from the car's deep leather seat. When she stood, albeit wobbly, the doorman passed her hand over to the man who'd brought her here. He tipped his hat at the two of them and stepped back to open the door into the hotel's lobby.

Her heels clattered nosily on the floor. A vast expanse of marble spread out before them, black with silver and gray veins running through it. Columns of white rose to support a high ceiling in strategic locations. There was a fountain in the center of the floor, a grouping of couches and chairs surrounding it. Each piece of furniture was done in shades of black and gray, the legs and arms a darkly stained wood that was polished to a high shine. A few people milled around in the lobby. They were dressed in suits and dresses. Some carried suitcases and some carried briefcases. Some were on cell phones. A few read newspapers. Uniformed men and women hurried back and forth across the floor.

When the two of them stood before the desk, the clerk turned and smiled. "Good evening, sir. May I help you?" she asked, her tone crisp, polite and professional. Her name tag said her name was Victoria.

"We'd like a room for the night," he told the clerk. She nodded, then moved to stand before a computer terminal and began typing on the keyboard.

"What kind of room would you like?" she began, her fingers now paused and waiting.

"A suite. Something with an excellent view of the city and a large tub. Something that two can fit into easily," he replied without hesitation. The clerk looked from him to her and back, a knowing smile on her face.

"Of course, sir," Victoria nodded her head. The tone of the woman's voice was grating. She turned to look at the lobby once more, pulling her attention from them. She didn't want to hear the innuendo in the clerk's voice or see the sly look on her face. Instead, she allowed her imagination to run, picturing the various components of the large entrance in something vast and ancient, like one of the grand palaces of old. She was so lost in the thought that she started when someone touched her shoulder and she turned to find him staring down at her again, that half-smile on his face that served to make her want him all the more.

"Shall we, my dear?" he asked her softly. She nodded silently. Once more, he took her hand and began escorting her behind the bell hop. The young man carried a small suitcase that looked very much like an overnight bag. She supposed he'd gotten it from his car when the doorman had helped her out. She was only surprised that she hadn't seen it before now.

The elevator was mirrored on all sides, the floor carpeted with thick pile that was colored to match the marble in the lobby. She stood beside him silently, wondering if she hadn't gotten herself in over her head this time. She had never in her life ever gone home with a complete stranger and she'd never, ever had sex with any of her boyfriends until after they'd dated at least six times. Simply climbing willingly into a stranger's car and allowing him to whisk her off for a night of bedroom acrobatics. It had to be all of the alcohol she'd consumed. There could be no other excuse for it.

But she thought again of that minor kiss and the tingles once more shot through out her body like liquid fire and she had to wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, it was more to do with her own needs and wants and little to do with the alcohol. All of that tequila would have most likely only opened her up to do something that her rigid control wouldn't normally allow. But the idea had been there before hand, simply looking for some way to fight to the surface and assert dominance over her normally staid and unchanging personality.

Cool, comfortable conditioned air blew down at them from the top of the elevator car. It swirled around the interior, moving across her skin to cool the heated perspiration that was beading up on her brow. With it, it carried the scent of his cologne and she found herself inhaling it deeply, eyes closed as she filed the crisp, clean smell of him away in her mind. His scent was almost enough to be intoxicating and she found herself swaying on her feet. Her eyes opened when he laid one hand on her and stopped her from falling into him. Their eyes caught and held. She blushed when she realized that he was staring straight at her, as if he could see into her soul.

The spell was broken by the sound of the elevator reaching its destination, a loud ding announcing their arrival. The doors slid open and the bell hop stepped out into the hallway. Her mystery man escorted her out after him, turning to the right to follow the young man down the hall. The walls were a pale linen color, the carpeting beneath their feet a soft, dove gray. Muted light spilled from covered wall sconces of black wrought iron with clouded shades in white. Pictures hung at intervals along the wall, tables with floral arrangements positioned just under them to give the hall a feeling of welcome.

The bell hop stopped at the last door. It faced back down the length of the hallway. The door was painted with a glossy black, the identifying numbers on the door in brushed silver. There was a peep hole above the numbers, the door knob an elegant handle that curved up and ended with a little swirl. The bell hop inserted the key and turned. The knob gave easily under his hand, allowing the door to swing open wide. A light was on in what appeared to be a short hallway. The young man stepped in. They followed him in.

Bright lights came on, blinding her temporarily. She blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust, then nearly forgot herself and gasped outloud as she got a good look at the room they stood in. There was a fireplace on one wall, a grouping of black leather furniture settled before it. Two arm chairs and a sofa faced the empty hearth, a low coffee table before them. On the other side of the room was a large screen television with a low leather couch before it. The back wall was nothing but floor to ceiling glass panels, thick gray curtains pulled back to show off the view the room had to offer. The lighted skyline dotted the opened windows, bright and colorful against the complete darkness of full night.

In one corner was a glass and wrought iron table with a pair of chairs pushed under it. A large bouquet of roses were set in the center, an intricate white doily settled carefully under the vase. The walls were off-white, covered with several large landscape paintings. The hearth over the fireplace was decorated with a pair of crystal figurines, a wooden clock in the center to tick away the moments. The light that filled the room was from several well placed lamps, each one made to look like an expensive Chinese vase with an hourglass shaped white shade. Small items of decoration were scattered here and there, giving the room a distinctly lived in appeal without feeling as if it were common and used.

"A glass of champagne," his voice wrapped around her like liquid velvet, caressing her from the inside out. She shuddered and turned to look at him. He pressed a chilled flute into her hand, a smile playing about his lips.

"I don't think I need another glass of alcohol. I probably had far too much," she demured politely.

"You need to relax. I'm not an ogre. I won't do anything that you won't like and I won't hurt you. Its obvious you're tense and simply need to unwind just a little more," he told her, one hand on her waist so that he steered her over to the leather sofa and nudged her down onto it. She settled into the cushion, pleasantly surprised that it was soft and cushiony. Absently, she dropped the small black bag that held her money, identification and keys onto the couch beside her. He took his seat next to her, another chilled glass in his own hand. She glanced at him nervously a moment, then sighed and lifted the glass to her lips.

His lips were tilted up into a faint smirk as he watched her a moment, then the hand holding his own champagne saluted her and he took a drink. Her gaze was riveted to his hand, her imagination showing her mental pictures of those hands cupped over her breasts, stroking up along the flesh on the inside of her thighs, touching her in the most intimate of places. Her body hummed with need and she shifted in her seat, her legs rubbing together conspicuously. His gaze locked with hers as he set his glass on the table before them, his hand finding the surface blindly. She could see hunger in his eyes, deep and pulsing with a life of its own. She licked her lips.

"Relax, sweetheart," he encouraged softly.

"I'm sorry. Its just that I've never done anything...." she trailed off helplessly. It sounded so stupid.

"You've never done anything like this. I know. I could sense that about you," he chuckled, the sound quiet and teasing in the near silence of the room. They were far enough up that she couldn't hear any street sounds. Just the endless solitude of darkness wrapped around the building. "You are too tightly strung, sweetheart. Too tense and in control. You need to, at least once in a while, let go of the tension and control and allow someone to take it for a time. You need to let me show you that its alright to give in."

She closed her eyes on a sigh. His voice was smooth and silken, like the finest brandy in the world or the most delicate piece of fabric draped perfectly over her skin. It soothed and aroused her all at once, her pulse thrumming under her skin with the desire built up after months of self-imposed solitude and celebacy. When his fingers touched her cheek, she sagged against it slightly and allowed him to simply hold her in that small, innocent, suggestive manner. His hand was warm and rough, the skin calloused from some kind of manual labor.

"I plan on showing you just how desirable a woman you are. How sad it is that you cut yourself off from an act that can be so beautiful and natural. I plan on taking all night long to convince you that you deserve something special in your life," he whispered, his voice coming from only inches away.

"How?...." she breathed softly, slitting her eyes open just a little bit so that she could see his face.

"Its there in your eyes," he explained gently, his other hand lifting so that he could stroke the tips of his fingers over her forehead and cheeks, trace the line of her lips with his thumbs. "The ghost of sorrow haunts your expression so deeply that it pains me to look upon you."

"Who are you?" she breathed, her voice hitching on a small surge of panic.

"Shhhh," he soothed gently, moving to take the glass from her hand. When he had it settled on the table with his, he moved closer to her and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, then one to each eyelid after she closed them. "Don't worry about names. There are no names tonight. There's only you and I and whatever happens between us. Let reality fade for just the smallest measure of time and allow fantasy to take its place."

She stared at him a moment, her mind frozen in a thick puddle of sludge. His words were so simple and softly spoken. They were so real and the mirrored one of the most secret desires she'd carried in her heart for as long as she could recall. He leaned forward and her eyes fluttered down in anticipation. His lips touched hers and the tingle roared to life again, quickly becoming a full blown rush of desire so heady and strong, it would have knocked her off her feet if she hadn't been sitting down.

The kiss was something soft and gentle, almost reluctant as he coaxed her to respond with something more than shock. His lips moved over hers, with almost no pressure, while his hands moved to curl over her shoulders and hold her close to him. She felt the tension snap and flow out of her, felt herself leaning into him so that she could give herself fully to the kiss. It was such sweet torture. He tasted like the champagne, as well as the bitter leavings of the whiskey he'd had earlier. He also tasted of wild promise. Her nipples tightened in response.

He pulled away, chuckling when he saw the confusion and disappointment in her eyes. "I suggest you go freshen up before we start. Once I have you beneath me, I don't think I'll let you up for some time," he told her, then motioned to a door on the other side of the room. She nodded mutely and forced herself to her feet.

Without a word, she made her way, rather unsteadily, across the floor and to the black door. It was close to the end of the hallway they'd come in at, that short length of corridor set almost dead center in the suite. She pushed the panel open and stepped in to find herself standing in the bedroom. A pair of bedside lamps were on, casting a dizzying combination of light and shadows across the room. She spared a glance at the bed, a large affair covered with dove gray bedding and piled with pillows. It had four corner posts to it, with sheer panels in the same shade gray hanging tied at the corners. On the wall to her right was the door to the bathroom. She slipped into it and shut the door silently behind her.

The room, when she located the light switch, was soothing. Done in the same shades of black, gray and silver that the rest of the room had been done in. The tub was a huge affair of black marble, veins of silver and gray running through it. The sink and counter were done in the same fashion. Both faucets were in gleaming silver. There was an enclosed shower stall next to the tub. She took a moment to relieve herself and clean up, then she stood before the sink and stared into the mirror. It took up the entire wall, a row of clear, globe shaped light bulbs.

What she saw staring back at her was nothing she recognized. She was a wanton looking creature, her eyes now smoky with desire. Her lips were swollen from his kiss and her nipples plainly stood out against the material of her purple dress. Faint color heightened her cheeks. As she studied herself, she realized two very startling things. The first was that her entire body was cloaked with desire. It radiated off her as if she were a beacon, sex simply oozing from her pores as if it were an every day occurance for her.

The second thing she realized was that she wanted this. She wanted to fall into bed with a perfect stranger and allow him to do with her as he pleased. She wasn't as afraid as she thought she should perhaps be, but she had seen in his eyes that he meant her no harm. All he wanted was to take her in his arms and rouse her to such heights of passion that she wouldn't want to come down. It was in his kiss and in the way his hands had so gently touched her. She swore he was like some kind of angel sent to her and her alone. She wanted him badly. She knew that her wants were nothing to do with too much alcohol. Her wants were everything to do with her. She was tired of being alone. Of being afraid. Of not knowing if there would ever be that one man she could call her own.

She knew she wasn't a normally brave person, that she wouldn't partake of something so common place and.... sleazy. But she felt she had wanted this man long before she'd laid eyes on him. What he'd said to her before made her wonder if he hadn't seen inside her mind. A faint smile slid across her face as she moved to the closed door. Let tomorrow bring what it may. For today, she would live in this fantasy and enjoy it. She would make it her own. She would enjoy it.

Drawing a breath for courage, she turned the handle on the door and opened it. He was waiting for her in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd removed his shoes, which sat neatly under a chair in the corner. The window curtains were drawn open, exposing the view of the city to them. As she stepped into the dimly lit bedroom, she saw where he'd laid out a pair of red silk scarves, a feather, massage oil and a paddle. The small suitcase sat on a round table, the top open. She realized that the things laid out on the night stand had come from it and she wondered, for a moment, if there were anything more inside. She glanced at the paddle, a long wooden thing with holes in it, and decided she didn't want to know.

"Come stand before me," he ordered gently. She nodded and stepped closer, her limbs shaking despite the fact that she knew this was what she wanted. She stopped when she was a footstep from him and allowed him to stare at her. For the night out, she'd chosen to put on a pair of true heels. They were black leather, with a five inch spiked heel. She wore stockings and a garter belt, as well as a pair of lace panties beneath her skirts. The dress itself had a halter styled top and a full skirt that hung to the knees. It reminded her of something worn in the fifties or sixties, but with a decidedly modern flare. He nodded his approval of her attire, then smirked. "Take it off. Take off the dress."

She nodded, lifting trembling fingers to the closure at the back of her neck.The clasp gave way after little hassle and fell down far enough to expose the thin bra that covered her breasts. She then reached behind her back to undo the zip. The dress slid down to pool at her feet. "Step out of it," he told her. She did so, kicking the garment to the side. He motioned to the bra, a wispy confection of lace and elastic with a bit of underwire and ribbon added to it. "Take it off. And the panties. Remove them both."

The bra came off easily, falling away from her body when she unclasped it. Her underwear were a little more difficult because she had a hard time balancing on her heels. They fell finally to her ankles and she kicked them aside to join the bra. She stood there, wobbling slightly on her heels, her hands held at her sides. "Very nice, sweetheart. You're beautiful," he told her as his eyes roved her nearly naked frame. A blush stole into her cheeks at his praise. Not because she was embarrassed, but because she was secretly pleased that he found her attractive.

She felt his hand touch her hip, then slide down to where her legs met her torso. He smiled when he touched bare skin. "Lovely. I do so love a woman who shaves. So much cleaner and easier."

Growing up, she'd never had many self-image problems. But then she'd hit puberty and she'd become shy and awkward. Almost before any of the other girls, she'd suddenly sprouted a pair of breasts that had been impressive even then. They were, now that she was an adult, somewhat on the large side without being too huge. She felt strange without her bra, because she knew that they weren't exactly firm and perky. Beyond that, she knew she had good curves, though she sported a bit of a belly that came with age and stress.

"Leave the stockings and belt on. And the heels," his voice was thoughtful as he studied her more in depth. The sound was something akin to silk in a liquid form, sliding across her skin to tease her senses and caress the flame of desire that leapt higher and higher with each passing moment. She nodded again, part of her starting to feel faintly stupid for simply standing there, nearly completely undressed, while he looked her over as if he were picking his choice of meals from a buffet line.

His hand reached out and took hers, his fingers clasping her hers loosely. Gently, he tugged her forward so that she stood between his legs. His hands moved to rest on her hips, his touch light and enticing as he slowly drew them up her sides to cup her breasts. She sighed softly, her eyes slipping closed as his fingers played with the pebbles of her nipples, teasing them into harder peaks. She shuddered when his tongue swiped a path up over her belly. Then he was moving her, urging her forward. Her eyes popped open and she helped him so that he had her sprawled on her back across the bed.

His hands curled around her ankles and slowly began working their way up. Another sigh escaped her at the butterfly caresses and she went limp in his grasp. With every inch his hands moved higher, they nudged her legs open just that much wider so that, when his fingers tickled her inner thighs, she was laid open to him completely, her legs so wide that the muscles of her thighs quivered from being stretched. She opened her mouth to speak to him. Then a thumb brushed lightly across the smooth expanse of skin that topped her womanhood and she let her breath go in a gasp, her back arching up off the bed as sensation shot through her like wildfire.

"You're already so wet, sweetheart," he murmured, the tip of his thumb skimming the edges of her swollen nether lips, dragging dew drops of moisture all the way down to where her backside met the sheets. When he drew his thumb back up, following the path he'd taken, she whimpered. "So in need. So wicked laying there. What a pretty picture you make, your chest flushed and your breasts begging for attention, you legs spread for me to show me how much you want me. You want me badly, don't you?"

"Yes," she hissed as his finger replaced his thumb, slipping easily between the folds of flesh to tease her clit. Her hips shifted toward him, a silent entreaty for him to ease the need that burned within her. It was consuming her and she was so afraid that she would never be herself again.

"Then I'll have to give you what you want," he whispered, his breath pluming out over her sensitive flesh. She jumped, then moaned when his tongue took the place of his finger. His hands once more climbed up the insides of her thighs until they came to the juncture of her thighs. Gently, he pinched at her lips and peeled them back, exposing her completely to him. His tongue delved deeper and she arched at the feel of it.

Mindlessly, she reached for his head, her fingers curling into the thick, silken hair that covered it. She held him to her, wordlessly begging him for more. His tongue was flicking across her clit, the sensations almost too much to bear. Even now, she was inching close to orgasm because of his expert ministrations. She writhed beneath him, small mewling sounds of pleasure and pleading filling the silence of the room. She could barely stand it. "Please..." she begged. "I need..." she broke off hoarsely, afraid to finish the sentence.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" he asked, never lifting his head so that his words and his breath filled her most secret places and sent her into another fit of squirming. Minutes ticked by, his tongue continuing its slow assault on the small nubbin of flesh, now so sensitive that it was almost painful for him to touch it. He would work her straight to the very precipice of release, then he'd ease off and let her spiral back down into the deep pit of desperation. He was waiting for something and her mind raced, trying to find what it was he needed. Why wouldn't he give her what she wanted? Finally, it came to her and she almost couldn't do it.

"I need to cum," she whispered, knowing instinctively that it was what he wanted to hear. She was rewarded with his tongue shifting, moving lower so that he could slide it into her channel. She moaned as she felt her chance at fulfillment slipping away. She was teetering on the edge. And he was pushing her closer to that razor fine edge, his tongue slowly thrusting into her very center. Her hips rocked mindlessly up toward his mouth in hopes of finding relief.

She started when one finger pressed slowly into the tight channel hidden between the globes of her ass. Her back arched again, her voice coming out in a strangled cry of pain and pleasure swirled, of need and desire fighting for dominance. She felt his chuckle and whimpered again, the vibrations skittering up along her spine. She was positively mad with the need to climax. "Please. More. I need more," she gasped out. He lifted his head and stared at her, her eyes blinking open slowly. There was a knowing smirk on his face.

"Very well," he said, moving to stand beside the bed. She watched him as he moved to the night stand and lifted the scarves. They were of two lengths, one longer than the other. The long one, he laid back down on the table. The short one, he held onto while he offered his empty hand to her. She took it without comment and allowed him to help her to her feet. Wordlessly, he lifted the scarf he held and positioned it before her eyes.

"I can't..." she began, but he laid a finger over her lips.

"This is part of what you need, sweetheart. If you deny this, then you can get dressed and go home," he told her, his tone neither harsh nor teasing. He was simply stating fact and she was to take it as it was. She stared at him a moment, indecision shifting across her features. She didn't want to lose the ability to see what was coming. Seeing meant being in control and she couldn't give up that much. Not so soon. But she couldn't go home, either. Not to a lonely bed with nothing more than a vibrator to keep her company. It was no real substitute for the feel of his hands and his mouth on her skin, feelings that were already undeniably etched into her subconscious for the rest of her natural days.

Sighing in defeat, she nodded and relaxed. He smiled at her, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips in praise. She could taste herself upon his lips and his tongue when it shoved into her mouth with little resistance. She moaned, the flavor some how heady and intoxicating. His tongue moved over hers, exploring the interior of her mouth and branding it his own. Fires of desire scorched her where ever his tongue touched her moist flesh, serving to only increase her need so that she actually shook with it. She sighed deeply and leaned into him, giving him more of herself so that he could thoroughly plunder her mouth. He pulled back and she let go a sound of frustration.

"Patience is its own reward, sweetheart. It isn't worth it if you don't work for it, wait for it and want it so desperately that it feels as if the feelings will take you over and own you," he informed her, his voice little more than a seductive whisper in the silence of the room. Her breathing grew harsh at his words and she bit back the whimper that rose in her throat. Instead, she stood still and watched with apprehension as he once more lifted the scarf to her face.

He tied it in place with deft hands, the knot careful so as not to catch her hair in it. When he was done, she sensed him step back from her. She stood there, unable to detect him, trembling with fear and anticipation and a myriad of other emotions. She jerked when a hand lifted to tweak a nipple, his fingers lingering to fondle her breast. The sensation was like nothing she had ever experienced in her life.

Pleasure so deep and pure that she didn't think she'd ever feel the like of it again exploded deep within her belly, tendrils of it climbing like vines of ivy up and out from her very center until it neslted into her toes, curled into her fingers and coiled around her brain like some kind of predator laying claim to its prey. Her body thrummed to life in such great quantity that she wanted to weep with it all. When his mouth covered her breast, she exploded again. This time, orgasm rippled through her and she felt her knees go weak. His hand was there to steady her. "See? A little trust can weild so much in return. Don't move. I'll be right back."

He stepped away from her, leaving her standing in the center of the room. She strained her ears, trying to catch some sound of what he was doing. His actions were silent, though, leaving her to wonder if he was back at the nightstand or digging into his little bag of tricks. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, one way or the other. Soon enough, she felt his warmth near her body, heard the soft rasping of his breath and knew he'd returned. He took her hand in his once more and stepped forward.

She was hesitant to simply follow him. She couldn't see where they were going and it was frightening to have to place her safety so completely in his hands. But he'd said that she needed to trust him, that she had to let go of some of her control. He'd told her he wouldn't hurt her. She took a halting step forward, then another. He said nothing, only lead her forward. She kept her free hand out, feeling for any thing that might inadvertantly walk in to. She felt a small sense of relief when he brought her to a stop and she hadn't crashed into anything solid.

"Give me your hands," he instructed. She lifted them slowly, presenting them to him as ordered. She shuddered when she felt the smoothness of silk wrap around her wrists, drawing them closer together. She felt him figure eight the lenght of material, then he wrapped the ends around the center and tied it. When he let her hands go, she tugged to test the strength of the bonds. They were secure and there was no give. She heard him chuckle and a small fissure of desire slithered down her spine.

A finger trailed down the upper curve of her left breast. A shiver passed through her and she moaned, her body reaching for him. The tip of his finger circled the nipple it found and teased it into a tight peak. She moaned softly, then groaned in disappointment when the finger lifted away. It came back in a few moments, once more touching her nipple. There was something thick and slippery on it, coating her nipple as he swirled his finger over it. He took his hand away and she sighed. The finger tip touched to the neglected nipple moments later, smoothing the same liquid substance over it. She shuddered again. His touch was light and teasing as it eased the thick fluid over the tightened peak.

Disappointment washed over her once again when his finger retreated for a third time. She waited, wondering what was next, only to feel the silk of his hair rub tantalizingly across her skin. His head rubbed her belly, as if he were nuzzling into it. She wished her hands weren't bound, so she could touch him and hold him close. The fine wisps of his hair tickled her senses. She shuddered again, then groaned when even his hair disappeared. He was teasing her, priming her for something so much more. She wanted it, despite the fear that pulsed in her veins. It was mixed with overwhelming passion and desire. She needed this so badly.

His breath, warm and gentle as a spring breeze, blew across her nipples. A slow burn started, tightening them while flames licked up her nerve endings. She shuddered again, a small whimper of half pain, half pleasure trickling out of her throat. Her mind reeled, the flames growing as he breathed again and again across her nipples. It was such an overpowering sensation. Her nipples were begging to be touched and fondled. She wanted to do it herself but the bonds on her hands prevented her from doing so.

It took her a moment to wrap her mind around what was happening. She recalled seeing that small bottle of oil on the night stand. He must have brought it over and used it. She knew there were some that would, upon contact, heat up. She'd never had anyone ever coat her nipples with such a substance and it took a while to get used to the sting it brought to life. He blew again, fanning the flames higher. Then his hand reached up, his fingers gently taking a nipple between them to fondle. It helped soothe the burn. Just when she was sure that he would ease the torment the oil was inflicting, his hand disappeared. She opened her mouth to beg for more, only to have her words swallowed by his mouth.

His chest was bare as it pressed hers, sending more shudders rippling up and down her spine. The friction of his skin moving against hers made the fire burning in her nipples roar even higher. Her hands were caught between them and she could just feel the upper curve of his erection as it strained against the material of his trousers. She wanted so badly to touch him, her fingers scrabbled across the fine weave of his black pants after that hard ridge. His chuckled followed his tongue into her mouth, forcing her to swallow the sound down.

It vibrated in her chest and down to her stomach, making muscles low in her body clench tighly with need. She pressed against him, despite the discomfort in her arms. His tongue moved within her mouth, once more tasting and discovering all of her secrets. She wished her hands were free so that she could touch him and taunt him in much that same manner that he taunted her. Again, he pulled away and dragged a whimper of frustration from her throat.

He took her hands and urged her forward, stopping her when she felt something cool at her hip. His fingers climbed up her arm, where they stopped to play with the length of her hair as it spilled over her shoulder. She closed her eyes behind the blind, her head rolling into his hand as he stroked the silken strands of her hair.Then he was gone again, leaving her to wonder if he was going to play this touch and run game all night long. She needed him to finish this in the worst possible way. Her nipples ached, her cunt ached and she was so horny, she didn't think she could see straight if the blindfold were removed.

Something soft and wispy drifted across her nipples, the strokes teasing and almost ethereal. She knew he had the feather now, that he planned on using it to only torture her further. Some part of her mind knew that he was prolonging her relief as a means to not only build her desire to the highest peaks but also as a way of giving her no choice but to trust in him. She had to trust that he would, when the time was right, give her what it was she now so ardently craved. The feather flicked over a nipple, then it came down with a soft whizzing sound to smack the edge of her nipple. It was by no means a hard hit, but it was just enough to make her body flinch. She drew a breath, then moaned again when he breathed on them once more.

"No more," she begged, her voice hoarse in the silence of the room. "I can't take anymore. I need you," she ended in a whisper. She could hear the shame and the wanton desire in her words and felt both embarrassed and liberated by it. His hand skimmed up her arm to cup her head. She felt the heat of his body as he moved closer to her. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, his mouth moving right next to the delicate shell.

"Then you shall have me," he told her, his tongue sliding out to trace the curve of her ear. She shivered at the promise in his words, in that one action. He stepped away from her again, his hand following her arm down to where her hands were bound. She didn't hesitate when he turned her, the cool edge of something pressing her abdomen. He drew her arms up and away from her body so that they were stretched out before her. The slack on the ends of the scarf began tightening and she found herself being pulled lower. Panic took her for a moment. When she was halfway bent, though, he came and helped her down the rest of the way. She found herself laying on a cool, smooth surface and realized that she was bent over the table. "Relax," he commanded gently from before her.

There was a tugging at the scarf for a few moments. It stopped suddenly and she shifted to try and make herself more comfortable. The silk holding her hands together pulled tightly and she realized that he'd bound her to the table legs with the left over length of scarf. Silence reigned for several long seconds, then she felt his hand gently stroke over the curve of her ass in what she thought felt was a worshipping touch. "You have such a lovely ass, sweetheart. Its perfectly shaped and, sticking up in the air as it is, its begging to be reddened. Go ahead and yelp if you want to. There's no shame in admitting that something hurts."

"You said..." she began, only to be cut off as the sting of the paddle raced through her. The wood contacted with her backside with a solid smack, jarring her with the force behind it. Her words slid off and became a yelp. The paddle moved away, allowing a rush of cool air to flow across her bottom. She could feel a slight tingle starting, but knew that it would become something else quickly. The holes in the paddle insured that she would have a much abused posterior in a short amount of time.

The paddle connected again, this time only slapping against one cheek. She jerked with the strike, a low moan rolling up her throat. Even though it was early into the spanking, she knew that she was going to be red and sore by the time he was done. If nothing else, she could tell that he knew what he was doing. The game he was playing obviously wasn't anything new to him because he played it so well. She wished she could see, so she could tell when he would strike. The anticipation was killing her.

The wooden surface slapped hard against her other cheek, drawing a gasp from her throat. This strike had more force behind it than the first two and it started a slow burn in her ass cheeks.The little flames were already creeping up her back. More than that, they were bringing to life another vein of desire that begged for attention. Her pulse thudded in her throat, her head pounding as minor thoughts and larger images swirled together in a haze of rainbow hues and intense feelings. She hadn't thought it possible for her to become any more aroused than she had been. But she'd been wrong.

The feel of the paddle slapping her ass and the faint hint of his scent, a mix of his cologne and something musky she thought must be entirely his own, were combining to conspire against her. He'd teased her to the very edges of her sanity more times than she could count so that she was beyond desperate for him. She needed him inside of her badly. She knew that he wouldn't take her until she was good and ready, even though she'd felt the hard length of his erect cock through his trousers not all that long ago. This had to be torture for him and yet he kept with it. Kept working her and working her, driving her effortlessly to the very brink of sanity. And she was enjoying every last second of it. She could only imagine what kind of hell he was in, holding himself back from any kind of activity that would bring him relief for so long.

He struck again and again, varying both the length of time between strokes and the amount of force behind them so that she never knew when he would hit her bottom or how hard it would be. Her backside burned and tingled from the spanking. Every other nerve ending in her body was screaming for relief, crying out for him. Sounds of pain poured out of her throat, small grunts and groans each time he laid the paddle to her ass. They were mixed with the low moans of pleasure as her body moved deeper and deeper into desire. It was a desire she'd never felt before, so wanton and wild, leaving her needy and aching for him. "Please," she panted, that single word begging far better than she'd ever be able to if she'd gotten down on hands and knees.

"Please, what?" he asked, his arm swinging the paddle down so that it cracked loudly against her bottom. She yelped and jumped as much as she was able.

"I need you," she whimpered. She was so hot and horny. His teasing had been merciless but this was beyond torture. Fire raced along her back and her thighs from the pain of the blows. But another fire burned within her, one she couldn't douse without his help. She could feel her pussy lips, swollen and open and begging silently for him to fill her. Her own juices dribbled out, rolling down to coat the table top. Her thighs were slick from it and they shifted and slid each time he brought the paddle down to connect with her skin.

"You need me? What do you need from me?" his voice was calm and low, silky soft and enough to make muscles tighten with need. She whimpered once more. The paddle made a resounding slap when it struck this time, dead center and the hardest blow he'd delivered yet. She yelped and shook her head. She knew what he wanted her to say, but she just couldn't. It was crass and so unlike her.

"Don't make me say it," she whispered. "I can't. I just...."

"If you can't say it, you won't have it," he replied mildly, delivering another stinging blow. She moaned, her body shifting. She shook her head. She heard him sigh and there was a sound next to her that she recognized as the paddle meeting the glass table top. Then he had a hand on one of her ankles. "Lift your leg and bend it. Now the other," he instructed lightly. She did as told and found herself with her knees on the table, her ass up in the air. There was a swish of air and the paddle came down on her bottom again. Her legs slipped, her hose slippery against the glass surface. She struggled to remain in the position he'd put her in.

"Oh god, please. No more," she begged.

"I'll be happy to stop. All you need do is say it," he purred, the paddle once more pounding down onto her backside. With this hit, it slapped across her upper thighs and her heated core. She cried out this time, tears dampening the silk tied around her eyes. "Say it and you'll have it."

"Please," she began, her voice soft and shaking. "I need you. I need your cock. I want you to fuck me."

"There's a good girl," he complimented, his voice washing over her to send ripples of pleasure racing along her nerves again. She heard the paddle as he set it on the table top, then the rustle of his clothing as he undid the fly on his trousers. "Stay just like that. Don't move."

She felt his fingers stroking up and down the length of her swollen lips, teasing her open even further. She moaned softly, her teeth sinking into her lip. This had to be the single most erotic experience she'd ever encountered. No one had ever before taken so much time with preparing her and ensuring that she was more than ready for him. She was sure that she was going to cum the moment he slid himself into her. "Oh, yes. You're so hot and wet. So horny. You'd let me do anything if I gave you relief, wouldn't you?" he asked and she shuddered when she felt the head of his cock rubbing along her pussy.

"Yes," she moaned. "Anything. Just please...."

Her words died in her throat as he shoved himself into her, rapidly changing into a cry. She knew she was wetter than she'd ever been in her life, but his cock was still so big that it hurt to have it inside of her. When he was fully embedded within her, he stopped and gave her a moment to get used to his invasion. She sighed as muscles began to relax, though not much. It was still a tight fit and she knew that this would be probalby the most intense single experience she'd ever had.

"You feel so good wrapped around me like that, sweetheart," he told her, his voice stroking along her spine and sending chills through out her body. Her actions saw him groaning and his hips pushed forward even farther. His hands came up and circled her hips, holding her in place while he slowly pulled back. She shuddered at the feel of him withdrawing. When he thrust back in, he drove into her completely and forced another cry from her throat.

It was sheer bliss and pure torture to be tied to the table. She wanted her hands free so that she could touch him. She wanted her eyes free so that she could see all of him. She wanted to know that those parts of him that had been hidden by the propriety of clothes were just as beautiful as his face and his voice, as his hands and his smile. And yet, there was a certain amount of pleasure to be gained from simply feeling everything. He had taken as much control from her as he could without hurting or scaring her and she found that it wasn't as scary as she'd thought it would be. In fact, she rather thought she was gaining more enjoyment from it by having her eyes taken away from her in such a manner.

His hips thrust into her with slow, easy strokes. It was as if he hadn't spent the better part of the last hour taunting and teasing her. She'd felt how hard this had made him and she couldn't believe that he was taking his time about it. But it was such a wonderful feeling to have him slip in and out of her, his shaft large enough to create extra friction. She was filled with him and ecstacy such as she'd never known. It was more than she thought she could bear.

"Such a little wanton, aren't you?" he asked, his voice gone deep with his own passion. She cried out when his hips twisted and sent his thick shaft into a motion she didn't think was natural. Her back arched up, the bonds on her wrists tightening as she tried to meet his next thrust. Her senses were reeling, spiraling well beyond her control. She was certain he was going to drive her over the edge more than once and she wanted it more than anything else in the world. All she could do was nod in response, though she knew that he'd asked a rhetorical question.

Slowly, so slowly she thought it would kill her, his pace increased. He drove hard and deep, bringing moans and groans to her lips. Her hips were rocking back into him as best they could with his hands on them, holding them still. This was what she'd needed for such a long time. How he'd known was beyond her, but she would ever be thankful. Even if it was a one night stand. The sounds of flesh slapping flesh was like music to her ears. His gasps and groans were a symphony of erotic pleasure to her and only served to heighten her desire.

The feel of him filling her and fucking her was driving her higher and higher, pushing her to the very brink of sanity. She knew she would lose control soon and that she'd shatter into a million tiny pieces. Her hands found the ends of the scarf that held her bound to the table and her fingers curled into it. She'd lost all track of time, simply knew that he was there. That he was inside of her. That he was bringing her the greatest pleasure she'd ever known. The table was shaking beneath her, the force of his hips jarring it and her.

Her muscles tightened, signaling the impending release. She teetered on the edge, ready to fall over into pure bliss. He pushed into her, as deeply as he could. She tensed, waiting for that last thrust that would give her the ultimate release. He drew back, sending her nerves into a frenzy as she prepared. It would only take one thrust to send her over the edge and into the arms of orgasm. She needed it so badly, she was mewling out her pleas.

A groan rolled up her throat and poured out past her lips when he slid out of her body. She heard his chuckle, then his hands were on her legs. Silently, he urged them down and she winced when she felt how stiff they'd become from the prolonged position. His hands were sure when they caught her by the waist and began turning her. Soon enough, she found herself on her back. Her arms were crossed above her head. "Very nice, sweetheart. And much better. Now, I can watch your face as orgasm takes you. Even without seeing your eyes, there will be enough to see just on your lips."

And then he was inside of her again.

Wordlessly, she wrapped her legs around his waist, careful with the placement of her feet so that she didn't stab him with one of her heels. It allowed her to thrust into him each time he drove himself into her. He slid one arm under her hips, lifting her back up off the table slightly, giving him easier access to her body. She moaned long and low in her throat when he once more began thrusting hard and deep. It felt so good. "Perfect. I knew you'd be passionate and eager," he told her, his voice once more stroking the fire of her need.

"Harder," she begged. She could just imagine the picture she offered him as she was. Her hands pulled above her head would pull her breasts up farther on her chest, bouncing up toward her face each time he shoved into her. There was sweat gathering on her body, glistening in the light that spilled around them from the lamps. Her nipples were hard and ached, still begging for attention. And then there was the sight of his erection, pistoning in and out of her shaven mound. glistening with the copious amounts of her juices. The mental image was enough to see her shudder with deep need. "Harder," her voice came out stronger this time, more forceful.

"As you wish, sweetheart," he agreed, then set his hips at a faster pace, pounding into her body with enough force to rock her across the table's surface. Her legs locked tighter around his waist. She panted for air, then spasmed when she felt his finger lightly graze her clit. A few flicks and she was tumbling over the precipice, relief washing over her as her orgasm broke. It was almost alive, rolling out from her very center to fill every part of her body. She tensed and her muscles gripped him tighter for several long seconds, then she subsided back against the table.

"It isn't that simple, sweetheart," he told her, then flicked again. The orgasm took her again, spasms running through her body each time he repeated the action. He flicked every third or fourth thrust, never giving her respite from her climax. It simply rolled over her in wave after wave of mindblowing ecstacy. Her body trembled and shook, her breath coming in great gasps. She thought that her body would break from being held rigid for so long.

Finally, after what seemed an age had passed, his speed increased once more. She could feel him swelling within her, signifying that he'd reached the very end of his rope. His hand left her clit and she felt him plant it flat on the table surface next to her body. The table shook with the force of his thrusts for several long moments, then he slammed home and held still. She could feel him pulsing within her, telling her he was filling her with his seed.

Gradually, he slumped over her. She could feel him shrinking, drawing from her body. Her muscles were pleasantly stiff and sore, her body still thrumming from his play and her climax. He leaned over her, his lips finding hers to press an gentle kiss to them. She sighed softly, well sated after his thorough and generous attention. He slid from her and she felt the bonds on her wrists loosen. Soon, he had them unbound and he was working at the scarf that served as her blindfold. When the material was gently pulled away, she blinked into the bright light until her eyes adjusted, then she looked up into his face and smiled.

"I think, perhaps, a bath is in order. Then we can move this to the bed. You have yet to see the other toys in my chest," he told her, then scooped her up into his arms. Her laughter followed them all the way into the bathroom.

fin
~~~~~~~~~~

many thanks to my kitty cat and onyx, for being my cheerleaders and not letting me go off the chosen course, even when i want to. much love to you guys. and thanks go to my usual posse, who offer undying support and love.

if you have any interest in the afore mentioned group, its on yahoo. its called Alan Rickman World of Writers and More. if you'd like a link, please contact me and i'll be happy to supply it.

also, if you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you though.