Adult content, BDSM, power dynamics, & sexual situations
He watched her as she showered, as she lingered under the spray of the hot water trying to compose herself. She was close to her need now, so close he could smell it on her. She wore it beautifully.
He had been taunting and teasing her for over 3 days now; exciting her then leaving her to simmer. He had watched her control her own desire, control her own need. It was her own self-control that he was about to break, leaving her with nothing to hide behind.
On the first day he had touched her sex after her shower; cupped it and fingered her. She had wiggled and squirmed in his hands, and then went stock still when he had ordered her to be stop. His hands had covered her body, leaving no spot untouched, then returned to her puss to dip his fingers into the heat of her sex. She had arched her back in excitement and preparation only to be denied, then slapped on the ass as he left for work.
The second day he had bushed up against her as she got dressed for work, letting his body caress and remind her of what she wanted. He had lingered and let his body touch what his hands had felt just the day before. He watched her body follow his as it reached to try and land in his hands, but he denied her. He had seen the goose bumps on her arms as her nipple stood up erect and he knew just the warmth of his body had made her as wet as his hands had made her just the day before.
Yesterday he had let only his voice touch her as she cooked him breakfast. He never let his body touch her and his hands were never near her. She leaned into his voice when he whispered, trying to fall against his body, feel him, but he denied her his body and offered only his voice. He let the warmth of his breath play with the nape of her neck as he spoke to her. She shivered and he knew she was wet just from his voice
Today she woke up in need. She breathed it in with the first breath of consciousness and she walked with it as she made her way to the bathroom to relieve herself. She walked with a burden, a force she had to control and yet she knew she might never be able to control it again. She was waiting now -- waiting for the moment he chose.
She turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, reaching for the towel and finding it in his hand. Facing her he smiled, but he denied her any words; his smile the only thing to touch her this morning. She shuddered, and fell back against the wall in surrender. She took her hands and raised them up over her head, crossing them at the wrists and waited. He watched her eyes glass over in pure hunger.
He smiled and watched as she tried to remain still, but her legs began to tremble, giving her away. He caught her as she fell and held her up, one hand on her wrists and the other circled her waist to steady her. He turned her around so she faced the wall, and began.
First he moved his hand down her stomach and to her puss, letting his hand feel the hot moisture now covering her puss and thighs. Then he let his body rest on her back and ass, letting her feel him behind her. Her knees buckled again and she moaned out loud. He brought his head in close to her neck and whispered hotly into her ear, "Now"
She heard the word and lost control, her mind and body no longer hers. There was nothing in her but need, need for him. His hands, his voice, his body all exploded in her and met him in one word... "Now" And for a split second before she lost all control, and while she could still have a conscious thought, she knew she had never known such desire.
Her passion roared in her ears as he held on to her, his body both urging her forward and propping her up against the wall...... He watched her spend herself like a frenzied animal, primal in her desire and lust. He watched her become who she really was, and then, just when she was about to level off, he entered her. She growled a low guttural sound and let out a scream and collapsed into his body, almost becoming one with it. He followed her into her passion and let his own mingle with hers.
She belonged to him now, she always would.
He was hard at work, bent over his computer, and so lost in thought that he didn't even notice as she entered the room to serve him lunch. She quietly set the tray down on the table near his desk and began her ritual.
She first took the iced tea to place it on the coaster next to his computer. She floated without a sound to the exact spot, then kneeled and effortlessly placed the drink where it belonged. The air barely shifted at all and she was certain she had accomplished her task without disturbing his thoughts. The drink seeming to appear as if by magic.
She then backed silently off and rose to get the plate holding his lunch--repeating the same process--kneeling and placing it in the prescribed place without a sound. Once again, she backed away on her knees and then rose to leave the room as quietly as she had entered.
He took the glass of tea and quenched his thirst, absentmindedly turning to watch her as she left the room. He smiled as he watched her naked ass sway with each step as she left the room. He took another drink and marveled at the sight of her--her long blonde hair, her back, her waist and the gentle outline of her ass and legs. He smiled widely, and then returned to his work.
She'd showered quickly; she was late for work and in a hurry. She washed her body, swirling around under the spray of the water, and jumped out to dry off and then get dressed. Once she was finished drying herself off, she stood and did her hair--with no time to curl it, she opted to put it into a nice neat bun at the base of her neck. It would have to do, she didn't have time for anything fancy.
She left the bathroom, almost running into the bedroom to grab the clothes she had laid out to wear that day. She moved quickly to the bed to pick up the panties, then she caught sight of him sitting in the chair by the window out of the corner of her eye.
"You seem in a hurry my dear. Perhaps you should slow down," he said as he sipped his tea.
She went still inside, oh she was still in a hurry, and she was most certainly going to be late, but if he suggested to slow down, slow down she would.
She turned her body so he could watch her as she dressed. First she picked up the panties and slowly began to put them on. She bent over and lifted first one foot and then the other, sliding the panties up over her legs, her hips and finally bringing them to rest on her waist and ass. She adjusted them until the fit was perfect and then turned around slowly so he could see.
She then sat down on the bed facing him, picking up one nylon.. rolling it up on her hands until it was ready to slide on her leg--then lifting her leg so she could slide the nylon on. Stretching the soft material up over her leg and bring it to rest on her thigh, once in place the tight hug of the elastic holding it there. She let her leg rest there in the air and then brought it down and repeated the same procedure with the other nylon.
Once both nylons were secure on her leg, she reached for her bra. Standing up she put it on all the while his eyes watched her every move. Once done, she turned around again and then reached for the dress she had decided to wear. Taking it she unzipped the back and stepped into the dress... bringing the material up over her hips and taking each arm one at a time and wiggling into the outfit.
He reached out his hand to signal that he would zip her up, so she walked to him, sitting on the corner of the chair to give him access to her back. He brushed the back of his hand up and down her spine, sending chills through her body. He saw the goose bumps and smiled. He took hold of the zipper and began to inch it up, leaning in to whisper in her ear....
"You look lovely my dear, perfect in fact." Then he gently slid his hand under her dress and began to caress her thigh. Letting his hand feel the lace at the top of her nylons, the bare skin above them, and the then letting his hand roam freely to her panties. Tugging ever so gently on the side of her panties to gain access, he slowly slid his fingers between her lips and began to tease her. "It's too bad you're late and in such a hurry."
And with that, he withdrew his hand and finished zipping her dress up. Swatting her on her ass gently, sending her up and off the chair.
She tried to compose herself, but she couldn't.
She slipped each foot into a shoe and readied herself to walk out the door and go to work. She took one last look at him before she left the room, his eyes on her as he finished the last sip of tea. She shuddered as she felt the moisture between her legs. It was going to be a long day.
She knelt staring at the fire blazing in the fireplace. It was cold for this time of year, unseasonably cold, and she shivered in her nakedness as she waited for him to come home. The fire lit up the room, but it was the warmth of the fire that held her attention. The wood hissed and spit as she sat there seemingly lost in her own thoughts, but she wasn't lost, she was searching her soul for an answer.
What is trust? She wondered if anyone ever really knew what it was. There was a time, a long time ago, when she thought that trust just meant someone would not hurt her, that they would tell her the truth. But lately, lately she found herself asking herself what it really was.
A thought was growing inside of her, it was only fleeting at first, then it grew and whispered to her, then finally it thundered in its insistence--trust was more than knowing someone wouldn't hurt her, it was more. Just how much more was what she now contemplated. She wondered how to put trust into action, take that first step, fall into those arms knowing that he would catch her no matter what.
She heard the door creek as it opened, and she watched as he entered the room. He had already changed from his work clothes and was dressed in his "I'm home and in for the evening" clothes. She turned from the fire and began her ritual, only to be stopped by a hand raised. She looked at him trying to measure his mood, but couldn't read him at all. He just seemed to look at her as the light from the fire danced on her body.
He sat in the silence for a long time before he finally waved his hand to motion her to come to him. She rose and walked slowly to him, never taking her eyes off of him. As she reached him, he opened his arms and she fell into them like a hand slipping into a perfectly fitted glove. He held her gently for a long time in complete silence, until finally he said....
"Tell me ... tell me what is wrong."
She pulled her legs up, curled her body up in his arms and began to sob as she whispered it into his ear. Once or twice she hesitated unable to go on, and in those brief moments of indecision she felt his arms hold her tighter to give her the courage to continue. She whispered everything softly to him, there in that room full of light and warmth, there in the room that was so much him, there in the room she could refuse him nothing in.
When she was done whispering, when her sobbing had stopped, he held her tightly to his chest and enclosed her in his arms and wept with her. She was safe, she knew it, and as she felt his own tears on her face, she knew the answer to her question...... This, this moment was trust.
She stood and looked at herself in the mirror, she had a pretty face, beautiful even, and a shapely body, but life had been cruel to her. She was heavily scared on her body, an unexpected sight in light of the unspoken promise of her face and shape. She'd often been privy to that look of shock, surprise and sometimes even revulsion on someone's face when she was not completely covered, or naked.
It usually didn't bother her, except when she was put into a situation where she could be compared to another woman--a flawless woman, one life had been gentler to. A party with several women whose bodies were flawless was almost more than she could bare and she was almost ready to breakdown from her fears of what might occur later in the evening.
There were always the looks, the whispers and the gratitude that it hadn't happened to them. On those occasions, she could do nothing but accept the remarks, the looks of pity, and sometimes even the words of ridicule. She accepted them because she knew that the freedom to express an honest reaction to her scared and maimed body was an honesty she would prefer to the lies and feigned concern of those too civilized to say or do anything rude. The truth was, their contempt reached a level she knew could hurt more than the pointed comments of those unencumbered by social manners. She accepted the remarks as a reminder of the truth of who she was, and never allowed herself the luxury of feeling sorry for herself, she had after all, survived.
She turned to leave, adjusting her dress, her favorite dress. It flattered her shape and covered the physical reminders of a painful past. She walked into the living room, picked up her purse and twirled around so he could see her. She was nervous, there would be several beautiful women at the party tonight and she knew that the inevitable comparisons would be made by the men, and the women would snicker to each other behind a facade of congeniality. She wished she could just stay home, but he had insisted.
"You're beautiful," he said, "just beautiful."
She laughed and cried all in the same moment; laughed because he always said that; cried because he meant it and when he said it, she believed him.