“What do you want me to wear?” Her text message reads.
“High heels and that silver heart necklace,” I shoot back. Quickly I send another message, “And nothing else.”
If I had been in the mood I might have let a smirk cross my lips, but this wasn’t the time for that. I was filled with that undeniable authority that came from knowing exactly what I wanted at exactly the time I wanted it. This wasn’t some random act of ignorance. Every move has a purpose. Control of myself meant control of everything. Now that sense of control radiated from my essence.
The long driveway broke in the night as I weave my way behind the Toyota Camry sitting outside the garage.
“Ig-nor-ant tooooo the damage doooonn – ” The radio dies with the death throes of the engine as I turn the key off. Go time.
Smoothly, I exit the vehicle and walk up the stone path to the deck with the bright red wooden door. I knock once, twice, and after the third rap, the door swings open. She is standing there bathed in the warm light of her living room. Her slim, model-like figure growing like a tree in front of my eyes as I drink in her pale body. Long, very long slender legs are defined by the black heels she has on. My eyes glance past her smooth center to her slender hips, up her tight, toned stomach to those small but very perky breasts that are almost covered by her light brown hair with the silver heart perfectly centered between them.
Then to her face with small brown eyes and a smile that at once suggests mounting nerves and excitement. This is definitely a first for her. I step through the threshold as she leans in to kiss me. I sidestep her sleekly and leave her looking mildly shocked as I walk past and kick my shoes off behind her. It’s a subtle way of saying I control this interaction.
She begins to turn around but I say, “Be still.”
I finish kicking my shoes off as she stands there, her back to me. I turn, slowly and methodically towards her and walk up behind her. My hands reach for her hips as my head moves over her freckled left shoulder. She lets out a short gasp when the calloused hand, cold from the chill of night, grasps her hip.
My right-hand shuts the door as I whisper, “Tonight you are mine. You do as I say when I say, do you understand?”
“Yes,” she practically gushes out as I nibble her earlobe.
She tries to press into me, craving physical intimacy, I move away. I see her frustration in her posture and promptly tell her to sit in the chair she has in front of her television. I reach into my pocket and pull out the blindfold.
The chair is straight backed, walnut, with legs that curve gracefully before flaring outward at the ground. The seat itself is small, with a surprisingly comfy cushion placed on it that is ideal for reading while waiting for a young woman to freshen up before a night out. She sits with her back to me, the flower tattoo rising up the side of her right hip and ending on her ribcage. That used to drive me wild before I learned control. Before I learned how to harness that inner storm.
Walking towards her, I notice she seems to be breathing quicker than usual. Her anticipation is exactly the signal I am hoping for. Expeditiously, I put the blindfold over her eyes taking care to tie the knot tight enough so it won’t move; but not so tight that it causes discomfort. Intentionally I take too long to tie it up. I want her mind to go to every place it possibly can before I begin working. Instead, I focus on making a perfect slipknot. After I finish I place my lips as close to her right ear as I can without touching it, letting her feel my warm breath on her neck.
“Is that comfortable?” I ask.
She nods, then sharply intakes her breath upon feeling me lightly bite her neck. I make my way to the kitchen, letting her stew in anticipation again. The freezer gives me the ice cubes in a short glass cup which I place on the end table in the living room. Picking up one cube, I place it softly on the back of her hand; she shudders against the trail of cold wetness I lead across the top of her arm. This torturous act has its intended effect. Her nipples begin poking out under the assault of cold I am putting her through. My ice cube reaches her shoulder, and she moves her head slightly, willing me to continue up her neck. Except I don’t.
Instead, my hand moves the now dwindling cube to her back, right over her spine at the base of her neck. Immediately, she gasps as her nerves become overwhelmed in sensation. Her hips thrust forward and her body arches. I pause momentarily before continuing to her other shoulder. She relaxes again, allowing herself to melt back into the chair while I toil the ice cube away on her delicate forearm. The trick is to give moments of intense sensation followed by immediately moving to a much lesser sensation before her mind has time to register how her body is reacting. It’s like those workouts with short bursts of extreme intensity followed by periods of less intensity. Except, this time she looks forward to the high intensity.
With the cube finished I reach for a new one. Slowly, I lean in towards her ear and softly blow across her lobe, all the while as I snake the ice cube to her collar bone, being careful not to ‘show my hand’ too early. I let the cube brush her collarbone lightly. I wonder if she can feel the cold before the cube touches her. Does the cube draw the heat from her if it comes close but doesn’t actually touch her? A curiosity for another time, control is needed; and focus. I allow the cube to travel down her collar bone, down the middle of her neck, with a quiet gasp for approval, to rest just between her breasts.
I remove the cold from her and wait for a count of five in complete silence.
Her chest heaves upward and the tension is palpable. The silence is utterly confusing every sensibility she has. At the end of that very long silence, two things happen. First I exchange the hand the ice cube has been presiding in and immediately set it on her closest nipple. I then swiftly move my other hand to her thigh and start circling her supple flesh with the wetness brought from the melting cube. She immediately spreads her legs, pushes her hips forward and lets out a soft moan. This must be torture. The hand with the ice cube starts to move in very small circles around her nipple and the simultaneous circling on her thigh moves away from her sex. I start slowing the circling down to a comfortable pace. Then I remove my hand from her thigh. Then the cube from her breast.
I plop the ice cube in my mouth and began sucking on it. I move around the chair so I’m standing directly in front of her.
Now this is a sight. Those long legs spread wide. Her pale white skin contrasting sharply to the black heels she somehow has kept on. Her smoothly shaven center glistening with anticipation with the low light of the room. That perfectly toned stomach from years of playing sports capped off with a blue navel piercing. Her succulent breasts sitting so firm on her body. They have not yet succumbed to gravity’s constant drag. To the slender neck that would make any vampire weak at the knees, and resting in the center of her neck is the silver heart shaped necklace she wears for only special occasions. It’s the one piece that seems….untouched, not affected by rampant sexual lust.
Her face betrays her every emotion. Her mouth is slightly open. She’s breathing heavier than usual. Her cheeks are flushed scarlet and the dark blindfold is so natural it almost makes me smile. This is a woman who belongs lost in the sea of sexual wonder, riding the biggest waves to the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.
Enough admiring, time to get to work. I move, quietly, subtlety down to her legs. I put both hands on both legs, she feels them and I can sense the hesitancy and confusion, but she obeys the gentle yet firm force my hands exert, spreading herself even wider to me.
It’s strange how controlling a situation requires a level of uncertainty. A fluidity that is both on a course but ever changing. This is the part I live for. Feeling that flow that always guides me to the next best thing.
My tongue lashes at her clitoris, ravishing her with pleasure to the point of it being unbearable. She’s close. So close to giving herself totally to me. Right before that happens, I move away. Standing up swiftly, I grab her hands and gently tug her up and out of the chair. She stands up and stops and before I am aware of it she puts her hand gently on my stomach and leans towards me, somehow intuiting where my mouth is, she kisses me. It’s passionate and deep and in all ways disarming. There is a current that sparks between us with such force I am utterly caught off guard. This is not what was supposed to happen. I am supposed to be the one in control, not her. How did I allow this to happen? And why is this more satisfying than anything else I’ve ever done?
With a supreme force of will I come back to myself and let loose the storm that has been welling for so long. I grab her hands and swiftly move them behind her, resting my wrists on her hips without breaking the kiss. I walk her backwards while wrapped up in her. She tries to resist in small ways but always ends up submitting. I gently guide her to the bed, white with an overabundance of turquoise pillows. She falls into the folds of the blanket while I push myself on top of her, pinning her arms above her while descending on her neck once more.
The dynamic has changed. I can feel the heat building inside of me like an overwhelming volcano. Cold, calculating control has been replaced with a desire to have my way with her.
The small delicate hands wiggle under my grip. Wanting to be free to explore the man driving this torture but relishing in being totally submissive to his will. I let go with one hand and swiftly move it down her body. Before her free hand has time to do anything my finger rubs her clit. She moans. Long and deep through the kiss we share and begins to buck her hips. One finger slides inside of her, causing a more desperate grinding. I break the kiss and hear the sigh followed by the moan as my mouth clamps on her nipple. Her whole body is moving, trying to extract every amount of pleasure possible from this while it still can.
Her hands move under my shirt to explore my back. She feels every inch and digs her nails in every time I thrust another finger inside of her. Now I’m starting to feel the pressure build. She pulls the shirt off of my body, revealing the muscular frame I hide so well. Not that she can see. The blindfold has not come off and now it’s entirely because she wants it on.
She starts feeling her way down, grabbing my butt through the dark blue jeans. The intoxication of impending sex is overwhelming. I can feel the intense need rising over me as she kneads my flesh with utter abandon.
We’re caught in a moment of stasis even as our bodies writhe against each other. It’s my move now and I pause before lowering myself decisively over her. I hesitate. Rather than go in for the intense kiss that fits the pace, I stop and gently, so softly place my lips to her lips. This change from intense fiery passion to tender gentleness shocks her for a moment. As we break off and I’m left hovering over her blindfolded face, emotion washes over me. It’s not intense, at least not in the way the passion of most of the evening had been intense. It’s deep, buried in that place I don’t go for so many reasons, not to mention the major one. Why is this happening to me? This is about control, not loss of control. Maybe in some way they are the same thing. Whatever this is it doesn’t change the fact that I have a goddess laying beneath me with enough fire and heat to ignite a second sun.
With the force of a hurricane the storm floods my body and I kiss her as hard as I possibly can. Her hands go to my waist to begin unbuckling my jeans. It’s taking too long so I undo them and quickly pull them down and off of my body. My manhood is already throbbing with anticipation. She moves her hips up while I line up to enter her. Even without sight she knows what’s coming. I push myself to the edge of her entrance and slowly rub up and down along her slit. She pushes closer to me, willing my cock to penetrate her. I keep it from going inside, pushing it all the way down and all the up until it brushes against her clit. She moans and tries again to put it inside of her but with no luck.
I continue this torment until she finally screams, “Fuck me!”
I push all the way in until I can’t go any farther. I feel her pussy flutter as she clamps on my cock and orgasms all over it. Her groans continue while I start slowly pistoning into her center. Feeling every fold of her vagina rub against my cock.
“Turn around,” I command her.
She moves quickly onto her knees with her plump butt thrust into my hips. I grab hold of her firm ass with both hands and place it in front of me. She rocks backward, whimpering the whole time, trying to get my cock back into her pussy.
“Be still!” Her body stops but I still hear her wanting voice.
I hesitate for one moment and then push into her all the way to the hilt. Her back arches and she trembles slightly just before the rhythm of hot sex takes over her body as if every song in the world is expressing itself through our intertwined bodies. My hand reaches out to grab a large amount of her brunette hair. I firmly pull back while I fuck her without mercy. She groans as another wave of orgasm washes over her. I can feel the pressure building inside of me. I spur it on, increasing the pace but maintaining the long strokes that she seems to love so much. I watch as her body moves in time with mine. The stem on her flower tattoo moving like a snake as she humps and grinds my cock. With that I can’t take it anymore, I unleash the flood of cum inside her waiting cunt. Utterly spent, she milks the last bit of my cum into her as I go flaccid and pull out of her.
The storm has subsided. But something else stirs in its place. I can’t place it. There is no way this is happening. The whole reason for this journey was to put a firm lid on these feelings from ever showing up again. How the fuck can one girl do this to me? I should have known better. I should have kept control. That’s the rub though. So much control has led to absolutely no control whatsoever.
I shudder, as if suddenly cold. The room feels stifling for some reason. There is no more control. Panic is rising from the depths where nothing good stays long. I run hard and fast out of the room and away from whatever this torment is. My, how the roles have changed.
