Memories
Now for something a little different. . .
She stirred and tried to stretch. Something cold and hard pressed against the soles of her feet; and as she shifted there was a similar feeling along the naked skin of her lower back. In a moment of panic she snapped awake, her eyes slow to focus in the dim light. She saw bars, blacker against the room's darkness, and then it all came rushing back to her.
She had met Christopher a few months ago, at a Farmer's Market of all places. She had been looking over the bounty overflowing from the back of the farmer's pick-up truck when he'd stepped up behind her and made some wise-ass comment about squeezing melons. It caught her so off guard that she burst out laughing, much more so than the joke deserved.
She turned to face him, still giggling and saw his eyes. They were a beautiful ice blue and there was just something about them that made her laughter die in her throat and a blush come to her cheeks. She looked away quickly, feeling silly for doing so but unable to stop herself. She'd never felt this shy with men before.
They'd gone for lunch that day. Just down the street, in broad daylight, no danger, perfectly safe, she assured herself. They had a lovely time, and then he'd asked her to his place for a dinner made with all the goodies he'd found at the market that day. She was a little nervous about accepting but something about him made her want to see him again and he'd seemed perfectly normal.
She smiled to herself in the semi-dark, remembering.
She'd spent hours selecting what to wear and ended up going with something casual and comfortable. She'd read over the directions he had scrawled on a small bit of paper, again and again, getting more and more nervous each time. Finally, she'd mentally slapped her self and said, out loud, "Get over it! What are you so nervous about? He's just a cute guy."
The last few minutes before leaving her house and driving to his were almost torture. She had paced back and forth and she'd gone back to the mirror over and over. The wait had been unbearable. She'd started at the clock willing it to move faster, but at the same time thanking it for moving so slow.
She finally went out to her car, the small piece of paper still in her hand, 5 minutes earlier than she had planned to leave; she hadn't been able to take it anymore! Patience was never one of her virtues.
In the dark, she laughed softly to herself, boy did that change! She heard him stir and clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle another giggle and fell back into memories.
She'd arrived at his house only a little early. She'd forced herself to drive slowly up the quiet road in his neighborhood (maybe there were children playing, or dogs running loose) and then to positively creep up his long drive. "I'm not nervous." She assured herself even though she knew it was a complete lie.
He had greeted her at the door, delicious smells wafting from his kitchen, around his broad shoulders, and to her nose. He'd admitted that he was a little nervous that she wouldn't come.
They had a lovely dinner, he was an excellent chef. Afterward, they had gone into his den. Though there were hardwood floors in the entrance, the hall, and the dining room, this room had deep lush carpeting. She had wondered what it would feel like between her toes. The furniture was all massive dark wood or soft leather pieces. There was a fire in the large stone fireplace and the room was very inviting.
She remembered sitting and talking late into the night about whatever things happened to pop into their heads. She had never felt so comfortable with anyone in her life; she had wondered why she'd been so nervous before dinner. She left that night after giving him her phone number and his promise to call soon.
That night she had strange dreams. She had always been a little adventurous in her sex life. She'd tried light bondage, blindfolding, and soft spanks with her last lover, Alex. She'd liked the way the silk scarves felt against her wrists and across her closed eyes. Secretly she had wanted more but was too afraid to share this with him and her frustration over that was one of the reasons the relationship had ended.
But these dreams went beyond that. The scarves were gone, there were leather cuffs in their place, the blindfold was tight against her face and the spanks were much more intense and delivered by something that thudded against her skin, not the soft hand slaps she'd had before. And the voice she heard, the voice that spoke with a bit of a growl was Christopher's.
The tingling she felt go up her spine woke her from her daydreams. She shifted around a little, trying to ease the ache she felt between her legs brought about by her memories. She fell slowly back into her daydream.
They had been going out for a month. She loved their time together, she loved the talks curled up on his leather sofa, she had asked on her 3rd or 4th trip to this room if she could slip her shoes off and he'd said of course and then laughed at her little moan of pleasure as her feet sank into the carpet.
They'd had long sessions of kissing and petting on that couch and eventually that had lead up to his room. His bed was large, and it was the only thing in the room. The floors were hardwood there too except there was a large soft looking rug on the floor by one side. She had lived in a house without carpeting once and remembered what stepping out of the warm bed onto the cold floor felt like.
They made gentle love in his bed the first few times, learning the things that pleased each other. Then it had turned to harder sex, he covered her mouth with his hand, held her wrists to the bed above her head, or lightly pulled her hair. She wanted more but didn't know how to tell him. She began to read erotic stories on nights she was alone. She fantasized about them as she masturbated those nights, pretending that the characters were Christopher and her. One day she stumbled across a website where all the stories were about various kinds of torture, play rape, and master and slave scenes. She read for hours and completely lost track of time. She had a date with him that night and snapped back to reality just in time to take a quick shower and change before driving over to his house.
When they'd had sex that night, she'd fantasized about the stories she'd read. He was lying beside her on the bed, teasing her by stroking her all over except the one spot she wanted him to touch. Then he'd stroke her clit just until she was about to orgasm then go back to touching everywhere else. It was making her crazy and she was becoming more and more vocal with her moans. When she'd look up at him, he was always watching her face and seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit.
Finally he had put his mouth over her breast and began to nip at her nipple with his teeth while he brought his hand back to her clit and began to stroke. "Oh yesss!" she had moaned, and he stroked more quickly. She had tossed her head back and forth, her hand held bunches of the sheets, and she couldn't take it anymore. As her orgasm began to wash over her she moaned "Yesss Master!" She had been horrified! She had jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub and wondered what to do.
"Those damn stories!" she thought "Oh God what am I gonna say to him, how can I look him in the eye, he's probably disgusted!" She couldn't stay in the bathroom forever, she had decided. She was an adult and would handle it like an adult. She'd pretend she had never said it! She had washed her face took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed facing the door with a crooked smile on his face. She'd completely lost her nerve, she couldn't look at him.
"Come here" he had said with a bit of a chuckle in his voice, and when she hadn't moved he repeated it more firmly.
She had slowly walked across the room to him, she felt the heat of her blush in her cheeks and when she was in front of him, he'd said one word. "Kneel" and she'd done it. From then on, he had been her master and she his slave. He'd shown her that his hands could bring both pleasure and pain. And that that pain wasn't always bad.
A month later she'd moved into his house. She now knew what the carpet in the den felt like on all parts of her body, she sat on it at his feet every night until she was invited up to the couch. She knew that the carpet by his bed was for her to sleep on until invited into his bed, and now she knew why he kept a lot of free space on the bedroom floor. It was for the cage.
She stirred a little and heard him get out of the bed and walk over to the cage. "What's going on in there?" He said as he slipped his hand through the bars and between her legs. He smiled to himself and stepped back to open the cage, as she crawled groggily out he scooped her up and carried her to his bed.
She stirred and tried to stretch. Something cold and hard pressed against the soles of her feet; and as she shifted there was a similar feeling along the naked skin of her lower back. In a moment of panic she snapped awake, her eyes slow to focus in the dim light. She saw bars, blacker against the room's darkness, and then it all came rushing back to her.
She had met Christopher a few months ago, at a Farmer's Market of all places. She had been looking over the bounty overflowing from the back of the farmer's pick-up truck when he'd stepped up behind her and made some wise-ass comment about squeezing melons. It caught her so off guard that she burst out laughing, much more so than the joke deserved.
She turned to face him, still giggling and saw his eyes. They were a beautiful ice blue and there was just something about them that made her laughter die in her throat and a blush come to her cheeks. She looked away quickly, feeling silly for doing so but unable to stop herself. She'd never felt this shy with men before.
They'd gone for lunch that day. Just down the street, in broad daylight, no danger, perfectly safe, she assured herself. They had a lovely time, and then he'd asked her to his place for a dinner made with all the goodies he'd found at the market that day. She was a little nervous about accepting but something about him made her want to see him again and he'd seemed perfectly normal.
She smiled to herself in the semi-dark, remembering.
She'd spent hours selecting what to wear and ended up going with something casual and comfortable. She'd read over the directions he had scrawled on a small bit of paper, again and again, getting more and more nervous each time. Finally, she'd mentally slapped her self and said, out loud, "Get over it! What are you so nervous about? He's just a cute guy."
The last few minutes before leaving her house and driving to his were almost torture. She had paced back and forth and she'd gone back to the mirror over and over. The wait had been unbearable. She'd started at the clock willing it to move faster, but at the same time thanking it for moving so slow.
She finally went out to her car, the small piece of paper still in her hand, 5 minutes earlier than she had planned to leave; she hadn't been able to take it anymore! Patience was never one of her virtues.
In the dark, she laughed softly to herself, boy did that change! She heard him stir and clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle another giggle and fell back into memories.
She'd arrived at his house only a little early. She'd forced herself to drive slowly up the quiet road in his neighborhood (maybe there were children playing, or dogs running loose) and then to positively creep up his long drive. "I'm not nervous." She assured herself even though she knew it was a complete lie.
He had greeted her at the door, delicious smells wafting from his kitchen, around his broad shoulders, and to her nose. He'd admitted that he was a little nervous that she wouldn't come.
They had a lovely dinner, he was an excellent chef. Afterward, they had gone into his den. Though there were hardwood floors in the entrance, the hall, and the dining room, this room had deep lush carpeting. She had wondered what it would feel like between her toes. The furniture was all massive dark wood or soft leather pieces. There was a fire in the large stone fireplace and the room was very inviting.
She remembered sitting and talking late into the night about whatever things happened to pop into their heads. She had never felt so comfortable with anyone in her life; she had wondered why she'd been so nervous before dinner. She left that night after giving him her phone number and his promise to call soon.
That night she had strange dreams. She had always been a little adventurous in her sex life. She'd tried light bondage, blindfolding, and soft spanks with her last lover, Alex. She'd liked the way the silk scarves felt against her wrists and across her closed eyes. Secretly she had wanted more but was too afraid to share this with him and her frustration over that was one of the reasons the relationship had ended.
But these dreams went beyond that. The scarves were gone, there were leather cuffs in their place, the blindfold was tight against her face and the spanks were much more intense and delivered by something that thudded against her skin, not the soft hand slaps she'd had before. And the voice she heard, the voice that spoke with a bit of a growl was Christopher's.
The tingling she felt go up her spine woke her from her daydreams. She shifted around a little, trying to ease the ache she felt between her legs brought about by her memories. She fell slowly back into her daydream.
They had been going out for a month. She loved their time together, she loved the talks curled up on his leather sofa, she had asked on her 3rd or 4th trip to this room if she could slip her shoes off and he'd said of course and then laughed at her little moan of pleasure as her feet sank into the carpet.
They'd had long sessions of kissing and petting on that couch and eventually that had lead up to his room. His bed was large, and it was the only thing in the room. The floors were hardwood there too except there was a large soft looking rug on the floor by one side. She had lived in a house without carpeting once and remembered what stepping out of the warm bed onto the cold floor felt like.
They made gentle love in his bed the first few times, learning the things that pleased each other. Then it had turned to harder sex, he covered her mouth with his hand, held her wrists to the bed above her head, or lightly pulled her hair. She wanted more but didn't know how to tell him. She began to read erotic stories on nights she was alone. She fantasized about them as she masturbated those nights, pretending that the characters were Christopher and her. One day she stumbled across a website where all the stories were about various kinds of torture, play rape, and master and slave scenes. She read for hours and completely lost track of time. She had a date with him that night and snapped back to reality just in time to take a quick shower and change before driving over to his house.
When they'd had sex that night, she'd fantasized about the stories she'd read. He was lying beside her on the bed, teasing her by stroking her all over except the one spot she wanted him to touch. Then he'd stroke her clit just until she was about to orgasm then go back to touching everywhere else. It was making her crazy and she was becoming more and more vocal with her moans. When she'd look up at him, he was always watching her face and seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit.
Finally he had put his mouth over her breast and began to nip at her nipple with his teeth while he brought his hand back to her clit and began to stroke. "Oh yesss!" she had moaned, and he stroked more quickly. She had tossed her head back and forth, her hand held bunches of the sheets, and she couldn't take it anymore. As her orgasm began to wash over her she moaned "Yesss Master!" She had been horrified! She had jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub and wondered what to do.
"Those damn stories!" she thought "Oh God what am I gonna say to him, how can I look him in the eye, he's probably disgusted!" She couldn't stay in the bathroom forever, she had decided. She was an adult and would handle it like an adult. She'd pretend she had never said it! She had washed her face took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed facing the door with a crooked smile on his face. She'd completely lost her nerve, she couldn't look at him.
"Come here" he had said with a bit of a chuckle in his voice, and when she hadn't moved he repeated it more firmly.
She had slowly walked across the room to him, she felt the heat of her blush in her cheeks and when she was in front of him, he'd said one word. "Kneel" and she'd done it. From then on, he had been her master and she his slave. He'd shown her that his hands could bring both pleasure and pain. And that that pain wasn't always bad.
A month later she'd moved into his house. She now knew what the carpet in the den felt like on all parts of her body, she sat on it at his feet every night until she was invited up to the couch. She knew that the carpet by his bed was for her to sleep on until invited into his bed, and now she knew why he kept a lot of free space on the bedroom floor. It was for the cage.
She stirred a little and heard him get out of the bed and walk over to the cage. "What's going on in there?" He said as he slipped his hand through the bars and between her legs. He smiled to himself and stepped back to open the cage, as she crawled groggily out he scooped her up and carried her to his bed.
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