Rhapsody on a Theme of Anticipation

-Or-

Biding Rhapsody

       I enter the room and stand before you.  I am nervous as I stand there, clothed simply in a short black pleated skirt, white blouse, sheer black stockings, and not too high heels.  I try to find something, anything, to occupy my hands as you stare at me in silence. I absentmindedly pick at my nails, caress the fabric of my skirt, I even brush the hair out of my eyes, anything to still the nerves.  A wry smile breaks your stolid demeanor. You cock your head to the right then speak one word.  “Strip.”

I’m shocked at the abruptness of your command and become even more nervous, feeling my nipples hardening and clit tingling.  Usually there is more foreplay, more coaxing, but, it would seem, not tonight.  My pussy was wet before I even entered the room, but now I feared that it would gush once I removed my underwear.  With one word you have made me a sexual geyser.  I’m nervous and I hesitate. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” you say sternly, your serious expression returning.  There is no hint of a smile, not even a wry one.

I no longer hesitate and hastily unbutton my blouse.  “Slower,” you say.  The deliberation of my slow forced stripping is excruciating.  But, finally, I remove my blouse, skirt, bra and panties when you state, “You may leave on the stockings and shoes”.

I stack the removed clothes neatly on the chair at your command.  I stand watching as you move to the chair and gather my belongings, placing them on the top shelf of the closet—the shelf I cannot reach without assistance.  You return to your seat in the living room and look appraisingly at me.  I am in wait of your next command and you know this and it drives me crazy.  “Turn around.”

       The thought of having my back to you strikes at my nerves.  My hands, hanging at my sides, shake visibly and I hear you chuckle.  I am terrified and excited as I feel you approach me.  Tonight could bring anything.  I had promised to give up all rights for the evening—be completely yours and at your mercy.  You place something cold and metal in my left hand.  I do not dare look down.  “Cuff your hands behind your back.”  

And then you walk away as I hear the bathroom door shut.  I realize that this truly is the point of no return. Shaking even more, I fumble with the handcuffs before securing them firmly behind my back. The cold metal against my lower back reminds me of my helplessness and the total control you have over me.  You do not need cuffs; your very presence is all I require to remind me of your power.  But you choose them to serve a purpose—there is a greater psychological need.  And this makes me more nervous, more excited, more aroused.

       As I stand there, trying to remain still, my nipples grow so hard that they hurt and I feel my thighs wet from my own juices.  After several minutes you return to me and gently run your fingers against my back.  "Who does this body belong to?”

I gulp and stammer, “You, Master.”

You chuckle.  “That’s right, pet.  Now, I’m going to play with you and you would do well to remember the rules about cumming.” I feel your hot breath on my neck as you whisper, “And what are those rules?

”I am not allowed to cum until you give me permission, sir.”

“Very good.”  You cease speaking as your hands play gently all over my body. Avoiding my nipples and my pussy you slide your hands gently over every other inch of my body, cupping my ass, and sliding them down my stocking encased thighs.  Ever so slowly you slide them back up the inside of my leg, over the gap between stocking and skin and coming so very close to my now soaking lips with your soft and gentle touches.  It amazes me how such strong hands can be so very gentle at the same time.  As soon as I start moaning and trying to thrust myself against those much needed touches, you chuckle once more and remove your hands as I groan in frustration. I feel you leave me and hear you sit on the bed,  “Kneel.”

       If is difficult, but I do as I am ordered.  “Now, turn around and crawl to me.”  Very slowly I crawl on my knees until I am kneeling before you.  You pet my head and smile down at me before standing and lowering your pants.  Your cock hangs in front of my face, a little above my mouth, and I know I’ll have to strain my neck to reach it, but I know that you enjoy seeing that struggle.

       You don’t even have to instruct me as I reach with my tongue and lick your tip, slowly swirling until my lips finally reach your shaft.  I alternate between teasing your cock with my tongue and sucking it slowly until I feel the need to increase the pace and combine the two techniques.  You are about to cum.  You wrap your fingers into my hair, now controlling my head as well as my every movement.  You pull my head back and forth, fucking my mouth and using my hair as reins to remind me that you are the one in control.  I have not even any illusion of doubt; you are totally in control, as it should be, and  I know that I am totally yours.

This thought is emphasized as you ejaculate, shooting your seed deep into my throat and filling my mouth. I swallow in gulps.  Your cock twitches on my tongue as I move it round and round until you pull out, both of us breathless and my pussy now in more need than ever.

       You run your fingers through your hair and collapse backward on the bed with a contented sigh.  I still kneel before you, cuffed and wanting desperately the same relief that I have just given you.  After a few minutes you stand and return to the bathroom.  I hear the bathtub start to fill and want to glance toward the door.  But I know if I do, you will see me and I will be made to wait even longer.  Every fiber of my being wants to revolt—to scream my passions.  But cooler thoughts prevail and I sigh, waiting for you to take advantage of your situation (which I want more than anything). 

       The water stops running and you return, pulling a key from the nightstand, and undo my cuffs.  “Stand,” you order.  I do and you instruct me to face you.  My hair has fallen into my face, and I want to brush it away but do not dare.  It doesn’t matter, though, because you brush it away before kissing me gently on the forehead.  You pull me close and whisper in my ear.  “Take a bath and get ready.  We’re going out.”  I groan involuntarily and your eyes harden.  “Go.  You have thirty minutes.”  You give me a swat on the ass to get me moving. 

       I pull my hair up into a twist, remove my shoes and stockings, and sink into the luxurious bubble bath.  The warm water feels like silk enveloping my flesh.  Every inch of me is so sensitive that it’s almost as if the small bubbles could coax me to a climax.  “I’m going to have to be very careful while washing,” I mutter to myself with both laughter and chagrin.  As I rub the sponge against my pussy, a small moan escapes my lips and I close my eyes, trying desperately to contain my passion.  It’s coming whether I want it or not and I bite my lower lip, holding my breath.  “At least if it comes, please god, let it be small and very, very quiet and maybe he’ll never know.”  My hands move of their own volition.  They can’t seem to stop soaping my breasts and my pussy.  I’m almost there when I feel your firm grip on my right wrist.  I open my eyes and see that you have plunged your hand into the water to stop my lustful machinations and you stare at me with steely eyes. 

       “Isn’t it fortunate for you that I checked on you when I did?  Otherwise you would have earned yourself a much harsher punishment.”  I drop my eyes in shame.  “Yes…you should be ashamed,” you say, reading my thoughts.  “I’m very disappointed in you, girl.  Now, get out of the tub, dry yourself off, fix your hair and do your makeup.  Meet me in the bedroom when you’re finished.”  You walk to the door and say with your back to me, “And leave this door open.  I don’t trust you to behave.” 

       I rise from the tub and walk to the mirror, trying to decide how best to get ready.  I need desperately to please you.  But I also need to be quick about it.  My hands shake as I brush my hair.  I decide to leave it down—let it flow long and wild.  I take a few seconds to admire my reflection.  A thick mane of wavy chestnut hair frames my rosy cheeked face.  Large blue-green eyes peer out at me as a smile fills my luscious lips.  “People pay money to have lips like this,” I chuckle to myself.  I allow myself this proud moment because I know my punishment is coming, and I reassure myself with the fact that, though disappointed, you will still take pride in me.  I mess my hair up with mousse, pull some strands to the side, fastening them with a diamond clip, and apply only mascara, lip liner, and gloss.  You like me “au natural” and I hope that this will make you happy. 

       When I enter the bedroom, you’re sitting at your desk, dressed in a handsome Armani suit, looking thoughtfully at the wooden paddle that I have come to both love and fear.  Trying to gain favor I kneel at your feet, looking up at you expectantly.  You pet my head gently.  “You look lovely.”

       “Thank you sir.”

       “You know that you must be punished, don’t you?”

       “Yes sir.”  I know I should leave it at that but the words come rushing out.  “I’m terribly sorry sir.  I didn’t mean to.  It’s like my hands had a mind of—“

       “Not another word until I say,” you say, and I nod.  “I understand what happened.  But you still must pay for your error.  At least I stopped you in time.”  I nod again.  “We should get this over with.”  You look at your watch and say, “We do have reservations and you do not want to make us late, now, do you?”  I vehemently shake my head no.  “Good.  And after this I hope you might learn to control your own hands.”  I nod yes.  “Then stand.  Lean over with your hands on the edge of the desk.  Thrust your ass up and spread your legs.”  I do as I you have instructed, dipping my back to thrust my cheeks up as high as I can, spreading my legs the required 18 inches apart. 

       Once in position, you lean over, letting your hands roam over the cheeks of my ass and whisper in my ear, “You will get fifteen, count out loud.”

       The wooden paddle comes down and “Splat” it connects with the right cheek, instantly bringing heat and a small amount of pain. I once again do as I am told and try calmly to count in between each stoke.  Involuntary grunts and whines escape my throat each time the paddle splats down onto my reddening cheeks.  After five blows your fingers slide up my leg and between my parted thighs.

“Hmmm…you seem to be enjoying your punishment a little too much.  Perhaps I’m going too easy on you.”  You immediately swat me again, this time much harder; I jump and practically yelp, “Six.”  After ten, you feel my sex again, sliding your fingers up and down my soaking labia before plunging a finger deep inside of me.  I nearly cum on the spot but manage to contain myself. You lean down and whisper into my ear,

“You’re just incorrigible, aren’t you?” and chuckle.

I brace for a much harder swat.  I don’t know if I can take it, but know in my heart that I will.  I will endure for you.  However, you take mercy on me and continue at the same level of intensity as the previous five.  When you reach fifteen you leave me leaning over against the desk, my butt now glowing scarlet after my punishment and my lips clearly glistening from the state of my arousal. You go to the closet.  “Your dress and is laid out on the bed.  Your shoes are in front of the closet.  Meet me downstairs in five minutes.  Don’t forget your stockings.”  I start to move toward the bed.  “And leave your pussy as it is.  I want you to feel your own wetness all night.”

       I gulp, having no idea what your plans are for the evening.  When I look at the bed, I see a black lace thong and the small silk sapphire dress I had been coveting for so many weeks.  The low neck accentuates my breasts nicely and the dress hugs me in all of the right places, the skirt of the dress flowing out to just below mid thigh and flows beautifully as I walk.  It was the type of dress that would be perfect for a cocktail party, or a night at the opera.  I notice there is no bra, but very rarely do you allow me that particular item of clothing, even less so than panties.  I slip the dress on, feeling the luxurious silk slipping softly over my body.  I retrieve my stockings from the bathroom and turn to see which shoes you have chosen for the evening; you have chosen the silvery blue high heels that makes me swing my hips as I walk--the perfect choice to accompany the dress and its flowing skirt. My nipples are still so hard and erect that they can clearly be seen pushing against the thin material of the dress, adding to the mood of the evening and my arousal as the silk slips over the nubs. I walk downstairs, swaying my hips, and see you standing by the bookcase, sipping a glass of Cognac.  You turn as I reach the bottom of the stairs. A large smile spreads across your face as you see me in the dress for the first time.  “You look wonderful my beautiful pet.”  I beam with pride as you walk across the room. Taking me firmly in your arms you hug me close to you and we kiss deeply. “Shall we venture forth?” you ask politely.

“We shall indeed Sir.”  I reply.  The smile on my face beams back at you. My previous transgression is forgotten, and when I see the look of pride in your eyes, I too am proud.

We walk out to the car and you open the passenger door for me. I lift the skirt of my dress before I sit down, allowing my still warm cheeks to sit directly on the leather of the car seat. My knees stay parted and when you see this you comment, “Well done my dear, you have not forgotten everything I have taught you I see.” You smile down at me. The drive to the restaurant is short, but still your hand caresses me, sliding up and down the silkiness of my stockings all the way to the very juncture of my thighs without actually touching my pussy. The seat is getting wet from my arousal and I am glad for the rule of not sitting on my skirt.  I would hate to ruin the dress.  When we reach the restaurant, the valet opens the door for me and then watches as I gracefully exit the car.  He cannot but notice that I had been sitting directly on the seat with the confirmation that I have left behind in the form of my wetness. I blush slightly before you join me and take my arm in yours. When we enter, our table is waiting for us, and you guide me towards the corner with your hand in the small of my back.  You pull the chair out for me and again I sit, lifting my skirt first, hoping no one is watching or notices. You sit and order a bottle of Chablis from the waiter.  My ass is still warm and stings from my previous punishment, but I enjoy the coolness of the wood against my cheeks.

As we wait for our order to be taken, we engage in a lively conversation about the course of American politics. We have always been able to talk for hours and never find each other’s company to be anything other than interesting, both inside and outside the “bedroom”. Conversation and wine flows freely, as your hand slides beneath the hem of my dress to fondle my leg beneath the tablecloth. You coax my thighs further apart to have easier access to me and continue to stroke and tease me, silently daring me to lose my train of thought.

When the waiter arrives, you remove your hand and order for us both. The pepper encrusted steak for you, medium rare with french fries, and grilled chicken and spinach over penne for me. When the waiter has left the conversation continues naturally.  “The divisiveness seems to be coming to an alarming climax.  And cable news certainly isn’t helping!”

You smile.  “Remove your panties and pass them to me across the table.”  You say, so calmly, so conversationally, someone hearing your tone would have thought you were responding to my previous comment.

       “I’m sorry…what?”

       Again you are calm and conversational.  “Do not make me repeat myself.”  You take a bite of a breadstick and stare at me.

       I flush.  You have always talked about doing this, but I had thought you were joking.  I should have known better.  “Here?  Right now?  Can I not at least go to the lady’s room?” I whisper in a pleading voice.

       You smile, but the steel in your voice is unmistakable.  “Right here, right now.”

       I swallow hard and look at you with fear in my eyes.  Granted we are at a corner table, but there are also plenty of other patrons around, not to mention the wait staff.  I know there is only one thing for me to do, and I also know that I should not make you wait.  I take a moment to decide the best method for completing the task.  I finally slide my hands under my dress, my thumbs under the g-string.   Lifting my bottom I push the scrap of lace over my hips and ass, trying to give the impression that I am just seductively feeling the silk of the dress. For the next step I simply drop my napkin and panties to the floor.  I reach down and retrieve them both and shoot you a coy smile.  I hold out my hand with the balled up lace panties inside.  You smile once more.  It is the kind of smile that makes my smile disappear.  “Put them on the table,” you command.

       I see the waiter coming with our salads and want to stall, but I know that would be disastrous and certainly annoy you, ruining the evening, and warranting me another punishment on our return home.  I turn red with humiliation as I place the balled up scrap of lace onto the tablecloth, in plain sight of anyone who would care to look.  The black lace stands out exceptionally against the white linen.  When the waiter reaches our table he pauses, obviously seeing the panties (it is not difficult to recognize them for what they are), then looks from me to you. 

“It’s okay,” you say.  “They were a little too wet.  You can take them away and dispose of them if you would be so kind.” 

I am mortified as the waiter picks them up and looks at me lasciviously.  I can practically read the perverse thoughts that must be flowing through his mind.  He leaves the salads and turns, walking away with my (wet) panties still in his hand.  I pick up my fork and pick at my salad, trying hard to forget my humiliation.  However you have no intention of letting me, simply stating, “And just to think, he still has our main course to bring, and I think we may have to order desert as well.”  You laugh loudly at this last statement and my utter embarrassment which, to my disbelief, seems to be turning me on even more.

       With our salads finished, you pull something out of your pocket.  I can’t believe what I’m seeing.  You lay a large curved vibrator on the table and nod to me.  “Take it now unless you want everyone to see.”  I quickly grab it.  “Now, I believe you know where you can hide that, don’t you?”

       I don’t dare question you and glance around quickly before I slide up my dress and slip the vibrator into my now soaking pussy, pushing it deeper and deeper as far as it will go.

       “Make sure it doesn’t wriggle out sweetie.  Hold it nice and tight inside.”

       “Wriggle….?” I ask, but my question is summarily cut short and answered at the same time by the vibrations coming from deep inside my pussy.  “Oh god…” I moan as the vibrator rapidly brings me to the brink of orgasm.

       “Don’t worry, I probably won’t make you cum, though I really haven’t decided yet.  Right now I just want to have a little fun with you.  And here is our main course.  Right on time.”  You switch off the vibrator and lay the remote control on the table in plain sight.

       The waiter places the plates in front of us, staring at me until he spies the remote.  “May I help you with something?” you ask the waiter politely.

“Well, I was just wondering…what’s that, if you don’t mind my asking?”

       “Not at all,” you answer.  “Dearest, why don’t you explain.”

If my eyes were weapons, both of you would be atomized.  “Well…um…it’s a remote control.”  I hope he will leave it at that but know better.

       “For what?”

       “For the vibrator that is currently inside me.”  To emphasize this point you pick up the remote and hit the high setting for a moment. A squeak erupts from my lips as its ministrations drive me wild with lust.

       “Awesome, I need to find a girl like you.  Wow!”  He walks off shaking his head and we look at each other for a moment before exploding with laughter. 

       Throughout the course of the meal, you continue to play with the control, almost bringing me to the brink many, many times, usually when the waiter is at our table or someone is passing close by.  You continue to caress me under my dress in between, ensuring that I am sopping wet and my arousal level never lessens. We finally finish the meal and you pay the check. 

“You can leave the tip,” you say.

       “Um…I don’t have any money on me.”

       “Then leave him something else,” you grin.

I am once more mortified as I realize what you mean.  I sit back down, again remembering to lift the back of my dress up before I sit, and reach beneath my dress to remove the vibrator, now soaking wet from my juices. I gently lay it on the table as the “tip” for our waiter and you leave the remote control lying next to it.  I try to walk quickly out of the restaurant, but your arm is locked firmly in mine as we stroll through the doors at a leisurely pace.

       We don’t talk during the short car ride home.  We both only think of one thing.  When we arrive, I don’t even need to be told.  I ascend the stairs to the bedroom and stand before you, just as I did at the beginning of the night.  “Strip.”  You repeat the first command of the evening.  I do so, but much more quickly, leaving the clothes where they fall. When I am down to my stockings and heels you reach out for me, pulling me to you. Your hands roam over my body, both gently and firmly as you explore your property. Your lips surround my erect nipple and suck it gently, before your teeth bite down onto its hardness. Your hands squeeze the cheeks of my butt firmly as your tongue explores my trapped nipple. A low moan erupted from my throat and you roughly push me onto the bed, grabbing my hands and holding them firmly together above my head.

       You kiss me deeply and passionately as our tongues dance with each other.  You grin at me and I groan.  I groan for many reasons, but mainly because I know what that grin means.  I will have to wait even longer.

       Still holding my arms, you slide your lips and tongue down my neck, hitting all the sweet spots that drive me crazy—behind my ear, that place where my jaw meets my neck, under my chin.  You move down to my nipples, gently flicking them with your tongue, blowing on them, biting on them, sucking them.

       This much needed attention—what I’ve been craving all evening—only drives me to a lust induced madness, furthering both my desire and frustration.   You look intently at me, but I can barely comprehend the look.  I’m moaning continuously now.  You leave my arms above my head, knowing I will not move them without permission, just as though they were actually tied to the headboard. You slide down my body, kissing and licking me as you do so, over my stomach, my hips, and then downwards you slip. You kiss and lick the inside of my open thighs, licking in little circles, getting closer and closer to my engorged labia. Eventually, and at last before I go absolutely and completely crazy I feel your soft tongue on my clitoris, forcing me to the very edge of orgasm.  I feel incoherent and barely manage to beg, “Please Master, let me cum for you.”

       “Not yet,” you say as you attack my clit with renewed vigor, your expert tongue and teeth bringing me to the edge time and again without letting me actually cross the threshold.  I feel as if I am losing my mind.

       “Please Master, fuck me.  Fuck me please.  Fuck me without mercy!”  I beg.

You smile as I whimper and you move your body up until the head of your cock is nestled against my soaking pussy, but not letting it enter. 

I groan again.  “Please Master, PLEASE..…”  This is the worst torture I have yet to had to endure. 

       You push gently, barely parting my lips, just letting the head slide in before you pull out again.  This teasing is unbearable.  Again and again you tease my pussy with the head of your cock, before pulling out and pressing it against the lips of my mouth. 

“Taste your sweet juices, my pet.”  I take your cock in my mouth greedily, licking each drop of my secretions from your erection before you remove it and return it to the entrance to my pussy.  You repeat this torture at least five times before gently teasing my pussy one last time. You hold yourself above me on your strong arms, looking down into my eyes and with one mighty heave you thrust your cock deep inside of me, pushing your full length into me in one firm stroke as I gasp with pleasure and lust. You whisper into my ear, “Cum for me sweetheart.”  I obey immediately, exploding as your words have barely finished, and you thrust deeper and deeper into me.  My orgasm is so intense I feel I can take no more.  You know this but give me no choice as you thrust firmly into my soaking wet pussy.  I am in a constant state of over-stimulated orgasmic bliss until you finally shoot your orgasm deep inside me, before collapsing on my chest.  You wrap me in your arms and as our sweat combines we both fall asleep—you content with my pussy hugging your cock and I with your fullness that fills me.