A Seduction in Silk (Xcite Romance)

by Constance Munday

  ‘Not just any silk stockings. Your silk stockings, Imogen.’

  She forced him back on the bed. ‘There, lie down.’ And she began trailing the silk stocking over his face. ‘I think this is how my mother must have felt.’ Imogen placed her hand on her breast and moved it around. ‘Oh yes. I think her heart was going pitter-patter, pitter-patter and that was the moment she knew she was in love. You’re a handsome man, Mr Levenstein. But you know that, don’t you? I only read the short article in the magazine, so I hardly know anything about you. Do you keep a low profile in your private life? Are you married? I expect like mother’s lover, you’ll turn out to be married.’

  ‘No, I’m not married.’ His green eyes fixed on hers, travelled over her face, it was more than lust and the thought of what could be terrified her.

  Imogen’s fingers were loosening his other shirt buttons one by one. ‘There, I think you’ll feel a little bit more relaxed if I loosen you up. You’re a little uptight and shy but I enjoy that and everything you think shows in your eyes as well. You have expressive eyes, Mr Levenstein.’ And she continued to trail the stocking across his face as, lying extremely close to Michael, she pressed her thigh to his leg and her breasts against his shirt, which she was finishing unbuttoning and stripping away from his body. Each time she moved he could hear the thrilling crackle of silk as she rubbed her legs up and down his pants.

  ‘So, if you don’t want to be tied to the bed with my silk stockings. What do you want?’ Perhaps you’d like to tie me to the bed with them instead. Or ...’ Placing her mouth on his she began kissing him with rapier sharp kisses. ‘… Perhaps you’d like me to play with the silk stockings like this? Watch, Michael.’ And, stretching the stockings between her fingers, she straddled him on the bed and with her tongue balancing provocatively on the edge of her lips, she took a fine pair of the Cervin, tying one silk stocking around the groin of her left leg and one around the right before pressing one of the limp pieces of silk to Michael’s lips.

  Michael kissed the stocking and ran his tongue all over it until it was wet.

  Next, Imogen stretched behind her and fastening the end of the stocking to her suspender belt she tugged it forward through her sex slit and fastened it with a loop at the front.

  Michael was speechless and holding his breath. Static surges of lust were pulsing through his system as he fought the uncontrollable urge to roll her on to her back and plunge his swollen cock straight into her.

  Imogen wriggled forward until her ripe spilt peach was resting by his mouth.

  ‘You made me a chastity belt?’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ Imogen replied. ‘And tomorrow I won’t wear my panties to work. I’ll wear nothing but this chastity belt, beneath my clothes.’

  Michael stared into her face as he trailed his finger across her cheeks. ‘You’re extraordinary,’ he said. ‘You fascinate me and I think I love you.’

  ‘Are you sure about that, baby? Are you sure you’re not in love with my silk stockings?’

  ‘Yes, naturally I adore your silk stockings, but I also love everything about you. Say! Why don’t you marry me and I could buy you a wardrobe of Cervin?’

  ‘You’re a funny guy,’ Imogen shrieked. ‘I don’t know whether to take you seriously or not.’ And with two or three deft jerks she ripped the recalcitrant zipper down over his erection and pulling down his pants, Imogen gave a sigh as she sat staring at his tumescent erection. After several seconds of studious contemplation she leapt on the bed and lying back on the pillows with her arms above her head she dragged her fingers through her abundant hair.

  ‘There now you can finger my silk stockings.’

  ‘First of all, I’d like you to take them off,’ Michael said. ‘And next I want you to put them back on again, very slowly.’

  ‘Oh, that’s easily done,’ Imogen said, sitting up and unclipping one of the stockings from her suspender belt and rolling it down her leg. ‘There, is that how you like it? Did you realise there’s great skill to putting on and taking off a pair of silk stockings? Shall I show you Michael?’

  Removing the silk stocking completely, she threw it on the bed before unrolling the other one. Michael took each one and held it to his nose, then he stroked the pale flesh of Imogen’s leg right up to her crotch and the pouting peachy flesh and back down again.

  ‘You don’t just pull on a silk stocking,’ Imogen continued, wriggling to the edge of the bed and then getting to her feet to fetch another packet of the Cervin. ‘It’s an art and you have to do it like this. Many years ago, I did a striptease in a small bar in Marseille. I was so good at taking the stockings on and off I drove all the guys crazy.’

  Tearing the packet open, she held the stockings to her nose. ‘I simply adore the smell of new silk stockings.’ And then, with her gaze firmly fixed on Michael, she opened the stocking suggestively before easing her hand inside and placing her foot on the bed. ‘Look how fine this is. You could put your finger through it really easily. That’s why I keep my nails this short … and when you hold it up to your eyes you can see straight through it.’ Imogen held the hose up to her face creating a veil.

  Michael’s erection surged forward painfully and he covered the thrusting tumescence with his hand. Through the fine silk, Imogen was blinking and fluttering her eyelashes at him. It was like watching a beautiful woman through the frosted lens of a camera.

  ‘Pay attention.’ Raising her foot and balancing on one leg she flexed her toes and wriggling them, she eased the stocking over her foot and up her heel before unrolling it over her leg and drawing it up her thigh, and all to the delicious accompaniment of the hiss of fine silk.

  ‘It’s necessary to flex the leg and adjust the silk exceedingly carefully. There’s no nylon in these stockings, you see, and absolutely no give.’ Her tongue was balancing on her lip in concentration. ‘You must be careful you don’t tear them. You slide the stocking up the thigh, not too slowly and not too fast. Smoothing it on, just so.’ With a deft flick of her finger she attached the stocking to the suspender belt. Then she moved her leg this way and that. ‘You must agree the wearing of a silk stocking is an art?’

  ‘Yes I agree. Now, darling Imogen. Let me put on the other one.’

  ‘But you will be careful, won’t you?. You’ll do it carefully so you don’t tear it?’

  Before she could move out of the way Michael had tumbled Imogen onto the bed, pulling her full lips down onto his and kissing her while Imogen, giggling and trembling with excitement, beat him gently with the other silk stocking. ‘You promise, don’t you, Michael.’

  ‘I promise,’ he said, gripping a handful of her hair and holding her head still. ‘Imogen you’re really something, do you know that? I love you. Marry me. I’m not kidding. I’d buy out Cervin for you. Your wardrobe could be full of silk stockings.’

  ‘Aha! A hostile takeover. So, you think you can buy me with silk stockings, huh?’ And as Michael squeezed her breasts and nibbled on her nipples, Imogen’s hand reached down and making a noose and twisting the silk stocking around and around his swollen dick, she pulled harder and harder whilst her hand alternately played up and down his shaft and her agile fingers tightened the diaphanous silk.

  Then flopping back on the bed with her hair loose around her shoulders, she raised her leg, and Michael placed his hand in one of the discarded stockings and began unrolling it on to her foot. He kissed each square inch of flesh before proceeding to the next. Eventually, with shaking fingers, he attached the stocking to the suspender and pressing his hand between the stocking clad thighs, he buried his mouth in her thatch and pulling aside the wet silk chastity belt he tongued her to a gently crooning orgasm.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Michael said kissing her and feeling the roll of her hips beneath his. ‘Untie the stocking from my dick and let me fuck you.’

  Imogen giggled. ‘My, my. Perhaps I will but only if you agree to let your stick wear my silk stocking.’

  Speechless, Michael watche
d her take his swollen shaft and straddling his hips she unwound the stocking and pinning his arms above his head she stared into his eyes.

  ‘I bet you never wore a condom silk stocking, Michael.’ She glanced at him contemplatively and blew gently over his face before outlining each of his eyes and his lower lip with her finger. ‘You have nice lips. They’re very sensual.’ She kissed him gently and Michael’s body seemed to liquefy as he watched her, spellbound.

  ‘And, this is my little fantasy,’ she said, winking at him as her delicate pink tongue darted out and caressed his cock. Imogen stretched open the stocking and began rolling it over her hand. Next, she smeared the nectar droplets from his weeping cock on her breasts before she tugged the silk stocking down along the head of his penis.

  ‘There you see. I knew all along you were a whore, a silk stocking whore,’ Michael said. ‘How else would you know how to make a silk condom out of a silk stocking?’

  Imogen massaged the sensitive skin of his cockhead before folding the silk stocking over and over, she twisted the fragment of material over Michael’s turgid shaft and balls. Then, seizing his ramrod hard dick and pulling aside the silk stocking of the chastity belt, she lowered herself with agonising slowness onto the silk stocking condom. God, it felt so good she could scream and she almost did. The only way she could stop herself was to bite her tongue and clench her teeth.

  ‘You have to admit, the silk stocking gives great friction. Did you ever feel such a fabulous condom, Michael?’ She moaned, as she bounced gently up and down and Michael’s penis slithered into the tight constriction of silk stocking heaven. No sex for so long had made her needy and her cunt, indeed all of her, cried out for it. In that instant the powerful narcotic which was sex made her forget everything, it made her forget the danger, and the strict rules she’d set herself and it even made her forget Louis. Michael was gentle and soft and he was careful. He allowed her to take the lead, he enjoyed a woman’s dominant sex, but more importantly she could tell he understood women and how their minds worked. Momentarily, she felt a piercing pain, an aching tenderness. She was aching as much for him as herself, because tomorrow when she said no - which she knew she’d have to - it would feel as powerfully intense as the petit mort which would soon send her into a rapture.

  Michael grabbed Imogen’s neat little hips and sliding his hand beneath the wet silk, he tugged on the chastity stocking and fucked the silk stocking whore, while she cried out and beat his chest with her fists.

  She didn’t have an orgasm because it was too fresh and new and the shuddering pulses were like small snarl ups of traffic on the boulevard; things rushed forward too quickly for a moment – her emotions knotting up – then came to a grinding halt. It was continual stop and start, the smooth climb would come later. For now the surges of intense pleasure were enough.

  Michael bound her wrists and ankles with Cervin and he gently massaged her all over with the wet condom sheath of the silk stocking. This was good, she thought, as she lay with her arms above her head watching him. It was endearing how much like a child he was, exploring something he’d never had, but probably dreamed about. The fantasy was giving him pleasure; she could tell that from his ramrod hard cock which kept weeping moisture from the tip and which she ached to take in her mouth.

  Then Michael lay down beside her and kissed her. ‘You didn’t say you’d marry me?’ he said sadly. ‘I think you’d be crazy not to. However, until you agree, I’ll hold you captive.’

  ‘There’s just one thing,’ she said, as she rubbed her legs together and he heard the hiss of the silk stockings. ‘I still have one last fantasy.’

  ‘And what’s that.’ Michael smiled.

  ‘In my fantasy, from the day I get married, my husband becomes the one who always dresses me and puts on my silk stockings. Every day he buys me Cervin. He takes the silk stockings out of the packet and he says, “darling, it’s necessary I do this one thing for you”.’ She pouted coyly. ‘It’s a lot to ask a man to be a slave of the silk stocking and I’m not sure many would agree to it. But, those are the terms of the agreement.’

  Michael untied the stockings so he could hold her and Imogen could place her arms around his neck and stroke her fingers through his hair. ‘My darling,’ he whispered. ‘I think that could easily be arranged.’ He then eased his finger beneath the saturated silk stocking and rubbed it back and forth over her agitated slit. It burnt with a satisfying heat like fire and she felt the throb of orgasm return. Next, gathering her up in his arms, he kissed her lips and trailed his fingers down the length of her spine. She couldn’t help it, her hand came around his cock and she squeezed it gently and taking some of his juice she smeared it over her lips. She really was behaving like a whore.

  Michael kissed her again and his hard cock pushed between her legs. She slithered down the bed and she began licking his balls and Michael vibrated like a piano wire. He was curious in love. He curled into a foetal ball and as she fucked him with her mouth, lips and tongue, he stroked her hair and massaged her scalp, fast and slow, soft and hard and she worked her mouth accordingly, sliding her tongue up the underside of his rod to the tip and then seducing it with kisses before taking it in and biting it, running her tongue around it and sucking it.

  ‘God, I’m sorry.’ Michael shuddered and sighed and for a moment his hands were still. He tugged her hair and she came back up the bed and he stared into her eyes. ‘Roll over, honey.’ He obviously didn’t lose interest after orgasm like most men did. Imogen rolled over and he worked her slowly and for a long time, pinching and stroking her nipples, as he held her snuggled back up against him with his hands caressing her breasts. She ached between her legs for satisfaction as the stocking cut into her cunt and with her finger she wriggled it aside and slid her finger up her slit to relieve herself. He brushed aside her hand and put his there instead and he did it for her. He was very good, she thought, as she came, pushing out her hips against his hand.

  Imogen set her alarm for four o’clock. Then she watched him sleep for a while and she gently kissed his cheeks and lips. The warm surge of love was painful but she had to cauterise it. Sitting up, she frowned into the mirror. She knew what she had to do and it was better not to think about it. She gathered up his clothes and began folding them and putting them on the chair and then she opened his wallet. Inside the wallet he had a card and on it he had his address – a fancy address in Manhattan – just as she’d thought, and there was a small picture of a woman she supposed was his mother. She peered out with steel grey eyes from a posed photograph; she looked like a WASP, a socialite. Imogen had a hatred of such women, but her eyes were soft and kind. She pressed her mouth to Michael’s shirt to smell his cologne and put it down. When she turned around he was awake and watching her.

  ‘This is my alarm call, is it?’

  ‘Yes, Michael I’m afraid so.’

  He stretched and sat naked on the side of the bed. He had a fine body. It was perhaps a little too slim but it was as she liked her lovers, muscular and covered with a scattering of fine blond body hair. He was erect again, however, so, she tried to ignore it.

  ‘You’ve still got it on.’ He laughed.

  ‘What the chastity belt? Oh yes, I told you I wouldn’t take it off, didn’t I?’

  He stood up and coming to her he grabbed her and holding her close he kissed her neck and cheeks. ‘When can I see you then?’

  ‘I told you earlier, when we were making love, it’s impossible. We can’t see each other again, this was, how do they say? A one off.’

  Michael was frowning. ‘But why? I don’t see it. You’re single, aren’t you?’

  She stared at him and her eyes were dark. ‘This is just what I didn’t want, that’s why involvement’s better avoided.’

  Michael dressed. She could tell he was angry by the way he pulled on his clothes. When he’d finished and was combing his hands through his hair he took a pen and he wrote something on a piece of paper. ‘This is the address of the p
lace where I’m staying.’

  ‘Michael I told you there’s no point.’

  ‘Yes, there is. Because I don’t believe you can hold out.’ He touched her cheek. ‘I love you.’

  She followed him to the door naked, aware as she did so that she looked absurd. ‘How can you say that when you only fucked me once?’

  ‘I knew when I first laid eyes on you.’ And reaching down he put his finger through the chastity belt and drawing her close he stuck his finger in her cunt. ‘Besides, you got the nature of the game wrong. This is the thing about any kind of mental bondage; the guy has the key to the device.’ He bent down and as he feathered his tongue in her ear he wrapped the silk stocking chastity belt around his finger, drawing it deeper into her crotch. ‘I got the keys to this and remember you said you wouldn’t take it off.’

  Imogen was experiencing a weird churning, it was half excitement and half fear; she wet her lips as she opened the door.

  ‘You haven’t seen the last of me,’ Michael said as she closed it.

  Chapter Five

  IMOGEN WAS AFRAID AND Adele Weinberger only added to her nervousness by knocking on her door that morning to say she’d seen a man on the corner of the street. Imogen leant against the door with her lips pinched and her arms crossed defensively. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

  ‘I saw him once or twice before.’ Adele nodded her steel grey head.

  ‘And what was he like?’

  ‘I think it’s him, Imogen, he was a broad man built like a wrestler and he had a dark coat and a hat, just like you said.’

  ‘Did you see his face?’

  Adele paused. ‘Yes. He had a mean face with one lip twisted up, like he had a permanent grimace or something.’

  Imogen sagged against the door. There was nothing for it, when Adele left she tidied up the flat and she put all her clothes into her old suitcase and took the steamer trunk off the top of her wardrobe. Then she went downstairs to the telephone in the hall and she called Helga Streiber to say she wouldn’t be along to see Anni that Saturday because there had been a storm. This was a prearranged message for the reappearance of Louis.