by Theda Hudson
"And I lose you. How can that be fair?" Her eyes grew frantic.
I shook my head, denying her words. "If I do anything to you that is not to your liking, you can signal that you are reaching a hard limit or that you want to stop."
"And again, I lose you." She didn't quite wail, and I knew then that she loved me. My heart leaped in my chest, but I felt desperate to make her understand.
I swept her hands up to hold them against my chest tightly. I had to stand completely straight to meet her eyes with those heels on, and it seemed commensurate with what I was asking.
"Oh, Cara Mia, do you believe that I would do anything to you that would be beyond any capacity of either of us to enjoy? That I would somehow damage or humiliate you? That is part of the trust. I love you. I have said so and it's true."
"Then why must you do this? Why must you change everything?"
"That is a fair question. I love you, but I see that there is so much in you that longs to break free. I want to stoke the embers I see in you, blow on them until they blaze. I don't see that as a change so much as a liberation. A more honest, and pleasurable expression of who you really are."
"I never knew you were such a poet, Mr. Twist. But I'm quite content with my level of heat, thank you." But I knew she was lying by the way she had stared at that woman in the trench coat. She wanted this, Cara Mia just had to convince Tasha that she had no choice, like a skittish horse that needed convincing to run free.
I took the reins in my hands and did my best to convince her to go where I was pointing her.
"I think you have no idea what you're missing, what would happen if you allowed your passion to rise as high as it could go. As far as it wants to go." My fingers stroked hers and I lifted them to my mouth and kissed them gently.
"And you think that's your job as my lover? As the man who professes to love me?"
Even as she said it, I could see that the barb had laid bare the real question.
I met her eyes and said, "The question is really whether you will allow me to stoke your inner self and find out what that heat means to you."
I watched her consider those words, weigh the risks, the possibility of loss of humiliation, of victory.
When she asked, "If this," she gestured to the dress, the domino, the shoes, "is all a play, how do I signal you?" I knew I had won, but I let nothing show.
"Very simply. You cry yellow if I am approaching your limit, red if I have passed over your capacity to endure," I said simply.
"And then you leave me." She kept returning to that. That was good. It meant she might love me and was afraid to lose me. It could also be bad, if she could decide there was no win for her.
"No. My intent is only to give you the opportunity to show both us the depth of your desire. I wish to explore that with you."
"Rather selfish of you, isn't it?" A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. She was smart. Very smart. And brave. I wanted her so much in that moment. But I remained where I was.
"I admit there are advantages to me, but I like to think they are reciprocal." I lifted a tendril away from her cheek, rubbed its silky softness between my fingers before letting it fall back. We stared at each other for a long moment.
"Enough of this," I said. "Let's go start so all the questions can be answered and everything revealed."
She laughed and I did, too, when I realized the double meaning. That she could find humor, any humor right now impressed me.
When she considered me very seriously for such a long moment, I knew she was chewing over the issues I had raised. She had not denied me completely, so she was intrigued. She could still say no. But I believe she thought they were somewhat tasty tidbits and not sour or unbearably gritty. "Very well, Mr. Twist. You may stoke my fire, show me the depths of my desire. But I will choose my limits and tell you when I reach them. You will honor those decisions."
"Very well, Cara Mia. I agree."
We turned and after a few minutes I saw and caught Master Louis' eye. He gestured us to follow and led us to a quiet corner on the opposite side of the entrance, where the exterior structure wall met a maintenance closet. The walls formed a corner that faced away from the action and gave a measure of privacy.
"I'll wander by as is my duty." He looked to Cara Mia. "Should you need anything, just call out to me. If you are gagged, jingle your safety piece."
"There will be no gagging," she said, "but I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I feel more comfortable knowing that you are doing your job."
"What are your safe words then?"
"Yellow and red," she said.
"Thank you, sir," I said.
"Good enough." He nodded, tipped his ball cap at both of us, and walked away, the ring of keys on his belt clinking. That's when I noticed the coiled whip on his opposite hip.
It made my desires seem quite attainable. Turning back to Cara Mia, I watched her scan over the contents of our meager love nest. A silver tarp spread out on the floor gave the dimensions to our space. A bright blue gym bag sat in the middle of the tarp on a black padded mat.
"Open the bag," I commanded, leaning easily on the closet wall as I watched her walk into the space. I got to see the view I'd been waiting for all evening. Her legs were trim, the high heels accentuating her narrow ankles. The knots of muscle on the backs of her calves were beautiful, giving her legs an added dimension and a lovely shape.
When she reached the bag, she knelt down to unzip it.
"No, Cara Mia," I said, watching her. "Bend over, don't crouch."
She paused and looked back at me.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mr. Twist," she said, smirking. "I will bend over instead of crouching unless you tell me to." Her sarcasm did not escape me and I nodded at her. I never wanted a mouse. I wanted a lioness that roared her pleasure at me.
"Very good, Cara Mia."
Chapter 7
She turned her back deliberately to me and began pulling out bottles of water. Master Black had said this kind of play was hard work and exposed, even in a parking garage, we would both need water. It was my job to make sure she drank.
The dress was better than I'd hoped, caressing her curves as she moved. The material framed her heart-shaped ass, making it heartbreakingly beautiful. Bent over like that, the kick pleat at the bottom of the dress almost gave me a view of what lay far up under the dress.
"Open a bottle, please, Cara Mia, and drink some."
She turned and cracked the seal. A trickle of water spilled over her mouth and down her chin. I could see it glisten in the light from a fixture across the way.
I wished I could lick it, but not yet. Not yet.
A dark green woolen blanket was next. A pocket knife followed. I had intended to put it in my pocket, but he said it was better to have her discover it. She would think much on it that way, anticipating it, fearing it, possibly.
She considered it and then me, questions in her eyes followed by the hint of smile on her mouth. She cocked her chin for a moment and I could hear her breath echo off the walls as she laid it carefully on the blanket before lifting out a bag of food, fruit, cheese, and crackers.
She looked at me and I nodded encouragement.
The paddle seemed to confuse her. The purple bunny fur was soft, but the leather on the other side was thick, an eighth of an inch at least. She flicked it over her left hand, slap, slap, slap.
"Just lay it down," I said. "You can leave the rest in the bag." She looked inside and then back at me. I watched her calculate what the clothing could mean, then that hint of a smile was back. Would he? Wouldn't he? She knew I was no spendthrift, but I counted on her not guessing I considered the dress and hosiery as investment because she would never be so wasteful with good clothes, or brand new clothes for that matter.
"Please removed your gloves and place them in bag. Then zip it up, Cara Mia, and set it off to the side."
She did as I asked, watching me as she held her hand up and pulled the left glove o
ff, finger by finger, carefully working the material under the bracelet. She swayed over to me and laid it over my shoulder. I laid my hand over hers and she pulled it out from under it slowly.
She repeated the process, letting the satin slide over my cheek as she let it fall over its mate. Then she lifted them both slowly and folded them carefully before placing them in the bag. I knew she was committing herself to this, putting aside a symbol of her comfortable rule-scribed world. She zipped it with determined finality and setting the bag carefully just off the edge of the tarp at the front corner of the tarp, away from where I leaned against the wall.
"Now what, Mr. Twist?"
In truth I hadn't planned this part. I had only snippets of conversations with Master Black that discussed what needed to be done, not so much how, and images that I fantasized, along with the end, us leaving, her tucked up against me, my arm tight around her as we laughed all the way to the car.
"Stand on the mat," I told her. "Hands to the side. No, tucked behind you." Yes. That squared her shoulders, pressed her beautiful breasts out. The heels were magnificent, but Master Black warned me that it would be too hard for her to stand in them for long periods of time, even with the anti-fatigue mat.
I stared at her for a long moment trying to think of how to put all that planning, all that daydreaming into practice. The point was to get her break her rules, let them go, submit to her passion.
I'd have to get her turned on then push her past her boundaries. It should be shocking, but not devastating. Master Black said to start small and work up, watching how she reacted.
"Turn and face away from me, please, Cara Mia."
"Can't take me staring, eh, Mr. Twist?"
I smiled. "No, I just want to see every bit of your beautiful body."
"Hmpf," she said and turned. Each time she made that little noise, it told me she was with me, thinking about what was happening, and I loved it. I wanted to praise her, but it could take away from the delicate balance we were creating.
She shifted from foot to foot. Was she uncomfortable or teasing a bit? How much leeway would the mask give her? How much would she allow it give?
I could look at this view all day. "Bend over, please."
She did and gave me a little wiggle that I thought needed a reward. Successive approximations, my sister, the dog trainer, said was the key to success.
But how could I reward her? I would think on that. But for now, it was time to get to work.
"That is very nice, thank you for that little gift, Cara Mia. But please stand up straight again and hitch the dress up a bit and then bend over again."
She paused and hmpfed, but complied. I contemplated the view, which did give me more leg, but didn't really do much for pressing boundaries.
"If all you wanted to do was look at me, we could have done this at home," she said slyly, twisting to peek at me from around her leg.
I doubted that. But even if she would have consented to posing for me, she'd have been in her comfortable space, in private. And I doubt she would have let me order her about like this.
Anyway, while this was not in broad daylight, it was a semi-public space and there was the chance that someone touring would see her. And I knew that was keeping her off guard.
I pushed off the wall, took my jacket off, and walked over to the pile of items she'd pulled out of the bag. Laying the jacket on the bag, I lifted the knife. It was a comfortable weight in my hand, the textured bone inlay a little cool to the touch. I had spent a lot of time imagining it slipping through the satin like butter, hissing like it was echoing my pleasure.
She had seen that I moved, but my body blocked her view so she didn't know that I had slipped it in my pocket. She might guess. Which also gave her a lot to think about.
I let her see me place the paddle, handle first, into my back pocket, and approached her. I grasped her by the hips and pressed myself to her. My dick was hard, and it nestled nicely between her cheeks. That told her how much I was enjoying myself.
I leaned in and kissed the skin between the top of the dress and her hairline. It tasted sweaty and a little sweet from her hair product. Nipping, I worked my way around one side, then the other.
She liked it and her hips rolled a little as she shifted her feet. Were they getting sore already?
"How are your feet feeling, Cara Mia?"
"They hurt a little, but not as bad as I thought." She treaded the mat a little and the satin material of her dress whispered over my jeans. I wanted to think it was saying, "More, more."
"Tell me when you need to take them off."
"You aren't going to make me wear them the whole time, Mr. Twist?" she said with a little smirk.
Slipping around in front of her, I pulled her upright and stared intently into her eyes. "This is not an exercise in torture, Cara Mia. This is an exercise in stretching. You must be comfortable to stretch."
She pouted. "I was making a joke."
I appreciated her trying to join in but I needed to be clear about what I intended.
"I don't want there to be any hint that I am not taking your state of mind and body seriously," I said. "Tell me when you wish to remove them."
"Okay," she said, chastened. Did I detect a hint of appreciation?
Chapter 8
I kissed her, long and deep as a way to show her that I cared. After a long moment, she relaxed into it and gave back, hesitantly putting her hands up to cup my face. "Yes," I murmured into her mouth. "I love it when you touch me."
Our tongues sparred, at first lightly, then like dueling swords. I grasped her hair at the nape of her neck, below the coil and moved her head so that I could access her mouth better. She stiffened, then relaxed like a kitten, her breath sighing out around my mouth.
I groaned when we broke.
Her face was hot and flushed. "Kissing like this, it's," she struggled, not to find the words, but to force them out of her mouth. "It makes my heart throb, it makes everything tingle. It makes me want more."
"Turn around again, Cara Mia, and I will give you more."
She did, her movements graceful, her hips loose. As she settled into position, she rocked back and forth on her heels.
"Set your legs under your shoulders," I directed. Then I laid my left hand on her hip and snicked the knife open with my right.
She froze when she heard the sound. I knew she was parsing all the thoughts of the knife and our conversation about her comfort and safety.
I looked at the blade. The light caught it and winked off the wickedly sharp edge.
Gauging what I could see when she had bent over, I quickly slit the skirt from about a third of the down through the kick pleat at bottom.
The material hissed as I cut it. My dick felt like a baseball bat as the lace tops of her hose appeared through the cut, the black contrasting with the creamy paleness of her thighs.
"What are you doing?" she shouted at me. "You just cut this beautiful dress." She looked horrified and I forced my face to stay bland.
"To reveal your heavenly legs more fully," I said, doing my best not to smile at her consternation.
"Heavenly, huh?" She looked around at me, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling just the tiniest bit.
It was enough for me.
"Yes, Cara Mia, heavenly."
"Waste of a beautiful dress, if you ask me." She sounded a little grumpy at the fate of the dress, but she turned and resumed the position. Gawd, she was beautiful and funny at the same time.
She leaped when I reached in and touched her hose, just above her knee. The space inside the skirt was warm, and her skin was soft. It felt like a warm cocoon and I wanted to climb in and curl up. No, climb in, but curling up was not on the menu.
Instead I pulled on her hip to remind her to keep still, and stroked and caressed her legs, reaching higher and higher. She never actually relaxed into my hand, but twitched every time I went further up. When I touched the inside of her thigh, above the top of her hose, I could feel the
moist heat. I wished I was an orchid living in her hot house.
I was not an orchid, but I would be in her hot house if all went well.
She tensed, every muscle tight, like she was coiled to spring away like a deer in a forest. As my hand simply rested on her flesh, she gradually sighed, accepting my touch. I knew that she would start all over when I actually touched her sex and the idea made my dick leap against my pants.
Better to give her a respite and a chance to wonder when I would actually do it. So I stood back and took in my handiwork. The skirt spread into a V.
"Bend over again, please, Cara Mia."
She laughed. "Up and down. Up and down. This is easy."
That was good news. I stepped back and pulled the paddle from my pocket. The purple fur was exquisitely soft, the leather smooth on my hand as I ran it across my palm.
Her arm was cool as I grasped it, just above the elbow before slipping the paddle into the slit I had made in the dress, starting at her knees. She leaped like a horse stung by a fly, but I had hold of her and kept her from moving too far.
She shivered as I ran the furry side up the inside of her left thigh. Her breath was hoarse through her nose and she groaned a bit as she exhaled. So we were getting past the first chapters of her book of rules. And this was a rule that needed to be examined carefully. And with great diligence on my part. My pulse quickened as I considered what that diligence would entail.
I enjoyed the way the fur caressed her skin, the easy way it slid up her flesh. My dick enjoyed it even more and I had to jockey for position to make it more comfortable, or at least not not exquisitely painful.
"See how soft it is, Cara Mia? See how it tickles your tender flesh? Nothing but tactile pleasure. Nothing is happening but a soft tickle. Pleasurable, yes?"
"Yes. Mr. Twist. Could you..."
I saw her face blush, the rosy flush spreading down her neck and around her neck. Even her arm where I held it grew warm.
"Could I what, Cara Mia?"
"Am I allowed to ask?"
Ah, she was trying to figure out the rules for this encounter.
