Blindfolded

by Breanna Hayse

  “Then I would firmly give him a flat out no. It's over, and I have no desire to be with him.”

  “What if he changed?”

  “Sorry, but no one changes that much. Besides,” she shrugged, “he loathed my vocation.”

  “Your writing?”

  “Yeah. He said he wasn't interested in smut. He always called me a sick pervert and thought I had better things to do with my brain than fantasize about something that no normal person would ever do.”

  “Wow,” came the answer. “I would think most healthy, normal men would jump at the chance to have a girl who is a firecracker in bed.”

  “His idea of sexual adventure was leaving a night light on.”

  “What a fool.”

  “I'm glad, though, that he never read my work. I don't think I could ever have trusted him with all my… my secrets. He enjoyed humiliating me too much.”

  “It is a shame you wasted all that time on someone who could never appreciate you.”

  “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. How about you? Are you married? Have a dozen kids? Buried any bodies in the cellar recently?”

  “I will answer these questions. No, no, and no.”

  “You know, I want more than monosyllabic responses,” Regan grumped, finishing the rest of her glass. “More?”

  “No, you've had plenty. No, I am not married. I was engaged a while ago, but things did not work out. I wanted more than a vanilla relationship, but did not know how to present that to her in a way that was… palatable. She was a bit on the conservative side.”

  “So you kidnapped her and made her beg for your attention?”

  “Cute. No. We parted our own ways. We still talk now and then. She used to teach college English. Now she's working somewhere in publishing.”

  “Anyone I know?” Regan's ears perked up.

  “Possibly, but then, everyone uses pseudonyms, even publishers.”

  “Kennedy? She's my publisher.”

  “Interesting name. Are you sure she's a woman?”

  “Well, no… I've never spoken with her on the phone. I just assumed…”

  “Be careful of assumptions, my pet. They often lead you down the wrong path. But I can tell you that my ex's name was not Kennedy.”

  “But her pen-name…”

  “I don't know what she goes by, to be honest with you. I’ve never tried to invade her privacy.”

  Regan sighed with frustration, still knowing nothing relevant. She could tell he was sadistically amused by her attempts, though. “Fine. Make me beg. Pleeeease tell me who you are.”

  “Does it really matter? If you know my name, or how I learned of you, would it change anything between us? Make you trust me more or help you open up to new experiences?”

  “Well… no. But it would make me happy,” she offered a cheesy smile, hoping she looked cute despite the blindfold that was plastered to her face.

  “Um… let me see… no. It would not make you happy. And yes, you’re adorable.”

  Regan stuck her lower lip out in a pout, snapping as he pinched it between his fingers.

  “Oooh, the puppy bites? I think we will explore that a little bit more…”

  “Don't wanna,” Regan pouted, feeling very relaxed and uninhibited as the champagne and heat from the hot tub lulled her into a numb state.

  “It doesn't matter if you want to. Should I give you a puppy name? Spot? For these?” he poked at her spattering of freckles across her shoulders.

  “Hey!”

  “Or, how about Woof?”

  “Very funny. That was the name of your stupid old three-legged dog.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I guess you don't do him justice,” he teased, pinching the pouting lip again.

  “That's mean!”

  He laughed loudly, causing Regan to join him. It had been a long while since the last time she let herself laugh freely. She found it invigorating.

  “I think we've been soaking long enough. You look like a prune. Stand up.”

  “Master Jay? Could I be a kitten instead of a puppy?” Regan asked shyly, lifting her arms so he could pat her dry and then wrap the towel snuggly around her body.

  “Would you really like to be my pet?” he asked kindly, with a slight hint of softness behind his words.

  “It depends on what type of game you plan on playing. But, I do like when you call me that. I've never had a nickname,” Regan admitted sadly.

  “Then yes, you will be my kitten. Follow me.”

  “But… I can't see you. The blindfold…”

  “Use your senses. I will not allow you to hurt yourself.”

  “Please, let me touch your arm or something.”

  “Regan, trust me.”

  His firm, low voice filled her ears, and she gingerly took one step, then two, in the direction from where it had come. He led her in this manner through the house, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. Regan grasped the cold brass poster of her bed, physically shaken by the experience, yet inwardly proud that she had obeyed him without consequence.

  Strange as it sounded, she felt satisfied. She had done well.

  * * *

  Laying her down upon the bed, he again secured her hands over her head and then covered her chilled body with a sheet. She felt him unbuckle the back of her blindfold and then rest his hand on her chest.

  “Can I trust you to obey me and keep your eyes closed?”

  Regan hesitated and then nodded. This could be her golden opportunity to lay her eyes upon her captor, yet she found herself reveling in the mystery behind his identity.

  “I know it is tempting to look, but I am trusting you to keep your promise and not disappoint me.”

  Regan did not know how she summoned the discipline to keep her eyes shut as he lifted the wet material from her face. She felt him pat her skin dry and then he leaned forward to plant tender kisses upon her eyelids.

  Her curiosity overwhelmed her; she desperately wanted to see his face. Would he be handsome or hideous? Then she realized that it didn’t matter at this point—not as long as he treated her with such care. She relaxed and could sense his smile.

  “You are such a good girl,” he praised again, petting the side of her face.

  She turned her head in the direction of his palm and kissed it.

  “That little gesture,” he said, “deserves a reward. I like it when my little pet is sweet. Relax your face as much as you can.”

  Regan obeyed, trying not to move as she felt him press something around the outside of her eyes. The contraptions pulled a little bit, but were not uncomfortable. “What are they?”

  “Eye patches. Arrr, ye look like a pirate’s booty now,” he growled, nipping her throat.

  “Ye old scoundrel,” Regan snickered. “First ye steal me off me ship, and then you take liberties with my booty!”

  “Aye, ye little sea witch, what a beautiful booty that be!” he laughed jovially, and then returned to his regular persona. “Go on and open your eyes. They should be quite comfortable.”

  Regan obeyed. The patches were contoured so they did not press against her lids and were completely dark, prohibiting even ambient light from shining through.

  “Where did you get these?” she asked softly.

  “I thought you might like this kind of blindfold. They are used after severe eye injuries. Also in martial arts to simulate blindness.”

  “Martial arts? Do you know any?” she asked slyly.

  “Of course. Judo, Kenpo, Karate…” He began to make a list of every different type he could call to mind.

  Regan wrinkled her nose, seeing he was, once again, teasing her. “I'm not going to win this game, am I? You’re just too smart for me.”

  “Not too smart, darling. Clever. I am quite the expert in cleverness. Ask my mother.”

  “I might just do that. What's her name, and how can I contact her?”

  “Her name is Isabelle, and she lives with my dad in Beaufort.”

  “I can tell you are smi
ling. You are very pleased with yourself, aren't you?”

  “Immensely. Now, my love, I wish you to take a little nap and rest up. I have a full evening planned for you.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “About six-foot-one… Oh, you’re talking about my plans? I am going to discover some of your limits.”

  Regan wrinkled her nose again.

  A clue crossed one more person from her list… actually several people. She would have remembered this humor. She found humor immensely attractive and, in its own strange way, extremely sexy.

  “Whatcha thinking?” he asked, running the back of his fingers down the side of her smooth cheek.

  “Honestly? How little I paid attention to the people around me. How important things like the sound of their voice, accents, the smell of their skin, how they felt… I've really limited myself in so many things by just using my eyes, haven't I?”

  “I will let you in on a little secret,” he said, lying down next to her and wrapping his arm around her waist. “I made that same mistake once as well. It almost cost me my life.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was doing something dangerous and made the fatal error. When I took martial arts, our sensei always said that we see not with our eyes, but with our minds. I was too busy looking with my eyes that I didn't hear a sound behind me. I was struck on the back of the head and, fortunately, woke in a hospital. The blow left me temporarily blind.”

  “You were in the service then, weren't you?”

  “Yes, you sly little fox. I was in rehab for over six months and, during that time, I learned to listen, feel, and touch my environment with my senses. It was the most valuable lesson of my life. It also defined my future.”

  Regan paused, thinking of what the man had suffered through. “You must have been terrified. I'm so sorry you went through that.”

  “I'm not. But I am somewhat surprised by your response.”

  “Why? Did I say something wrong?”

  “Not at all. For the first time, you have accepted me as a person and not a stranger. You didn't use this information to find more clues. Just for that, you get another reward. But first…”

  Regan frowned as he handcuffed her wrists to the top posters of the bed. She tilted her head, listening carefully to his movements as he eased off the mattress. The familiar clang of the tuning fork caused her to tremble with excitement, and she grinned with eager anticipation. As before, he touched her stomach with the vibrating device, but this time, etched it downward.

  Another pitch joined the first, a higher, faster vibration and he brought the two forks gently across her belly button, making her giggle. Warm lips pressed against her abdomen and she squirmed as his tongue tickled her small indentation.

  “This would look so cute with a ring,” he said, nibbling on the soft skin below. “Would you like that?”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “Here? I wouldn't think so. But here,” he grazed downward, over her pelvis and across her smooth mound, “it would probably smart a bit. Interesting that you wax.”

  “Life is easier that… way… Oh my…!” she groaned as his tongue slipped between the puffy lips of her waiting sex. The forks joined his exploration, the vibrations close to touching the hungry little nub that strained towards pleasure. He rested the tips of the forks on the outer edge of her slit, spreading her lips wide as they stimulated her nerve endings.

  “You are irresistible,” he groaned as he leaned down to take her into his mouth and began to suck gently, flicking her bud with the tip of his tongue. Her juices flowed copiously from her body, and he inserted one… two… three fingers deep within her and began to plunge steadily to the core of her being.

  Regan gasped, dizzy with the sensation of being taken so powerfully by both his mouth and his hand. Her focus scattered as she submitted to her senses. She lifted her body towards him, wriggling in demand for more.

  “Master Jay…” she whispered hoarsely. “Please, fuck me. Hard. I need to feel you.”

  “Not just yet, Regan. You must learn to release your entire body to my command,” he said, tickling her clit with the high fork as he spoke.

  She squealed, caught between the desire to pull away from the intense vibration and to press herself into it. His mouth rejoined her, lapping her moisture hungrily as she squirmed under him. He clapped the forks together one more time and gently maneuvered them to either side of her nub. Regan exploded in a flurry of hard spasms, shouting as she raised her back off the bed in a hard arch and clamped her thighs around his shoulders.

  He grunted as she held him in a tight grip, her heels digging painfully into the center of his spine. When she finally relaxed her hold, he gently pulled away and leaned next to her panting body.

  “I can see the headlines now,” he teased. “Local man found in bed, drowned to death during an orgasmic death-hold.”

  Regan giggled. “Name unknown. Suspect is acclaimed adult literary artist, Felicity Fairchilde. No charges have been filed at this time…”

  “Due to Miss Fairchilde's precarious position of being naked, handcuffed to a bed, and blindfolded,” he finished. They both broke into a loud gale of laughter. “Sleep now, Regan. You have to rest up for tonight.”

  “Yes, Master Jay,” she purred, snuggling her cheek into the cup of his palm, “…and thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For starting to teach me how to laugh again.”

  Chapter Four

  In the absence of any light, Regan felt disorientated when she awoke to the sound of tinkling glass and the flapping of some type of fabric. She felt the bed sink next to her and turned her head eagerly in his direction.

  “Time to get up. I'm going to uncuff you and then give you directions to follow.”

  “What type of directions?” she asked as she sat up on the edge of the bed.

  “Drop to the floor and get on your hands and knees. It’s carpeted in here, so no whining.”

  “You sound so mean. Are you upset about something?”

  “Do as you are told, Regan.”

  With a scowl, Regan slowly lowered herself to the floor and waited. She heard him walk away and strained her ears to discover his whereabouts.

  “Come to me. Follow the sound of my voice.”

  He was fairly close by, and she slowly crawled, listening for him. Without notice, she collided into his legs.

  “Ow! You didn't tell me you were right there.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Just my pride. Hey—what's that?” She lifted her nose at the smell of something sweet.

  “Open,” he commanded.

  Regan obeyed and grinned as he popped a piece of chocolate-covered strawberry past her lips.

  “Yum!” She grinned. “I am a sucker for strawberries with dark chocolate! More? Master Jay?”

  “Find me now,” he ordered, walking away.

  “Is there furniture I can bump into?” Regan asked nervously.

  “The carpet is clear from anything. Use your senses.”

  Regan sighed, listening carefully. Slowly, she crawled towards the sound of his breathing and, once again, collided into him. He popped another strawberry piece into her mouth and then repositioned himself elsewhere on the carpet.

  She could tell when she reached the carpet boundaries, feeling the cold floor beneath her hands. This time, she could not hear a sound. She sat back, listening. A breeze from an open window tickled her skin and brought with it the sweet scent of chocolate. With a grin, she crawled in that direction, sniffing for the strength of the aroma. Sure enough, she ended up against his legs.

  “Very good,” he praised, giving her a whole berry. “What are your instincts right now? Follow them.”

  Regan wrinkled her nose. She wanted another treat. On impulse, she began to rub her face and neck against his legs and made purring sounds, mimicking the motions of a cat. She wondered how ridiculous she looked as she stroked her body against him and undulated around
his long limbs. She was rewarded by the placement of his hand on her head and the petting of her hair.

  “You are amazing,” he proclaimed. “Open—ouch! What are you doing?”

  Regan had grabbed his hand, then started using her nails and nipping his fingers in sharp little bites. Growling, he snatched her up and carried her across the room, ignoring her laughter.

  “My pet does not scratch or bite her Master. Bad kitty!” he scolded, placing her over his lap and smacking down upon her naked bottom.

  “Hey, you told me—Ow!—to follow—Owww!—my instincts!” Regan yelped, trying to wriggle away.

  He was not punishing her hard. In fact, she found the whole ordeal very arousing.

  He grunted. “Obviously, my dear, you are not learning your lesson. So, you want to entice me to continue, you little minx?” he asked, his voice playful, “Very well… we will play the game your way.”

  He flipped Regan off his lap and left her giggling on the bed. A few seconds later, she heard him opening a drawer and the sound of something being pulled out from it. Eagerly, she awaited her adventure, surprising herself at the degree in which she wondered how he would next approach her. She felt the mattress sink next to her and his hands as he once again pulled her over his thighs, positioning her bottom so that it was as high in the air as possible. He then produced a strip of soft fabric, lashing her wrists behind her back and taking care not to bind her too tightly. Regan giggled again, wriggling and using her legs to try to escape his hold.

  “You really are a bad kitty,” he scolded, unsuccessful at disguising the humor in his voice.

  The jingling of belt buckles caught her attention, and she froze, holding her breath. Instead of using the straps to spank her, he immobilized her by binding together her ankles and knees and then thrust her bulging globes upward, lying in wait for his hand.

  Regan squealed loudly, realizing that she was thoroughly helpless to protect herself.

  “Now, let's see how feisty you can be when there’s no way to escape,” he commented, his palm impacting her right cheek with resounding force.

  Regan shrieked. “Not so hard!” she demanded.