NoFoolAnUndercoverMission

by Ann Raina

  He frowned. “Yes.”

  “Well, then strip.”

  The sudden change to a commanding tone intensified his frown. He put back the nipple clamps and took off his shoes and jacket. She watched him, but not like she enjoyed the show. She appeared surprised and stopped him before he could open the buttons of his dress shirt.

  “That’ll do for now. Show me more of the devices you have.”

  Michael felt like thrown from hot water to cold water and back. He didn’t know what to think. Is this a weird kind of test how submissive I am? She had blushed deeper, which made her face even lovelier. However, she still didn’t explain her intentions. He took out a pair of handcuffs. “I’m sure you know these. You could use them to shackle me or, if you want, I could shackle you at the bed.”

  “No, thank you, the submissive part is all yours.” She dropped the purse and sat on the floor, Indian fashion. “Show me the stuff that’s not known to everyone.”

  “As you wish.”

  “You say it like you mean it.”

  His hands hesitated at the drawer’s knobs. He turned to her. “I do.”

  “I guess, I should have expected that.”

  Michael opened the drawer. “Arm and leg binders. Foot chains.”

  “I know these. What else?”

  The next drawer held harnesses. Mrs. Smith got a little closer, chin lifted like a child staring into a shop with sweets.

  “You can have them for inspection.”

  She took one of the black leather harnesses and held it before her, frowning. “What’s the long part in the middle?”

  “It goes around the manhood.”

  Mrs. Smith lifted her gaze toward her chosen man, a mocking glance in her eyes. “You mean, you get strapped into this thing and this part holds your jewels?”

  Michael wondered for how long he could pretend this conversation to be normal. The urge to burst into laughter got stronger by the minute. “Indeed, that’s what it’s designed for.”

  “Designed!” She gave back the harness, laughing herself silly.

  He closed the drawer and opened the last. It was low enough for her to look into it without Michael’s help. He knelt beside her.

  She pointed at a curved piece of metal with two blunt endings. “And this is?”

  “A nose hook.”

  “A what?”

  “A nose hook. You put it in like this—” He demonstrated it. “So that the sub can’t lift his head.”

  She picked another one, larger than the first. “And this is for someone with just one nostril?”

  Michael did not know what Mrs. Smith would do if he rolled on the floor laughing. He decided to answer the question. “No, that’s another kind of hook. It belongs more to the backside.”

  “I get the idea.” Her hand flew up. “No demonstration necessary.” She put it back as if it had bitten. A gesture included the contents of the sideboard. “Is there a reason, I mean, a background for all of this?”

  “The goal is satisfaction. For both players.” He made up his mind before his self-restraint went to the gonads. “I’m sorry to ask, but you chose this scenario. Is it—”

  “I’m always curious to learn new things.” She smiled as if it explained everything. “So, tell me all about it. This here. And what is possible. Or not.”

  Michael shrugged and kept his ideas to himself. “It’s possible to use all of these items on me if you wish.”

  “You enjoy being bound?”

  He wanted to hear surprised eagerness and tried to find out by a glance. “For some time, yes. I’m not into a lifestyle of being submissive 24/7. I know, it is very satisfying for some people to give up their free will and just live to serve another being. I accept that as a culture of its own.” He watched her lovely face. Her eyes were big as saucers, her lips slightly parted. He wanted to be touched by her and inspire her with his body to go further. Her hands were small, but looked as if she had strength in them. The afternoon was looking up.

  “A culture? Is that true?”

  He nodded. He had spent hours researching this sexual subculture a year ago when he had had a girlfriend with special interests. With every article he had read about shackles, harnesses and collars, he had gotten more interested. He could not wait for someone to use these devices on him. How it would feel to be bound. Unfortunately, Mrs. Smith was far from that. She wanted to learn firsthand, which was—in Michael’s eyes and to his libido—a waste of time.

  “It is true that there are more people every year who openly admit that they enjoy being bound.”

  “And hurt?”

  “That, too.”

  “Is it truly so…arousing to live through pain?”

  Michael wet his lips. Talking about this way of lovemaking was arousing in itself. He took a deep breath. “I could show you, Mrs. Smith, but you might not feel satisfaction if you’re not into this kind of game.”

  Now her smile reminded him of a schoolgirl, who was always taken to be shy and suddenly jumped out of a party cake in the altogether. “Like I said, I’m always curious to learn new things. Take off your clothes. Right now.”

  He searched her eyes to see if she was serious. She nodded once so he got up. “What about you doing it? I promise, I won’t struggle.”

  She was quick on her feet and with glee in her eyes, pushed him across the foot end of the bed, laughing at his surprised expression. “Gotcha!”

  Her whole face lit up. He loved her instantly. “Don’t be rash!” He gripped her shoulders to turn and straddle her. “And now?”

  “Now I enjoy the view.” She opened the buttons of his dress shirt and leisurely pulled it over his shoulders.

  He helped with the cuff links and dropped the dress shirt behind him.

  “No undershirt? That’s risky. You could catch a cold.”

  He laughed. “I’ll handle that.”

  “But you won’t handle me.” She pretended a hook and pushed him to the side.

  He rolled with her. “Beware, she’s a fighter!”

  “Right.” Mrs. Smith straddled him across his chest, facing his legs. She undid belt, button and zipper to get Michael out of the pants. That way he got an excellent view of her snug derriere. “Black boxers.” She lifted her butt to look at him between her legs. “Do your boxers always fit the color of your pants?”

  He nodded, pretending seriousness. “House rule.”

  She giggled. “Off with them!”

  Michael couldn’t grasp his luck. She was a player! “As you wish.”

  “I knew you’d say that.” She turned around, dropping the boxers on the floor. “And now I’ll use all of the stuff in the sideboard!”

  “Don’t forget to check the cupboard.”

  “For the larger devices?”

  “For the larger devices.”

  She cocked her head. “You are really into this, aren’t you?”

  “I was honest with you.” He outstretched his arms to lie spread-eagled on the cream-colored covers. “You can do what you want with me.”

  Mrs. Smith cocked her head, brows raised. “Guess, that’s an invitation girls don’t get every time.”

  He shut his mouth before the words With me they do slipped. Instead, he just smiled and hoped her to go the whole nine yards.

  Mrs. Smith slipped down from the bed to inspect the sideboard again. “You got ropes, blindfolds, gags in here. Where are the floggers?”

  “In the cupboard.”

  Her head spun round and her eyes widened. “I was just kidding! I’m not going to flog you on our first meeting!”

  He lifted his head, a joyous grin on his face. “So you plan for a second one? I like to hear that.”

  She came back, a coil of rope in her left hand. The look in her eyes had changed again. She enjoyed the moment. “Put your hands together.” She wound the rope around his wrists, knotted it tightly and pulled his arms over his head to connect the end of the rope with the headboard. Her voice dropped low as she whispered in
his ear, “Now I’ll show you what it means to suffer at my hands, you rogue.”

  Michael burst out laughing.

  “No, no, you won’t laugh,” she went on, pretending to be a severe old woman, who punished for a living. “You are a scoundrel, Matt, and wherever I meet scoundrels, they have to suffer for their misdeeds.” She sat back on her haunches, pouting. “Will you stop that silly grin? I’m in serious play mode here. And a scoundrel who’s about to be punished shouldn’t laugh his ass off!”

  “Such words, milady, don’t belong into your sweet mouth.”

  “And that grin of yours, Matt the Scoundrel, will be blown away by my punishment.” She was off the bed before he found a witty reply.

  “What about you, Serious Punisher? Will you take off your clothes, too?”

  She returned with the nipple clamps and foot chains. “That’s not even allowed to be asked! You won’t see anything of me. At least, not now. Not yet. How are these damned things used?”

  “You have to press one end to open the other.”

  “Great. Do they come with an instruction manual?”

  “Sure.”

  Again, Mrs. Smith was stopped by her own hilarity. The nipple clamps had to wait until she was back to serious punishment mode. The application was tricky. Michael did his best not to twitch when pain hit him.

  “Fancy look.” Her gaze took a stroll down his body. “And fancy this. You do like it.” She stroked his flat stomach and not so flaccid member.

  He took a shallow breath.

  She glanced at his face. “I begin to wonder who’s serving whom here.”

  His face sobered instantly. “I’m the sub, milady, I don’t go anywhere you don’t want me to go.”

  Mrs. Smith fastened the foot chains and clambered back on the bed to kneel over his legs. “And if I don’t want to go any further?”

  He lifted his head, a puppy look in his eyes. “Would milady be cruel on the first meeting?”

  “Milady might.” She let her hands run up and down his body. “Or not. I like the look.”

  “Get out of your clothes and I’ll tell you the same.”

  She pinched his scrotum sac.

  “Ouch!”

  “Don’t dare challenging me again, Matt. I make the rules here. You understand?”

  “I understand you’re a pretty fast learner.”

  Mrs. Smith returned to fondling with his member in a more sensuous way until Michael’s breathing came in hard shallow rasps.

  Without warning, she stopped.

  He swallowed, shedding an inquisitory glance.

  “Don’t ask for more,” she warned and left the bed.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled up his legs. Knowing, he couldn’t beg for more, he forced his thoughts toward ice and cold, water and stones. The attempt to stop his longing was interrupted when she came back with the nose hook.

  He swallowed hard. “You want to use this on me? Guess, I shouldn’t have shown you.”

  “Maybe this will straighten your nose.”

  “I don’t have a crooked nose!”

  “You’ll see the difference later.”

  Her very sweet smile almost covered her mockery. He wondered what else she had in mind. “You’re getting the hang of this, aren’t you?”

  “It’s a sure thing since you present such a delicious body. But you know that, don’t you?”

  “Careful with that.”

  “If you don’t—”

  “It’s okay. Never ask the one lying under what he wants. I’ll let you know if you go too far.”

  “Fine with me.” She clambered on the bed beside him.

  He got a fine view into her décolleté while she measured the string to the headboard. “You might want to take away the pillow to get the effect.”

  “Lift your head.” He did. She took out the pillow. “I’d have come to that.”

  “Yeah, sure. Sorry for interrupting your musing.” He laughed about her grimace. “My severe punisher.”

  “You will be punished enough, scoundrel, don’t worry.”

  “Haven’t had enough scoundrels in your life, hmm?”

  She was about to push the pillow under his shoulders and hesitated to look at him. “I don’t want no scoundrel, Matthew.”

  “But you’re here. With me.”

  She returned the grin while she inserted the nose hook and made his abode a little less comfortable. Her voice dropped again as she was close to his ear. “Just to give you what you deserve.”

  “I’m shivering—with fright.”

  She kissed his cheek, chaste, quick, not so much a kiss but a touch of lips on his skin. Nevertheless, he got the impression that her behavior was more erotic than the ladies he had had before. Unable to lift his head, he strained to get a glimpse of her when she slipped away from him.

  “Don’t dare look or I’m sure to find a blindfold around here somewhere!”

  “Second drawer. But I’d like to go without.”

  “You got no word in this, remember?”

  Michael made the—painful—effort to get a closer look at Mrs. Smith. She had taken off shoes and pants and slipped out of the T-shirt in one smooth move, revealing a black bra and black undies. “Does your underwear always fit your clothes?”

  She turned to him, a playful glitter in her eyes. “My rule, of course.”

  “I like it.”

  “And I like that your hands can’t get to me,” she replied and was on the bed again, crawling to him catlike.

  Her long hair tickled his chest. He inhaled, straining his body closer to her.

  “You’re one eager beaver, hmm?”

  “Me and Tom the Cat.”

  She played with the nipple clamps until he cringed on the sheets. “And why should I satisfy you, scoundrel?”

  “Because this way I could satisfy you, milady.”

  “Hmm…” She kissed his chin and cheeks and nibbled his earlobe until his breathing was loud and raspy enough to arouse her just by listening. “You are at my service, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” It was more a shallow breath than a word.

  “Did your last mistress chastise you for so long?”

  Michael swallowed. His vision swam while pain built up from his hands down to his nipples. It was a welcome pain, new but not unexpected. If she didn’t pull the ropes, he would be fine throughout. “No, no chastising.”

  Mrs. Smith cocked her head. Her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “If you were mine, scoundrel, I’d chastise you the whole time and dictate when you’re allowed to play.”

  Michael heard the words and stopped breathing while his body reacted in a most primal way. His cock stood hard and ready, aching as if he hadn’t had sex for a year. She looked in his eyes while her right hand slipped across his loins toward his scrotum sac. He twitched, triggering a lopsided grin. He wet his lips. God, he was dizzy. “Please, don’t let me wait so long.”

  She ran a finger up and down his length. “Always been impatient?”

  He wanted to nod, but the hook prohibited it. “Yes.”

  “You’ll learn patience with me.” She undid the nipple clamps. “Anything you wouldn’t want to be done with you?”

  Michael wanted to yell at her that he wasn’t in explanation mode, but he came up with, “No clothes-pins.”

  “Why not?”

  Her tongue cruised his maltreated nipple. He gasped and pulled the rope that held his hands. She repeated her question. Michael squeezed his eyes shut. The uproar of sensation from his nipple down to his loins was harder than any kick you might get from LSD. “I don’t like them. Rope, leather, metal. It all does it for me, but pins…”

  “A hausfrau’s choice?”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  She nodded. “They just don’t fit the scene. I agree.” She tickled the other nipple with her tongue, quick and wet.

  Michael was out of words, out of pleading for release. She clearly saw what he wanted and enjoyed that he couldn’t get it
. She moved down along the line of his body, licking his sweaty skin, letting him know what she could do. Maybe would do. He swallowed visibly.

  “Don’t say a word. I have seen the gags.”

  He couldn’t help but smile under the strain. “I won’t beg.”

  “You got no reason to.” Mrs. Smith slipped out of her undies and sat above his hips, taking him in.

  Michael gasped at the sudden encounter, so surprised to find her wet and smooth. He pulled up his legs to push up while she bent back, dictating the angle of thrusting.

  “Harder,” she demanded under her breath.

  He lifted her slim body with his hips as if she weighed nothing. She pressed down, taking him in completely as if she couldn’t get enough. He inched upward, countering her movement to avoid the pull of the nose hook.

  “Faster!”

  Michael gave her what she wanted. And she wanted all of him and then some. He had known women, who were hard to satisfy, but that wasn’t Mrs. Smith. She just directed him until he did what she wanted the most. She didn’t scream when she came, but pressed her lips tight as if she didn’t want him to know he had done something right.

  But he knew. He saw it in her eyes. He saw her distant gaze in the aftershock of the orgasm. Her lips parted for a long intake of air before she collapsed on his chest, soft flesh and satin touching his skin. The mass of her hair spilled across his side and shoulder. He smelled sweet perfume and, closing his eyes, knew he would connect it to this Mrs. Smith wherever he encountered it again.

  He felt wonderful and very relaxed. “Would you mind…”

  Mrs. Smith lifted her head to squint at him through her hair. “No.” Still connected with him, she undid the knots and string so he could shed the bonds. She watched him, chin on his chest, satisfied to the max.

  He lifted his head and parted his lips.

  “Not a word,” she said, but it didn’t sound like a command.

  He stroked a strand of hair from her face. They looked at each other and Michael had the odd feeling of knowing her for so long. Her dark eyes told him the same. Her interest in a new way of sex had brought her into this room with him. He wished they would repeat it. Many times.

  Mrs. Smith glimpsed at her watch. “Oh, fuck, I got to go!” She sat up then hesitated for a second. “Sorry, Matthew, so sorry. I didn’t mean this to end like this.” She looked around. “The key to the foot chains?”