Bound

It was dark in her room. As dark as the raised ink of her newest tattoo. Making it all the more dark was the blindfold that pressed against her eyelids, forcing her lids to remain closed. Yet still she could sense that he was in the room, perhaps close by, perhaps leaning over her nearly naked body. The slow burn of the panic looming just over her horizon was intense. She could hear his breath, slow but deeply husky, as he moved around the room. This game had gotten serious then, and she wasn't sure she knew all the rules. In some animal part of her brain, she savored that thought. But it was hard to keep down the panic that threatened to engulf her. Her brain savagely raped her mind. The intellect is not always stronger than the emotional mind. But thus far he had not touched her.

Well, that wasn't completely true. He had touched her. How else could her hands have become bound above her head? And she had lain there and allowed it. No, begged for it. She was furious; with herself, with this man she barely knew, and with the situation now so seemingly out of her control. Had she really wanted this?

Her hands were held up over her head by soft silk straps of unknown design. During her morning ablutions in front of the mirror, she often held her arms up over her head, glancing at her breasts and how they somehow seemed more full and engorged in that pose. She knew she must look lovely, but she despised the thought that the position had been imposed upon her. She had been posed. Yet the straps held firm, not biting or aching but not yielding either.

She noticed with some trepidation that her legs were free. What could that mean? Though the ball gag stopped her from screaming, she could kick. And why had she not? What was it in her mind and body that somehow craved this lack of control? Again the anger rose and tamped down her fear. At least that helped clear her head.

She had met the man several weeks ago, an evening business mixer providing the stage. It wasn't the drinks – she had had only the two glasses of wine, not nearly enough to be truly drunk. It was his eyes. The look he gave her that reflected back all of her inner passion and sensuality. That look of intellectual benevolence and charm that kept her talking, long after her "elevator pitch" was delivered and done. He knew her somehow, though that was impossible; they had just met. His eyes were her mirror to her passions.

Yet he did know her from that first glance across the hotel ballroom. She felt that as intensely as anything she had ever known. He was aware of her. All of her. Her desires, passions, hopes, feelings of inadequacy and loss. All of it. And it made her weak. And angry. How could he have this intimate knowledge of her without her permission! He had no right! And why was she so drawn to him? So much so that she continued to seek him out at meeting after meeting for weeks. She was intrigued by this man and his innate sensitivities.

God knew she could have any man she wanted. She was absolutely gorgeous. Her beauty had grown and matured as she moved through her years. She was no longer what she considered young. But she was now more beautiful than women 10 or 20 years her junior. She had the ability to play the cougar and have wild love sessions with men still in college. And she blew the minds of these young studs. More mature men her own age found her irresistible for her experience and the hard won loveliness of her amazing body. She worked hard to keep herself this way, and it showed.

He, on the other hand, was no one's idea of the porcelain statuesque god. He was no ogre, but he was not as tall nor as fit as some younger men. He was a man of business and his time was valuable. He only rarely spent it in a gym, and his physique was not high on his priority list. He was no young stud, but his power and strength were undeniable.

But those eyes... He held the weight of the world in them. And he certainly held her with them. So she sought him out, again and again.

This evening started innocently enough, back at the same hotel ballroom where she first met him. It was another business networking mixer, and of course he was there promoting his trade. She found herself drawn to him as he entered the room. In fact the eyes of many women were inexplicably drawn toward the portal through which he appeared. It was as if he possessed some power or exuded some rare pheromone.

He bypassed the throng of business women (and men of course) and made his way toward her. He was like an arrow drawn to its mark and ready to pierce its skin. He reached out to grasp her hand, and as his long fingers touched her wrist it sent shudders down her lower back. His smile was bright and welcoming, and his eyes bore into her and touched areas she barely knew existed. She noted that he inhaled as he did so, deeply, and if he was breathing her in.

He chatted her up for what seemed forever and yet only a moment. She did not recall what either of them said, so enveloped was she by his gaze. She knew she would have him. She was a tigress in bed and in preparation for bed. If she wanted a man, he knew he was wanted and was always willing to be taken. The willing prey. She was a powerful business leader too, and no authority was given to any one in any situation not of her making. She chose when she led and when she gave up this lead. It was simply the way she was made. Strong. Resilient. Powerful. Lustful. And in charge.

Always.

But something about this particular man made her tremble. She knew she could let herself go and fall into him. This was dangerous for her, yet it thrilled her nonetheless. Her feelings made her nervous to be near him, and incapable of walking away – though leaving would undoubtedly have been the wisest decision for her.

Whoever had chosen to have this meeting in a hotel had given fate a leg up. They were mere steps from the bar to the elevator. And the key fit the lock.

She now understood. The denial of her complicity in her current position was false. She knew. She may not have wanted to admit that she allowed herself to be bound by a man she hardly knew, but here she was. Bound to the headboard, and naked but for the new black and red panties she had bought especially for this night. She had worn them to make herself feel precious, whether or not anything happened between them. The panties rode high on her hips, showing off her hot body to its best display. The panties were expensive too, their black lace hand-woven with red silk ribbon. Her pussy, shaved clean for this encounter, gave perfection to the line the panties drew on her moistening pelvic mound.

So she gasped when she felt, as much as heard, the rip of the fine lace as it was sliced through by a sharp blade. He had done this, violently cut the last vestige of her modesty from her. And somehow it not only released her pussy from its bindings, but something in her heart and mind as well. She growled through the gag that inhibited her speech. A low guttural sound that seemed to come from deep within her. It must have had some profound effect on the man as well, for he reached up and gently removed the gag from her mouth.

"I want to be able to hear your passion" he nearly hissed at her.

Her first reaction was to scream at him, something foul and vile to let him know she despised being this controlled. And still she could not. The gag was gone, but something restrained her from playing the role of proud and injured schoolgirl. She chose the part she would play, and responded in kind. "What are you going to do to me?"

He smiled as he removed the blindfold and intoned, "So you want to play this out, eh? Sooo happy to oblige."

As she opened her eyes and they began to adjust to the dim light of the room, she saw that he too was naked. And his cock was engorged and straining upwards toward the sky. It was not huge – she had been with many men who had longer members – but it was exciting and she knew he could satisfy her. And the most exhilarating part was that he was hard as stone, and all because of her. His eyes radiated that hot energy that had so drawn her to him in the first place. He wanted her. And badly.

He crept up beside the bed and lowered himself to his knees. His height was all in his torso, so he still rose above her as she lay there bound and waiting. He stared into her eyes, his passion and desire for her more apparent than even his rigid cock could impart. He slowly, methodically, worked his scrutiny up her arms to view the binding that held her helpless. She knew from the look in his eyes and the grin on his face that he approved. She was not always as self-assured as her outward demeanor would predict, and his pleasure at viewing her body emboldened her.

Slowly, meticulously, he drifted his vision back down along her arms and stopped short where they joined her torso. He gently moved his face toward her until it was raised just slightly above this sensitive area. He breathed in, taking in her scent from this most intimate of zones. It made his heart race to smell her musk and to sense how eager she was for his touch. She actually exuded the scent of lust. It was an animal thing that now bound them.

He nuzzled her at the pits of her arms, and growled at the lust she aroused in him. Gently he raised his hands next to his face to place his fingers ever so lightly on the side of her breast. The man grazed his tender touch around the curve of her pulsing breast, up and under its full and gracious lobe. The "stranger" lifted her breast, gently cupping it and pressing it against his face. The captive's pulse quickened yet again, and her breath stuck as she gasped from his ministrations. She felt she had never been this aroused and anxious.

His mouth soon followed behind his hand's exploration as he smelled and eagerly mouthed the swell of her breast. It was exceedingly warm under the full mound of her upper womanhood, and the scents drove him even further into frenzy. His fingers reached out to her other breast and lightly brushed over the nipple, already distended and hard. He softly yet confidently gave the stretched nipple a squeeze, causing her to yelp in pain-laced pleasure. And as the woman adjusted to that pressure, he surprised her yet again by taking her other nipple into his mouth and sucking it strongly. He did not use his teeth, but the exquisite pressure from his tongue and lips caused her to arch her back and moan.

While his tongue continued to circle and caress her inflamed nipple, his hand moved down her belly. She worried sometimes when she was with a new lover if he would find fault in what she considered to be "her flaws". But to this lover, no flaw or fault could be detected. So enchanted was he by the way she filled his senses, all of his senses, that he could not imagine a more perfect partner. Not even from Olympus itself.

The aggressor smiled at the feel of her belly, the curves at the sides where her torso became her thighs and eventually led to her deepest secrets. He knew he would reach her core soon enough and so he withdrew. The predator turned prey gasped again as his touch freed itself from her body. Somehow, against all her will, a squeaky "no" escaped from her lips. This sound was so lost and wanton she hardly recognized it as her voice.

"Don't worry my sweet, I'm not going far." He retreated to the side table and found the glass of sweet white wine he had brought up from the bar. It was still cool, and the condensation dripping from the sides of the glasses was reminiscent of another scene not far from his post. He could see, even in this dim light, the sheen that had arisen on her legs from the exertions of her body's climb towards ecstasy. And he was well aware that the languid drips from her pussy, awash in the juices of her arousal, would be there as well.

"Would you like a cool sip to quench your thirst my dear?" he asked? "I know it won't sate your hunger, but perhaps we can wet your lips to match the rest of you" he chuckled menacingly.

"Y-y-yes please" the woman managed to squeak out in that same alien voice.

The man leaned down towards her as he took another sip from the wine glass. This sip he held in his mouth as he leaned down over her. He brought his mouth to hers, both of them slightly parting their lips to allow the cool sweet nectar to flow between them. It gurgled among them, dripping a bit down the sides of her mouth. This last he gladly lapped up with his tongue, darting it in and out and around her hungry mouth.

"A bit better my sweet?" he teased.

To which she could only trill, "m-o-o-o-rrre..." He obliged.

He set down the glass and went back to play. He straddled her, slowly allowing his incredibly erect cock to push up against her soaking wet clit. She shuddered nearing an instantaneous release she could not withstand. He continued his slide over her though and onto the bed beside her. He began to reach out for her prone and helpless body. This time he brought his mouth and his tongue down directly on that most sensitive of lines, just along the side of her thigh as it cleaves into her pubic mound. The scent and taste from this very erogenous zone immediately overtook the flavor of the wine and filled him once again with longing for her.

But it was a feint, and he switched his moves quickly back to her long and supple legs. He had seen her legs numerous times before if course. She always wore somehow modest yet erotic skirts to her business meetings. Or perhaps it was just the nearly perfect shape and tone of her legs that made her clothes look that way. He would always remember, as if he had once seen a picture now long destroyed, the shine of the sex sweat on her legs. He would consume it with all the desire he felt throughout his body.

His hands and his mouth moved over her legs, darting from one to another and back again, feeling, tasting, licking, wondering and wandering in her beauty and eroticism. He could spend days simply exploring her thighs. But that would deny the calling he felt from closer to her middle. Her pheromones were strong too, and he knew he could not wait much longer.

So ever so slowly, ever so gradually, he inched his way softly back towards her now wet and pulsing vulva. He knew that the taste he would find there would be as rich as butter and as sweet as honey. And yet he did not rush to indulge his oral fantasies. He first moved the slightly roughened pads of his fingers across her outer lips. They glided smoothly across, so wet was she and her pussy shaved to a slick finish. He used his skilled fingertips to lightly spread her lips and pull them back from her clit.

Her clit itself was now engorged and raised up to meet his touch. Deftly he pulled back the hood and pressed gentle circles onto her aroused clitoris. She arched her back as if in spasm of pain, though he knew well there was no negativity in her response. Her cry was only muffled by the shock of its own intensity.

Finally, and with a slow, reckless, hopeless acceleration, he devoured her pussy with his mouth. The man was nearly engulfed by her sex, licking and sucking, probing and reaching, desperately trying to consume her very soul. She writhed beneath him, her legs and thighs wrapping around his neck, back and shoulders, trying to pull his entire being into her. The sounds made by both of them filled the room with desire and lust. And still he went on.

And just when she thought she could take no more and might well explode, she did. In a miasma of ecstasy and orgasm that flexed every muscle in her body and every fiber of her being. Her cries could no longer be suppressed and she did not care who heard her. She was barely still in the room in fact, so transcended was she by the sheer force of her climax. It seemed to go on and on and on some more. Her back arched, pulling muscles and straining ligaments she would no doubt feel for days to come. She came and came until she thought she would burst from the joy. And still the waves pored over here, unending as those at the shoreline.

Until finally, mercifully, the tide receded and she lay back, spent as never before. She sighed, groaned through her lingering pleasure, and met his gaze with eyes that said barely more than her body had already expressed. He was pleased by her response to his loving caresses. It made him feel fully a man as nothing in his business world ever would or could. Slowly he rose over her, reaching once again for the blindfold used before to such perfect effect. He once again reached it around her head and secured it, blocking her vision from him.

She continued to hear him moving about the room, shuffling, breathing, grunting through unknown exertion. Until after a few minutes, his movements ceased and his breathing stilled.

"See you at next months' meeting?" he whispered with a smile as he sliced open the silk bonds and turned to leave the room. "I think it will be my turn."