Deconstructing Stephen

I ran my finger over his top lip. "Nope." I said, sighing. "Not that I don't want to, Stephen. God, want to. I imagined how I'd pull up my skirt, push you over and sit on your face, ride you, looking down at that tight gorgeous straitjacket and taking in your helplessness as you licked...and your tongue...I'm sure...you have a fantastic tongue."

Dismay is the only word I could use to describe the look on his face. But it was brief, and he corrected himself, put himself right back into the game, not willing to be manipulated. But I had seen a glimpse of it, and I knew it was there.

I remained leaning down close to him, my lips close to his mouth, my hand under my skirt, masturbating as I whispered what I knew his tongue felt like. It was clearly a bit awkward to stand in such a position and bring myself close to orgasm, but I was turned on enough, I could do it.

He remained painfully still, almost unbreathing, unemotional, as if he knew that any reaction on his part, any discomfort, would just bring me to orgasm and end the game. At least, that's what I read into it. Maybe he was just bored. With Stephen, I never knew.

"Maybe I need to come back, for eight days next time," I breathed into his ear, leaning closer. "Maybe I didn't torture you hard enough. I needed to see you broken and begging. And it's still just out of reach. If I can't have my ultimate pleasure, than neither can you."

Finally he let out his breath, but tried not to pant through his nose, instead just calmed it and quieted it, swallowing hard. His eyes were down. I was looking at his beautiful eyelashes. "I'm going to miss you," I said.

I saw a little bit of struggling in the straitjacket, and a tension in his jaw. A cab pulled up out front, I could hear the engine idling.

"Someone will be by in one hour to free you," I said to him, kissing him on the forehead. I turned and walked away, collecting my luggage on the way out.

"You can keep the panties," I said after him, with a wave, and then exited the warehouse doors, letting them close loudly behind me.

**

In the back of the taxi, I imagined Stephen still there, on the ground, looking out after the door, perplexed. I wonder if he spit the panties out, or kept them in his mouth as he waited.

"Where to, Miss?" The cab driver asked me.

I put on my sunglasses. "Just drive me around for a half hour. Then right back to this location."

I removed my cell phone from my purse and called the airlines to change my flight. One more day would do Stephen some good.

And 45 minutes of waiting, thinking he was truly abandoned, might be what it took to strip that last piece of armor away.

**