Having Fun with Dycke and Payne Ch. 07byProlonged_Debut10©
32. The Gathering Storm
Bob Short helped Fiona up off the shower floor and into the radiant heated bathroom. He toweled her dry from head to toe and proceeded to brush out her hair.
Fiona acquiesced to all this attention and wondered why he was not married. If Bob took care of all of the women he met like he was taking care of her, he would be a wonderful protector, a good provider and an experienced lover.
Bob finished with her hair and told her to lie down and rest. Dinner would be ready in forty-five minutes and he would come and get her. Fiona started to argue, but Bob looked at her, sternly, and she backed off.
Fiona started walking toward the second bedroom, but Bob intercepted her and took her to the master bedroom. She said to him, "I thought this was just for show?"
Bob said, "It is for show, and I am going to show you a lot!" He proceeded to pull down the spread and folded it neatly at the base of the bed. He pulled down the blanket and the top sheet and folded it into a neat triangle. He moved Fiona into position by the bed. He removed the towel from around her body, sat her naked body down, picked up her legs from the floor, and slid them under the covers, thereby forcing her to lie down. He covered her body, up to her neck, kissed her on her forehead and said, "Rest. I will be back in a while to get you. Nothing and no one is going to hurt you or bother you while you are here, with me."
Bob had many talents, but he could not boil water without having a major industrial accident. However, he did know every good restaurant within a half mile radius of his home and every restaurant owner and manager knew him. Tonight, he thought he would treat his special guest to some exquisite Thai food.
He first stepped around an enclosure to make sure that Fiona was asleep, and then stepped to the far end of his apartment and made a call, to his friend Angus McFarland. Angus owned "The Lotus Flower," a small and delicately appointed Asian restaurant, a few short blocks away. He explained his predicament to the transplanted Scot and in his big Scottish brogue, Angus said, "Shall I come over and cook it myself, so I can see the lass?"
Bob said, "No thanks, Angus. She will be enough for me to handle, by myself. Just send me over the best that you have, from soup to nuts, including wine, preferably from that other transplanted Scots vineyard in Australian that you love so much."
Angus laughed and said, "When do you want it, lad?"
"Now!" said Bob. "On real plates, real silverware, real glasses, the whole nine yards, Angus. Do not screw me up on this, or I will put roaches in your kitchen."
Angus roared with laughter again and said, "Oh good, more for the rats to eat."
Deep cover operatives took care of one another. Angus McFarland had spent nearly 30 years roaming around Burma, Thailand, South and North Vietnam, as a reporter for communist-leaning magazines, endearing himself to tyrants and communist governments in the region with his reporting of their ideology and their good works for their people. The Russians and the Chinese even took him into their confidence on many occasions. His reports back to MI-6 and the Central Intelligence Agency were code named "Lotus Flower" which was how his restaurant got its name.
The food and wine showed up quickly and the table was set perfectly. Bob handed two one hundred dollar bills to cover the cost of the meal and their services, to the three young women, who were employed by Angus. He let the aromas waft around the rooms and permeate the air, with their rich scents. He then went to awaken his charge, bringing one of his short silk kimonos with him. He kissed Fiona on her lips and she barely moved. He slid the blanket back and sucked on her left nipple and she moaned. He went back, kissed her lips and squeezed her nipple at the same time, and Fiona's eyes opened.
She said, "I thought you said, 'Nothing and no one was going to bother me while I was here with you.' Here you are bothering me."
"That is true, girl, but I am your master for as long as I wish, and I get to change the rules as often as I want. Your forty-five minutes of peace and rest is over. I have slaved and hurried over a hot stove and cleaned up the mess, so that we can be together after dining, without delay. I do not desire that the fruits of my labor be cold because you tarry under my warm blankets. Now get up and put this on and let us eat, before I forget dinner and start with my dessert."
Fiona folded herself out of bed and raised herself up. She looked down upon her 'master' and tried to give him her most menacing look. However, being naked did not help very much.
He opened the silk kimono and she bent her knees and slid her arms into it. She tied the belt and she realized that it barely covered her private parts. She looked at Bob in dismay.
Bob smiled saying, "Being a 'short' does have its advantages." He escorted her to the table and sat her down.
Fiona looked at the assortment in front of her, and marveled at what he had prepared. She revisited what she had said herself earlier and wondered why some woman had not taken this guy off the market.
They ate in relative silence, but each knew that the other had a lot going on in his or her mind. Food was excellent, the wine was perfect and dessert was coming up. It was the dessert that both of them were thinking about. Before their earlier interlude, it had been more than three months since Fiona had sex, and it had been nearly a year for Bob.
Bob was very angry with himself. "Why does she fluster me so much? She is very pretty, but not beautiful compared to some that I have been with. She is an agent, but I have slept with agents before. She knocked me down and then pinned me, but I have been knocked down and pinned before. I have never had... Why am I... What is she doing ... I do not know what it is... I just do not know what it is, but fuck, this woman...who I know so little about... has my mind all screwed up and I cannot focus, I must focus. Do not look at her. Think, dammit. Remember. What color are her eyes, Bob? Come on Bob, she has two of them. Okay, I looked, they are green. Was that so hard? What is she doing to me? I may as well put a 'sold' sign on my head, because my brain is gone."
Fiona had her eyes on her plate throughout most of dinner also. Bob Short was a nice guy. However, he was not her type of guy. He was too old; she liked younger man. He was too short; she liked tall men. He was too thin; she liked muscular men. He was too pushy and she liked to be in charge. He was just not her type of man. He was aggressive but she liked being aggressive, also. He put her into a 'place' and she did not feel that she could be put into any 'place,' especially by a man, and particularly, by him. She was her own person. She had proven that time and time again, to people all over the world. Some tiny American ex-spy was not going to tell her what to do and when to jump. She would have sex with him because she lost a bet, but this served her purposes also. She would continue this, as long as she was employed here and she could change that, when it suited her. For now, it suited her to stay.
Finally, Bob said to her, "Are you going to finish that piece of eggplant or you going to hope that it sprouts babies?"
"What is the gestation period for an eggplant?"
"I have no idea, Fiona. However, I expect you in my bed in approximately two minutes."
"I even get to tinkle before being ravaged; how gracious of you."
"At least you used the appropriate verb, Fiona, and you have no idea how right you are."
While Fiona was using the facilities, Bob went into his armoire and gathered some supplies into a basket. He heated chocolate sauce, in the microwave and checked to make sure all of his other adult toys were properly placed. Happy with his preparations, he undressed and awaited the princess.
Fiona entered the master bedroom and stood before Bob. She was told to kneel before him. She was ready to blow him, but was surprised when all he wanted to do was kiss her. Finally, he had the height advantage. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. She had to hold him around his back to keep her balance. She found him to be an excellent kisser, with soft lips and a searching, probing tongue. It amazed that she was getting excited just kissing him.
After a few moments, Bob told her to stand. He proceeded to kiss her breasts and he lowered his hands to her waist, back, hips, ass and finally to very wet pussy. She opened her legs, willingly, allowing him entrance into her very core but his fingers slid by it, infuriating her. He played at the rim of her anus with his fingers, and along her backside and down her long legs. He kissed her stomach. He kissed her pelvic bone. He kissed both of her thighs, on the outside, going down and down, and on the inside, very slowly and very meticulously on the way up. He turned her around and kissed the cheeks of her ass, but never once did he touch an opening into the core of her body.
Fiona stood there fuming. She thought to herself, "Wait until it is my turn, Bob. Two can play at this teasing game of yours, and my time will come. You have me until Monday and if it does not happen before, it will happen, someday. You will get your comeuppance, in due time." Fiona stood there with a new sense of resolve, but it did not change her current situation. Her body wanted its release and the bastard was doing his best to delay it.
Bob stood up and told Fiona to get into bed. He took the pillow from behind her head and put it under her bottom. He straddled her chest, placing his penis inches from her mouth. He told her to raise her hands above her head. He took them, one at a time and placed them into handcuffs and snapped them closed.
Fiona said, "Bob, you devil, you."
Bob said, "Fiona, you are so much bigger and stronger than I am. I cannot take the chance of you throwing me out of the saddle, now can I?" Bob took her legs and secured them by means of a spreader bar that left her vagina totally open and exposed. He then secured the spreader bar to the bottom of the bed. For all intents and purposes Fiona was now totally immobilized.
Fiona never realized that this supposedly mild-mannered track coach and martial arts teacher was into bondage. She watched him go along with his chores and saw him take out a black silk pouch and a large pink mouthpiece dropped out of it. Fiona said, "You prick!"
He showed it to her and said, "Does this look like a prick to you? Open wide, darling."
Fiona opened as wide as she could. It almost was not wide enough. The mouth guard was extremely wide, which made it impossible for her to try to spit out. It had a large hole in the center, through which she could breathe easily. He took the silk pouch and put it over her head, and closed it snugly around her neck, putting her into the dark. Finally, he put on a noise-canceling headset. In a few short moments, Bob had made Fiona deaf, mute and blind. He lifted a corner of the headset and said to Fiona, "If at any time this becomes too much for you, place both your thumbs in a down position and I will stop."
Fiona nodded her head. If it were not for her training, she would've been panicking already, but for now she was just making an itemized list, of the items she would need to teach this little prick a lesson he would never forget. Any normal person's heart rate and blood pressure would be skyrocketing at this point but Fiona's had slowed and lowered as she became angrier and angrier at Bob Short. She was supposed to be having sex with him, not playing games. Today was his show, but he would have to fall asleep sometime and when he did, it would be a mistake of biblical proportions.
Assured that his canvas was stretched to the limit, Bob started preparing his dessert. He tested the chocolate to make sure the temperature was hot but not too hot. He poured it on to Fiona's breasts. The reaction was immediate and Bob loved it. Her nipples peaked and the little buds of her areola danced and Fiona moaned. He topped both breasts with whipped cream and one nipple with a cherry and the other, with a strawberry. He kissed and licked his way, down to her navel and put whipped cream into it. He surrounded it with chocolate, and then with cherries and strawberries, like a cluster of rubies and pearls.
Even though he knew she could not hear him, Bob said to Fiona, "Do not move, my love, because my first 'paint by numbers' project is nearly done."
Bob took both cans of whipped cream and shook them vigorously. He opened the portal to Fiona's pleasure palace, placed both tips inside her opening, applied pressure to both nozzles and fired whipped cream as far up into her vagina as was possible.
Fiona reacted to the frigid temperature by arching her body, as high as she could. One touch on her clit or a bite on one of her nipples would cause her to orgasm, but neither, was forthcoming.
For his finale, Bob took a length of clear plastic tubing and lubricated it, by sticking it to Fiona's vagina. He then introduced it to Fiona's little pink star, which immediately shrunk upon being touched. Bob lubricated his fingers, using the same method as the tube, and played around the rim of her ass. As soon as he saw the sphincter relax, he pushed the tube up as far as it would go.
Fiona had had anal sex before, but she had never had an unnatural object in her colon before. She was not sure what Bob had in store for her at this point.
Bob stopped short of completing this task because he realized he needed evidence of his work of art; otherwise no one would believe he was an accomplished artist. He got out his 35mm camera, attached a portrait lens, turned on the overhead lights and started taking pictures, of his decadent dessert. He walked quickly around, taking pictures of his dessert from every angle, high and low, always avoiding any picture whereby someone might recognize his canvas. That pleasure was for him, alone.
By the time he was finished taking pictures, the chocolate and the whipped cream on Fiona's left breasts had started to run. He started eating that one first. He left the cherry balanced on top of her nipple, until the very last moment. Finally, the cherry became unsteady and he was forced to eat it. He attacked the nipple and breast, like a baby searching for milk.
Finally, Fiona thought he was going to get down to business. The way he was going at her breast, she was sure that he had developed a hunger for her body and stopped all this foolishness about eating his dessert.
Bob attacked her right breast with the same attention as he did the left. He squeezed her tit with both hands as his mouth enveloped her entire areola, as his tongue tantalized her nipple, endlessly.
Fiona was in love with his mouth. It seemed that it could suction, lick and bite all at one time, while bringing her agreat deal of pleasure, to her most erogenous zone, her brain. Then, out of nowhere, he and the pleasure stopped. She was ready to kill him. As far as she was concerned, Bob was a dead man, if he did not get back to her pleasure.
Bob felt Fiona's body go slack. He knew she must be livid.
Fiona realized what he had done to her. She had to keep her mind occupied on something other than sex, because she surely was not getting it from him. She decided to go back to what she did best: numbers, finance and calculations. She was going to try to figure out his caloric intake for each tryst: dinner, wine, and dessert. Then she would find the amount of energy he would have to expend: eating, licking and fucking (if he ever got that far) to maintain his current state of fitness. Just as Fiona finished counting the amount of cherries and strawberries she remembered him putting on her body, her mind short-circuited, because Bob's tongue met her clit and a circuit breaker blew.
Bob felt Fiona's body going into a relaxed state and he decided to stoke the fires, a little more quickly than he wanted. She was a work of art and he was heading towards the fountain he had created in Fiona's vagina. His tongue announced his arrival, gently, as it licked her clit and moved along her pussy's outer, then her inner lips. Finally, he bit her clit, which popped out from beneath its protective hood. He heard a quiet moan, but saw no body movement. He licked around her clit and the fountain of leaking whipped cream flowed more quickly, from her tunnel. Bob bit her clit, again, lightly, which caused Fiona to have a small orgasm and he had not yet penetrated her, with his penis.
Fiona did not know whether to be relieved that she had a little 'O' or to be madder than hell at Bob. This was not sex as it was meant to be. This was as impersonal, as it could get. There was no joy to this, it was not fun, and there was no interaction. She could have more fun with her battery-powered toys.
Bob lifted the headset off for Fiona's ear and removed the mouthpiece and asked, "Any last words?"
Fiona replied, "On a score of 1 to 10 Bob: for getting me into bed-one. For dinner, Angus McFarland and the Lotus Flower: ten. For originality after dinner, you get a three. For decisive action in battle Bob, zero.
Bob asked, "How did you know about Angus?"
Fiona said "It is etched on the glasses, Bob."
"You will change your scores shortly, my dear,"
"You are just like most men, Bob; 'All talk no action'."
Bob lowered the headset back into position and put the mouthpiece back into position. He removed the spreader bar from between Fiona's ankles wrapped her thighs with his arms and looked at the sweetest flower God has ever created. He took a can of whipped cream inserted the nozzle into the clear tube, applied pressure to the tip and watched as the cream flowed into Fiona's rectum. He could tell when it exited the end of the tube, because when it did, it took everything he had to hang on to Fiona's thighs.
After the can was empty, he removed the tube and drove his face, tongue first, into her vagina. He started lapping out the whipped cream that had joined with Fiona's juices into an enjoyable concoction. He nibbled on the lips of her vagina with increasing intensity until he made a complete circuit and came back again to her clit. He licked it; he nibbled at it and then, left it alone.
He could feel the surface tension of Fiona's skin go slack. He could imagine what was going through her mind at this moment. His tongue moved down the inside of her thigh as his fingers were playing with her anus. Fiona was doing her best to keep him away from it, fearing what he was trying to put up there next. He followed the fountain down the 'taint' to her sphincter and when he arrived there, Fiona closed it, like the vaults at Fort Knox. Bob licked at the very center and around the edges and the center again, and still Fiona would not relax the opening. Bob wet his index finger with a combination of the juices from Fiona's vagina and brought it to her nether opening. Bob used his tongue, again and licked her rosebud to see if she would open up willingly. Fiona would not, so Bob took his slick and finger poised it at her closed door and forced his way in.
Fiona was not happy with this intrusion. It was the first time that Bob had hurt her. It may not have been intentional, but it had hurt, so she put it in her record book for when it was her turn. But Fiona was still her stubborn self and refused to show any weakness; she would not give the little bastard the satisfaction of the safe signal. She wondered what was next in his bag of tricks for her ass. First: something cold. Second: something that hurt.
Bob knew she was furious with him by now. All the anger and all the pent-up emotion that was stored up would equal one big bang, if he could get it out of her. By the movement of Fiona's hips when he inserted his finger into her, Bob knew she would not last another five or ten minutes, when he attacked her head on. He was not trying to break her, he was just trying to show her that he was as strong willed, as she, and a "status quo ante" would serve them both well. He had to follow the rulebook. Sun Tzu, the most studied tactician of all times said, "If you are evenly matched with your enemy, Attack!"