Little Black Dress

On the floor, next to the bed was a small pile of black material. It had been just enough to cover her mouth and keep her screams from wafting out into the neighborhood. Now it lay there, quiescent in the bold light of dawn. If she but turned her head a little, she would see it and smile. A broad, knowing smile. Full with the secrets of life.

Her head lay where he had left it. At the edge of the bed, easy for him to access. To walk over beside the mattress, grab a handful of hair, push the cloth away from her mouth and force it onto his throbbing member. He'd done just that. Time and time again. Each time moving away before spraying her lips with nectar and neatly replacing the black material. He would grab her, shove her onto his jutting mast, thrust it into her throat until she could take no more. Until she felt the rising need from him. Then he would just as suddenly pull it away, gag her again and move behind her.

Or bend to her ear and speak in a low, reasonable tone "You will need to earn that. You've got a long way to go before I pump my sperm down your throat."

Other times he would stand in front of her, move her face to position and press his hard cock against the fabric. Then he would whip her. Lash her bare buttocks with the leather thong. Or his belt. Or the straps from the ties he hadn't used.

He'd bound her wrists together with his shirt. The cuffs buttoned and turned inside out, the rest of it twisted together in a way that kept her from pulling her hands free, no matter how much she tried. And she did. He'd scared her finally and she had panicked. Thrashing and flailing to no avail. He'd used his pants on her legs and they were strapped tight to the bed, opened wide so she found herself unable to gain purchase. He'd stripped her in one motion, taking the dress from her with ease and leaving her bare in the moonlight.

Strands of wavering beams danced across her breasts as she stood before him, helpless. Already bound at the wrists, she could only watch him appraise her. Would he approve? He certainly had earlier, but would he now that she was shorn of any trappings? He took off the rest of his clothes slowly, making sure that she made no attempts to get away. He carefully laid his pants on the bed as they came off and when he was down to his shorts, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed.

Now she knew to struggle, but it was too late. She twisted but he held firm. She kicked out, but he grabbed her ankle and tied it down. She reared up, but he swatted her bare ass a stinging blow that brought tears to her eyes. He snapped her arms tight over her head and moved to her other leg. She pulled and tugged at the bindings, but they held tight and he laughed.

She worked at the bindings until she slumped in fatigue. She growled in frustration and he laughed again. When he moved in front of her, she tried to bite and he grabbed her head, holding her away from him. He reached down, out of her sight range and picked up a piece of cloth. He pushed it in her mouth, between her teeth and tied it behind her head. He was at her ear. "That's better. I like it when you fight, you know." She did know. She couldn't help it. He made her panic and she couldn't control her reactions. "I also like to see you unable to do more than wiggle. I enjoy feeling you squirm."

She tried to talk, but the gag was very effective. He had a way of making highly creative but very effective restraints. It never ceased to amaze her. This was another of those times. It added to her panic.

Her biggest fear, though, was the things to come. The price she would have to pay. He was every bit as creative with the punishments he gave her as he was with the rewards and scenarios for both. And this was one punishment she deserved.

She had found and bought the smallest piece of lace she could find. It was only vaguely made into something intended to cover a human body and showed her curves better than a bikini. Everywhere, there was a hint of flesh and movement -- even when she was standing still -- and she'd been breathless in anticipation when she tried it on and glanced in the mirror. Tonight was the night, she'd decided.

His reaction was just as she had suspected. He hardly showed any sign of noticing. He was always like that. He was looking, though, and she knew he saw. How could he not? She was practically spilling out of it everywhere. Her tits threatened to pop out the top and her thighs were exposed so far, she knew men would be looking for the hint of pubic hair. It was clear she had on no underwear, though she might have had on the type with no lines and she knew that eyes would be straining to catch the slightest glimpse tonight to know for sure.

The lace bunched in strategic spots and made it seem like her flesh might be seen right through it if only one could look hard or long enough. She stepped out of the house and into his car believing that anything would be possible tonight. Just a twinge of regret followed her like a wisp of fragrance: she would pay for teasing him.

He brought it up first. In the car, she let the dress ride freely up her long legs. He could have easily reached out with a finger and touched her sex without lifting the hem at all. "If you were intending to tease me, you have done very nicely."

She took this as praise and glowed with the warmth. "I'm glad you like it."

"It was my intention to torment you over dessert, make you come in the restaurant. Now everyone will be watching you closely and that will not be as possible. I will have to come up with something else for you." He said this in the most reasonable tones. It made her shiver.

"Doubtless you were counting on the punishment you'll deserve as well."

This made her insides melt away and she felt them flooding out onto the seat underneath her. Her body was wracked by a shudder as he added: "I don't have a punishment ready for you. I'll have to devise one as we go tonight. We'll see how severe by the reactions you get and elicit." He looked her up and down, then added, "I believe they are going to be constant and severe. I think that you are in for it tonight."

She could have come right then. From his words and the thought of the night that stretched out before her. She knew she was not allowed, though, and felt the frisson run over her spine and leave her wanting. She wondered what would happen if she let herself go. Let the orgasm that was threatening her run its course, take her and give her a bit of relief. She shuddered a deep and full body tremor. His punishments were always memorable. He intended them that way.

Sleep was taking her. She hadn't turned her cheek yet. If she had, she would have seen that little pile of lace and stirred as the smile took her face. It lay there, just at the edge of her vision. A bit further than her nearly closed lashes allowed her to see without shifting.

Besides, once the smile started, there would be others. Thoughts of him. His hands grabbing her. His lips coaxing her. His tongue keeping her alive. His words giving her light in the dark night and fears of deep despair in the midst of her delight. His fingers caressing and flaying her. She would flit from smile to smile until a moan would escape her lips. In the dark. And he would know. And he would rise up and take that from her too. He would leave her with blank emptiness. Dreamless. And with nothing left to give him. Empty of anything more he might deign to take from her.

He'd stripped her bare in the moonlit room. Bound hands before her, nipples puckered as dappled moonbeams spilled across her body. Her punishment. Her just dessert for daring to tease him, trying to tempt him beyond his ability to maintain his composure. He'd told her early and often that he found her beautiful. Exciting, enticing and alluring. He certainly made her feel that way. Desired and seductive. She was willing to take whatever punishment he would enforce upon her to see him need her like that.

There was a sheen to her skin where the perspiration had seeped from her pores and lightly covered her. It made her glow in the shadowy room. She could tell he liked what he was seeing. It was obvious. He undressed casually, watchfully. Making sure that she didn't try anything.

She was already weary from the car and realized that it was like tauromachia. He was toreador and matador. He would worry her, prod her, make her work and panic. He would ply the poor animal with safety, give her places she believed homebase, only to jerk them away from her. At every turn he would trigger the flight or fight reflex, then back away until the adrenalin would taper. Finally, the victim would stand before him, cowed and fatigued. Small injuries making their presence known to her. Aches and throbs, chills and strains. Still willing to fight, but physically unable.

He'd worked her up to this moment throughout the night. He'd brought her along to this in bits and pieces. She'd been that proud animal. The black dress making her feel invincible as a beasts horns might. Flaunting her curves before him and the world. Teasing him and testing. Exploring her limits. Forced, in the end, to the realization that the only limits were his. He would set the bounds and push her far beyond her imagination.

She'd been so bold in the car. When he'd told her he would have to devise a new punishment and scenario for the night, she'd had the temerity to believe it would take him some time to do this. She'd taunted him, "I'm sure you'll come up with something appropriate." She raised her thigh ever so slightly and let the dress slip a fraction of an inch further toward her open flower. She could feel it there, pulsing with anticipation.

She decided to push him. "I did pick out this dress just for you. As soon as I saw it, I knew you'd know just what to do with it."

His face formed a moue of concentration. "It is a distraction I hadn't really counted on. I find that very interesting." He gave her a look she couldn't decipher and turned the car.

His eyes were darting to her legs as he maneuvered the car. She was reveling in the fact that she seemed to have struck him at a loss. The dress giving her advantage, her horns. And oh, she knows just what she will do with this kind of advantage. She adjusted her hips and felt the material slip another fraction closer to her sex.

He pulled the car to a slow stop and turned off the lights. It wasn't the restaurant, she noticed, but hadn't even the time to ask before he grabbed her wrists and pulled her to his lips. The kiss was hard and deep and made her gasp.

When he moved to her ear, her chest was heaving and threatened to rip through the inadequate fabric. She was large and firm at the worst of times, but he was making her puff out everywhere. She felt her buttocks flooded with desire.

His voice in her ear made it worse. One of her wrists was forced above her head, the other to her groin. "You want to show off?" His voice was low and menacing. "Finger your clit. Make yourself come for me. Show me."

He pressed her fingers to her crotch. She was amazed how wet it was. A gasp pushed from her throat. It was so slippery. He forced her fingers open, moved them over her delicate lips and she found them swollen in need. He made her touch her nub and she felt a shudder run through her. She was so ready!

She went after it in a frenzy, though she felt the imminent flowering almost immediately. The thought that he might stop her held her briefly at bay, but his voice sent her crashing over. "I want to feel you cum. This is mine and I want it now."

She felt the spasms start high up in her stomach and spread through her groin. There were waves of heat pushing out before the tremors. Despite her fears, she felt them crest and throw groans from her throat. At the very peak, he grabbed her hand away. She crashed in waves and her first thought was that he had intended to stop her but mistimed it. She had her orgasm anyway. She was almost smug until it hung there. Stunted. Unfulfilling.

He'd let her come and now was putting the car in gear. She was panting with need, her mind reeling. She was suddenly confused and grasping for understanding. "I came." Her voice sounded uncertain to her.

"Yes." He said. "Don't I always make sure you're taken care of?" His voice was bright.

"Yes." In contrast, her voice was subdued. Far from gaining even a modicum of relief, she was edgy and cowed.

"Yes, what?" His voice pressured her to respond.

"Yes. You always take care of me."

"There now. Tonight will be no different simply because you chose to provoke me to punish you." He gave her an indulgent smile and patted her knee.

Where his hand settled, she felt burning and chafing. There was no comfort in her body and she felt completely disheveled. Not at all what she was expecting.

They parked near the back at the restaurant and he kissed her sweetly. She was vague in her response. Not knowing what she wanted now, or what she was thinking of. No longer confident and bullish in her little black dress. She tried to smooth the wrinkles when he pulled back, but he placed his hand over her center. She felt the heat from her opening rising right through his hand. She involuntarily placed her hand on his and felt the scorching. An "Oh" pushed through her lips.

His middle finger slipped inside the furnace and pressured her clit where it met his palm. The pad pushing on her just right and invoking thoughts of relief. She squirmed against his hand.

"I want you to come for me before we go in. I want your hips swinging in that just got some way when we walk. You wanted to show off, well, I like that too."

She felt it building then. She was going to cum. She was shocked at how little time it was taking. He pushed his finger further inside and she wriggled, not knowing if she was trying to get it deeper inside or out more to the lips. She burst. It was sudden and forceful and would have gone on and on if he hadn't yanked his hand from her as soon as she started. She moved to use her own hand, but he held it away. The spasms tailed off far too soon. It was far too little.

She wondered if he knew how incomplete it felt for her. Then decided he surely must. He held her hand a moment longer and made sure she wasn't going to reach down again and got out of the car. He walked around and opened her door. He had to help her out and her knees shook as she stood. Her voice was throaty and low. "I'm not sure if I'll be able to eat."

He smiled. "We're just here to show off." He steered her off to the doors.

By the time they'd walked to the door, she was feeling the aches of coitus interruptus. She suddenly realized how fully she'd come to rely on him taking time with her. He'd always made her come in spectacular fashion. This was giving her a deep ache. She could feel her ovaries throb and walking was an effort barely worth it.

He leaned close, "You're not walking like you've just cum. I like the way you sway your hips so proudly when you just been fucked good."

"I don't know if I can take much more of this. I hurt so bad it feels like I've been being teased for a week."

"Hmmmm." His voice dripped with insincerity. "I thought the whole idea was for you to orgasm. I thought that's what that dress was for."

She opened and closed her mouth several times without response, then decided none was needed. When they came through the doors to the restaurant, the reaction was exactly as she thought it might be. Every man waiting stared, most of the women. The waiters nudged each other as they passed, or found excuse to talk to the hostess. He was told a table would be ten minutes and steered her to the bar.

There, she met more stares, the lone men there (undoubtedly not single) stared until it was beyond indecent. He ignored them all. She couldn't. They were intrusive. He shrugged them off without the slightest bother. Of course, she knew she was his, knew she would do anything for him, but how would these strangers know that? She moved closer to him. He smiled and ordered their drinks. A red wine for him. A Tom Collins for her.

She wrapped her hand around her drink (for some odd reason, it came in a tall glass and she toyed with it, stroking slowly up and back down. Leaving her finger trails in the fog coating.

He smiled at her. "I thought the coyotes were making you nervous."

She smiled back. A glowing smile that lit up the room. "They were. Then I remembered I'm with you."

He smiled again. "Should we just have appetizers and dessert?"

She found it hard to swallow. Nodded. Gulped again. "That sounds wonderful." her voice came out low and sultry. Far more sexy than she believed herself to be. She was feeling invincible all over again.

Every time she chanced a look around the bar, the men were still staring at her. How strange that they would be so blatant and so constant. They were called for a table. Even though they had a pager, the hostess came to get them personally. On the way to the table, she got more attention. This was a little more subdued. She was getting used to it.

The hostess gave her a significant look as she set down the menus. He settled her into the booth first, then slid in next to her. He leaned over and kissed her. A deep kiss with promise spilling over into her lap.

The waiter wasn't long. He took their order, made some suggestions and was disappointed at the refusal. They were having dessert after, he was told, and possibly coffee. The waiter slunk away.

He wanted to talk, but she wasn't sure if she could. The abbreviated orgasms had made her feel as though she had been fucked hard without foreplay. It was a strange and callous feeling. Not one she associated with him at all. This was different in a way that struck a sour note in a favored orchestral piece.

He leaned in close to her ear. "You know you deserve whatever punishment I give don't you? I'm not unreasonable. If a punishment or a reward is more than you are due, then you can tell me."

She felt tears coming and tried to shake them out of her eyes.

"I do like the dress. It's a very nice surprise. And I am going to give you everything you deserve for having the balls to wear it on a night we had something rather ordinary planned. I think you deserve an extraordinary punishment. Don't you?"

Her tears dried to a lust filled smile. "Yes." She husked.

"Good." He smiled broadly and the food arrived.

She picked at the food. He touched her arm, her leg, her hair. Attentive to her and sensitive, he was sweet. The conversation, though, carried on about his views on punishment and reward. He was looking for ideal punishment and reward to create both craving and despair. His goal was for her to eventually find herself unable to differentiate between the two and whether or not she needed either, but knowing she would do anything for both. To start, he said, "It's enough for you to recognize that you will do anything for what I give you. You'll do anything to please me."

She managed a wan "Yes."

Dessert came. And coffee. And the knowledge that the real game had only begun. She found herself already weary and wishing he would just take her in his arms and make gentle love to her all night. At the same time, she found herself aching. Throbbing inside for what he might do to her. She needed all of it.

He stopped on the ride home and she thought he might give her another stunted orgasm, but he just stroked her hair, kissed her, and whispered that she had a long night in store for her. She found herself craving it. And dreading it. And the things he had said earlier about reward and punishment started to make sense, though she wished that they did not.

Just in the door at home, he shoved her against the wood, pressed into her hard, kissing and feeling her. He was driving her wild with frenzy and she wanted him so bad, she would do anything. He pushed her against the door harder, grabbed her wrists and dropped to his knees.