Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 03

Chapter Three:
The Bedroom:

Steve pushed the door open. Still holding her two hands tightly in one of his he marched over to the bed with Cathy trailing along behind. He sat on the side of the bed and pulled her close so that she was standing between his legs. He could see she was already terribly excited, her vagina was visibly damp, and her labial lips were puffy. He let go of her hands, Close your eyes and stand still. If I see you with your eyes open I'll spank you."

His tight grip on her hands, though it hurt ever so slightly and she probably could have easily pulled free, had been very arousing. She guessed the compression on her wrists plus the feeling of helplessness was what stirred her up.

He'd just threatened to spank her, and just the threat had a stirring effect. She had only been spanked once before by another man, and she remembered how much she'd liked it. It seemed awful to admit to it now, even if it was just to herself after so many years, but she remembered the hard swats, the tingling on her butt cheeks, the bright red hands marks, the man's tight grip around her waist, and the excitement that followed. It had a powerful emotional impact on her; he'd been in charge, really in charge, she was his, at his mercy, at least that's what she pretended. It was like a fantasy.

It had been her first husband. She'd done something he really hated, and he wanted to punish her. That was the first and only time her first husband ever got her off, but brother it was some first and only time. Of course, imagining to be at some man's mercy, his slave, a hopeless hapless sex toy, was great fun in the mind, but she'd never let it happen in reality, that was stuff for dreams, not the real world.

Steve took his two hands and firmly smoothed down her arms forcing her her hands to her sides, "Don't move, eyes closed."

She dutifully kept her arms down and her eyes shut. He'd taken his hands away. She wondered what would happen next. She found out almost right away. She felt him putting something around her waist. It felt like cloth, but it was firm. It was some kind of waist cincher, maybe a bustier or small corset. She felt what must be small whale bone or plastic stays press in against her torso. He turned her around, and she felt him tightening up the laces in the back. It was a corset of some sort. There were broad strips of silk or something hanging down in the back. He'd finished lacing her up. It wasn't too tight. She was glad of that. She felt him take the two thick pieces of she guessed satin or silk ribbon and tie them off in what must have been a monstrous bow in the back.

She wondered where he'd hidden the thing, must have been under the bed all the time. She hadn't noticed it when she got her pajamas on a few minutes earlier. She still kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to do anything to spoil this. He turned her back around.

Steve got the corset bow tied off in the back. The thing was bright red, and wrapped around her from just above her navel to just below her rib cage. He hoped it wasn't uncomfortable. He wanted something tight around her, but not so tight as to be discomfiting. On each side of the bustier there were soft leather wrist manacles held to the bustier by short lengths of soft thick silk rope. He took her left wrist and buckled the manacle on. He did the same with the right. Now her hands were bound and attached at her waist. Of course she could squirm and wriggle the thing all out whack if she wanted to, but he doubted if she'd try that. After his little preliminary game with the red ribbons tying her hands behind her back, he had a hunch she liked being made to feel helpless. He smiled as he looked up at her closed eyes; she had no idea what he had in store for her in the days to come.

Since the ribbon and his realization she liked being retrained he'd been looking around on the Internet. He saw this one thing where a woman's two hands were held in place by a single device that closed over both wrists and locked them together with one tiny lock. The neatest thing he thought would be to buy it but only use something like a nut and bolt or key chain hoop to hold it together. She'd see it, know she was held by something that any other time she could easily undo, but because of its location she'd know she was trapped. He thought that could be totally cool. He nearly bought it. He would have too, but he wasn't into bondage like she apparently was. Then again maybe he would buy it, fastened her in it, and leave her home to wander around the house all day. That could be fun. He could fasten her hands in front with her palms up. She be able to walk around, but she wouldn't be able to pick up or hold anything. Yeah, he thought, he'd have to buy it.

Cathy felt the wrist bands go on. This was exciting; she was going on a strange and new adventure. She was glad it was Steve. She felt like she knew him well enough not to be afraid. Besides she really loved him. She wanted to do things to please him. If he had a few silly kinks she'd play along. His hands were warm and firm, calloused like a man's hand should be but not hard and coarse like hard work was all he did.

She smelled the coffee on his breath and she could still get a whiff of his cologne, no after shave. He wore some kind of spicy after shave, maybe Old Spice. She thought it was a manly aroma, not sweet and clingy like some of the stuff men could buy.

He had a strong firm body. He wasn't one of those gym freaks, not like those guys who worked out all day pumping iron and then staring at their bodies in mirrors. No he wasn't narcissistic like that, but he was strong and well muscled, not muscle bound. He wasn't some Hulk Hogan. He was more the Liam Neeson type. He wasn't as tall as Liam Neeson, but he was a lot taller than her five foot four. He wasn't as pretty as Neeson either. Steve wasn't handsome, but he had personality and he was sensitive and thoughtful.

Cathy leaned forward, and tried to press against him just a little. She liked the feel of his body against hers. At night in bed his body was like a little furnace, all hot and dry. He had a little tummy, not a big gut, just a little tummy. No his abs were not made of steel, but they were nice and firm.

She liked everything about him, his hazel eyes, his sandy colored hair, the way it always looked like it needed to be combed, his warm friendly smile, his deep resonant voice. She liked the sound of the, 'Now Cathy' he made when he wanted to cajole her about something.

She liked that he paid attention to her, that he listened to everything she said. She liked how he asked questions. He was interested in what she thought. He did lots of things she liked. He held doors, pulled out chairs at the restaurant, walked on the outside on the sidewalk. He liked to guide her by the elbow when they walked around.

His voice was so manly, so masculine, so deep, like a father even. Not that she wanted a father, not her. Some women married men a lot older than they were because they're looking for someone like that, a daddy. She didn't want a daddy. Steve was just right. She was twenty-seven, he was twenty-nine. They could get married, have kids of their own, and help them grow up. She bet he'd be a good dad.

She sighed. He was smoothing up and down the outer parts of her upper thighs with the palms of his hands. He was always touching her, but touching her in ways that were good. Her husbands had been gropers; Steve was a toucher. He didn't paw, he caressed. She cried out in her mind, Steve reach inside. 'Get inside my thighs. You know where I want those hands!'

Steve saw how wet she was getting. He loved it. She was so responsive. He looked up. She still had her eyes closed. He stood up and kissed her. She kissed him back. He thought, so obedient, so responsive, so willing to please. She couldn't be what they'd told him. He turned her around and half walked half pushed her toward the full length mirror on the outer side of the bathroom door. He wanted her to see how she looked. He reached the mirror, "OK, you can open your eyes."

It had been a real test of her personal self control to keep her eyes closed. Now at last she opened them. Again he was standing behind her while they looked in a mirror. He asked, "What do you think?"

She leaned back against him while she looked at herself; hands held at her side, bright red bustier with tiny black buttons holding her waist in place, "Could I see the bow in back?"

He half turned her so she could see.

It was a bright red bow made of the same silk material as the bustier. She wasn't sure exactly how she looked. She liked it. It made her look sexy. It was too bad about her face; if only she were a pretty girl, not some wallflower. She leaned her face against his chest. She looked at him. He looked so big, so strong, so in charge.

She got eye contact through the mirror. He was so handsome. She told him, "Steve, you're so handsome. I want to stay with you. I want to stay with you forever. You don't have to marry me, just let me stay. I'll be your maid like tonight. You want a sex toy? I'll do whatever you want." She meant it too. He was a good man. He was genuine, and he didn't care that she was ugly.

He squeezed her little bit, "That's nice. Now tell me what you think of the way you look."

She pushed her head tightly against his chest, "It's a pretty outfit, a pretty outfit on an ugly girl."

He turned her around, "You know how I feel about that. Words like ugly and pretty. They're verbs not nouns. Right now I think you're gorgeously sexy, but pretty or ugly? Well you have potential."

"Potential?"

Cathy I don't know about you. I like to think I do, but, well, I think the jury's still out. You could be pretty, really beautiful, then again you might be a monster."

She didn't understand that. She'd been careful, she hadn't done anything to cause him to have doubts, "Tell me. What do I have to do to be beautiful for you?"

"Right now? Come with me to bed."

Together they walked over to the bed. He pulled down the bedspread and helped her lie down. He walked around and got in the other side. On his way around he stopped at the foot of the bed. She lay there, helpless, hands at her sides. She was so small. She said she didn't like her eyes, but actually she had pretty eyes. She looked so frail; she had a timid smile on her face. It occurred to him she might be a little bit afraid, like she wasn't completely sure of him, like maybe she was a little afraid he might hurt her. The thought crossed his mind; he could hurt her. He knew he never would. He knew what he wanted to do sometime. He looked at her tiny hands and feet, "You know what I'm going to do one of these days?"

She looked a little alarmed, "I don't know what?"

"I'm going to get some nail polish and do your finger and toe nails."

"You're going to do what?"

"Paint your nails. I think that would be fun." He grinned, "Right now though let's kiss some more."

She wriggled over closer to his side of the bed for a kiss.

He put his left hand around her head. He liked her hair. It was shorter than when she first showed up. The color didn't really matter. He liked brown hair anyway. He thought he'd take a little more off in the morning. He wondered how far she'd let him go with that. He wouldn't cut it all off, but he'd keep going a little at a time, it made her more self conscious every time he took some, it made her a little less sure of herself. It was a way to break her down; like peeling away a little more ego, one small slice at a time. Yeah, he thought, he'd get to the real Cathy. He'd find out. He thought, yeah, if she was really genuine they could be really happy. He leaned forward as he pulled her head closer. They kissed again and again.

Steve wanted to make her happy; he wanted to make her sexual experiences with him memorable. It wasn't so much because she'd been married twice, and had other men beside him; it was because he liked pleasing women, and he especially liked pleasing Cathy. One thing he thought he'd found out; women liked to be kept on the edge of their seat. Sex night after night soon became a mechanical operation; another,ho hum,here we go again. If he could keep her aroused, expectant, uncertain, ready to play all the time by teasing and periods of denial he'd do it. So far with Cathy it had worked like a charm.

Tonight, though they were both tired, he thought he might give her something to enjoy and remember. Of course the key to prolonged joy was to go slow, not so slow they got weary, but slow enough to keep them expectantly waiting.

He climbed over beside her, leaned forward and started kissing her breasts. Since her hands were trapped at her sides, he was pretty much able to cover the whole range of her body. That meant he could cover the whole range of her weakest and most sensitive spots.

He took his left hand and reached down to her Mons, that little mound of flesh from which so much pleasure came. Slowly and carefully he slid his index finger up and down the cleft between her labial lips. Slowly, up and down, up and down, a little further in, a little further out. He kept kissing her breasts, licking around her aureole, and all the while his left index finger kept softly rubbing up and down the chasm between her labial lips. She was getting wetter and wetter.

Steve stopped kissing her breasts and lay down beside her. He started kissing her mouth and around her cheeks. He took his left hand and slipped two fingers inside her vagina. He slipped them in about two inches. He started to raise his fingers and pull them out. He felt her start to raise her herself as he pulled his fingers back. He kept kissing her. He whispered, "I love the way you feel. You're so soft. You're skin is so smooth. You've got the body of a young girl. You're so sweet." He kept whispering endearments.

All the while his two fingers kept pushing and pulling, back and forth inside her vagina. She was getting wetter and wetter. He knew he'd found that special place. He'd found her Grafenberg place, her special spot inside her woman's treasure. He kept working at it. She kept wetting his fingers. She kept rising and falling, pressing against his hand. He pushed a little higher, pulled a little harder, a little faster.

Cathy was under more pressure than she'd ever imagined. He'd found that place inside her. He kept using his fingers to smooth back and forth over her puss. She couldn't move her hands to get him to stop. Oh how she wanted him to stop, and no she didn't want him to stop. She was so excited. She kept arching her back up and out. She kept trying to squeeze her legs together to get his hand off her pussy, his fingers out of her snatch. He was driving her crazy.

She started to murmur, "Oh stop it Steve. This is cruel."

He whispered, "You feel so good. You're so soft, so clean. I love the way you feel."

She kept squirming. She was crying now. Not boohoo crying, but softly weeping, whimpering a little, "Steve oh please. Steve."

He kept kissing her mouth, fondling her vagina. He pulled his fingers out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. He moved his hand back down to her thighs. He started rubbing his thumb back and forth over her clitoris.

This was too much! She couldn't take anymore. She started jumping, trying to get away from his left hand.

He wouldn't let her get away. He used his hand to push down on her so she had lay there. His thumb kept flipping back and forth over her clitoris, while the heel of his hand pressed against the bottom of her puss. .

She felt like she was going to go insane. It didn't feel good any more. It was hurting. No it didn't hurt, it was just too sensitive.

Steve climbed on top of her. He was fully erect. He slowly pressed his organ against her. He moved up and down letting the head of his penis slide along the cleft between her labia. She felt so good. He slid inside her. Deeper and deeper he went. Cathy was a small person. Her vagina was small, narrow inside. His penis wasn't overlarge, but he imagined like most men, that his was a little larger than the norm.

He pushed in as far as he could go. He'd reached the deep end of her uterine cavity. He started to slowly pump in and out. He started slow but began to pick up speed. In and out, in and out. Faster, and faster, Cathy was tight but wet. It was an exhilarating feeling to go all the way in and pull all the way out.

Cathy started to rock back and forth, up and down in time with his motions. She was so excited. His penis completely filled her. He went in so deep. His weight pressed down on her. Her vaginal walls were soaked. She felt like she was peeing. Oh God. She started to bounce up and down in spas-mic uneven waves of intense feeling. She hadn't felt this way since, since, well since the last time she had Steve inside her.

God she wanted to yell out, to scream! She couldn't. Her voice was caught in her throat. She hadn't felt this alive since, since, well Steve.

He hadn't been at it long but he realized he'd been away from it too long. He couldn't hold back another second. He pushed into her as hard and as far as he could. His man meat swooshed into her harder and harder. His juices started to cream out of him. He knew they were pouring into her with terrific force. He was ejaculating at full throttle. They weren't squirts; they were massive waves of semen, three, four, five tumultuous waves of fluid poured out of him.

She felt him get harder than she ever imagined. Then it came! She felt it with her entire body. He was pouring his life's essence into her. God! He was so awesomely powerful. He had so much stuff! It was so hot. It felt like she was being washed away. It rushed into her! She pressed back. She felt like she was ejaculating too. Her pussy was sopping wet. Loaded with his sperm and her fluids.

Cathy was awash in liquid, in sensation, and she knew it, she was awash in this overwhelming feeling of love, love for a man she'd planned on robbing. Sure her vagina and her clitoris were alive, but the sensations of warmth and excitement swept over her whole body. It was like burst of heat and electricity all over.

What a fool she was. He'd robbed her. He'd stolen her heart, He'd consumed her. He'd taken possession of her body. He owned her. He possessed her like a man took a dog, or any animal. She was his animal, his object, his property. She loved him for it. If she just had her hands free she could wrap her arms around him. She'd hold him so tight he'd never be able to get away.

She whispered in his ear, "Oh Steve, Steve! I love you so much!"

They collapsed together. He held her in his arms. She lay there, hands trapped at her sides wishing and praying he would release her so she could hold him, wrap her arms around him. Hug him, kiss him.

She started to cry, really cry. Like a massive adrenaline rush, she needed some emotional release, an escape from the terrifyingly terrific high she'd been on.

He lay on top of her. His manhood was slowly receding. He started to pull out.

She lunged up with her body, "No stay inside. It feels so good.

He pressed back down. He lay on top of her for another two or three moments until he knew he was completely done. He rolled off. Got out of bed. He looked down at her, "Stay there a while. I'll be back in just a moment.

She tried to move. She sat up, hand still trapped at her sides, "Steve!"

He looked back as he started out the bedroom door, "Stay there."

She lay back down, what else could she do. Her hands were too safely tucked away for her to do anything.

As Steve left the bedroom he grabbed his bathrobe. He decided he needed to give the hospice a call. As they'd finished a wave of fear had swept over him. Call it a premonition. He wanted to call and check on things, check on Ginger. He was suddenly very afraid she might not be there in the morning.