by LadyProf ©
She was drowning. She pushed wildly with her arms and legs, reaching for the life-giving oxygen at the surface, only to find that something bound her, limiting her range of motion. She summoned all her strength to fight, finally pushing through to full consciousness, then sat bolt upright, the blanket which had limited her breathing slipping just enough to allow her to take great ragged gulps of air. Her pulse pounded wildly in her temples and her neck. She struggled to quiet her breathing, looking around her cautiously to determine where she was.
What she noticed first was the quiet, the absolute stillness. No sounds of cars outside or conversation in the next room. Not even the rhythmic tick-tock of a clock. Just stillness.
That and the darkness, inky and heavy, so dark no outlines or shadows were visible at all.
Her legs were snugly but not uncomfortably bound, and her arms were unbound but wrapped tightly in something, perhaps a blanket, which covered her so securely she realized after a few futile tries that she'd never get free on her own. She tensed various parts of her body to see if she could discern any injury, but she felt no pain. No, whoever had bound her this way had done so carefully, with no intent to hurt her. And while she couldn't see even an outline of where she was, she knew instinctively that she was in a pleasant place, for the room smelled of sandalwood, candles, and fresh, clean linens.
"Don't panic, Lera," she told herself. "You'll get free yet."
Moments passed, moments during which she became increasingly aware of her heightened senses and the rapid beat of her heart. Finally, from the next room to her right, she could hear a door open and close firmly, then deliberate footsteps crossed a hard floor, perhaps brick or Spanish tile, then another closer door opened briefly and let in a small bit of light, just enough to detect the tall shape of a cowled man, his face hidden by his costume, his hands concealed by the loose arms of his brown robe. He turned briefly and the door shut firmly behind him, the room returning to total darkness once more.
The man moved toward her deliberately, his steps muffled now by some sort of covering on the floor. She felt him approach, sensed him, rather than heard him, and once more she became aware of the pound of her own blood in her temples. Who is he, she thought frantically, and what does he want with me?
She could sense him beside her and faintly hear his breathing. He hesitated a moment.
"Lera," he whispered, and she started. He knew her name.
"Don't be afraid. I'd never hurt you." His hands reached out tentatively to touch her, to deftly locate and loosen the rope that held her blanket in place from neck to knees. She tensed, preparing to kick out and run as soon as her bonds became loose enough, and as though aware of her thoughts, the man hesitated, then whispered, "Lera, before I can release you, you must promise me something."
"What?" she whispered, startled at the creaky sound of her own voice.
He cupped his hands gently on the sides of her face and said softly, "Listen to my voice very carefully. Do you know me?"
"No," she whispered, her senses straining to detect his identity.
"Listen to my voice," he repeated patiently. "I'm the man who's come to make love to you in your dreams since childhood. I'm the man you've waited for. Listen to my voice, feel my touch, and know me."
Lera listened, as he asked, and felt the energy flow from his fingertips into her warm cheeks. She was conscious of her heartbeat slowing down, the blood seeming to flow more slowly and deliberately through her body. She was conscious, too, of the strange mesmerizing presence of the man who loomed over her. He seemed to be able to see her, into her soul, even in the utter dark of that room.
"You must promise me, Lera, not to run when I untie you. Otherwise I cannot let you go. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispered, nodding her head in the dark, "I promise." She felt no fear of him, only a strange sense of familiarity, but she couldn't recognize him. She only knew that he wouldn't hurt her.
She could sense his brief smile before he continued loosening her bonds, and then she felt the blanket being pulled away from her and she flexed her arms with relief. She was naked beneath the blanket, she discovered, though she had no recollection how she'd gotten that way, and his hands momentarily brushed her breasts, her back, her hip as he carefully removed her ropes. She was very aware of everywhere he touched her. His touch didn't panic her, as a man's touch always had, creating equal parts of desire and fear. No, this man's touch seemed soothing, almost clinical, like the touch of a doctor.
When she was finally completely free she placed her hands on the surface beneath her, discovering that she was lying on cool satin sheets. Even though she was naked, she thought, the man couldn't see her. His touch on her shoulders as he pushed her back to the bed, settling her head comfortably on a soft pillow, seemed so distant.
"You're tired, Lera. You need to sleep. Don't worry--I'll explain all later. You trust me, don't you?"
"Yes," she found herself whispering softly, and her eyes closed. She was, indeed, surprisingly tired. She felt him move her body carefully into the position she liked best, on her side, and then she felt him climb into bed behind her. She wasn't surprised or alarmed by his presence.
"Sleep, Lera," he commanded, and immediately she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, resting against the softness of his robe.
Sometime in the night she must have stirred, for she became aware of his still wakefulness behind her. She was aware that he knew she was awake and that he waited to speak with her.
"Good," he said simply . "Are you rested?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Do you know why you're so tired, Lera?"
"You're tired of fighting your own nature. You're tired of resisting me, of fighting me."
"Yes, I am," she agreed softly. "I don't even know why I felt I had to fight you for so long."
"Because you were afraid, so you always pushed me away."
"Yes, I did," she answered sadly, his voice overwhelming her, filling her with knowledge of herself.
"Tonight, though, all that running is through. Tonight I'll make you feel pleasure such as you've never felt before. Do you want that?"
Lera hesitated, conscious of an urge to resist his hypnotic power. He waited for her answer while she sought to understand the struggle within herself, the desire to yield, to submit at war with the desire to run away from this man and all he represented.
He continued to wait patiently until he felt her head drop forward in surrender and heard her muffled, "Yes, I want that." His hands softly squeezed her shoulders in approval.
"You understand that tonight I become your Master?" he whispered huskily against her ear, and the word "Master" thrilled her.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Yes, Master," he instructed.
"Yes, Master," she obeyed, the word powerful and hypnotic to her.
"You must accept me sight unseen, on faith, then," he told her.
"Why, Master? Are you deformed? Hideous?"
"You must accept me fully, not knowing," he repeated.
"Yes, Master," she obeyed. And he pulled a silk cloth from his robe and fastened it around her eyes, running his fingers along the edges to make sure she couldn't see.
"That's good," he whispered, and he rose from the bed and pulled back the covers from her naked body.
"Lie on your back, Lera," his silky voice instructed, and she did. His hand circled one of her wrists, slipping a silken knotted cord over it and tying it to the headboard, then repeating this procedure unhurriedly with the other wrist and both her ankles. When she was spread-eagled on the bed, conscious of the wash of the heavy night air against her, she heard the strike of a match, smelling the familiar smell of candles, many candles, catching fire all around her. She could sense that the room was now bathed in light, that the man now stood below her, watching her, his eyes on her breasts, her belly. She could feel the weight of his eyes moving down her body, caressing her, causing her thighs to twitch helplessly. She felt a moment of panic, a momentary resistance, a brief desire to ask him to let her go. She strained against her cords, and then relaxed once more. He watched, understanding her struggle, and then began to speak soothingly to her.
"My darling, why do you resist?" he asked softly. "Tell me what you fear."
"I fear you, Master," she told him.
"What do you fear in me, sweet one?"
"I fear you'll hurt me," she said helplessly, and he chided her, "Have I hurt you yet?"
"No," she admitted, and bit her tongue.
"Then what?" he pressed.
"I fear you won't be pleased with me," she blurted, surprised at herself, and he chuckled.
"Oh, sweet one, I'm very pleased with you. I'm pleased by your full breasts," he touched one, pinching the nipple as she gasped, "and I'm pleased by your white belly, your soft hips, your pretty lips," touching each one as he named it. Helplessly, she felt herself grow wet, felt her lips swell with pleasure at his look and touch.
"Nothing to fear there, my darling," he continued. "I'm very pleased with you. What else then do you fear?"
From somewhere deep inside herself, from a place so deep inside she hadn't known it existed, came a voice so raw with desire she barely recognized it as her own. "I fear I'll like what you do to me, like it so much I'll never want you to take it away or stop."
The truth hung between them, naked and raw. He took in a sharp breath, quick with desire, and she felt herself surrender more deeply as she came to understand herself and her own passionate nature.
"Yes," she repeated softly, "I've been afraid of myself, wanting too much."
"And are you afraid now, my darling?" he asked.
"No," she whispered. "Not now."
"Tell me what you want then," he instructed.
"I want to feel pleasure such as I've never known," Lera answered. "I want my pleasure to please you, Master."
"Very good," he told her. "And what else do you want?"
She struggled to put voice to her desires, but shame stained her cheeks.
"I can't," she whispered, and his hands covered her breasts, pinching the nipples harder now until they stood in stiff peaks and she squirmed beneath him.
"Yes, you can, Lera, and you will. I command it and you must obey."
"I want to feel your hands on me and in me," she whispered. His hands followed suit, touching her, filling her.
"And what else?"
"Oh, Master," she whispered, trembling, "I want to taste your cock and feel it fill my mouth."
He rose and she quivered as she heard him rise from the bed, shed his clothes, and then carefully straddle her shoulders as she lay prone, tied tightly. His erect cock grazed her chin and her mouth opened, seeking it. As she felt him slide deep within her mouth, she tasted his pre-cum, and both the man and the woman groaned softly.
He indulged her for a moment by stroking his cock in and out of her mouth a few times and then he pulled back, sitting lightly on her stomach. She was conscious of the weight of his balls on her stomach and her fingers itched to touch them. Even more, though, she was conscious of a need for him to fill her, for her to know his full power.
"What else do you want, sweet one?" he prodded silkily, his voice invading every corner of her soul and turning her will into his.
"Oh, Master," she pleaded, swallowing. "I want your cock inside me, filling me." He gasped in delight and she felt him tremble against her, and then she felt his body slide down hers.
"Tell me what part of me touches you," he whispered.
She jumped and groaned as something wet stroked the lips of her pussy.
"Oh, Master, that's your tongue," she whispered, and he rewarded her with a few more strokes.
"Now what part of me?" he asked, and she felt two fingers plunge inside her, hard and deep.
"Your fingers, Master."
"Is that enough, my tongue and my fingers?"
"No, Master," she whimpered. "No, I want you."
She felt the last vestiges of her own will dissolve completely in her desire for him.
"Oh, please, Master," she whimpered and gasped as she felt him hard at the entrance to her body. She lifted and opened to him and felt herself stretch as he came fully inside her body. When he was as deep as he could go, he held still a moment, and they were both conscious of a tremendous moment of oneness.
In the endless moments that followed, as he came hard and fast inside her body, as he kissed her eyes through the blindfold and bit her breasts lightly and she gloried in her own body and his filling it, she came to recognize her own desire, her womanly nature, and to be at peace with it.
When at last his hot cum burned her thighs and his body lay heavily over hers, still joined, she pleaded, "Oh, Master, let me see your face."
"Do you accept me exactly as I am?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered truthfully. "I love you for who you are and the pleasure you bring me."
He untied the silken cords around her wrists and ankles. He untied the silk mask, kissed her fingers, and placed them on her eyes.
"You have pleased me, sweet one. Take off what blinds you, what prevents you from seeing, for yourself."
Slowly, she removed the mask, a bit fearful of what she would see. She raised her eyes slowly to meet his smiling green ones. He was beautiful, his leonine head proud above her.
"Oh, Master," she whispered brokenly, recognizing him at last.
"Yes," he said simply. "I have come to you many times, in your dreams, but your fear prevented me from coming to you in person."
"I'm so sorry for my fear, Master. I'll never fear you again, only desire you."
Without being asked she moved gracefully from the bed to kneel at his feet, touching her lips lightly to the top of one of his bare feet. He held out his hands to her, palm up, and when she placed hers within them he lifted her to her feet beside him.
"My love," she whispered, trembling with love and desire.
He enfolded her in his strong arms and they slept peacefully together all that night, secure in their knowledge each of the other, confident in their desire, one perfect male, one perfect female.
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