Descend to Heaven Ch. 04

"You'll dress for this meeting. Stockings. Not pantyhose, but stockings. With seams, preferably. You'll wear heels, dress heels, and no underthings, no lingerie. I want you naked under your clothes. You may wear a garter belt, but no panties, no bra. I want you to feel your nakedness against the fabric.

"Also, you'll wear office attire. One of your serious, career-girl outfits, like you wear at the bank. Pencil skirt, jacket, blouse. You know what I mean. Do you understand the symbolism here, Arianna? The nice, proper young woman who hides a secret slut underneath?"

"David, I don't know if I can. I don't have stockings or lingerie like that. I—"

I smiled. "You have Friday and Saturday to get some."

"But why—?"

"Why? Because I said so. Because that's the way I want you to present yourself. Do you think this is a game, Arianna? A date? We're not going bowling or to the movies. You'll make yourself up and perfume yourself. You'll shave and wax. You'll wear jewelry and adorn yourself and make yourself as beautiful and desirable as reasonably possible. And then you'll meet me at the bar at Streeter's at eight eighteen PM so I can inspect you and see if you can follow orders."

"Streeter's? Can't I just come over?"

"No. I want you out in public as my secret slut. I want you to feel eyes on you. I want you to see yourself as an object of lust, sitting at that bar in your nylons with no panties. Now, do you have any questions?"

"God! I don't know if I can do that!"

"If you can't do it, then I'll just wish you happy holidays now, Arianna."

"No! Wait! God, this is so embarrassing! Why are you doing this to me? Haven't you done enough?"

I smiled. "No. I haven't. Not nearly enough. But that's going to change. And oh— I almost forgot. You'd best tell your folks that you're staying over at a girl friend's house and bring an overnight bag, because you won't be going home."

In the next couple of days I readied the place for our Saturday night. I had things to put up, objects to mount: chains, hoists, pulleys, contraptions. Though none of my relationships here had crossed into really hardcore BDSM, I'd turned my fascination with erotic restraint into a kind of perverse hobby, making my own equipment and devices to fulfill my fantasies.

I had no real plan or idea of what I'd do with Arianna. It would be dramatic and impressive enough to shatter her last bits of denial, but beyond that I gave no thoughts to specifics. I was still operating under this strange sense of calm and confidence that, for me, was unfamiliar territory when it came to women.

Then on Saturday it occurred to me: This must be what true dominance feels like, this kind of ease and certainty that never doubts itself. And I realized that it must come from Arianna's submission. If my control of Arianna made her more submissive (and it did), then why shouldn't her submission to me make me feel more dominant?

It made perfect sense. We were in a feedback loop of dominance and submission: the more subby she got, the dommier I got, and the dommier I got, the more subby she got. A beautiful and sublime symmetry.

A cold front had come through and a bitter wind whipped in from the north, making people on the street turn up their collars and hold them closed over their faces. Out of the wind like I was, though, it wasn't so bad.

Streeter's is a popular hangout for the young urban professionals who inhabit the high-rises in this part of the city, close to downtown. It's dead during the day, but after work it fills up with suits and ties and business casual, and on the weekend serves as a meat locker, crowded with people on the make looking to hook up.

I showed up twenty minutes late. I wanted to give Arianna time to stew in this environment and let it eat away at her sense of calm and composure. I knew she'd draw attention and be approached, and I wanted her to be hit on and feel a little threatened. It would make her more dependent on me.

It would also arouse my natural jealousy and possessiveness and make me just a little angry, a little possessive. I knew it was completely irrational to hang her out there like bait and then get angry when the fish started to bite, but I knew it would work too, and I wanted that anger. I needed it in order to treat her the way I intended.

I entered the bar and it didn't disappoint. It was shoulder to shoulder near the door, an instant sea of babbling conversation, music, laughter and noise; the humid heat of a hundred bodies in various states of inebriation wearing a hundred different scents and perfumes, the smell of spilled beer and wet wool.

I made my way through to the bar and looked up and down. There she was, sitting near the far end, a knot of men gathered around her like an arbor, mostly talking or shouting to each other, talking around and above her as she sat primly nursing some red cocktail. I could tell she'd slipped into her bank persona: polite, professional, but distant and nervously guarded

I elbowed my way through and approached.

"Hello, Arianna!" I had to practically yell to be heard over the crowd.

"David!" she shouted, then lowered her voice. "Thank God! I thought maybe you weren't coming!"

She looked absolutely stunning. More make-up than she would have worn to the bank, and of a totally different style, smoky and seductive. She'd put her hair up too, something I hadn't mentioned, but something she must have known I found terribly erotic for the way it showed off a lovely and vulnerable neck. She never would have worn it that way on this chilly night without good reason, and I found it deeply gratifying.

The men eyed me resentfully and stood tall to block what they saw as my attempt to poach on their territory, but Arianna lost no time in introducing me.

"Tyler," she called to the young hunk of beefcake nearest me. "This is my friend David. The man I said I was waiting for? David, this is Tyler. He was kind enough to give me his seat so I didn't have to stand. And this is Zach, Owen, and Christopher."

They gave me resentful nods and I ignored them. I managed to worm my way against the bar to her right.

"What time did you get here?" I asked.

"A little after eight. I didn't want to be late."

"Good girl. And you followed my instructions, I see?"

I could see her blush and my pulse began to race.

I raised my hand to get the bar tender's attention but Arianna grabbed my wrist. She leaned close. "Can we just leave now, David? This place makes me very uncomfortable. These men just won't leave me alone!"

I repressed my smile. I leaned forward and whispered: "Let me see what you're wearing."

She half turned on her stool. She was still wearing her heavy coat, but beneath that I could see a dark jacket and pearl-gray blouse; lower, a black skirt and the faint sheen of nylon on her knees.

"My shoes are in my bag," she whispered. "I just couldn't wear them in here."

I nodded.

The bartender approached but I waved her off. "That's okay. We're leaving. Got a plane to catch."

I took Arianna's hand and helped her down. She said some hasty goodbyes and I led her out into the night.

It was especially cold out after the humid heat of the bar, and I waited while she buttoned up her coat and got her mittens and scarf on. I offered her my arm.

"Where'd you park, Arianna?"

"I didn't," she said. "I took a cab."

That was nervy. Taking a cab meant there'd be no easy way for her to leave if things went sour. It was a kind of commitment to spending the whole night, no matter what.

I smiled. "All right. We'll walk. It's only a few blocks."

We set off, Arianna clinging to my arm.

"God, that was horrible back there. Why'd we have to meet there? There are nicer places."

"I didn't want a nicer place. I wanted a place that would make you feel naked and exposed And vulnerable. I wanted you to feel like a sex object."

"Why?"

"Because tonight I want you to feel naked and corrupted and objectified. I want you to feel like my toy and plaything."

"I don't understand. Why would you want that?"

"I know. Everyone says objectification is evil, treating you as a sex object rather than as a person and human being. I'm going to show you that it's not. That it's incredibly liberating and freeing. Your problem is that you're too tangled up with your ego and your image of yourself. You can't feel a thing without worrying about how it makes you look or feel. That's got to go. That's why we're doing this."

She was silent, head down in thought. So I went on.

I led her on a short cut through an alley where the wind was less and we slowed to a stroll, walking past the recycle bins and fences and boxes left in the trash.

"I still don't know if you're insightful or absolutely crazy," she said. "So why am I here with you? Why am I letting you do these things to me? Why do I feel so connected to you?"

We reached the rear entrance to my place. I turned to her and said: "Come inside and I'll show you."

Inside the lights were low and there were candles burning in saucers. I'd cleaned the place, and the chromed and polished-nickel suspension gear that hung from the ceilings and door frames gave the place almost a party atmosphere, or maybe more like the feeling of a cave or cavern, with hanging stalactites.

Arianna looked around her with an expression of wonder and disbelief as I helped her off with her coat. "Oh my God! You're really into this, aren't you? This is kind of scary, David."

"Yes I am into it. And it's supposed to be a little scary. We're going to some scary places."

I hung up our coats and turned to her. "Your shoes, Arianna. Remember?"

"Oh!" She dug into her bag and pulled out her heels and slipped them on, and the change was remarkable. From the beautiful waif in the stocking cap, she turned into the consummate woman of power, tall and regal. But still enchanted by what she saw.

I led her into the living room and put some music on and lit some more candles. "Dance with me," I said.

"Oh David. I don't really know how to dance."

"Then I'll show you. Come here."

She came to me tentatively and I put my arms around her, and as soon as I had her in my embrace I knew I would have my way. I felt the tension leave her body and she clung to me like a child to a parent. I could feel her make herself small and nestle against me in that way women do when they want to be held.

"Now tell me, Arianna. What did you want to see me about? What's so important?"

I already knew what she wanted but I wanted to hear her say it. I was being cruel to her. I intended to be crueler still.

"I wanted to tell you: I'm sorry about those things I said. About us. I was confused and I wasn't thinking clearly, and that was silly of me, and rude. David, this is all new to me and it's kind of overwhelming, and on top of what's happening with my marriage..." Her voice trailed off.

"And so... What? You want to continue seeing me? You want to take up where we left off?"

She laid her head against my chest. "I don't know. I don't know what I want. But I need you in my life. You're the only solid thing I have, the only good thing in all this mess. Everything's crazy. Everything's spinning. And I need you to release me from those things you said. I don't know how you did that, but it worked, and it's consuming me. Please!"

I stopped dancing and stepped back.

"No," I said. "I won't. The game's changed, Arianna, and so have the rules. I'm not letting you get away with this anymore. I'm not letting you ignore it and pretend that butter doesn't melt in your mouth. You're going to own it, Arianna. You're going to stand up and own what you are, because that's the only way I'm going to be able to reach you."

She stood there uncertainly. "I don't understand," she said. "I don't understand what you're talking about. What do you want me to do?"

"You don't know?" I asked. "You really don't know? I've been protecting you, Arianna, playing along with you. But I won't anymore. If you want to go on with me it'll be on my terms, my rules. And it'll be real, Arianna, not make believe."

She looked at me in confusion and opened her mouth to speak, but I stopped her.

"No. Listen to me. You want to know why you want to come back? You want to know how I managed to take control of you like that and keep you from cumming? It's because I know what you want, and you know it. You won't admit it to yourself but your body knows. Your heart knows. You only know it's something you need, but I know what that something is, and I know that deep inside you're desperate to have it."

She looked at me in bewilderment, and that only angered me further. How dense could she be?

I grabbed her arm and pulled on it.

"Get on your knees, Arianna! Down!"

"David! What are you doing?"

"Just do it!"

Her office clothes excited me; her very proper skirt and jacket. She even had a double strand of pearls around her neck. She just looked so bright and wholesome, so pure.

I kept my grip on her and suddenly she acquiesced. She fell to her knees in front of me, as surprised at the strength of my grip as I was, pulling at my hand trying to free herself. As soon as she hit the ground I released her. She looked up at me with resentment but she stayed down, knees spread so the black skirt stretched tight between her thighs.

I burned with an unholy lust and desire, and seemed to be running on some kind of automatic pilot. I opened my pants and pulled out my cock and held it out for her in an almost strange and dreamlike kind of pantomime. She looked up me, eyes angry, then imploring, and finally acquiescent looking past the hardening cock that hung over her face like the sword of fate. I grabbed her head and pulled her towards me and she opened her mouth and took me inside.

She tried to resist. She mmphed and protested and made a show of trying to pull away, but I grabbed a fistful of her hair and thrust it in, and almost immediately she started sucking as if by instinct, as if her mouth hadn't gotten the message to resist and was acting on its own, hungry for my invading hardness. Her tongue came up snug against the underside and massaged me, taking the measure of this carnal invader and trying to draw him in deeper. Her sudden excitement surprised me, and I relaxed my grip on her hair and took her head in both hands to hold and guide her. She dug her nails into my thighs, trying to maintain some distance, but her mouth was dirty little cock-sucker.

"Oh yes, baby. Good girl..." I caressed her hair as she fell to her work, bobbing and twisting her head to maximize my pleasure. "Tell me this isn't what you want. Tell me you're not this kind of girl."

Arianna only moaned and gave no sign of relinquishing my prick. She'd immediately sucked me to full hardness and had fallen into an oral trance, eyes half-closed, tongue working, moaning in her throat.

"Take off your jacket," I said. "And open your blouse. I want to feel your tits against my legs."

A little squeal of salacious excitement and she peeled off her jacket. I held her hair and pumped my cock into her mouth as she started working on the buttons of her blouse, but before she could get it open a thick strand of saliva dripped from her lip and fell on it, right over her left breast.

"Mmm... ´I looked down on her, kneeling there and slavishly sucking my cock. Her blouse was open now, but still fastened at the sleeves, and I saw the silken fabric swaying and felt the soft weight of her tits slapped against my thighs as she bobbed her head. It was both terribly degrading and insanely arousing at the same time.

What is it about seeing a woman in a business outfit that so excites me? It's shameful, I know. Sexist. It's about seeing her in her power clothes, but reduced to her slutty, sexual essence.

How quickly she'd taken to playing the sub, falling to her knees and opening her mouth, opening her blouse at my command. All the way back to following my orders about masturbation and how to dress for this meeting. She'd done everything I'd said, even seemed to relish it. Just like she relished me forcing her into this cock-sucking.

"Ohhh yes, baby. Yes. That's a good girl. Just like that."

I still had one hand in her hair, which was starting to fall out of its updo and trail around her face, making her look even more demented and dissolute. "I'm going to make you my slut, Arianna, and we'll see if this is what you really want. I'm going to make you my whore and my sex toy for tonight and that's all we're going to think about. I'm going to take everything I want from you, and we'll see if you can really handle it and if this is what you really want. Because that's the only way this is going to work between us, Arianna. Complete surrender."

She moaned as my words hit home, and her sucking got even more intense and abject as she tried to open her throat and fuck herself on my cock. Her need to be penetrated and used excited me tremendously, and seeing her grovel and debase herself drove me to the point where I thought I might lose it myself, so I grabbed her arm pulled her quickly to her feet before I was too far gone to stop. I couldn't afford to lose control right now.

I had to hold her up as she swayed a little, dizzy and disoriented and drunk with cock. Her blouse was open but still concealing the mass of her tits, and with her skirt hiked up and hazy, sensual look in her eyes, she looked incredibly sexy and dissolute, ready for anything I wanted to do to her.

And that's what I wanted to see. I wanted to see that being used like this and ravaged turned her on and made her hot. That's the thing: a sub has to love it even in spite of herself, even if her higher self is telling her, no, no, you're not like this, you don't respond to this. Even then you've got to connect with that other part of her, the part that needs this violent passion. You've got to connect with that part and bring it out where she can see it and feel it and no longer deny it.

"Come here!" I led her unsteadily over to the hoist by the space heater.

I'd put ropes and toys in various places around the room, but always close to a rig, one of the hoists or pulley systems I'd hung from the ceiling: suspension rigs. I led her to the rope hoist I'd hung up by the space heater, one of my favorites, because I'd fitted it to a trailer winch, a crank and gear affair that was not only sturdy, but made a satisfying and dramatic ratcheting sound as the handle was turned and the hook began to rise: the sound of the inevitable.

Arianna stood as if entranced as I buckled the cuffs around her wrists, making no move to resist or try to stop me. She wasn't stupid, and she had to know what the cuffs meant, but she was entirely willing in her passive way. She was ready.

I attached the cuffs together with a carabiner and clipped the carabiner to the snatch hook on the business end of the hoist. I stepped to the winch attached to the wall behind her and put my hand on the crank.

"This satyr welcomes you to his den, Arianna. Instruction's about to begin. Welcome to your first day of school, darling."

I turned the crank and the ropes on the hoist began to tighten. She gave as little squeal of alarm, even though she must have known damned well what was going to happen. Her hands lifted slowly, from waist level to chest, then to her face, then higher, higher, up over her head. The ratchet clicked ominously and Arianna's arms straightened and strained and started to feel the tension. She cried out when the tension got so great that her shoes began to lose purchase on the floor.

At that point I stopped and backed it off enough that she'd have solid footing, but still tight enough that she'd feel stretched and helpless. I came around in front of her.