Descend to Heaven

For a time we just sat like that, almost mesmerized, both of us lost in this moment. And then she gave a little shiver and tried to pull her hand back.

"Oh wow, Orrin. Really..."

I didn't let go. I lifted her hand to my lips and gently kissed her palm and she gasped but didn't pull back. Her eyes were wide, watching me, and I opened my mouth and bit her softly, a soft bite, right on the palm of her hand.

She wasn't prepared for that and in an instant I felt her just start to dissolve, her muscles going loose and slack. She looked at me in astonishment and slowly fell back against the sofa, her eyes glued to me and what I was doing to her hand. I didn't have to look to know she was covered with goose bumps.

"Oh, Orrin! I think you should stop. I think that's enough—"

But I wasn't listening. I scooted over to the sofa next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. I still held her hand, but not like a little bird anymore. I held it captive and I used my body to press her back into the sofa. Ana complied. She seemed powerless to stop me from doing with her what I wanted, and what I wanted was to kiss her.

Her head fell back. Her lips parted, her eyes closed, and in that gesture I felt the power of her surrender, that devastating feeling of a woman's surrender. My lips came down on hers as if she were a drinking fountain and I was there to slake my thirst. She was passive and unmoving, but warm, generous, and inviting. There was nothing hard in my kiss; nothing greedy or demanding or forceful; nothing even especially sexual. Her lips were there and ready to be kissed, and as I'd suspected, Ana was a woman who was born to give, to be taken, to be enjoyed and used.

For such a woman, her husband's rejection must have been devastating, but now I knew she took some redemption from my kiss. The real Ana bubbled slowly to the surface as if awakening from a long slumber, like a sleeping beauty. I could feel the thaw come over her, the cruel shards of ice dissolving in the heat of that kiss, and running down her body like warm water.

I got to my feet and turned, never breaking the kiss, stood and bent over her. I gripped her upper arms in my hands and pressed her back into the sofa to hold her as the kiss deepened. Ana mewled softly and helplessly, but when I released her arms, her hand came up around me to the back of my neck, where her fingers slid into my hair to pull me to her. Her body, soft now and no longer knotted with anguish, arched up to me, offering itself, and I couldn't keep from capturing one of those heavy, meaty breast as it almost pushed itself into my hand, demanding to be taken.

It was like being in a rocket, going from a standing start on the launch pad and blasting into a starry space of pure want and lust. The emotional acceleration made me dizzy, the release of all these repressed hungers poured out of her like a tidal wave, to be met by a flood of my own raging hormones filling me with desire. Ana withstood the raging flood with only a moan deep in her throat, but her body was under no such inhibitions and reacted on its own, her leg coming up and closing over my ass, pulling me down so that I fell on top of her. I heard her gasp in disbelief at her body's own wanton behavior.

This surge of incredible heat caught us both by surprise, and when I pulled back to take a breath, Ana worked her arms in front of her and crossed them protectively over her breasts.

"No, Orrin, no! We can't! Please! I'm not ready. I can't do this. I'm really just not ready."

I backed off and in that moment she scrambled to her feet mumbling some apology, confused and disoriented. She quickly grabbed her coat from a chair and picked up her bag and headed for the door, struggling to get her coat on as she went.

"I'm sorry, Orrin. Really. I shouldn't have come over and bothered you. It was my fault. I thought maybe I was ready but I'm not. I can't. I'm sorry."

I sat there stunned, as confused by this sudden rush of passion as I was about her leaving. It was like a dream.

But then I got up. I knew what I'd felt. I knew what she'd told me in that kiss, in the way she'd urged her body against me. I knew I wasn't the only one on fire, the only one who felt close to meltdown.

I strode to the door and caught her while she was still trying to get her other arm into her coat. I reached around and slammed the door shut and Ana turned to me, her hand still tangled in her coat. A red heat clouded my sight and I could smell her scent, hot and rich and female, the scent of sachet and lingerie drawers and perfume, soft and sweet and giving. I loomed over her and she looked at me with confused pleading in her eyes, yes and the no all muddled up together; fear and hunger, defense and surrender. I grabbed her ass and pulled her against me. I kissed her again.

Let her moan and protest, it didn't matter. My kiss was on her and her mouth fell open to it and her nostrils flared, and despite her twisting and writhing and trying to escape, her hand was caught in her coat sleeve and she was helpless to defend herself. She was like a treasure chest broken open, all her gold and jewels tumbling out. I pressed her shoulders back against the door and leaned on her and only broke that kiss so I could taste her throat.

"Oh no, Orrin! No!" she whined, but her voice was becoming weaker and breathier, her protests less sure. With her shoulders back her breasts protruded even more, as if begging for my touch.

I let go of her shoulders and took both her tits in my hands with no reservation now. I pressed my knee up between her legs almost lifting her off the floor. And there she hung, pinned between my kiss and the hard, unyielding door.

I'm not a rapist. I'm not a molester. But what I was doing had to be done. There was an inevitability about it I couldn't resist—the stars, the planets, some kind of arrangement I couldn't fathom. I held her there and ravaged her till all her resistance faded and she gave in to what I wanted. She pulled her hand from her coat and the coat dangled limply from one arm as she put her hands around my neck and pulled herself up to my mouth in a fever of desire.

When Ana gave in, she gave in totally, and all her passion spilled out as I knew it would. She became frantic for me.

I felt her teeth in her kiss, her darting tongue, her moans and gasps sucking me into her. Ana drew me to herself in just that way. Her need to be taken was something palpable and real, like a feminine sexual vacuum that my body rushed in to fill. And I reacted. I pushed her sweater up, lifting it up till her tits were exposed, insanely seductive in a brief and shadowy, black lace bra of the sort I'd never have imagined she owned. Her nipples were brown and lush behind the lace, and in her eyes I saw panic.

And then she grabbed me. As if I was the only one who could save her from what she was feeling, she threw her arms around me, her coat still hanging from one sleeve.

Mouth to mouth, writhing together against the door, pulling at clothes, hands and lips seeking bare flesh, an avalanche of raw emotion.

"Orrin, Orrin, Orrin!" she chanted, as if we were being torn apart when we hadn't even been together yet. She inflamed me to the point where I did something I thought I'd never do in my life. I picked her up bodily in the old bridegroom's carry, and I took her into the bedroom.

I dropped her on the bed and got on top of her. Buttons popped, zippers came down as we pulled off our clothes. I didn't want to give her even a second to think or reconsider, but even so it occurred to me as we fought to get undressed that she'd come to seduce or be seduced. The lacy black bra was part of a set and hardly the kind of thing she'd have bought to wear to work.

But I didn't even bother with her bra. I no sooner stripped her bare below the waist than I rolled on top of her and her thighs opened in a lewd and impulsive welcome. The feverish kissing never stopped, the grabbing and clutching, and then I was in her, being sucked into that wet and hungry pussy as much as I pushed my way in. Ana planted her feet on the mattress and pushed back. As body met body and she had the all of me, she tore her mouth from mine enough to emit a fierce, sharp cry of pain and triumph and surrender. For a second her legs stretched out and trembled, then closed around me convulsively, locking us together, and Ana wrapped herself around me.

It had all been pre-ordained, from that first day in the bank to this moment right here, right now, we'd been tangled together, victims of the stars or Cupid's arrows; the fates, the strange synchronicities that guide our lives. There was no doubt in the way we fit, the way she molded to me and the way we worked together seeking the same thing, obliteration in each other's bodies. She'd been drowning in sadness and needed rescue, and I was hardly any different. We were there to save each other.

I got an arm under her leg and levered it up so her knee was over her chest, splitting her open so I could reach deeper, and Ana took my face in her hands and looked into my eyes. I could see her pleasure and compliance, and something new: a wicked gleam that enjoyed this rough usage. She was split wide and stretched for me and totally violated, but she wanted it.

"Yes! Go ahead, do it!" she whispered. "Harder!"

I began fucking her so hard the bed shook, and with that the chains clanked against the headboard and briefly drew her eyes. She looked at the chains and then back at me in surprise, and then the surprise faded into a deep, submissive, bottomless look. She raised her arms above her head and gripped the headboard and her mouth went slack and her eyes closed. She was coming, in an amazingly short time and with amazing force, her body tense and then limp as a rag doll, spasms in her vagina, legs twitching.

I stopped, I slowed. Instinctively I grabbed for her wrists and held them down as if she might get away, as if she had the strength.

She turned her head and looked at my hand holding her wrist, then closed her eyes and sank into languorous acceptance, as if there was nothing more she could do.

Now it was my turn to enjoy her with slow, shuddering strokes, torturing us both with that delicious agony. I felt all her most intimate places, all her secrets and desires, all the places her unsuspecting husband had known and failed to appreciate.

I was so excited and so into it that it took a moment for the import of what had happened with the chains and her wrists to sink in, and when it did I almost lost it right there.

As obsessed with her as I'd been, I'd never had detailed sexual fantasies of her. I'd never stopped and imagined what she'd be like as a lover, other than knowing she'd be anything but unresponsive. But now it all clicked into place: just who she was and why there was this powerful attraction; why she didn't respond fully to her husband, why she was filled with such conflict and doubt.

I took her wrists again and held them tight against the bed. I levered my upper body up and looked down at her. Her lips were parted and strands of her disheveled hair were in her face, giving that angelic face a look of wanton sensuality. She was red with the flush of sexual excitement, but her eyes were open and looking at me with a mixture of fear and desire; a dark, glowing amalgam of Yes and No.

I knew that look. The secret submissive. I'd known it. She wanted what she would never dare ask for, from a part of her she would never even acknowledge: hot, needy, passionate, even slutty: the secret sub, the hidden sexual slave, on fire to be taken with all the violence of naked male desire; plundered, fucked, used.

And in her eyes now I saw that she knew I knew. She'd been found out, and she turned her face in denial, trying to hide it in the pillow, trying to hide the shame of her pleasure, but the magical power of her submission burst over me in a hurricane of lust and I couldn't hold myself back.

I know submissives. I know what it's like to find a woman who lives to give herself and open her body and heart and absorb all your wild violence and savage passion, whose pleasure is always mixed with a bit of pain and the ache of surrender. But to find one like Ana, who didn't yet even know what she was, who was ripe for discovery and exploration and development and teaching, was a treasure beyond price.

I looked down at her as she cowered there beneath me.

"I don't think we have to worry about your responsiveness," I said.

"Oh, Orrin! Orrin, please!"

She took my thrusts with a series of little grunts and excited mewls, and I fucked her like I know she'd never been fucked in her life, my pubic bone grinding against her labia, my weight on her, her wrists twisting helplessly in my fists as she tested the degree of her own captivity.

She brought it out in me. She pulled it from me. She milked me with her own greedy little banker's pussy, her neat vice-president's cunt, and I watched her fall into her own writhing, slutty ecstasy, cumming again and yet again, this last time clinging to be and sobbing as that hungry little quim enveloped my ejaculating cock and squeezed me like a mother cuddling her dearest child.

The cum just poured out of me, fierce jets splashing hard and deep, followed by a ball-draining stream of hot semen that poured into her and left me weak and spent. Ana just hung from me like a baby marsupial, legs and arms around me holding herself off the bed, her mouth open and pressed against my shoulder to stifle her screams.

We finally ground to a halt, both drenched in sweat, and she slipped from my body and fell back into the bed, gasping for air. I rolled off her and quickly took her in my arms and pulled her to me. I didn't intend for her to get away in any way, shape, or form, and she was too weak to resist.

Now that it was over, she seemed so frail; her arms so thin compared to mine, and compared to the fullness of her breasts; her features so fine, even in that look of sensual fulfillment and abandon.

"Oh my God, Orrin! Oh my God!"

"Shhh, baby. I've got you now. I've got you."

"What did you do to me? How did you do that? I've never... "

"Don't talk, angel. You don't have to talk. I think we just said it all." I held her closer. I could feel her heart thumping against my chest. "It was nothing. It was everything, wasn't it? We connected. That's what happens when you connect. When you both know."

She pulled back and looked at me, her eyes searching my face. "When you know? What does that mean? When you know what?..."

There was no way I could tell her what I knew. There was no way I could tell her she was a submissive, in bed at least.

And It's just not that simple. One's not a dom or sub like they're a boy or girl, or banker or sports fan. "Submissive" is just a crude way of describing what they want to feel in bed, and even then each sub's desires are different, and may not be the same from time to time. It's a label, and like all labels, doesn't come close to telling the whole story.

Plus, it can be threatening to someone in denial. The word conjures up images of weakness, low self- esteem, servitude, humiliation, degradation. So there was a reason why Ana repressed those feelings. And at this point, how could I be so sure?

"I meant that we know each other, that we're connected that way. We communicate, empathize."

But her face had closed up.

She brushed her hair out of her face and slid out of bed, keeping her back to me..

"It's late," she said. "I really have to go."

"Ana—"

"No, really. I have work in the morning."

"Ana, don't go. I didn't mean anything..."

She stepped into her panties and pulled on her jeans, got her bra on and then sat on the bed while she pulled on her boots.

She stood up. "I like your chains," she said drily. "Do they get a lot of use?"

"Baby—"

But she picked up her coat from the floor and took her bag, and marched to the door. My place is small enough that I could see her pause there from bed, her hand on the door knob.

"I'm sorry, Orrin. I really have to go. It's like I said: I just don't think I'm ready for this. I—"

And she opened the door and walked out.

-To Be Continued-