His Ch. 01

HIS - Ch. 01

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Author's note:

This story begins as a poem I previously published on LIT, Becoming His - Pt. 01. It continues here in prose.

To briefly summarize the poem, a woman with unfulfilled needs is mysteriously visited in her bedroom, in the night, by a man she doesn't know. She submits to his dominance as he removes her clothing and then his own. He holds her down and plays her body with hands skilled in touching a woman. Her intense orgasm is euphorically liberating. He only lets her touch his arm. Before leaving he places a collar around her neck, with a gold ring for attaching a leash or chain. There is no conversation.

The story continues one week later.

Ratings and public or private feedback appreciated.

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When her phone 'dinged' with an incoming text, the screen said it was from "Him." It read, "tomorrow night" with an address in the country. "Him" could only be the man who came into her bedroom, pulled back her covers and clothes without asking, and brought her to orgasm with his hands. The most intense orgasm she'd experienced...well, ever. He must have entered the number in her phone as "Him" while she lay dazed, just after.

Her body reacted to the message. She turned liquid. Arousal spread through her veins like the burn of injected narcotic.

She didn't reply, but knew she'd go. Knowing she shouldn't. He told her to come - just like that? Unthinkable. She was an accomplished modern 'woman in full'. She ran an office design company - commandingly. It was a successful business she started herself and turned into a sector leader. On the side - no less - she owned an exclusive gallery. He didn't care about that. He desired her body, to use however he wished. Outrageous.

He wanted her for his base satisfaction. Her. And she felt grateful. Grateful? Part of her was shocked to feel gratitude. Her 'identity' part. But a newly revealed part of her, the part he touched that night, the part that was going this night, felt exquisitely helpless, rolling in powerful surf.

The address was an hour away, near a forested stretch of Lake Superior shore. In the dark she almost missed the end of his private road, only marked by a number. When she finally turned into it, her luxury SUV looked out of place. The road was an overgrown, bumpy two-track gravel trail that twisted for half a mile through the forest. The headlight hi-beams bounced out in front of the vehicle. They swept into the woods on the curves - starting to illuminate the unseen - before swinging back onto the drive. Too narrow to turn around. Too twisty to back out. It delivered her.

At the road's end, the forest opened to an imposing log lodge. Massive logs. The lodge stood on a stone foundation. No other cars were visible. Isolated. Light coming through the windows illuminated the surrounding forest, painting faces on tree trunks. The trees were silent giants watching her.

She felt the collar around her neck - uncharacteristically harsh and somehow soothing in the same moment. It was underneath a sweater much heavier than the temperature required. Still she shivered. Holding the steering wheel, looking straight ahead, she tried to calm herself. When she finally, hesitantly, climbed from the car she saw Him standing in the open doorway, silhouetted by the glow inside. Her eyes fixed on Him as she climbed the stone steps. Her legs seemed unwilling to flee. As if her body carried her to a fate while her mind watched. When she reached Him, He took her hand and led her inside.

Her actions seemed so foreign they numbed her. "What am I doing?" She questioned. She only knew his name from running a search on the address. The property was owned by an LLC but more research showed he was the sole member in the LLC. Gunnar Halvorsen. Once she had the name she researched him. He'd been a business litigator with a national reputation. He built a successful practice with more than twenty prohibitively expensive attorneys. Then, without explanation, He abruptly sold the practice and seemingly dropped off the face of the earth.

The largest law firm in the state was a client of hers so she called the managing partner there to ask about Halvorsen. He confirmed what she'd learned and then hit her with his own questions. "Where's he been? Is he still practicing law? Why'd he disappear, was he travelling? Is he starting a new firm?"

She answered that she didn't know. Said his name just, "happened to come up."

It was beyond shocking to learn the identity of the man who'd suddenly appeared in her bedroom. He'd touched her without permission. Intimately. For Christ Sake, he made her orgasm. It'd been too long since that had happened with any man, and the intensity of it was stunning, but it was wrong? Unreal. It still seemed unbelievable -- yet here she was.

She didn't shrink from any person and came with a myriad of questions that she was going to demand answers to. But somehow, on the long drive her resolve faded. She remembered how it felt when he touched her, made her body respond to him. He was different from any man she'd ever been with. He didn't ask or seek her permission or willingness. He wanted to undress her - and did. He wanted to touch her - and did. She remembered feeling weightless in that moment. As if the concerns that always pressed on her had been lifted. Held as she'd never been. Given to fate.

He led her through the great room with a stone fireplace that reached to the vaulted ceiling. Her gaze wandered to towering windows that faced Lake Superior, unseen in the dark. The music of lake waves played outside. Music played inside. She recognized Weber's Phantom of The Opera, a favorite of hers. The sound seemed to come from the very logs and made her feel more at home. She floated in the music, her movement dreamlike as He led her further.

Her hand felt uncharacteristically small in His. She remembered how His hands felt on her naked body.

He brought her to a room at the end of the lodge. The three outside walls of the room were a series of curtain-less windows with thick vertical logs separating them. The windows reflected images of Him leading her, with impenetrable darkness beyond. Anything could be watching from outside, unseen. A bed stood in the middle of the room. The frame was fashioned from rough-hewn barn wood beams. Securing rings were attached to the heavy beams at each corner, with additional rings high on the headboard and on the footboard. Lamps on bedside tables softly lit the bed. Their stage.

He stepped back to watch her. She was staring at the heavy rings. He could see her face color with growing awareness. He smelled the arousal between the legs of this sophisticated woman. With growing hunger He could almost taste her, from six feet away. He would satisfy himself on her flesh and soul. His primal reality was going to be inside her. But first he had to wait. She had to wait. A growl stirred deep within Him, muted but audible.

Intensely feral sexuality flowed through her in that moment. Breathless. She turned to face Him.

"Show me the collar." He said. His first words since her arrival.

After hesitating briefly, she surprised herself by pulling the sweater over her head. He'd already seen her naked, and fondled her? she'd expected this. Her tits fell free. With her brain a bystander, she just perceptibly pushed her chest out. A small movement, out of character, but perfect in this setting. All of this seemed to involve a different woman than the one who lived her life. she realized that's why she was there.

He smiled softly. Knowing she'd come braless for Him. Tits free. Her nipples against the fabric as she drove provided her an arousing tactile sensation not felt since she was a pubescent teen. A brazen, uncharacteristic freedom making her feel girlish again.

He walked to her. Reached to touch the collar. "So beautiful." He said softly. He slid his index finger through the gold ring at the center of the collar. Tugged sharply. she stumbled but regained her footing. "So...very...beautiful." He said huskily. With his finger still firmly hooked in the ring so she couldn't move her head, He lowered his mouth to her ear. The sound of his breath resonated in her. she felt his heat, smelled His muskiness. From the steady calm of his breath He whispered, "Mine" in a husky, fierce voice.

He leaned back. With his eyes locked on hers, he reached both hands to her breasts. He fondled them. His large hands squeezed softness that matched the softness coming into her eyes. He rolled her nipples in rough fingers. her legs weakened. All of her softened. His hands wandered lower, onto her tremulous tummy, then abruptly shot up - sharply slapping her softest flesh. her tits bounced, she squeaked and her knees almost buckled.

His eyes sparkled. hers widened and came alive. There wasn't a hint of hesitation in them. There was flame. she was wetter between the legs. Yes.

He rolled her nipples in his fingers. Watching her eyes He began pinching. He pinched harder while adding a twist. Harder yet with more twist and a tug until the tug became a biting pull. Without stop. Stretching her tits out obscenely He pinched with all his strength. Not letting up. His forearms bulged with the effort. her eyes watered and rolled back in her head. she disappeared into the sensation of it, into pain. Then He suddenly released her and blood flowed back into her abused tenderness. she moaned aloud on a peak of pain she'd never known. Intoxicating release. Somehow she stayed standing.

He absorbed her reaction, savored it, before tenderly caressing her breasts. He leaned forward and salved her throbbing nipples with His soothing mouth and tongue. The lubricant of lust flowed in her sex. she was female animal - ready for mating.

Oh...but not yet.

After lingering licks on stiffened nipples He looked at her. she refocused her eyes on his, held in his gaze. she whimpered so softly it was barely audible. she whimpered for more. He acknowledged her reaction with a satisfied smile. He was right about her. What she needed. Why He picked her, to be His.

He stepped back and said, "The pants."

she fumbled with the closure in fingers shaky - not with nerves. Shaky with anticipation to show herself to him. she wanted to tear her clothes off and stand naked before Him. she wanted Him to tear her clothes from her body. His to use. she ached to feel his touch, desperately needed to feel her naked flesh please him. she needed Him to take everything she was, and want more.

she pushed her pants down and stepped from them.

"Darling socks." He said, teasing softly. "Take them off," in a stony voice. When she bent to comply he said, "Turn around to do that." she turned her back to him and heard his breath deepen when she bent over. He saw the arousal between her legs, clearly visible through lace panties. Knowing he was staring heightened her arousal. she took her time removing her socks. Bent over like that, she was 'presenting' her sex like a bitch in heat and the pleasure of doing so was exquisitely liberating. Fuck the endless expectations of her life. she was in heat at that point - for Him.

After removing her socks, she stood straight again, with her back to him, facing the windows. He stepped forward and loomed over her in the reflections. she looked small in the images. her body looked small, fragile, compared to the large hand coming around her waist and spreading flat across her stomach. His other hand slid up her chest and over her breasts. It slid to her chin and pushed her head back and to the side. His face came down to her exposed neck and he inhaled the smell of soap and excitement and fear. Intoxicating scents. He kissed her neck.

The hand covering her stomach slid lower as she stood spellbound in the reflected images. she watched not quite believing the images were really her - in this place, at this time. His hand slid down to her mound, and lower. He firmly nudged her legs far enough apart for His large hand to cup her panty covered sex.

He sighed with satisfaction feeling how wet she was. she knew she'd completely soaked her panties but was surprisingly unembarrassed by it. "Such a dirty girl." He said in a hushed raspy voice. His breath was in her ear. she flushed with excitement and need over his words. He massaged her through the fabric. His middle finger pressed wet laciness into her slit. His hands kept her from oozing onto the floor like melting butter.

He pressed His hard heat against her back. His fuck heat. Many times since seeing His cock in the moonlight of her bedroom she wondered if it was really as thick as she remembered. He hadn't let her touch him that night. Now, through his pants it felt thicker. She wondered if He was going to let her wrap her fingers around Him, hold Him and weigh Him. she imagined stroking Him and catching the first drop of pre-cum on her tongue. she wondered if He was going to let her lick Him and take Him into her mouth. "Will He come in my mouth, or on my face? Maybe cover my face with ropes of sticky jizz? Jesus, where are these thoughts coming from?" she wondered.

"Will He make me His, exactly like this? Make me His cock-craving cum hungry slut?"

She was dizzy with her thoughts. Forget her design business, her gallery, the expectations of so many people she knew and faceless people she'd never meet. People who 'knew' her, who all thought they knew her. Forget the shackles of her life. Forget the smothering confinement of being a professional modern woman.

"Will He fuck me like a rutting animal?"

He brought his hand up to her stomach and then lower again, this time inside her panties. she moaned aloud. His middle finger slid over her open hood, grazed her clit and slipped between slick lips to her inner opening. she gasped softly. He penetrated her and curled his long finger to her g-spot. He rubbed her there as her pussy squeezed him in uncontrolled contractions. she was panting. her body was gyrating on His hand. she was fucking him like a hand-whore and quickly losing control. Mindless, heedless.

Suddenly He stopped moving inside her and his other hand tightened on her throat. "Stop." He said. she almost wailed aloud but stopped. Just...barely...in...time. He breathed into her ear, "There's my good girl." she barely kept from moaning aloud. He continued in a gently mocking whisper, "Dirty girl wants so badly to jizz-mess in her pretty panties." she was afraid to beg because she didn't know how He'd react. Where self-pride usually controlled she instead knew she'd crawl if He wanted. He only needed to say so. she yearned for Him to tell her what to do.

Watching their reflection in the glass she realized she was proud. Proud? she was with Him. He chose her over every other woman. And she stopped herself, for Him, when He told her to. she was ready to do anything He wanted. Everything He wanted.

As she watched He brought both hands to her waist and pushed her panties down, but only partway to her knees. The disheveled look was strangely more lewd than if she was naked.

While His hand started playing with her clit, fingers from the other again slid inside her. He possessed her with his hands, inside and out. Rapid fingers again carried her towards orgasm. Racing so fast she knew she couldn't stop again - no matter what - no...matter...what. At the end of every breath she began panting a strained, "please." Over and over as the tempo increased she whispered, "Please...please...please"

He was breathing in her ear. Talking in a whisper. "My good girl begs so beautifully." With His fingers playing her body and her begging pants ongoing, he penetrated her with his voice. His whisper caressed her ear before sliding inside. "But my good girl is such a dirty girl." Then more hoarsely. "Such a dirty girl."

He abruptly stopped moving his fingers - again! she moaned, desperately fighting the urge to scream. her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. The squishy sound of His fingers moving in her slipperiness stopped. Silence. Broken only by her continued begging, "Please...please...please" with every pant and ever louder heartbeat. she wanted to wail and scream and fight for release. she would do anything. Pride and decency no longer held meaning.

She trembled as she stared at her obscene reflection. Transfixed. His mouth was touching her ear. Finally he whispered, "Fuck my hand dirty girl." Instantly his fingers came alive again on her clit and inside. she thrust herself onto his hand, grinding against him, shamelessly fucking his hand, panting and gasping uncontrollably. Taking him inside her. "Come for me now" He growled, and bit her earlobe.

The orgasm tore through her. A lightning bolt from her center. Blinding. A primal scream in place of thunder. Violent jerks almost broke her from His tight grip. The arm still wrapped around her chest kept her from falling. her pussy gripped the finger still inside, desperate to keep it in her slippery mess. Jerk-by-jerk the intensity of her contractions and feral noises lessened. Gradually the sounds coming from her became human again. Her gyrations softened and her breathing went from wild pants to deep breaths. Coming back from an intensity she'd never known. Having tasted a freedom she hadn't dreamed of.

she opened her eyes wondering when she'd closed them. He held her upright on jelly legs. she continued squeezing the finger inside her while ejaculate oozed onto his hand. she'd gotten wet before but never like this. It felt exquisite. He caressed her inside. she squeezed his hand between cum slick thighs to keep it trapped there forever. Their reflection in the windows was mesmerizing. Beautiful euphoria. she drifted in quiet amazement.

~~~

He laid her on His bed after her orgasmed stilled. He removed her panties and gently caressed her. Everywhere. she opened her eyes and saw Him looking at her. her body opened to Him. He saw all of her as none ever had. His gaze touched her. Held her. His face revealed unguarded desire. Desire for everything He saw.

He moved her into a seated position with her back against the headboard. Without speaking, He buckled leather cuffs around each of her wrists. She watched docilely. The cuffs matched her collar. He secured the cuffs to the rings anchored in the wood. her arms stretched straight out. He didn't cuff her legs. she was free to move them. she could close them if she wanted, but she didn't close them. she let them fall further open. Presented so sacrificially she was overwhelmed by nakedness and vulnerability - even before seeing her reflection in the windows. Tits hanging out. Legs open. Available for His use. Enticing slutty display.

He stepped back from the bed and watched her as he took his shirt off. And his undershirt. He was lean, fit the way a person who works outside is fit. Not a health club workout body. More a carpenter's physique or someone who works in the woods. His body matched the setting. He saw her gaze wander below his belt and hold on the bulge in his jeans. He was obviously erect underneath the denim. He stepped closer and watched her eyes as he stroked his shaft once through the fabric. He knew she was remembering His cock from His visit to her room.

Between her legs He saw she was beyond ready.

Oh...but not yet.

He opened a drawer in the bedside table and brought out a riding crop. It was 18" long with a leather flap at the end. He held it in front of her so she could get a good look.

Starting at her right foot he dragged the flap up her leg. Lightly. Slowly. Pausing - to softly tap her thigh with the flap. Then across the angled ridge of her pelvic bone. The leather flap slid over her hip and up the side of her tummy. He curved it around the outside of her breast and continued up to her neck. He softly tapped her neck with the crop before using it to nudge her chin higher. Their gaze joined. He brought his mouth to hers.