Mackenzie

"You don't touch me. I touch you. Keep your hands at your sides for now, and close your eyes."

She looked at him questioningly, and when there was no response, she closed her eyes. She heard a gentle rustle of fabric, and then felt a blindfold go across her eyes. She felt him move behind her and then felt his hands fasten the blindfold. She felt his hand slide up the back of her neck. He took a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. Hard and firm, but not painful. Surprised, she caught her breath with a hitch and nearly gasped.

"Your hands must stay at your sides until I tell you otherwise."

Hard tone in his voice, but no anger. Her thoughts were swirling in her head. He was close enough for her to smell him. Crisp and clean, like laundry that had been drying in the sun. He had hardly touched her, and still, she could feel that she was soaking wet between her legs. Her pulse was racing, and the butterflies, having grown tired of the tango, had moved on to Sumo wrestling.

The elevator announced the arrival at their floor with a muted chime and a surge of deceleration that pissed off the butterflies. Mackenzie could hear the doors open. Without taking his hand from her hair, he propelled her into the hallway. Walking to the room, he stopped in front of the door and took her right hand in his.

"You know the name of our hotel. Now, I want you to use your hand and tell me the room number. He guided her hand to the door, placing it on the numbers. It took her a moment to orient her thoughts and coordinate her sensations, but she finally said,

"Four Sixteen?

"Yes."

She heard the sliding hiss of the plastic key card, and heard the metallic click of the lock mechanism. Inside, the room was surprisingly warm. Again, she smelled something like clean linens, fresh from the clothesline. Also, the sharp tang of citrus. Limes? The door closed behind her. He heard him turn the deadbolt and set the upper sliding lock. She felt him press something cool and hard into her hand. Her telephone, she thought.

"Use your memory and your fingers to call your friend to tell her where you are, and let her know that you are OK. For planning purposes, you will be able to go home no later than two o'clock in the morning, as if you were out partying at a nightclub."

As she started feeling the keypad of her phone, she heard him move into the bathroom and shake out some towels.

When she hung up the phone, he took it from her.

She could feel him move close to her again. She almost gasped again when he felt his hands slide down her legs. She wondered if he could tell how much her body was trembling. He gently removed her shoes. Again, she felt his hands on her legs again, this time sliding all the way up her legs. They brushed very quickly over her mound, circling her waist. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of her panties and slid them down to where she could step out of them. Now, he was standing behind her, once again sliding his hands under the little black dress she was wearing. His motions were in no way hurried. His hands felt sure and confident. As his hands passed her hips, they circled around to the front. She felt his foot between hers, urging her to spread her legs. His hand soon left no doubt in anyone's mind her state of arousal. His hand cupped her pubis and rested there. After a moment, she could feel him begin to squeeze her with his hand. The pressure began to build, nearly buckling Mackenzie's knees. God, his hands were strong! He also began slowly flexing his fingers, creating a rippling sensation she hadn't felt before. Suddenly, and too soon, the pressure was off. His hands came out from under her dress. The citrus/linen smell was replaced by an earthy, musky smell she knew was her own.

"Breathe deep. Smell yourself. Smell your power."

She inhaled deeply, the blindfold enabling her to detect nuances in her own juices she had never noticed before. Now his hands were at the nape of her neck, unfastening her dress. It slid to the floor with a whisper. She really wanted to turn around and pull him into a deep, hungry kiss, but the memory of his hand in her hair kept her urge in check. With a single, deft flick, the clasp on her brassiere was undone. She felt him take it off of her body, and heard it join her dress on the floor.

There was a pause, and then a sensation on her shoulders she couldn't identify right away. It was a lotion of some kind, and it was very warm, almost hot. She had expected him to touch her nipples next. They were erect, and she thought they could really use some attention. Instead, he began massaging her shoulders where her bra had been. Across her back, over her shoulders, and under her breasts, never touching her nipples. While a bit miffed that he wasn't using his lips and tongue to suck the ache out of her nipples, the rubdown was exquisite.

Taking her by the arm, he led her into the bathroom. There were two shocking steps on cold tile, then the warmth of the deep mat. He turned the water on and adjusted the temperature.

"Undress me." He commanded.

She started by unbuckling his belt. Soon, his pants and shirt had joined the heap of clothes by the door. She knelt to pull down his underwear. Once they passed his hips, his cock sprang up, catching her on the cheek. She moved to take it into her mouth, but his hand was back in her hair, pulling her head back. She whimpered, partly from surprise and pain, partly from disappointment.

"Not unless I say so."

He guided her into the shower, careful to support her balance as she stepped over the edge of the tub. The water was nearly too hot to stand, but she adjusted to it after a moment. She felt him begin to wash her body. Long, smooth strokes up and down, breasts to belly to knees; almost like a massage. The soap smelled like lemons, and his hands felt incredibly strong. Part shower, part massage, time seemed to slow down. The hypnotic sound of the water and the heat were forcing her to relax.

After rinsing off the soap, he turned her around to face the stream of water from the shower head. He took both of her hands and put them on the wall in front of her. She was farther away from the shower head than she realized, and had to lean forward to reach the wall. He lifted one of her legs and placed it on the side of the tub. Now, he washed her back. He had soaped up a washcloth, and the coarseness of the cotton stimulated her skin. Up and down her back, her buttocks, and down her thighs, again to her feet. He rinsed the washcloth and she felt his hands again, in the valley between her cheeks, slick and soapy, his hands caressed her. She felt the heat rising in her body again. She yearned to have him inside of her right then. She felt his hand on her anus, and a finger was making tiny massaging circles. He slipped a finger inside of her and started making a slow fucking motion with his finger. The sensation was incredible. It felt like there was a direct three-way connection between her ass, belly and adrenal gland. A moan escaped her mouth. His finger retreated, and she felt the pang of disappointment again. God that felt good! More!

"Now, I'm going to wash your hair."

She heard him squeeze shampoo into her hand, and smelled coconuts. He stepped behind her, and instead of feeling his hands washing her hair, she felt the head of his cock teasing at the entrance of her pussy!. He entered her, and began thrusting with excruciatingly slow strokes. His cock felt hard inside of her, with that curious combination of hard and soft that she loved so much about a man's cock. She wanted so badly to speed up and take herself over the top, but he wouldn't let her. Instead, without missing a beat, he started washing her hair. She couldn't believe the sensations she was feeling. Strong, sure hands gently washing her hair, and a hard cock thrusting in and out of her. She lost herself in the sensation, feeling the slow buildup. She ached to speed up, as close as she was to orgasm. He could feel her body begin to tighten and stopped thrusting. He was buried deep inside of her and she wanted to rock her hips, scream, anything to tear the explosion out of herself, but he held her firmly, and wouldn't let her move. Gradually, he withdrew, his penis leaving an ache she wanted so badly to fulfill. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, and she was shaking. He finished washing her hair, and then rinsed it.

Again, he turned her around. Her chest was heaving, with a bright red blush above her breasts. Her nipples were fully erect and swollen. He took one into his mouth, biting and sucking at the same time. It was like plucking a guitar string that stretched from her nipple to her loins. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. Her orgasm crested, and then crested again when he switched to the other nipple.

He gave her a moment to relax under the pressure of the water. Gradually, the shaking stopped and her breathing returned to normal. The combined hypnosis of the water and heat brought her back from the edge. Again, he took one of her legs and rested it on the edge of the tub. She felt his hand on her mound, and with it, a strange cool sensation. He started making slow, deliberate circles with his hand, and stopped. The feeling of his hand was replaced by a small, rasping tug. He was shaving her! The cool sensation must have been shaving cream, she decided. He worked slowly, and very gently. Periodically, he would pull one of the lips of her labia to one side or the other. Never hurried, never rushing. Soon enough, the shaving stopped. The feel of the razor was replaced by what she knew immediately was his mouth. He teased her expertly, flicking his tongue one moment, then sliding it up and down her clit with enormous pressure. She could feel the buildup again, as her respiration and pulse increased. When he sensed her starting to wind up, he stopped. This time putting her leg down.

"Wash me."

"I can't see."

"Learn."

Mackenzie awkwardly fumbled around him, feeling for the soap and feeling frustrated with a tremendous urge to impale herself on him again and again. Finding the soap, she started washing his body. Strong muscles moved under his skin as her hands explored what she could not see. He had hair on his chest, but none on his back, and none on his ass. His ass was big, but firm, and his legs felt like tree trunks, strong and powerful. Tentatively, she reached around the front of him; she wanted to feel his cock. When she grasped it, it was as hard as any she'd felt.

"Clean, don't play."

Embarrassed, she carefully soaped his cock, and gently cleaned his balls. She was surprised that he kept himself trimmed closely. She slid her hand further back, between his ass cheeks, wondering if she should return the surprise. It was almost as if he could read her thoughts.

"Don't. It's not my turn."

Disappointed, she finished soaping him, and started fumbling around for the shampoo to wash his hair. When she turned back to him, he was on his knees, his face even with her breasts. As she washed his hair, he began playing with her nipples, alternately biting, flicking, and pinching them. It was all she could do to finish his hair. Her knees threatened to fail her again, and the damn butterflies were awake and doing calisthenics. Finally, she finished, and he stood up and turned the water off.

He dried her off with a soft, warm towel, and helped her into a terrycloth robe. He guided her into a chair.

"Here's a hair dryer and a brush. Dry your hair and brush your teeth. Your toothbrush and toothpaste are to the right of the sink."

He heard the water run and the sound of him vigorously brushing his teeth as she started the dryer. Alone with her thoughts, she spent the time wondering what was next.

"Come here."

Mackenzie put her toothbrush down and let him lead her into the bedroom. He took off her robe, and sat her down in a chair. It was smallish and straight-backed, but had a surprisingly comfortable cushion.

"Put your hands in your lap."

She heard the sounds of a suitcase being opened and rummaged through. She heard a number of sounds she couldn't identify. She heard the rasp of what she though was a lighter, and the citrus/linen smell got stronger. After a moment, she heard his voice close by.

"Put your foot out."

She did, and felt him wrap something around her ankle. He set her foot down and did the same to the other. He spread her ankles apart, and fiddled with whatever he had done. She felt him wrap something around each of her knees, and then found her knees spreading apart. He must have tied them, somehow. She was getting excited again, and a little nervous. Next, he tied one of her hands to the strap on her knee. Stepping behind her, he finished by putting a strap just under her breasts, forcing her to the back of the chair. She was totally immobile now, and naked. Nervousness was winning over excitement, but it was a close race. Suddenly, he took off her blindfold. She expected the room light to dazzle her, but the only light came from some candles on the dresser. He was wearing a bathrobe. The clock by the bed announced that it was only nine thirty. He took a matching chair and sat down in it directly in front of her.

"Do you feel any acute discomfort or numbness? A simple nod of your head will do."

Mackenzie shook her no. Although the straps were tight and restrictive, they weren't so tight that they would affect her circulation. He's done this before, she thought to herself.

"The reason your blindfold is off is because I want you to be able to see yourself, and I want you to be able to look at me."

He stood up and walked behind her. When he came back into view, he had a full-length freestanding dressing mirror that he placed directly in front of her.

Her face flushed with embarrassment. She didn't want this! For the last few years, she had been gradually avoiding looking at herself in the mirror. Two children and years of complacency had started taking a toll on her body.

"I know you are embarrassed about your body, but it's time to get over that. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you come." Now, take your free hand, and start playing with yourself."

Mortified, she tried, but her fingers felt like wood. She wanted to cry.

"Go slowly. Start by lightly pinching your nipple. You have amazingly beautiful, sensitive breasts. Feel them. Feel the connection to your loins. Feel how they respond to your touch. Look at them in the mirror. See how they're paying attention?"

He gave her a reassuring smile. They did feel pretty good. Soon, he was standing behind her, rubbing her shoulders and encouraging her. He kept her attention focused on the image in the mirror. Physiology, pressure, friction, and tempo took over. Her face flushed. She soon stopped caring that she was watching herself masturbate. Her hand was between her legs now, tracing, touching, circling. He stopped her. She shot a look of pure daggers at him, craving the release that was approaching so quickly.

"Haste makes waste, sweetheart."

He moved out of her sight again, rummaging around behind the mirror. He reemerged with a pair of nipple clamps connected by a fine silver chain. He placed a clamp on each nipple, and then gently draped the chain over her lower lip. She understood. If she wanted to play with her nipples, she would have to figure out how to pull the chain with her mouth. He took her free hand off of her thigh and placed it back on her crotch.

With the added stimulation of the nipple clamps, it wasn't long before she was riding high on another wave of pleasure, sweat glistening on her skin, her face and chest flushed, her pulse racing. She was afraid he would stop her again, but he didn't. She came all over her hand, shaking, moaning, and gasping as the waves of sensation collapsed in on themselves, slowly subsiding until she was riding comfortably on a plateau of delicious sensation. He stepped up and kissed her, allowing her to return his kiss. When he broke the kiss, he nestled her head against her neck. Her breath was humid from exertion.

"Did you enjoy the show?" He asked her.

"Ummm. It was awesome."

He kissed her again and stood up. Putting the blindfold back on, he untied her from the chair and laid her on the bed. Apparently, the sheets were made of something like Velcro, because whenever one of the ankle or wrist bracelets touched it, it stuck fast. He arranged her spread-eagle on the bed, with her knees bent and her feet wide apart. She was immobilized again.

"You are going to experience a series of sensations, each one building on the last. If at any time, any of these sensations becomes too much, say 'uncle'. Say it so I know you understand.

"Uncle."

First was his finger. Tracing lazy circles over her body, it was the perfect tonic to the intense orgasm she'd just experienced. Next was his hand. Massaging some times, just touching others. Circling, pressing, pinching, squeezing, pulling. Slowly bringing her body back to awareness, back to the wanting. Suddenly, there was a new feeling. Small, sharp and intense. It didn't tickle, and it didn't quite hurt. He was rolling something over her body. She could feel her skin react to it as it passed over. When he rolled it over her nipples, the intensity was too much, and she cried out in pleasure. He moved on the bed, and the sharp sensation was mixed with the deeper feeling of his mouth on her pussy again. Just for a moment though, as he soon put the wheel aside. He was taking his time now, not letting her build her orgasm to the point where stopping would cause her frustration. He paused again, and she felt something touching her anus. The touching became a pushing, and she felt something hard slip into her ass. It was warm and hard, but it wasn't him. It didn't go in very far, but it was thick, making her ass stretch to accept it. There was that connection again! The deep throbbing between her ass, her belly, and her brain. She felt his mouth on her pussy again, but this time he was rhythmically tapping the thing in her ass in time with the tempo of his tongue on her clit. There was no going slow for her anymore. Rolling her head from side to side and moaning now, with the intensity of the feelings in the middle of her body, she knew she was close. Still, she had already come twice tonight, and her third orgasm took far longer to get to. He kept up the intensity, alternately tapping and pulling on her ass. Licking and sucking her clit. Pinching and twisting her nipples. Her orgasm built and built over a period of the most intense five minutes she had ever experienced in her life. The muscles under her breasts were flattened and contracting. Her stomach was doing flip-flops, and her legs were shaking uncontrollably. She was moaning a deep, guttural moan, an animal sound that she had no control over at all. Finally, after five long minutes, she teetered over the edge into the abyss. Nearly senseless, her body spasmed and shook. Muscles contorted and flexed. Her fingernails had dug furrows into her own thighs as she struggled to grip something.

Gradually, she started coming back to earth. He removed the phallus from her ass. When it came out, it gave a wet pop and she moaned. Gently, he undid all of her restraints and took off her blindfold. He brought her a cool drink of water and held her head while she drank. He crawled into bed with her, naked, and they held each other until she was well and truly finished. He stroked her hair and kissed her gently. Eventually, her breathing returned to normal, and her pulse was a soft, steady throb at the base of her neck. She was utterly spent. He spoke to her, softly.

"When you're ready, we can talk for a while. We have some time before the carriage turns back into a pumpkin."

"I can't think of a single thing I'd want to say right now, except to ask when we can do this again."