My Siren

My most sincere appreciation to literotica volunteer editor, "basilisk," for agreeing to sink her fangs into the cluttered jumble of words and thoughts I originally created. Without her generous contribution of both time and patient nudges, this story never would have molted to its present form.

CHAPTER ONE

A "siren" in Greek mythology is one of a group of sea nymphs who by her sweet singing lured mariners to destruction on the rocks surrounding her island. Today a "siren" is a woman regarded as being both seductive and beautiful. My good friend, Paul, and I exaggerate and call these creatures "sy-reens," the "y" being pronounced as a long "i" and the "ee" being pronounced as long "e"s. Most men only dream of being with a sy-reen. I've been with three.

I'm Jake: 5-10, 180, blue eyes, glasses (hah, blended trifocals), short gray hair that kind of sticks up where it wants and a 55 year old body that still can play tennis with the local hot shot kids. I've been self employed forever and wouldn't have it any other way. I live in a small house tucked behind a heavily oaked sand dune. My property includes rights to a gravel drive that climbs the dune and stops at a deck overlooking one hundred feet of the finest beach in the country. Beyond the beach: Lake Michigan.

I met my second real sy-reen several months ago. I was sitting at home, innocently playing bridge on the internet when suddenly up popped an IM. It was Karen. She said she liked my profile and asked some innocent and innocuous question. I blew her off because I was busy, but, not being a stupid man, I carefully recorded her screen name. Later I sent Karen an email and the rest is history. We started like many others, bantering a bit and then playing sexually teasing games on line. After several weeks we progressed to the telephone. Our mutual lust continued and I just have to tell you, this woman can get off a monk with nothing but her voice while his hands are tied behind his back. Well, of course she could, she's a sy-reen. Her kind has been doing that for centuries.

Before long Karen invited me to her place and I accepted. Actually, I've been there several times and its great. The sex is both imaginative and invigorating, but even better, I really like this woman. She's sensual, bright, quick and fun. We can talk about anything: be it world affairs, local politics, sports, literature or just plain old fashioned gossip. We each like our morning coffee strong, our music varied, our wine from almost anywhere around the world, our sex accompanied by voice, our kisses as though each were the first and our cigars from south of the border. And why wouldn't it be that way? Karen's an extremely bright, sophisticated, professional woman who works hard. During the work day she wears conservative business suits usually comprised of dark, mid calf length skirts topped by white collar height blouses and a form hiding jacket. On the weekends though . . . .

It's Friday, around one in the afternoon. Karen's on her way here for the first time and is scheduled to arrive in a couple of hours. I'm in the basement putting the finishing touches on some remodeling I've been doing down here. It's a little warm, I'm sweaty, I haven't shaved and I'm wearing only old cut off shorts.

The doorbell rings. A bit agitated at being disturbed, I drop what I'm doing, run upstairs, open the front door and in an instant, I'm ogling all four feet, eleven blonde, buxom, luscious inches of blue eyed Karen: her hair teased; her lips, nails and toes painted crimson; her breasts barely concealed by a sexy white cotton peasant blouse; her bottom hidden behind a short hot pink skirt and her dainty feet strapped into six inch high platformed and open toed hot pink sandals. I happen to know that underneath this, "I'm a slut, fuck me" exterior, there lurks a pierced right nipple and a completely bald cunt. She's two hours early.

I know I'm just standing here and staring. My mouth's probably open. I must be drooling. I'm absolutely speechless. Just the sight of this luscious creature in front of me causes my cock to grow, an occurrence which with my wearing these shorts, she can't help but notice.

"Hi Jake. I guess I'm early aren't I?" Karen grins, takes one step forward, reaches for my shorts, touches me and coos something cliched like, "Hmmm, you seem happy to see me?"

Out of my mouth stumbles, "Karen." Gathering my wits, recovering quickly and doing what any guy who momentarily is at a loss for words would do, I step forward, grab the hair at the back of her head with my right hand, pull her face to me and thrust my tongue into her mouth. She opens wide, making noises of approval, her small hand encircling an engorged me. After way too short of a time I break our kiss.

"You're early babe. I need a little time to finish up downstairs and then take a shower. Give me your things. I'll throw them into the guest room and then you can wander around up here all you like. I'll be back up soon." Squeezing me, she teases, "Are you sure Jake? I could make you feel real good." I know exactly how good she can make me feel and I am more than tempted, but, "Sorry babe." She frowns, knowing there is nothing she can do.

Thirty minutes later I hear a knock at the top of the stairs.

"Jake, why is this sign on your door?"

"Do you mean the sign that says, 'NO GURLS ALOWED'?"

"Yes Jake, that sign."

"That sign is on the door because the door leads to my clubhouse Karen and from the time I was a kid, girls never were allowed in a guy's clubhouse unless they specifically went in with the guy."

"Will you take me into your clubhouse Jake?"

"Not right now Karen."

"Pretty please Jake?" she purred.

"No, but I just finished down here and I'm coming up. I'm going to shower and then I'll give you the grand tour of my clubhouse."

Most people would call it a rec room. I prefer to call it a clubhouse. It's simple really. I like my sign: the one that says, "NO GURLS ALOWED!" It's the same sign that guarded the entrance to my clubhouse forty-five years ago when I was ten. Anyway, I've been working on my clubhouse for about three months now. My basement is the ideal place for it with nine foot high ceiling joists and an area which walks out into the back yard. I've actually been able to create quite a large space and in addition to building a wet bar, I've moved in a large screen TV, a pool table, a sofa, several chairs and a large old table. It's a guy place: I can relax down here and my friends can be comfortable whenever they drop by.

My clubhouse actually has been finished for a couple weeks, but until just now, it lacked that something special that all clubhouses require. You see, six or seven years ago, shortly after my divorce, I met my first sy-reen. She invited me to her place after only a day and how could I resist, after all, she was a sy-reen. I was helpless. Suffice it to say that she introduced me to the joy of rocking chair sex. She had a low slung rocking chair which was completely unremarkable. Bluntly stated: she stripped from the waist down, sat on the chair, slid her ass to the front edge, threw a pillow onto the floor, looked at the pillow, looked at me, grinned and motioned. Not being totally stupid, I knelt on the pillow and lo and behold, I was at exactly the right height to slide straight into her. I entered my first sy-reen and we began rocking. And we rocked and we rocked and we rocked and she sang songs I'd never before imagined. Ever since, I've wanted my own rocking chair.

I knew a rocking chair wouldn't fit with the feng shui of my clubhouse, but I had a better idea. I went on line and did some research. Sure enough, I found and purchased a swing. Not just any swing, but a special swing. My swing has a seat, an adjustable back and braces to hold a pair of legs. A person can sit up straight, lean back or even lie face down on the seat. The swing itself simply hangs from a hook attached to a strong cable which in turn is attached to a ceiling joist and is electronically adjustable to any height I desire. The swing's only limitation is my imagination.

CHAPTER TWO

I'm showered, shaved, dressed casually and as I walk into the living room I find Karen's standing behind my sofa with her back to me. I can see her only from the waist up. She's wearing a long sleeved, white, buttoned down, man's dress shirt. She's been in my closet.

"Oh Jake, its finally you," her sarcasm teasing. "I like your house. It seems bigger than what I expected though." Turning a little and pointing out a large window facing the rear of my property, "By the way, where does that little road over there lead and what's on top of that big hill?"

"I'm glad you like it. As to what's out back, we'll go exploring later and you can see for yourself."

Karen turns to me and as she does, I notice my shirt completely unbuttoned in the front. She spreads her arms allowing the shirt to slip off her shoulders and fall to the floor. The rest of what Karen is wearing takes my breath away.

"Oh, I see you went snooping while I was finishing up."

Karen is dressed in a white lace strapless bustier with white garters, white see- through silk stockings and a white g-string. Her breasts are pushed upward and beg to be caressed. Her feet show off silver and lavender leather sandals with four inch heels and straps that encircle her legs at least three inches above her ankles, silver buckles clasped in the front. I had been shopping in preparation for Karen's visit and I had laid out these gifts in the bedroom, elegantly wrapped for her. "I might have been bad, but I saw the boxes and I saw my name on the cards and you were in that silly clubhouse of yours and then you were taking a shower and I just couldn't wait any longer." She pleads teasingly.

"That's an incredible outfit you're wearing. Come here."

"Um. Am I going to like this?"

Karen approaches and I reach for the back of her head with my right hand. My left touching her hip. I lock my fingers in her soft hair and pull her close to me. I lean down, she tilts her head upward, grasps my neck and lifts herself to me. Our lips meet. The tip of my tongue quietly touches her lips and I begin my exploration. Just a touch and then withdrawal; another touch here, then there; a little lick. My tongue slips between her lips as she opens her mouth to accommodate me, the taste of her: fresh and inviting. More exploration: my tongue seeking her teeth, the roof of her mouth, the soft area beneath her tongue, the inside of each cheek. Always slowly and without urgency. I sense a silent vibration in her throat urging me to continue. Moments slip by. I'm in no hurry, now is playtime and I love it. Karen becomes bolder and joins the fray, hollowing her cheeks, sucking and for a moment imprisoning my tongue in her mouth. For a moment I can't move. She releases me and her tongue enters my mouth as we play parry and thrust. I sense movement below as she slides her hips forward, making contact for the first time. I encourage with my free hand. I know she feels the beginnings of my hardness as surely as I know she is moist beneath that pure white silk g-string. More movement below as this creature of mine begins rotating her hips clockwise in small circles about my center. She's not pressing hard, just teasing me. I grow. Our tongues, wet with each other's saliva, continue simultaneously giving and seeking pleasure.

I know I must break this kiss and get on with my plan.

"That was a wonderful beginning," I speak softly as I break our kiss. "Come with me. It's time to see the playhouse. First though, you forgot a couple packages I bought for you."

"Oh I found one quite interesting package that I think I'll enjoy very much. It's still in the bedroom. Shall I put it on?" she asks coyly. "Yes," I tell her. "But there are two more you didn't find. They're also in the bedroom."

We walk to the bedroom together and there on the bed is a small box, the top open and wrapping paper splayed out of the way. Karen reaches for it.

"No, not yet Karen." I reach into a drawer and pull out two boxes, one small and one heavier and larger, both wrapped exquisitely in white paper outlined with silver ribbons. "Open the smaller box first." She does exactly that and pulls out a Lapponia choker, a sterling silver band one inch high, one-eighth inch thick and just over five inches in diameter, the word, "Mine" engraved in Copperplate Gothic Light typeset on the side. The band hinges in the back and does not quite complete a circle in the front, stopping short by two inches. A three-quarter inch ring extends from each front end of the choker. "Oh, it's beautiful Jake and its heavy. I love it. May I put it on?" "Of course Karen, I'm pleased you like it." She opens the choker just slightly so it will slide around her neck from back to front. "You forgot a piece," I tell her. Karen frowns, wondering what she forgot, and then reaches into the box again and finds a small wrapped box. With smiles all over her face she rips the paper, strips the lid and finds a two inch high by one inch wide by one-half inch thick flat black padlock, and one key. "Hand me the padlock and key Karen." She complies, with only a slightly faded, but wondering smile. I slide the lock through the two loops of the choker and click it shut. I slide the key into my pants pocket.

"Now open the larger box Karen." She does and withdraws eight feet of dark chain, a latching hook attached to one end.. "Its called 1/4 inch, proof coil chain Karen. The chain's metal has a diameter just slightly more than 1/4 inch and each link has an outside length of approximately 1 3/4 inches and an outside width of approximately 1 inch. Latch the hook to the padlock on your choker Karen and hand me the other end of the chain." She does as told.

"Now Karen, open the box for which you originally came in here." Karen is quick now, knowing from her earlier exploration what's inside the box. She reaches into the box. "Put it on," I demand. She turns away from me, complies and turns again toward me. Covering her eyes is a silver silk blindfold. "Can you see?" I ask. "Not a thing. Will you guide me please?" She asks meekly. "Of course," I respond.

I grasp the chain with my right hand some six feet from the end attached to Karen's choker and roughly pull her toward me. As she nears, I wrap the chain clockwise around her neck, from the front to the back and then back to the front and then around my own neck. I step close until our lips meet, our mouths opening, our tongues thrusting. I wrap the chain a second time around Karen's neck, locking us together. The feel of cold steel wrapped twice around her neck ignites Karen. As a woman possessed, her arms fly around my waist forcing my groin into hers. Her mouth savagely grinds against mine, her teeth mashed against me. Her tongue probes my throat, deeper than I believed possible for her to go. Karen is flesh and blood on fire. She is drooling, gurgling and screaming into my mouth, a woman out of control. I force her away. "Come with me." I unwrap the chain from our necks, grasp it only twelve inches from her throat and lead her to the steps down to my clubhouse. She follows obediently. We arrive at the doorway to the basement and I explain to her where she is standing and tell her to move carefully until she feels the steps. We descend to my clubhouse without incident. I lead her directly to the swing.

CHAPTER THREE

"Ok Karen. I'm going to introduce you to my newest toy. I just finished installing it this afternoon. It's a swing. It's firmly attached to a joist above the ceiling. I've sat in it and there's no way it will break. Do you trust me?"

Karen hesitates just long enough for me to know that she's considered her response, but that she is not yet certain it's the right response. "Um, yes sir." I note with interest her use of the title, "sir."

"Do you know what we've going to do with this swing Karen?"

"I think so sir."

"Tell me what we're going to do with this swing Karen."

"I think you want me to sit in it sir."

"That's right Karen. Now tell me why I want you to sit in the swing."

"I think you want to put your thing in me sir." She's teasing.

"My 'thing'? Karen, I'm disappointed. If all I wanted to do was put my 'thing' in you, I'd tell you to bend over right here, push that cute little g-string you're wearing aside, smack your ass once as foreplay and shove my 'thing' unceremoniously into you. If I didn't know better Karen, I'd think you were teasing me. Are you teasing me Karen?" Looking down with the beginnings of a shy smile, "No sir."

"Karen! Don't lie to me."

Startled now, but continuing the role of the teaser, not the submissive, "I'm very sorry sir. I didn't mean to lie to you."

"Karen! That's another lie. Tell me the truth, now." Moving close to me, head lowered, a sly smile and purring meekly, "Yes, sir. I was teasing you and I did lie to you. Are you going to punish me sir?"

"You deserve to be punished Karen and later on I'm going to do exactly that, but I know you. I know that you would like nothing better right now than for me to take you over my knee, remove that sexy, silk g-string and give you three good strong swats: one for teasing me, one for lying to me about not teasing me and one for lying to me about not lying to me. As a matter of fact, I know that by that third swat, you'd be grinding your cunt against my leg and begging for more.

"I'm going to take your mask off now Karen, but only for a minute. I want you to look over the swing and tell me what you think."

Softly cupping her face, one hand on each cheek, I slide my fingers beneath her mask and slowly lift it from her face. She blinks a couple of times, looks around and focuses directly on the dark metal chain links by which I control her neck. "May I touch them sir?" "No Karen." Reminding her of my control. "They're for me, not for you. Tell me what you think of the swing."

Taken aback by my denial of permission, Karen almost unnoticeably slumps her shoulders and lowers her eyes. Glancing at the swing, "the swing does look like fun. Should I sit in it sir?"

"Yes my dear, but first I want you to remove that g-string."

Smiling now and anticipating what she believes is to come, "Um, yes sir." Karen slides the g-string to her ankles and then turning away from me and bending only at the waist, she gives me an unabridged view of her glorious ass as she slides the g- string over her sandals and steps from it. She stands, turns and smiles, knowing exactly what she did.

"Sit," I order. Karen's noticing that the seat is at a normal chair level, simply steps forward, turns, grasps the chains on either side of the swing with her hands and sits. "This seat feels pretty good sir."

"Give me a leg Karen. I want to help you into the leg supports." She again willingly complies as I help her with first one leg and then the other, securing each to its brace with silk tie. "You can lean back if you wish Karen or you can sit up straight. Try it now." Karen tries both positions and her smile turns from one of curiosity to one of approval.

"I like this sir. Are you going to put your thing in me now? er, ah, I mean, are you going to fuck me now sir?"

"Still teasing I see," I observe sternly. "No Karen, I'm not going to fuck you now. What I am going to do is put this mask back on you and then I'm going to get two more toys."

"Um, I think I'm really going to like this swing sir," she purrs.

I approach with Karen's mask in hand. As my hands encircle Karen's head she leans forward and reaches for the bulge in my pants. I pause of a moment, enjoying her touch. She is excellent at what she does. "Stop that Karen!" as I slide the mask in place.

"Now Karen, give me one of your hands." She continues to fondle me with one hand as I slide her other hand to one of the swing's chains and secure it with a silk tie. She smiles. "Give me your other hand Karen."