No Ordinary Game Ch. 11

"You like watching me get ready, don't you?"

"I can't help it. I'm keyed-up and horny."

"I like it when you watch me get ready. It's for Mr. Avery, you know. Whether he sees my new lingerie tonight is up to him. Do I need to remind you there's no drinking while I'm gone? And no masturbating? I might be back earlier than you think and you'd better be ready for me. If you jerk-off, I will know. Stay home and keep your phone close. I'll text you when I arrive and then I'll turn off my phone. I'll text you again when I leave."

"You won't send me updates or pictures?"

"No, Sy. That didn't work out so well last time."

"Does he live close by?"

"He's twenty minutes away. But you don't get his address, not this time." She brushed past him and went into their walk-in closet. She reappeared holding a black dress he had not seen. "Help me put this on," she said.

Sy helped her pull the dress over her head and down her body. He pulled it into place and smoothed it with his hands. She held her hair aside and he pulled the zipper up. It was sleeveless with one inch shoulder straps and a partly open back. It clung to her figure and extended down to just above her knees. The hemline was split in the back to allow leg movement. A scooped neckline exposed a bit of decolletage in a tasteful way. It was just the sort of dress a married woman might wear on a romantic date with her husband.

"He bought me this dress to wear tonight. It feels expensive. Does it look good on me?" she asked.

"Of course," Sy managed to say with a dry mouth. "You look fabulous."

She looked herself over in the full length mirror and smiled at what she saw. She knew Mr. Avery didn't like racy and he didn't like slutty. This dress was neither. It was tasteful and expensive. It was pure, classy, married mommy.

She slipped on a new pair of black, shiny, kitten-heeled shoes. "I don't want to tower over him," she stated, matter-of-factly.

"Is he short?"

"He's my height but he's stocky, like those powerlifters at the gym," she replied. She smiled her enigmatic smile that told him nothing. She walked downstairs and Sy followed her. At the hall closet she removed a thin, cream-colored shawl and draped it over her shoulders. Clutch purse in hand, she was ready. It was six pm.

She held out her hand for Sy. He kissed the back of her hand and detected the floral fragrance of her perfume. He stepped closer and felt her radiant body heat. He wanted to grab her and kiss her and take her upstairs but he knew he could do none of those things.

"Don't, Sy. I don't want you to smudge my makeup. You understand, don't you? Do what I told you and wait for my texts. I won't even see your calls or texts so don't send me any like you did last time. I might come home right after dinner or I might stay all night. It all depends on what Mr. Avery wants.

"I love you, Sy. Thank you for letting me do this." She gave him a brief, see-you-later kiss on the lips and walked out the door. He heard her SUV start in the garage and watched her back down the driveway. In seconds she was gone.

He felt a stabbing pain in his heart and a heaviness in his chest that made it difficult to take a full breath. She was gone like a cool breeze. He could smell her lingering perfume.

Why do I let her do this to me? he thought. Then he laughed a mirthless laugh and thought, Dummy, you've done this to yourself. Again! What's the matter with you?

He walked over to his liquor cabinet and found it locked. Mandy had the key, of course. He could easily break the lock but what would be the point? She would know. He could have stopped her from leaving but what would have been the point of that? She wanted to visit her old lover and she would not be deterred. And deep inside? He wanted it, too. That knowledge made him collapse onto the couch.

***

As she had promised, Amanda's text came thirty minutes later.

Amanda: Arrived safe and sound. Dinner smells delicious. Mr. Avery says hello. I'll text you when I leave. I love you, babe. Thank you for letting me do this. Phone is going off now.

Sy looked at his phone and despaired. This Avery fellow was going to fuck his wife tonight, he just knew it. Worse, she was totally out of reach and he couldn't stop it. Sudden jealousy and anger hit Sy like a wet slap to his face. You keep doing this to yourself! Idiot! Why did you let her go?

He recognized his sickness, his perverse desire to see his wife or at least imagine her in sexual ecstasy with another man. This was no ordinary desire. This was no ordinary game they were playing. And make no mistake, Amanda was fully invested in The Game. It hurt but it filled him with a perverse arousal that had no parallel in ordinary life. What could he do? The minutes passed like hours. He tried to distract himself on the computer. Tomorrow morning seemed a thousand years away.

***

Amanda had butterflies in her tummy when she arrived at Mr. Avery's house. He had moved into a larger and fancier home since she had last seen him during her college days. The two-story house was placed on a hillock and set well-back from the road with a large, verdant yard and flowering shrubs in well-tended beds.

She rechecked the house number and parked in the circular driveway near the front door. She exited the SUV and shut the car door just as the front door of the house opened. There, after all those years, stood Mr. Avery.

He was of medium height but from a distance his broad, muscular build made him appear shorter. His body was barrel-shaped and he had a thick neck. His large head sat on his shoulders like a pumpkin and one ear sported a diamond earring. He was balding but around his head he retained a border of long, salt-and-pepper hair he kept in a short ponytail. He was clean-shaven and dressed in chinos, a blue, button-down shirt open at the collar, and boat shoes without socks. His round face and large nose was not particularly handsome but he exuded confidence and authority with his big smile, perfect teeth, and sparkling blue eyes.

Amanda walked around her car and stopped in the driveway. They looked at each other, up and down, comparing their memories with the present. Then, Avery took rapid steps toward Amanda and embraced her. He lifted her off the ground and swung her around in a circle. Amanda squealed her happiness.

"I've missed you, Amanda, I've missed you a lot. You look good. Well-cared for and happy. You're positively glowing."

"I'm so glad to see you again, Mr. Avery. Can you forgive me? For neglecting you? I want to renew our friendship."

"I'm sure we can, Amanda. Come inside. I'm making one of our old favorites, beef stroganoff. Remember when I taught you how to make it?"

Mr. Avery ushered Amanda into his spacious, granite and stainless-steel kitchen. While she watched, he added ice into a cocktail shaker followed by the ingredients for two Manhattans. "Tiffany tells me your tastes have become more sophisticated. I make the best Manhattans in town, even better than Hector's. Very worthy of a refined lady."

"Do you know Tiffany?" This information seemed to surprise her.

"Of course. And Glenn, too. And I've heard rumors about Hector," he added with a smile. He took a sip of his Manhattan. "You didn't want to bring your husband?"

"No. I thought it best if I came by myself." Amanda took a sip of her own drink and set it down. It didn't taste nearly as good as she remembered. Maybe her taste was off tonight.

Mr. Avery raised an eyebrow at her remark. "Well, I'd like to be introduced to him. His name's Sy Payson, right? And you go by Mrs. Payson?"

"Right," Amanda nodded.

It's his voice! she thought. His resonant tones probed far back into the recesses of her brain. Her mouth felt dry and she could feel it start, deep in her chest and belly. There was a twinge of guilt for leaving Sy at home but he only would have interfered. Tonight she wanted to be alone with Mr. Avery and her old fantasies. She wanted to taste again that mixture of fear and danger and pain that used to drive her through the roof. She could scarcely admit this to herself, never mind her husband. But Mr. Avery knew. He would remember. She felt heat develop in her face and wondered if Mr. Avery saw her blushing.

"Well, he's a remarkable husband if he's willing to let you venture out on your own like this. Don't be embarrassed, Amanda. I know about you and Glenn and Sy and Tiffany." Avery chuckled to himself. "Tiffany told me Sy's a real stud. Sy knows you're here with me tonight, right? I just want to make sure." He fixed his eyes on Amanda's and then he dipped his gaze down to her breasts and back up to her eyes.

He's not hiding anything from me. He wants me, she realized with a mix of unease and excitement. She stirred her drink with her finger and licked it clean. She gave Avery a coy smile.

"He knows I'm here. I've told him a little about our history together."

"But not everything?"

"Not everything. He's not ready for everything," she said.

Avery stepped closer, tucked his index finger under her chin, and brought her face toward his. She was transfixed by his limpid blue eyes and his intense stare. Her skin grew even hotter.

"And you're here to recover something from our shared past? Am I right? Our old intensity, perhaps?" He moved closer and grazed his lips across hers, avoiding a real kiss.

"Yes," she whispered. "Lately I've been thinking about our past. A lot."

***

Avery kept the conversation light during dinner and the real reason for Amanda's visit remained unspoken. Amanda seemed outwardly fine but Avery noticed her light appetite and her inability to relax. After a dessert of creme brulee, Avery cleared the table and ushered Amanda into the living room. Like the rest of his house, it was inviting and tastefully furnished. They sat together on a white leather couch. Avery nursed a scotch but Amanda declined any further alcohol. Even his expensive wine hadn't tasted as good as she remembered.

"Anxious, Amanda?"

"Maybe a little," she smiled. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. She wasn't anxious so much as unsettled. Well, of course I'm nervous, she thought. It's been a lot of years.

"This night is for you, Amanda. We can play this anyway you want. You can stay with me for a few hours, or even overnight, or you can leave for home right now. Or anything in between. I can call you an Uber or drive you home myself if you don't want to drive. So, just relax," his voice purred. "It's your evening." He scooted across the couch toward her and reached for her hands. He held them loosely and leaned forward for another kiss, this time a real one. Amanda responded with barely restrained enthusiasm.

"Your kisses are even better than I remember, Amanda. You're more beautiful than ever, too. You said you've missed our playtimes. Would you like to play again?"

This was the moment she had eagerly anticipated but also dreaded. Her answer would determine the rest of the evening and she felt suddenly insecure. She felt butterflies rise in her chest to beat their tiny wings and take away her breath. The room narrowed and spun like a kaleidoscope. Here we go again, she thought. That old feeling of arousal and fear and dread. That old fear of losing control. That old fear of falling backwards into a dark void and surrendering to a powerful, dangerous man.

"I... I don't know," she mumbled, a tremor in her voice.

"We can do this any way you like." His calm voice worked to relieve her anxiety. "We can spend a long time on foreplay or no time at all. If you prefer, we don't even have to have full sex. You can stop at any time. Do you recall our special words for stop, go, and proceed with caution? Red, green, and yellow light?"

A shiver went up her spine. "Yes, I remember."

"And do you still like to be bossed around? Some gentle persuasion applied to get your attention, perhaps? Even a little... discomfort?"

"Yes." She was totally aroused now. She could feel the heat and slipperiness between her thighs.

He smiled. He could see the effects his words were having. "Do you still cum easily, Amanda? Are your nipples still as sensitive as I remember? Your breasts? Should I pay them particular attention?" He reached out to gently pinch one nipple through her clothing, then the other.

She let out a long, quavering breath. "Yeeesssss!"

"Good. Are you ready to start? Once we start, I won't stop unless I hear you say "red light" and then it's over."

"Okay," Amanda said, almost inaudibly.

"Very well, Amanda. Stand up, please!"

His voice had taken on a sudden, hard edge which caught her by surprise. It was a command, not a request, and it compelled Amanda to quickly stand and stiffen her posture. The silence that followed nearly unnerved her. She felt his eyes burn into her as he walked around to inspect her as though she was on display; a miscreant presenting herself for correction. She kept her gaze firmly anchored on the far side of the room and nearly held her breath.

"I love how you've kept your hair long, just as I remember it. I love those little streaks of brown in your jet-black hair. Your figure is divine; a woman in full, past due for motherhood. I imagine your breasts have very little sag. I expect your bottom has none at all. Is that true, Amanda?"

"I think so, sir."

He smiled. She had remembered how to behave and how to speak. "Well, we will soon find out, won't we? I understand Glenn has whipped your bare bottom. Has he whipped your breasts?"

"No, sir" She kept her gaze centered on an object across the room as she had been taught. Her chin quivered when Avery fastened a soft leather collar around her neck, the same one they had used years ago, she thought. He attached a black leather leash.

"Do you remember this collar and leash? Do you remember what they mean?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. As long as you wear it, you'll do as I say. When I remove it, we return to normal."

"Yes, sir."

"Shall we go downstairs, Amanda?" He directed her to a hallway and then down a flight of carpeted stairs. He admired her excellent posture and the gentle movements of her full bottom beneath her dress. He led her to the center of the softly lit living room and removed the leash. He leaned against the fireplace mantel to regard her.

"Relax, Amanda. Look at me and smile, please." She tried to relax and she gave him a shy smile. "Lovely. Now, take off your clothes, Amanda. All of them except your heels. Do it like I taught you." His command was firmly spoken and she hesitated for only a moment.

"Please, sir? My zipper?" she asked. She reached her arms overhead, lifted her hair aside, and turned her back to him.

"Of course, love," He drew the dress zipper all the way down her back. He helped her pull the dress over her head and he draped it over the back of a chair. "Now the rest, Amanda. Take your time and fold your clothes on that chair. Do it neatly."

He watched with rapt attention as she removed each article of clothing and placed it on the chair. She remembered this game. She took the time to ensure he saw her to the best advantage.

In short order she was nude and standing in low heels in the center of the room. Whether due to her arousal, exposure to air, or her nervous state, her nipples were standing proud and taut and her bare skin displayed tiny goosebumps. The skin of her face, neck, and chest was flushed bright-red.

"Superb, Amanda. I haven't seen you like this in so long. You're even more luscious and beautiful than I remember."

He fastened leather cuffs around her wrists and fastened the cuffs behind her back with a short length of chain. He had so far avoided any unnecessarily touching and Amanda squirmed inside thinking about how naked and vulnerable she had allowed herself to become. She was in a man's basement miles from home and her husband didn't even know where she was. In fact, no one knew where she was.

Avery produced a long length of black cloth and wrapped it over her eyes and around the upper part of her head, over and over, leaving her mouth and nose exposed but quite unable to see. He secured it at the back of her head and put his hands on her upper arms to steady her.

"Can you see any light, Amanda?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Being blindfolded heightens the other senses. I want you to concentrate on hearing, touch, smell, and taste. Shall we begin?"

"Yes, sir," she squeaked. She was naked, sightless, and unsteady in her kitten heels. She was dependent on him for balance. The danger of falling, though slight, thrilled her. He tightened his grip on her arms and whispered into her ear.

"I'm going to touch you now Amanda. I want you to hold still while I explore your ripe, fecund body. It's been a long time and I want to savor every part of you; every smooth, round place; every intimate, sensitive place. Do I have your permission to touch you? Answer me like I taught you."

"Yes, sir. Please touch me, sir."

"Oh, I will, Amanda." Avery kissed her lips and surprised her when he probed her teeth with his tongue. She strongly responded with her open mouth and thrusting tongue but he quickly withdrew his face.

"Eager, Amanda?" He placed his left hand on her lower back and drew her right hip tightly against himself. With the right hand he delicately explored her face and lips. She licked his fingers and he pulled his hand away.

"You are eager, aren't you? You'll get your chance, Amanda."

He placed his right hand on her flat belly and gently rubbed. "A very firm and flat tummy, Amanda, yet so wonderfully soft. Are you still an avid yogi? Still a dedicated runner-girl?"

"I am, sir." She was fully into their game now. She had calmed sufficiently to hold herself at attention but she knew he was intent on testing her.

"You look magnificent. You feel magnificent. You smell magnificent," he said, drawing his face through her hair.

"Thank you, sir."

His right hand slid upward to cup her left breast and squeeze. "What a perfect handful, Amanda." He tweaked and pinched her nipple, gently at first, then a little harder. He felt her breathing catch and her body shudder.

"Hold still Mrs. Payson and don't make a sound." He pinched harder and pulled her nipple upward and twisted. He held the position for a moment and released her when she whimpered.

"Sensitive?" he asked.

"Yeessssss!" she hissed. He repeated this torment on her right breast and gave both breasts little slaps.

"Gahhhh!" she said, as he massaged the sting from her breasts.

"Yes, very sensitive. We'll explore that later. Now, spread your feet a little and stand tall and proud for me." She moved her feet farther apart and stiffened her posture. Shrouded in darkness, she could only imagine what he might do to her. She felt jittery. Her skin felt tingly and hypersensitive, as though his slightest touch might send her into convulsions.

Avery's right hand slid down her belly but bypassed her vulva only to stroke her inner thighs. His thick, sausage-fingers ventured upward but stopped short of her sex, only to repeat the cycle, up and down, over and over. She could smell her own arousal now, and the room seemed to get warmer and warmer.

"What would you like me to do, Amanda? Tell me," he said, his voice soft and low.

"Touch me," she whimpered. "Touch me... down there."

"Here?" he asked, and he lightly stroked her newly-shaved mound.

"Yes, but... lower."

Avery moved his left hand down and grasped her lush bottom. Then, with his other hand, he slid his right middle finger lightly down her right groin crease to again narrowly bypass her aching vulva. She moaned in frustration and tottered on her heels as he stroked up and down her groin, lightly, slowly, and so very, very close. He steadied her, then reached deeper with his left hand to place his left middle finger between her legs so his fingertip was pressed firmly upward against her perineal body, her "taint".