She Subdued Me with Sweaters Pt. 03

I spent a fair amount of Thursday distracted with thoughts of the coming weekend. My mind couldn't get around this feeling of anticipation, my desire to be with her. I was feeling anxious. I was thinking that I would do anything to be in her company. It was almost overwhelming.

An associate and I were working on a project. He asked me why I was so crazy about her. He almost seemed concerned. I phumphered for something to say.

"She calls and you answer, man," he said with emphasis. I blushed a little.

"No," he said, "you go into, like, a trance." "It's almost spooky," he laughed a little, nervously. He asked, "What is it that you like about her?" He pried a bit, "You talk about her, but you're kinda vague, you know," he went on. "I don't want to say anything, but I'm your friend, you know. It's like she's got you hypnotized and under surveillance," he opined. "Just observing."

His two cents made me think a minute, but as soon as I started wondering, processing what was going on, I suddenly felt a little foolish, and uncomfortable, so I clumsily got back to what I was doing.

I told him that she was attractive and smart. I intimated that sex was really good, without going into too much detail. I extolled a few of her virtues, but I couldn't give him any specific thing. I said that she seemed like someone who I have always known. I found myself settling on a broad response by telling him that she had somehow managed to capture my mind, body, and soul. He asked if she had stolen my heart. I paused. I told him that that is a part of my body. He stared a minute. I paused again. What was I saying?

The Monday holiday meant a long weekend, and with the snow storm coming, the office was going to close at the end of the day, and stay closed until Tuesday. Despite my anxious state, I managed to clean up the work that needed to get done. Fact of life, I was extremely focused. I was almost surprised.

Just before I left the office, she sent me a text message. It said, "En sof khay anu," and it directed me to say the words out loud. I did. I didn't know what it meant, but as soon as I said it, I felt that I triggered a sense of euphoria that washed over me.

She called shortly thereafter. My face became flushed. An associate mentioned it. I brushed it off with a fake cough.

She said that she would be stopping by my house, at 7:30, just for a few minutes. She told me to have my shaving kit together and any reading material, and so forth, that I might like to have with me on the weekend. She would pick out my clothes, and other items she wanted me to have. She would take them to her house. I told her that I would be ready.

"Good," she said.

Of course, she arrived on time and was wearing an incredible mohair sweater and cashmere gloves, that crazy perfume, and a bit of natural body aroma. As it often times did, it caused the world to get a little fuzzy around the edges.

She came in and looked deeply into my eyes, stroked my face, ran the tips of her fingers through my hair, lightly touched her warm, wet lips to mine, darting her tongue just a teeny bit. I was breathless.

She uttered, "Hamaaree aatmaen aapas mey-in ji udee hu wai ha een."

I had no idea what it meant. I went weak in the knees. My concerns from earlier suddenly faded away. I felt as though she was the entire world, and nothing would exist without her.

She had a devilish look, piercing right through me. She kissed me. She grinded against me. I could not move. I could only let her have her way. Her hands were all over my body.

"I am really looking forward to this weekend, honey," she purred.

"Open your pants," she ordered.

I did.

"Take them off," she insisted. "And your shirt," she barked.

The door to my apartment was still open.

I was like a robot in some ways, just responding to her directions, but I was not in a fog. I was fully aware of what was happening. I was responding to her commands just because. I was a little frightened, but I liked it. It made me feel dirty. And I was at least a little bit intimidated, and maybe a little afraid.

She groped and grabbed and stroked my naked body with her cashmere gloves at the ends of her mohair covered arms. She was feeling up my ass and my balls, and sliding her hands over my chest and arms and face. She teased my ass. I couldn't help but squirm just a bit. She pinched my nipples when I did. She was hissing and growling. She was clearly enjoying this.

Then she came very close and again, pierced my very being with her eyes. Instinctively, it seemed, I knew to not do anything unless directed. She licked my lips, slipped her sweatery fingers in my mouth.

"You're so fucking dirty, property of mine," she teased and giggled. "I love you, honey."

Her mohair sweater was long enough that she could stroke it over my cock with strategic hip movements. I could feel it all. My mind was in a wild, erotic frenzy. All my body parts were tingling, and I could do nothing about it.

She concentrated her sweatery arms and hands over my cock, which was so erect from her taunting and teasing that it hurt. The skin was stretched to the point where I felt it would tear wide open, and it was so sensitive, a mere thought could make it go off. She was looking deeply into my eyes. Her lips were inches from mine. It was a very intoxicating moment.

I knew that I needed to focus on her instructions. I knew that I could not cum unless she told me I could, and I knew that that moment will not happen soon. Why I know this, I'm not sure. What the consequences would be if I cummed, I did not know. She had made no insinuations or implications there in thus far. I just knew to not.

Like she read my mind, she whispered, "What do you know, right this minute, sweetheart?"

I hesitated. I felt like I couldn't speak.

"Oh, honey, please, you can tell me. You have my permission to answer," she cooed in my ear as she stroked me and undulated her body against mine.

Why did I need her permission? Her granting me permission stuck in my head. When I tried to process that, the fog rolled in, and I couldn't connect all the right thoughts, like waking from a dream and trying to reconcile the dream world with the physical world.

Suddenly I felt that I could speak.

"Thank you," I found myself saying. "I know that I cannot cum."

"Why?" She wanted to know.

"Because you control my body, mind, and soul, and you decide the time and conditions for my orgasms," I said. I couldn't believe I said it, but I, somehow, believed my statement to be true.

"Oh, my god, honey, I love you," she gushed, while still doing extreme things to my distressed cock. She went on, "and if you don't think you are not completely in my control, think about the fact that you were not able to speak until I gave you permission". She pinched my nipple hard while looking deeply into my eyes.

"What the fuck?" I thought. "What the fuck?" I kept my mouth shut.

She returned to doing as she pleased to my body, while I did not resist.

"I know you want to cum," she said. "It's cooking up in your balls and you can feel it in that hot spot behind your balls, and places like that, am I right, honey," she said slowly. "If I let you, you would blow a nasty load of cum right now, wouldn't you, honey," she said. "You don't do it, though. You struggle because I tell you to."

"Oh, honey, you're so sweet, so loving, so good," she oozed. "I will always entice you and reward you with sweaters and love."

She pulled up her sweater and showed me her breasts.

"A little reward, honey," she said. "You can lick my nipples for a minute because you've been so good."

She sat in a chair and told me to kneel while I suckled her. She was obviously loving it. I suckled until she cummed.

I thanked her.

"Mmmm. Good, sweet honey," she said.

It was all I could do to focus on not cumming. My body was tingling from head to toe. I knew that I was not to resist or even react to her advances, but I could feel each and every part and all the mental and physical actions and reactions were, indeed, happening within my body and mind. It was really fucking erotic, and dirty. I couldn't help but love it. The pleasures centers of my brain were pumping out so much dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, endorphins, I could hear them gurgling in my head. I was high as kite, it seemed. She was dosing me with my own addictive brain chemistry. Oh, my fuckin' god.

Some pre cum drizzled out of my cock. She scooped some up with her finger. She put her finger in my mouth and smeared some on my tongue.

Just when I thought I couldn't take another minute, she stopped. She just touched her lips to mine, and lightly brushed over my body. She grabbed my painfully erect cock and led me to the bedroom.

"Stay there like that," she commanded. She left me at the doorway.

I was beginning to think that, while I have been enjoying a sexually fun adventure, she has been conditioning a lifestyle, and my ability to choose in this regard was being systematically diminished by her. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, or how she was doing it. Although, I can't deny that whatever she was doing was having an effect. I was magnetized at that moment.

On one hand, I am a man, a human being, a leader in various ways in several areas. It has been my position to be the one who makes decisions, to control situations, and to manage the people involved. On top of that, I have lived alone a long time. I have been used to making my own decisions about lifestyle. I have not been comfortable allowing anyone else to be involved in what I think, feel and do. That's why I have live alone. It has not been ideal. The psychoanalysis of it is too lengthy for here.

This situation is becoming very different from that to which I am used. I'm not sure what's on the other hand. She was on the other hand, and I was powerless to do anything but comply. Did I like it?

At times, living alone can be painful, but I wouldn't say I'm an unhappy person in general. At times I have wondered if I should seek ways to end the loneliness, this aloneness; seek a mate. Then I would wonder what I would feel if someone entwined herself in my life. I would wonder how that would work within my set-in-my-ways lifestyle. I've had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever lasts long. Maybe I drive them away with apathy towards relationships.

But it is just the way it has been. I have persevered. I have been too busy, to be cliché about it, to experiment with breaking out of my self-created mold. I guess that I sort of settled with that. I am a good listener and observer. I have been a good instructor and leader. I have, however, not been comfortable with the intimacy of conversation and day-to-day living. I'm not sure that I've always liked that about myself, but I have accepted it. Why I let her in, I'm not entirely sure. I just thought that the powers of the universe had guided it or something.

She sensed that. I know she did. Maybe I signaled, in some subconscious way, a certain neediness. Maybe I have been unwilling to admit to myself, or anyone else, that neediness. Maybe it's pride. Maybe it's fear. Maybe she knows this. Maybe she picked me, like a pervert picks a waif on the street because a sense of loneliness and neediness exuded from me. For all I know, she used whatever otherworldly powers she seems to have, to pluck the knowledge out of my mind, or from somewhere in my soul.

Besides the obvious orgasmic benefits for her, what were her motives? If she is, in fact, somehow, manipulating, orchestrating, a situation to exert control over me, she has gone to a lot of trouble to do it. She has plenty of money, and good work that she enjoys. I make a good living, but not enough for her to go to extremes to get it. She has more assets than me. Am I just imagining some sort of conspiracy? Does she really love me and wants me to be part of her world, this world? Or does she have some more nefarious purpose? ...some supernatural thing? ...a combination?

My shaving kit was on my bed, next to some books and magazines and a notebook and a camera, and a selection at her direction of the homemade music CDs.

She had a duffle bag with her. She opened it and took a couple of things out. She put them on the bed. I was just out of line of sight and I couldn't see what they were. She refilled the bag with the items I had put on the bed. She scurried around the room and got some under pants, and socks, a pair of jeans, shirts and tee shirts. Then she started rifling through the sweaters, purring and moaning and masturbating a little as she did. She picked some of the most arousing, erotic, incredibly textured sweaters in my collection.

"I'm going to head home and get ready for the weekend," she announced, toting the duffle to the door. She teased, and taunted and intimated, maybe is the word, that it was going to be a monumental weekend.

"I love you, sweetheart," she said.

She took out her phone and sent me an email that she had already written.

"Just some instructions, honey," and the she said, "Ypomoni." Again, something I didn't understand. "Make sure you read email out loud and follow the instructions in the message."

She kissed me. She pinched my nipple. She said again that she loved me, and she would be in touch a little later. She left.

I waited a few minutes after she left, as per her instructions, to read the email. After reading aloud the opening line, "Nia amo estas eterna, our love is eternal." I felt a change physically, emotionally, spatially, temporally.

It said that she had left some special new sweatery things and other toys on my bed. I was to go look at them.

There were pants made with a built- in cock sheath, which was about 18 inches long, and a ball sack pouch. There was a long, close-fitting wool turtleneck sweater made with extremely rough wool, one of my own mohair turtlenecks, some heavy hand made socks with wool, mohair and alpaca, soft, woolly gloves, two manually operated nipple vacuums, two nipple clamps, a prostate massager, a short strap with hook and loop closure, and a little tube of lube.

The next direction was to take all the items to my den, open my lap top on the small laptop desk and face it toward the easy chair, plug in the headset, turn down the heat in the apartment, and stand naked in front of the computer, headset on, then wait for a video call from her. I took the liberty of adjusting the lighting.

There were some odd syllables at the end of the message. As instructed, I read them aloud, "Du kannst dem nicht wider stehane was liebe dakstellt." They seemed to trigger a deepened sense of focus, a mild arousal, a feeling of loyalty, obedience, and love.

Of all the things I could be thinking about at that moment, my mind was focused, fixated on waiting for her call. I was naked and cold and standing in front of my laptop. I was aroused, feeling dirty, and slutty, and liking it. That surprised me.

To pass the time, I thought I might think about a few work issues, or personal matters. I was not able to conjure thoughts about my work, or personal matters. My mind would only focus on waiting for the call. If I could have conjured the brain space, I would have been disturbed by this, but I couldn't even get to that part of my mind.

It was as though the entire world was her and me. I could not conjure other thoughts because there were no other thoughts to have. To think that there are, my mind was telling me, was silly, and I would be crazy to even try. Negative thoughts about this relationship, suspicious thoughts, thoughts of resistance, conspiracy, witchcraft, were met with confusion and fear and discomfort and shame and anguish. I was compelled to focus on waiting for her.

Somewhere amidst all this were echoes of my life, like an alternate dimension. To try and explore that dimension brought a sense of emotional punishment. It was like vague anguish. I did not know the source of that anguish, that punishment.

I noticed that the headphones I was wearing were not completely silent. There was audio - tones, music, murmuring voices, maybe. I thought I heard something that sounded like my voice saying something like, "Her voice is all there is," over and over. "The only substance I the world is her," it said. "I, and all I have, are within her," I heard. Other murmurings, too.

I was feeling a little ashamed, I guess, maybe a little humiliated, but I liked it. It was arousing. It was dirty, and exhilarating. I was standing naked in a cold room because she instructed me to do so, and for what reason, I do not know, I was going along with it. It was coming from her. It felt like love on top of it all. These were very divergent thoughts colliding. This was all wildly out of character for me. Should I go along with it? Should I try to get away? Could I get away? What was she doing to me?

After about 45 minutes, the familiar tone emanated from the laptop. I answered. She appeared on the screen. She was sitting in the same chair in which she usually sits in when we video chat. She was wearing one of my sweaters on her torso, and another over her legs like pants. She was wearing soft, woolly gloves. A couple more of my sweaters were within the frame of the video, as well as a couple of toys. I could see small flashes of light in places within the frame. I heard music and tones, and a murmuring that sounded slightly like voices, but I couldn't understand them. I felt a change. I can't explain it.

"Vox eius est ibi," she another strange thing. "I've been cumming all over your sweaters, sweetheart," she oozed. "I've been fucking abusing them and I love it," she kept on. "The big, soft woolly one under me is soaked with my pussy cum," she taunted. "I fucking know why sweaters turn you on so much, my little piece of property. Mohair on cunt is fuckling out of this fucking world!" She exclaimed. "Fucking outrageous and I love it!"

"I see you followed my instructions," she said. "Good."

She did away with most pleasantries. She told me to lay out the sweater items across the chair and the other items along the arm of the chair. All the while, she was masturbating. At one point, she was wrapping one of my cashmere sweaters around a dildo and stroking it, and smiling and giggling and looking straight at me. She opened her mouth wide and put the sweatery dildo in her mouth. She performed a very sexy fellatio on it, then smeared the sweatery head of it with lube and started to fuck it. I was captivated by her. There was nothing else but her.

"Vox eius est ibi," she strongly stated.

I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it was important.

"Pick up the nipple vacuums," she moaned. "Do you know how to use them?" she asked as she fucked herself. "Estiasi." Another strange word.

I told her that I do. She told me to use one on my left nipple. She wanted to see if I really could. I had used them before, though not on myself. I didn't get into the story. She didn't ask. I pumped it up and my nipple got long and hard. It stung a little.

"I want them to stay on a few minutes, to tenderize your delicious nipples," she sighed.

"Now do the other one," she said enthusiastically. "I like it," she breathed.

I felt that she was trying to terrorize me a little.

She teased me and told me very dirty things for the next few minutes, made me watch her fuck herself with the sweatery dildo. She cummed like she was having a seizure.

"You are my property," she gasped. "Say it. Tell me you understand."

"I understand," I said. "I am your property, to do with as you desire."

"Good," she said.

"You're cold and naked in front of me, while we wait for your nipples to get sore," she teased. "Look at you. I love it," she said. "Look at me," she gloated. "I'm warm and cozy in your sweaters. Do you like me in your sweaters, honey?" she asked. "They feel so good. You wanna fuck me in them, honey?" She taunted. "You do, honey, I know it. You wanna fuck me in your sweaters... Mmmm. We'll see."