Taming of the Stalker

"Nine points?" You nod, and I write down the number 9 in the 3s column. "Just perfect," I say. "You didn't get dessert with dinner, so I suppose you'll be getting it now. First though..."

I reach over and take the box and the dice, rolling them into the box. They fall as 1, 2, 2, 4, 6. I keep the single 6 and roll the other four again: 1, 3, 5, 6. I take out the other 6 and reroll the other three. They come up 1, 1, 2.

"Damn. Only 12 in 6s for me." I write the number down, then smile. "This means I'm beating you 123 to 84. It seems I'm getting a little more ahead of you with every turn." I glance at your score sheet. "However, it seems like you have most of your top section, and I only have my 6s." I smirk. "I can see by your face that you are starting to suspect that I've planned it this way somehow." I laugh. "The truth is, the way this game is going is the only thing about this little field trip of ours that I didn't plan. I'm sure you know by now that I'm a very organized person, but I also like a little bit of risk now and again. Otherwise, I never would have brought you here." I smile and sway seductively over to your chair, bend over and stroke your face gently with one hand. I kiss you lightly on the mouth again, and then I let my hand trail down over your chest and stomach and give that delicious cock a squeeze before skipping playfully out of your reach. "OK, here's how we're going to do this. I'll need a minute or two to set up, and then I'll tell you to come into the bathroom. I'm doing it there because it'll be easier to clean up that way. Your time starts when you walk through the bathroom door. OK?"

You nod, and I grin at you excitedly. "Wait here," I say, and then skip out and into the kitchen again.

I look through the cupboards and grab a few of the more appealing food items: some honey, maple syrup, chocolate sauce and whipped cream among them. I pull up the curtain and glance out the window, seeing that the sun has started going down and is almost hidden by the row of trees along that side of the house. I wonder if maybe you've decided to take a peek out the window in the office. I know you'll only see trees if you look in there, and I also know that I'd be able to hear you if you decided to leave the room, even on the thick carpet of the hallway, so I know that, even if you are looking, the trees will be all you would see. Still, I can't help wondering if you could still find this place somehow. I wonder if, after I finally had to let you go, you would try to find me again. I wonder if you'd be more emboldened this time, if you'd actually pick the lock on the apartment door, if you'd creep into the bedroom and find me sleeping and vulnerable.

I pause for a moment, and realize my heart is beating hard and I'm damp and hot between the legs. Even now, with you totally in my power, I'm still turned on by the idea. It's not just a defense mechanism so I don't have to be scared, there really is something in me that finds the idea attractive. Knowing that, I decide then and there to give you the opportunity, and see if you'll take it. I will make an intentional mistake, at some point, and see if you notice and take advantage of it.

"Not yet," I whisper to myself, smiling a dreamy half-smile. "Not quite yet. There's still plenty of time."

By this time, I'm in the bathroom, standing over the huge, luxurious bathtub. I don't turn the water on, but I strip off the lacy nightgown and toss it over a towel rack. I set my handbag on a shelf next to the tub, then line up the bottles of food toppings on the ledge itself. I set to work. drizzling syrup over my neck and collarbones, between my breasts and along my chin and cheeks. I take the whipped cream and spritz a little on each nipple, creating a foamy cap of creamy white that is very suggestive. I drizzle chocolate sauce over my stomach and into my navel, giggling as the cold liquid touches my skin. I'm going to need a shower after this.

Then, I spread my thighs, carefully open the glass bottle of honey, and begin spreading it thickly along my thighs and over my outer lips. I slide a sticky finger deeper, smearing it along the inner folds and deep into the wet center of myself at last, all the way to the core. Satisfied, I lick the honey off my hands, make sure it's closed up tight, then set the bottles and jars on the floor. "Honey," I say quietly, smiling to myself, knowing you can here me. "You can come in now."

The office is down the hall a ways from the bathroom, but the apartment is small, and it doesn't take you long to start walking toward me. You finally darken the doorway of the bathroom. I set the stopwatch on the ledge to 9 minutes, and then smile as you step into the bathroom.

At first, you just stand there for a few seconds, staring down at the confection before you as if all your birthdays and Christmas have all come on the same day.

You strip off the jumpsuit, so as not to ruin the cloth. Smart of you, I think dreamily as you lean into the tub to peer more closely at me. I squirm over toward the inner edge to give you some room, and you crawl in, kneeling over me, wondering where to start. I reach up and untie your hands and feet, to give you better freedom of movement in the small space and preserve the silk. You lean down and start delicately licking the sticky syrup off my face, kissing my cheeks and mouth along the way. Your mouth is one of the best parts of you, and I smile as it slowly moves its sensual way down from my chin, outlined in syrup, to my neck. You lick at the soft part of my throat and start to suck enthusiastically. I wonder if you'll leave a hickey there, but there's none of the tell-tale burning bordering on pain that tells me one is coming. I know it would prompt odd looks and raised eyebrows from my friends at school, but I still almost wish for it anyway.

You start working on my breasts next, licking them clean of syrup. I can feel your cock, sticky and hard against my honey-smeared leg. You move your tongue around my breasts, getting every last dribble of syrup, and then sucking the cream away from the nipples. You take first one, then the other into your mouth, sucking them hard enough to make me gasp with the burning pleasure. They were hard before, but when you move your mouth away from them for a breath, I see they are now fiery red and sharp. I can't help but grin.

Your mouth moves down over my stomach, gradually exposing the skin under the thick layer of chocolate sauce. you suck it out of my navel and use your lips and tongue to lap it up from my skin.

You don't go for the prize right away. Instead, you delicately lick first one thigh, then the other clean of golden honey. It has matted in the slight bush of hair over my pussy and you begin gently tonguing that as well, moving down with maddening slowness until you are licking my outer lips, your tongue moving so lightly over the skin I can hardly tell it's there. You've been rubbing against me, and you have some of everything smeared all over you, but to my surprise, I'm almost completely clean. You've done a very thorough job.

These thoughts go out of my mind completely as your tongue finally enters me. You give a low moan of appreciation as you lick the honey from me, swirling your tongue around and giving me more pleasure than I thought possible. I come to a quick, hard orgasm and have to fight hard to keep from squeezing your head between my thighs and cutting off your air. It lets go as suddenly as it came, and I gasp and fall back, giving a sharp little cry as I do.

When it's over, we both are kneeling in the tub, rinsing off with cool water to help calm down your throbbing manhood a little. We have quiet conversation, but it is basically about nothing. We're both trying hard not to just pounce on each other and get the inevitable over with.

We towel off and dress again, and I tie your arms and legs with the scarves. "I think, by tomorrow, you won't be needing these at all," I say, smiling. You smile back and shrug. I know, even though you are trying to seem noncommittal, that losing the scarves would be a great relief to you. If you don't have completely free movement of your hands for more than a day or two, it starts to get under your skin. I know this, and I don't want anything to ruin the last sweet moments we will have together.

And yes, our time is coming to an end, although I don't want to think about it. I think we'll be able to get one more turn in our game of Yahtzee in tonight, so that would make six turns per day. This means, if everything goes according to my calculations, tomorrow will be the last full day we'll have together. It will have to be, because the day after that will be Tuesday, and I have another class that night. I'll probably have time to finish our business together, but not much more than that.

I shrug, sigh, and put that out of my mind for now. We still have tonight to worry about.

"Something wrong?" you ask, looking at me with actual concern. I am touched, and think it's very sweet of you to ask.

"I'm just tired, baby," I say. "It's getting late, and we have time for one more little game tonight. Then, I think we could both use some rest."

You shrug, then nod. I don't think you're tired at all, because of the rush of sugar and hormones you just received. Still, I have a feeling that will change. We've both had a long, eventful day.

Suddenly, I hear the last sound I was ever expecting to hear, and we both freeze in place. It's the sound of the doorbell ringing.

I motion you to wait in the bathroom, then I run to the bedroom and put on a bathrobe over the skimpy nightgown. It rings one more time before I can get to the door and open it.

My friend is standing there, the one who's renting the apartment. She grins. "I thought you might be here," she says, "I saw your car. I didn't want to just use the key and scare the hell out of you.

I smile and sigh. "You did anyway, but thanks," I say, with a playful sneer.

"Hey, I gotta make things interesting somehow, eh?"

"You have no idea," I say, and try very hard not to burst out laughing. I know you can hear every word from the bathroom, since she's making no attempt at being quiet and the apartment is cozy enough that there's very little space for sound to get lost in.

I step back from the door as if to let her in, but she shakes her head. "Just here to check on you," she says. "My flight got delayed until tomorrow morning at some ungodly hour, and I figured I'd have time to do that before I had to drive down to the airport."

"Check on me? You've never felt the need to do that before," I say, frowning a little. "Did something happen?"

"Oh no, nothing like that," she says with a reassuring smile. "It's just that... well, there's been this creepy guy hanging out by your dorm, and I thought I saw him following you Friday night when you went out." She made a face. "I hope that miniskirt wasn't real suede," she says. "I'm pretty sure the rain would have ruined that right away."

I laugh. The dress was a cheap, throw-away polyester blend. "Uh, no," I say to her. "Where do you think I'd get that kind of money?"

"Dunno," she says. "But when you do, I want half."

I give her the finger, and she playfully takes a swing at me. "You bitch," she says, grinning.

"I try."

"Well, I guess I just came to make sure you're OK."

"Well I am," I say. "Look, there's no need for you to worry about me, OK? I can take care of myself."

"OK, but if that creepy dude comes around again, just watch yourself."

"Oh believe me, I will."

She waves, then turns away. I close and lock the door behind her, and don't turn around until I hear her car revving away from the apartment.

You're standing just inside the bathroom door, looking a little shaky. Your hard-on is completely gone, for the first time since I shot you full of sedatives last night. I can't help but laugh, a little nervous, but mostly just thrilled. You let out a shaky sigh of relief, and I come over and slip my arms around you, giving you a lingering kiss, our tongues caressing and our hands running slowly up and down each other's backs. In no time at all, I can feel that you're hard again.

"That's better," I say, squeezing your cock once through the jumpsuit. "She won't come back." You frown a little, but I give you a reassuring smile. "She knows I'm OK now. She'll leave me to myself. She knows me and trusts me, and even if she had discovered you," I say, tugging playfully at the scarves tying your wrists together, "I think my skill at bringing you to heel would have impressed her enough to not call the police." I smirk, knowing she's done things in this apartment that are as kinky as I have, and as long as I keep things clean around here, she would probably not even look twice.

Well, maybe she would. She might even have recognized you, and freaked out when she realized what I was up to. It was a small chance, but one I hadn't been willing to take, and now that the trouble was past, you didn't need to know about it. It would only worry you needlessly.

"Ready for our last game for the day?" I ask, smiling still as you slowly recover from the panic of nearly being discovered. You shrug and turn toward the office.

I walk in to find you already sitting in your chair, looking at me thoughtfully. You seem to have calmed down since the unexpected visit, so I smile and sit in my own place, sliding the dice over to you.

You take the dice and roll them. They come up as 1, 2, 5, 6, and 6. You glare at the single 2 for a moment, then sigh and keep both 6s. You roll the other three again and come up with 3, 3, 4. I'm guessing you're hoping for a three of a kind, because you keep the 6s again and reroll the other three. They come up as 1, 3, and 4. You curse and look at the dice. "You could take a single ace," I say, but you shake your head.

"I'll take my chance," you say.

"OK then, that makes 20." I write down the number. "This means we've both taken our chance. There's no turning back now. My turn."

I roll the dice and they come up 2, 2, 4, 5, 6. Without much thought, I keep the single 6 and reroll the other four, getting 1, 1, 3, and 4. I keep the 6 and reroll them again, getting 2, 3, 5, 6. "Well, I'll take a single 5. That means I have 128, and you have 104. You're catching up a little."

"You're not even trying, are you?" you ask, suddenly looking intrigued.

I grin. "Of course I'm trying," I say sweetly. "It's just what I'm trying for that you can't seem to figure out."

But I suspect you're starting to think I'm tilting the game in your favor on purpose.

And so what if I am? I think you deserve all three of the orgasms you could get from this game. You've been easy to train, and after the single incident this morning, you seem to be coming to enjoy this at least as much as you enjoyed stalking me in the first place, if not more so.

"Well, chance is just your free points for the game," I say. "We have to take another turn to figure out what you're doing to me tonight. Or vice versa." I grin, and slide the box of dice back toward you.

This time your roll comes out better: 3, 4, 5, 5, 6. You immediately grin and keep the small straight. You start to speak, then shrug and roll the extra 5 one more time. It comes up as a 5 again, and you roll it a third time.

I laugh out loud as you look at the die in disbelief: still 5.

"Maybe that one is loaded," I say, smirking as I use your slight tendency toward paranoia to tease you even more. We both know deep down that it's just random chance, but I still enjoy the slight suspicion in your eyes. I have told you otherwise before, but I have a feeling you believe I'm completely in control of the outcome. That only makes me feel like smiling even more. "My turn."

I roll the dice into the box, so eager I almost spill them all over the table instead. They come out 2, 3, 3, 3, 5. "Nice set of 3s," I say, keep them and roll the other two. They land on 1 and 6. I roll them again, and this time get a better roll: 2 and 3. "Twelve points in 3s," I say with a satisfied grin. I indicate the sheet, where it says "cleaning house" next to the blank space where the small straight score would go. "This means two bits of good news for you. The first one is, I am now only six points ahead of you with 140." You know, of course, that this may not last long, so you just shrug. "The second is that 'cleaning house' may not be what you think it is. You won't have to dress up like a French maid or, in fact, actually clean anything. But you will have to straighten up around the apartment, and find some of the things I have hidden there. Whatever you find, we get to play with. I'll let you find only some of the toys, so we don't get worn out. There are far more than that around here, but we'll never have time to play with them all. There's only one place you're not allowed to go, for obvious reasons. And that is my armoire at the foot of the bed. It's locked anyway. In there are a few other surprises I don't want to be spoiled quite yet." I didn't mention that I also kept the hypos with the sedative in there, but you're a smart little stalker, and I know you know the drugs have to be somewhere. "Furthermore, I'm going to follow you around and make sure you don't have time to re-hide the toy if you don't like it much." I grin. "I'm beginning to trust you a little more, but not completely just yet. I'll take off these scarves so you can move around more." I come up and untie the scarves, putting them on top of the desk. "You can start wherever you like. Just remember, things might not be where you expect them to be. Don't be afraid to think outside the box."

You get up from the chair and wander toward the bedroom. I follow you, and you open the walk-in closet. You begin to part the line of clothes to look behind them, then something on the rack catches your eye, and you take a skimpy red outfit from its hanger, and look at it. "Does this count?"

I grin. "Indeed it does," I say, slipping out of my nightgown. I take the sexy policewoman costume from you and slip it on, its tight pants outlining my shapely legs and the low-cut uniform shirt doing wonders for my cleavage. I keep the handcuffs on the belt, to your great relief, and we continue our search. You look through some boxes in the back of the closet, finding only shoes, and turn to leave. I close the door behind you, and find you studying the nightstand. Nothing there but my handbag, my toiletries, and a book I was reading. You look under the bed, finding a long, suspicious box. You open it, and there is a shiny, black vibrator that has to be at least seven inches long. I smile as you present it to me. "Not quite yet," I say. "Let's look some more."

You go into the bathroom and quickly start looking through the medicine cabinet, and immediately find the ball stretcher tucked in behind the ibuprofen. You groan and hand that to me as well. I smile, and you continue looking through the cupboards, finding a little bottle of strawberry lube and a dozen rolls of toilet paper. You leave the bathroom and go back into the office, start rifling through the desk, and come up with pens and paper, a zip drive, and cables and cords for the computer. You look under the desk in the knee-hole, and come out, holding an elaborate, pink feather tickler. I giggle and take it from you, and we move on to the kitchen. This is where most of the dishwasher-safe dildos and vibrators are, in the dishwasher of course, but you don't go there. Instead, you look through the cupboards, finding food items and ingredients. Then you go doubtfully over to the fridge. I try desperately to control my laughter as you open it and look with trepidation at what is revealed by the refrigerator light. It's a cylindrical, vibrating butt plug, sitting on a clean saucer like a little entree. You grimace, then pick it up with a sigh.