The Guardian

There are moments, when ones desires need to be restricted, in order to become focused. Cleared of all irrelevance, in a fleeting state of purity, one can find pleasure of utmost proportions.

Codes: F/m, slow, reluctant, humiliation

Chapter One

Nurturing

She slowly undid another shirt button, feigning a playful indifference, as if it was to merely relieve her of pent up heat. But she knew of the effect her décolleté would have on the young man curled up next to her.

"And there will be times, when I will punish you."

He looked at her with his clear brown eyes, and she could see in his expression that he was uncomfortable with what she just said. She met his inquiring look with her own matronly stare.

"Yes R. I'm going to discipline you. Pain is an essential part in our life. Why do you think we evolved the way we did? Through pain we are reminded of our weakness. But shouldn't we also be encouraged by its potential to correct? I firmly believe punishment is a crucial element in the upbringing of any male. So I'm going to right you, when you are lost. Consider this as a form of maternal guidance."

She waited, knowing this was hard for him to swallow. And when he was about to reply, she continued.

"I told you earlier, that I've always desired to be a mother myself when I was young. Maybe the Lord thought I wasn't ready then." She paused for a moment, overcome with emotions. "Anyway it didn't happen. I never became pregnant. But over time I was able to accept, that this might be his plan for me to fulfill my maternal duties elsewhere. Through his guidance I became involved in community service and discovered my passion for working with needy youngsters. Helping hapless boys gave me a renewed purpose in life. I'm only doing his bidding. But you know that already, do you?"

R. nodded silently. He felt irritated by her speaking of him as merely a boy. It was belittling, making him feel immature, which of course he was, when he considered their difference in age. And he felt uncomfortable about her speaking of punishment.

"As it comes with age, you have a clearer view on things in life, consequently I know that punishment alone is not enough for boys, it has to be accompanied by love and affection. And you know how much I care about you."

R. wanted to tell her, but she silenced his effort by placing a finger on his mouth. Her gesture again stirred varied emotions in him. The softness of her touch made him longing for more, but her words caused concern.

"It gives me great comfort, that you too wished for me to be your governess." She paused briefly and added "... even though I would rather describe my custody as guiding counselor. I will be demanding at times. You will sometimes think that I ask too much of you. But you must never fear me, as my purpose is to support, and if you so choose, to be your companion. I will honor your trust with commitment and love, to provide you with guidelines until you are ready to embark on our own."

She could clearly detect anxiety in his eyes and contrary to her words she enjoyed the obvious apprehension in his face.

"I know people talk about me, when they see me do my work with vigor. I sense the gossip behind my back; can trace the uneasiness in their expressions, when they try to influence my work with half-hearted advice. I have been called a lot of things in my life." Again she waited, observing him, as if she was able to read his thoughts before continuing „How do people call me behind my back, R.?"

He could not answer. Part of him found it inappropriate to tell her what he heard - they called her a dominant, unyielding, sadistic bitch -, but the larger reason was his unwillingness to acknowledge, that there might be some truth in those observations, and the simple fact that she was now his guardian. R. averted his eyes. He could not meet her questioning glance and decided to remain silent.

She continued. "But you know R.; I am able to bear the burden when people misjudge me. Since these are only their own projections, their own anxieties, their own insecurities transferred on me, I'm willing to endure them. See, there is pain everywhere. I promise you, there will not be any vagueness in our relationship."

R. didn't like where this was going. There was no underlying eroticism anymore. He had thought their intimate cuddling in this small bedroom after the incident earlier, would lead to something. He didn't really know what he was hoping for, but it sure felt nice. He had been enchanted by her. She radiated so much femininity. She had weakened his renewed resolve just as easily, as she had given him comfort in his trauma. But the lewd sexual tension her mature sensuality had stirred in him, troubled him the most. He was a still tense when he finally looked at her.

She had seen it all along, known it from the beginning. It's all been so easy. He was so eager to please. So eager to make a good impression and yet so easily manipulated. She relished the tension. She kept looking into his eyes until he lowered them, torn in ambivalence, between his obvious desire for her and his natural shyness. She observed his glance slowly moving down her neck, and again trying to secretly peek at her bosom.

They had both stretched out comfortably on his bed. R. simply couldn't stop glancing at her large breasts, while she relaxed by his side. She wore a delicately designed brassiere underneath her shirt, which still covered most of her voluptuous décolleté. John could almost anticipate the hidden treasures behind the decorative design and swallowed uncomfortably, once again overcome by the prickling feeling caused by her intimacy. Time seemed to have come to a stop. She didn't say anything for a while. She smelled nice; mature, saturated womanly, a very different kind of smell, compared to the young girls R. has met. There was glowing warmth radiating from her body.

She savored his youthful arousal, his obvious interest in her caused by their sudden intimacy. Again she waited, watching him as he tried to shift his position to conceal his growing excitement underneath his pajama. She had been delighted earlier to discover the small wet spot in his nether region, so obviously caused by fluid leaking from his craving member. She preferred male who could not hide their emotions, that's why they had be young, more likely to accept her rule.

All the while, during their one-sided conversation, she had - little by little - opened most of the buttons on her shirt. Her brassiere was now almost fully visible to his longing eyes. As she undid the last button, part of the shirt opened up, revealing an exquisitely embroidered bra. His eyes greedily took pleasure in her revelation, piercing the fine material for the mysteries beneath it. She always liked the effect her ample bosom had on men. She made a mocking sound. R.'s face immediately colored, as he had unsuccessfully tried to hide his voyeurism.

"You do realize, what you just did, was very rude. It is demeaning for a woman to be stared at in such an intrusive manner. You are indeed a naughty boy!"

"I'm sorry." he mumbled ashamed by her directness.

"But it is unavoidable for us to share some intimacy, since you now live in my house. You are a good natured child. But there are certain adjustments to be made, bad manners to be corrected, odd habits to be broken..." she paused for effect "but as I've told you before, I will guide you and as long as you are willing to follow my advice, there is nothing to be feared. I know we both have to give up some of our privacy, which might not be easy at the beginning, but I am confident we will work it out."

R. felt trapped between his blooming desire and his shyness, which he found incompatible with his urges, and hence hated himself for his inability to not better conceal them. She on the other hand enjoyed the moment and took pleasure in his obvious embarrassment.

Again he could not bring himself to look at her, even has he felt her judging gaze on him; once more time seemed to have stopped, as he tried not to openly peek at her breasts. How could he control his desire to look? Their closeness was nearly unbearable for him. She sensed his conflict and softly touched his hair, caressed it playfully and murmured a barely audible "Relax." Her sudden touch was electrifying. He immediately felt goose bumps crawling up his neck and shivers running through his youthful body. His member twitched, again he had to shift, to hide and accommodate the growing tumescence in his nether region.

After some shared silence, she opened a small clip on her bra. It has been exclusively designed to resemble a nursing brassiere and yet to conceal this very function to the tempted male stare. Driven by its own weight her large white breast uncovered just in front of R.s face. She had big brownish areolas, which protruded her breasts and a swollen nipple bulged in the center. She could feel the warmth of R.s breath on her skin as he coyly exhaled, to hide his excitement. This caused her areola to be more textured than the surrounding lighter skin. Small wrinkles occurred close to her nipple, making it stand out even more prominent. Eventually, triggered by the sudden temptation, R. overcame his inhibitions and subconsciously took the now revealed treasure in his mouth.

"It's always so easy to manipulate a man's archaic instinct" she giggled inwardly, although she always had varied feelings about her large breasts. She found them to be a mixed blessing, annoying at times because of their size, but undeniable a practical benefit to lure men. But they weren't easy to stimulate, especially when men would rudely grab them. She preferred to train males first, before allowing them intimacy. Of course she would never openly put it that way. She would only encourage and guide. Once you have established a subtle dominance on the male's longings, it's easy to restrict, deny and ultimately enforce enthusiastic adoration. From the perspective of a grown woman, who already knew her fleshy desires, she wouldn't consider the breasts part of her favorite erogenous zones. Her hotspots on the contrary, assuming she was in the mood and were stimulated to accommodate her rather peculiar preferences on that subject, could reveal her volcanic sex drive and vulgar lasciviousness.

Consequently she used her ample breasts as mere tools to manipulate men, to expose the comforting bondage between the sexes through nurturing, yet to stir the underlying sexual hunger and desire for more, but then to conquer in the end. Only through dominance she was able to achieve true satisfaction. Wearing this nursing brassiere was part of her play. She knew that by not completely revealing her breast to the male, she kept even the act of revelation limited to her own bidding. It was to allude primarily nurturing. The clip brassiere's chosen functionality emphasized for one thing on her maternal role of giving. But she also wanted the hierarchical dimension reinforced. The practical design should suggest certain indifference, as if it was to reduce something burdensome for her, like the mere milk secreting function of a mother nursing her infant. She could take them away just as quickly. Believing that the mind is the most erogenous zone, she always tried to engage her vis-à-vis. She didn't want the male to simply undress her. It was the game of hide and seek, that gave her thrills.

She watched R. while he clumsily sucked her right breast. The anxiety in his face was now replaced by an expression of comfort and arousal. He had instinctively closed his eyes, while he nursed on her bosom. She caressed his head, and by her gentle touch he relaxed even more. Eventually she pushed her forefinger into R.'s mouth, functionally, as a mother would do to interrupt her hungry baby from feasting on her breast. It broke the spell she had on him. He opened his eyes and looked at her in a mixture of embarrassment and open desire. The plump nipple had dropped from his mouth. It was covered with clear liquid from his fondling.

"Are you feeling better now?"

He nodded meekly.

"You are a wicked child" she said in a sultry voice, deliberately reducing his male ego. "Do you think it's appropriate for you, to fondle your caretaker's breast?" she continued playfully.

His cheeks colored slightly as he tensed on her probing look, not knowing what to make of her last comment. R. was in a foggy state of arousal where reason was clouded out by pheromones. Overcome with cravings for more intimacy, he finally had been able to forget the day's unpleasant event. He wanted this to last at least a little longer. But to his disappointment she sensually clipped away her breast, again hiding her womanly bosom from his longing eyes.

"Did I just make you feel good?"

He nodded, unwilling to engage his own voice, fearing it wouldn't come out right. She continued her teasing.

"I can see it did. I want you to know, that a certain intimacy will be part of our relationship. But remember what I told your earlier, it has to be on my terms."

Now she was going to elevate their connection to the next level. She sensed he was properly set up, already caught in her sensory web of control.

"I cannot have you feast on my bosom like a hungry baby. There is no milk to be drained, to relieve excess pressure in my milk ducts, which would certainly result from constant nursing, and would perhaps outdo the forceful sucking pressure you just applied on my breast."

R. felt like a schoolboy, who was scolded by his teacher. "It must be the way she talks" he thought, trying to comprehend what she said. "Or was it her choice of words, her tone, or her attitude." His ego was split between fear and revolt.

Once more she maternally caressed his hair, thus inducing another rush of sensual stimulus, preparing him for her next words, again clouding his male ego.

"You see R., from now on, before you are allowed to calm yourself on my breast, I want you to be in a more receiving position. And you will never again touch my breasts without my prior consent." Her voice had not changed while she reprimanded him, but he immediately felt the threatening implication.

"I want you to look at me now," she whispered comfortingly.

He was somehow relieved by her willingness to guide him; although embarrassed by the fact that he had sucked on her breast like a little child. Yet never in his life had he felt such enormous arousal and desire. It was almost maddening for him. R. looked at her and was suddenly mesmerized by her mature beauty. She had stunning facial features. The well-shaped eyebrows accentuated her intellectual appearance; the nose was straight and lively. Her initial red hair had darkened into a more brownish color, losing some of its vividness. She preferred to wear it in a plain style, parted from forehead to crown, and drawn smoothly back to a chignon at the nape of her strong graceful neck. She had released it from its usual confinement, and it was flowing freely, curling up slightly at the ends. But it was her gray eyes, which had an almost hypnotic effect on him. Suddenly it seemed natural to look at her.

"Good boy."

Just when he felt his male conscience strengthen, she reminded him of his insecurity.

"You do respect me R., do you?"

"Yes of course ma'am," again disliking the croaked way it had come out.

"I want you to express your respect."

He looked at her puzzled, not knowing what she meant.

"As you have seen, my earlier words about love and caring had meaning, just as my resolve to correct. Since I have opened myself to you, I find it appropriate for you to do the same. Whenever there is going to be some emotional bonding between us, as a token of respect, you will assume a posture of gratitude."

His eyes widened, while his cheeks colored considerably. R. felt insecure about his body. It was the combination of unanswered sexual curiosity due to his old-fashioned upbringing, and the sensed scrutiny in the eyes of a mature woman, that reinforced his feeling of physical inadequacy.

So turn on your back now."

She waited for him to comply.

R. slowly turned on his back, still looking at her. She was surprised by his willingness to keep eye contact. It was in itself a form of subjection. He stretched out, but didn't quite know what to make of his arms.

"You can grasp your thighs with your hands by your side" she instructed, again indicating guidance, and relieving him of what otherwise would have been a clumsy movement. His earlier excitement was once again replaced by tension, when he realized she was deliberately observing his body from head to toes. When she had indicated earlier, that it was time for him to get a good night's rest, and would accompany him to his room, he had put on the pajama without any thoughts. But now he felt immature because of it. And then he realized, mortified, that his excitement would now be clearly open to her scrutiny. He was blushing with embarrassment, averting his eyes once more.

"Don't avert your eyes. You are not finished yet." She slid slightly closer to him, and was now towering him through their different postures. She saw his glowing checks, felt his constrained breathing, his forced awareness to look at her, and eased his nervousness again through her simple touch.

"How can a woman's touch cause so much pleasure, why am I not able to control myself?" his inner self seemed to shout, trying to regain some control over his emotions.

She was toying with him, her own arousal gradually increasing. Dominance was her greatest aphrodisiac, and thus her scent changed, releasing that predatory aura she so much relished. His physical reaction to the ever so slight change in atmosphere was instantaneous. He literally smelled it. It was a new odor to his young senses, intimidating, damp, and yet strangely arousing, as her nearness again took control of his emotions.

"Now spread your legs gently, but keep your soles together."

He complied slowly.

"Yes, that's very good. Go on, I tell you when to stop. And R. please," she had again reduced her voice to a whisper. "Do not avert your eyes. I want you to feel confident about yourself in this position."

She observed him, as he opened his legs, while continuing to lovingly stroke his head. Only her soft touch made it possible for R. to comply. He hungered for affection.

"This will be your posture to express gratitude and readiness to receive attention. You are such an attractive, good mannered lad. I will honor your willingness to conduct yourself admirably. There are only a few minor flaws to correct and I will clarify them to you. Are you willing to learn?"

"Yes!" he replied eagerly. It felt good to be praised. He felt joy that she spoke approvingly of him.

"Again, I want you to be at ease. In the future, if you may wish me to help you calm yourself, you have to repeat what we just did, to recline on your back and keep your hands by your sides. You will always look directly in my eyes. Not averting or closing them. Then as a gesture of your willingness to conceive my affection, you will spread your legs v-shaped until your soles touch. Since we now have already shared considerable intimacy, it should only be natural for you to open your legs in a devote manner. You will only and I repeat only in this position cherish my breast."

The prospect of receiving her breast again, exited him immensely and could easily be observed by the painful rigidity between his widened legs. Because of her instructions to lie back, his pajama luckily stretched above his groin, somewhat concealing the swollen maleness, preventing another situation of indignity, at least for the moment. However he found his posture to be unnatural, contradicting his usual instinct to curl up, and even though his arousal blocked out most of his rationality, demeaning.