Totally Subservient

The room is dark. She cannot see - only a tiny slant of light comes in past the edge of a curtain. Her hands are tied and her mouth covered; as she sits, the air is warm against her skin.

She has no idea where she is; there seems to be a bench under her. She can twist her fingers to touch it and it's slightly rough - like velvet.

The room smells of incense; musky. She listens. In the distance, she can hear music - and traffic. In here, it's quiet.

A door opens and - click! - quietly closes. Soft footfalls approach her across the carpet.

He approaches quietly, not wanting to startle her.

He moves round her, admiring the ties on her hands. He can feel her eyes, but he doesn't glance up. Not yet. He walks over to the window, gently parting the curtain with a black-gloved hand. He lets it fall, leaving only a tiny shaft of light, like a blade across the room.

He turns back.

He strokes his eyes across her body. From her feet neatly together in her high heels, up her long legs, across her body and over the small, tight breasts that point hard nipples through her blouse. Then he looks straight at her.

He smiles. He reaches out his hand and strokes her hair.

She cannot see him clearly, only the light picking out the lines of his face, his garments, as he moves.

As he comes close, makes contact, she flinches - she cannot help herself - but she is looking up at him and her gaze doesn't leave his face.

Her breathing is short. He can feel that she is trembling.

He gently strokes her face and throat. He can feel her shaking.

'If I take off your gag,' he says, 'Do you promise to do exactly as I say?'

She feels the touch of his gloves and catches her breath.

She nods.

'I'm going to free your legs first, and then your mouth. Your hands will stay tied.'

He reaches down and unties her feet. The bonds loosen and she moves her feet to feel the blood flow.

He takes her face in his hands, turns her head, unties her gag. As it comes away, he hears her try to control her breathing.

He says, 'Are you ready to please me?'

For a moment, she licks her lips and moves her mouth to ease the stiffness in her jaw.

'Yes,' she whispers.

He is assessing her, she can feel his eyes touching her like cool, casual fingertips. She is nervous – feeling his presence and control. What if she fails?

She asks him, 'What must I do?'

He takes her elbow and stands her up like a toy.

Putting his hands on her waist, he turns her around and tells her to kneel down.

She does as she's told and drops to her knees.

He says, 'Rest your head on the bench.'

She rests her head on the velvet seat and stretches her tied hands in front of her.

He taps her arse.

'Show it to me,' he says. 'I want to see it.'

She bends lower and stretches out; she pushes her arse outwards and upwards, moving her legs apart.

He murmurs his appreciation and his hands grab the bottom of her skirt.

She is compliant, moving gently to where she is placed. Her heart pounds – she can hear her own pulse in her ears. She is nervous, excited. Afraid? Maybe, but that fear is a thrill.

The velvet is warm and faintly scratchy, she parts her thighs to his unspoken command, raises her arse for his pleasure.

She can't see him, her head is turned towards the door. There is a strip of light beneath it, she sees movement as someone walks outside. Would they hear her if she shouted for help?

She feels his hands. She gasps. She bites back a plea.

He tears her skirt two, baring her arse.

The sight is a good one – it makes him hard; he wants to touch, but controls himself.

He takes off his gloves. Dropping one to the floor, he kneels beside her and raises the other.

He smiles at her expectant whimper.

And cracks it, hard, across her skin.

He slaps her again, making her soft flesh quiver.

As she gasps, he hits her harder.

With one, swift move, she is exposed, vulnerable. She is trembling.

The air is warm; the tight band of silk that separates her exposed cheeks is much warmer. She is self-conscious; she hopes that the incense is masking her scent.

She hears him, know what's going to happen to her.

'Please...' She does not know whether she means 'please do' or 'please don't'.

The first strike makes her cry out – she doesn't mean to, doesn't want to reveal her helplessness! - but the cry escapes her mouth before she can stop it. By the second, she is thrusting her cheeks towards him, begging him to continue.

'Please!'

He brings the glove down on her arse until her flesh is pink and glowing. Then he drops it, caressing her blazing skin.

He moves round her, sits by her side and orders her over his lap.

She comes eagerly to him, wanting his hard on her arse. He moves one hand under her, sliding his fingers under her wet panties. Her clit is hot, wet, hard. Gently, he teases it with his fingertips.

His other hand comes down on her arse with a sharp 'crack!'

Her arse is burning!

He pauses, the tension leaves her and she lets out a long sigh, shaking. Then she feels the touch of his hand, caressing her reddened skin. It feels cold - cold, but oddly soothing.

He moves her onto his lap, his fingers seek her wet, exposed clit. The first touch is electric; her growing desire is becoming a need. It's all she can do to keep her hips still.

Smack! The contact makes her start.

His other hand encounters silken-soft skin, wet and sliding beneath his fingers. She presses her body forwards on to the touch, backwards again as he spanks her bared cheek, the shock sending ripples of sensation right through her.

She disobeys him by losing control, she knows that, but she wants to, she has to...

He continues bringing his hand down hard, while his other fingers caress her clit in small circular movements.

He's hard under her writhing.

She's rubbing, bucking herself up and down on his lap. His fingers keep caressing her, loving the way it turns her into such a wanton, abandoned slut.

Her moaning and whimpering is getting louder. He brings his hand down faster. 'You like this?' he teases her, 'You like my hand on your arse? You want more?' She grinds against him and he laughs softly.

'Do you?'

She speaks between gasps - pleasure and plain overlay one another until she cannot tell them apart.

'I... want you... to let me come...'

His fingers, his hand, are wet with her. He says, 'You know what that will cost you.'

'Please... let me...'

'Just this once.'

Mercilessly, his fingers are rubbing her, making her writhe and thrust. He stops bringing his hand down on her skin, instead tracing his fingers down the line between her cheeks.

As he continues to enjoy her clit, he sucks one finger and slides it, very deliberately, up her arse.

Fucking her gently like this, he says, 'Now, let me see you come...'

"Thank... thank you..."

The words are almost indecipherable, lost amidst a sea of gasping.

Her body opens to him. He feels her clit harden, quiver under his fingers. His other finger penetrates deeply and she gives a deep, ecstatic cry. Her body is starting to shudder, to shudder uncontrollably.

Leaving her clit, he thrusts his fingers move into her; strong, deep and insistent. Her shaking increases; she does not know what she is saying. The sound of his permission, at last, in her ear...

With a cry of relief, of utter pleasure, her shaking peaks. Her body springs tight, flexes like the arch of a bow. He can feel warm, wet skin around his fingers contracting, gripping and releasing him. She is thrusting against him, revelling in the waves of sensation passing over and through her.

He lets her relax before moving his fingers.

Letting her slide from his lap, he helps her to sit next to him. He puts his arm around her, kisses her gently as she shakes.

He is content to know that she will pay a price for today – next time they play this game, she will have to present herself bound on all fours, prostrate so he can fuck her, mouth and cunt and arse, at his leisure.

He knows that, out there in the offices and theatres and pubs of the city, she'll be remembering this and thinking about next time... about wetting herself as she sucks him.

Totally subservient.

She subsides beside him, light aftershocks sending sporadic shivering through her.

She knows he has been generous; she knows what he'll demand of her next time.

He understands how much she craves the thrust of his body into her, between her lips or between her thighs. He's made her come at his command, taken control of her completely. She wanted him... but she must earn his cock, she knows that.

She will await his pleasure.