Accustomed to Her Face Ch. 07

We Dance

You are warm and sleepy and content. You are lying on your side facing me, your nose tucked under my jaw in my big old canopy bed in my big old bedroom in this big old Victorian house on the hill. You can feel my rib cage slowly expanding and contracting against you – I'm dozing. You smile and nuzzle my neck. I stir and kiss your forehead. The feather comforter and blankets weigh perfectly – the linen sheets embrace your naked legs.

You can smell our commingled sweat and the ripe fragrance of our love-making. You can still taste the flavor of my mouth and your own juices from my lips – and of my cock – musky, salty, clean. My white cotton shirt is unbuttoned but still over my shoulders. Your adorable white cotton dress is disheveled and pulled up around your waist. My arm is draped over your waist and, our fingers are still woven together, your arm is bent behind you. Your pussy is wet and leaking the result of the three times I pumped my seed into your recently opened cunnie. Your inner legs are sticky. It's marvelous.

You can feel the red velvet ribbons around your wrists. They are tying us together – your left wrist and my right – your right wrist and my left. You nuzzle me again smile and whisper "I love you." I squeeze your left hand gently. "I love you too, darling."

It was a cool November day and you couldn't help but be excited on your way home from physics class this late afternoon. In your Icelandic sweater and blue jeans and with your laptop and books in your backpack, you hurried across from the campus and up the hill where my house stands. You shuffled through the leaves and laughed at the squirrels gathering chestnuts. You skipped through the gate and around to the back door where you let yourself in. You ran up the back stairs to your room in what was once the servants' quarters.

Friday night. We had a date planned although you didn't know the particulars. You did know that we had agreed on special clothes for both of us and yours were laid out on your bed: white lace panties and a white lace bra – a beautiful simple white dress that had buttons from the waist-band to the neck. You stripped off your school-clothes, showered, and put on your panties and bra. Then you sat at your dressing table in front of the mirror taking your time – the slightest bit of makeup – subtle lipstick. You wanted to look natural tonight.

You brushed out your dark, curly long hair. You coaxed it into ringlets at your ears. You smiled at yourself in the mirror. A ravishing young beauty smiled back at you. Her dark skin and soft chocolate brown eyes twinkled. The white filigree of her bra lay in alluring contrast against her skin. Her nipples were erect.

You opened your mouth – the beauty opened her mouth – and you wondered at the transformation from girl to young woman. You thought maybe it was just your state of mind – but maybe, too, it was a new skin you occupied – no longer a virgin – having given your girlhood to me – having taken my cock into your pussy for the first time seven nights ago.

You slipped the dress over your head and fastened the buttons almost all the way, but left your neck exposed. You ran out your door barefoot, around the corner into the main house, down the long hall with its dozen heavy doors and stopped before the large mirror at the end.

You saw yourself again full length and framed by the hallway behind you with its fifteen foot ceiling; doors eight feel high, huge gold framed portraits on its walls. You mused about who those people could be – my relatives, perhaps, from long ago.

In the dimming early evening light you saw your lovely white dress extending just below your knees. You saw yourself differently now. You saw yourself as beautiful. You felt strangely at home in this big house on the hill. You had a strange thought – that you wanted a portrait of you to be hung in the hall or maybe in my bedroom or maybe over the mantle in the great living room so your image could keep me company when you're in class and look down over my shoulder when I work at my piano.

Then it occurred to you that perhaps a girl would be looking at your portrait a hundred years from now. You smiled. Yes – it would be so.

You turned and slowly opened the door to my bedroom. It was candle-lit. A fire was burning on the grate. I was standing in front of my mirror tying my bow-tie. I turned and smiled and held out my arms. You smiled and laughed and took two running steps toward me. But stopping, you turned around slowly to show me your dress then came to my arms.

I gathered your small body to me and took your breath away with my kiss. I wanted you weak in the knees. You wobbled a bit. I knew I'd had the desired effect.

I grabbed your hand and led you out of my room just around the corner, through a door that opened from the paneling – down narrow stairs like a secret passage – and out into the hallway downstairs. Then we passed through another tall, heavy door. Here was a large room also candle-lit with the fireplace burning, but on the three outside walls all around, except for where the fireplace stood in the center, were huge windows above French doors. And the room was empty except for a few high-backed easy chairs and a piano that seemed small in the context of the room's unusual scale.

You looked about as we crossed to the small table next to the fireplace. The room was at least sixty feet long and forty feet wide. The ceilings were twenty feet high with two immense chandeliers, and, as you turned back to look where we'd walked in, you could see that the interior wall had floor to ceiling mirrors all along it – with a dance bar. Near the mirrored wall was one wooden straight-backed chair.

You were marveling at the sight – and at our reflection – and you watched me picking up a long band of red velvet ribbon from where it was draped over the chair. You watched my reflection as I came behind you and, lifting your right arm, I slowly and ritualistically, wrapped your wrist with the ribbon and tied a knot such that your wrist was not restricted, but inexorably bound.

You began to tremble.

Mesmerized by the sight in the mirror, you continued to hold your right arm out, the long ribbon dangling from you wrist, like blood pouring out. You shuddered, what a thought. But you watched as I gathered another ribbon and lifted your left arm to give it the same treatment. Then, with your arms outstretched, I stood behind you and put my hands around your small waist.

You gazed at my pale skin, my hazel eyes, my fingers holding your waist firmly. And I bent over and kissed your right shoulder, my blonde hair falling by your ear.

I could feel you trembling. I purred, "I love you, my beauty. My beautiful little girl."

You turned and threw your arms around my shoulders – standing on tip-toes while your tongue slipped into my mouth. I returned your long kiss – minutes long, tender, deep – then probing, becoming urgent – I could feel your excitement rising.

We broke the kiss – you stood before me. "You are always beautiful, little girl, but tonight you are radiant."

"I'm in love, Daddy"

"A lucky man."

You smile. "A very lucky girl."

"Tonight, darling, I thought we'd dance a bit." I said and crossed to the table, opening the box sitting there and lifting an old vinyl record from its sleeve.

"But I don't know how to dance – I mean – not old-fashioned ways – just the kind we dance at school."

I smile. I think I must seam ancient to you sometimes. I put the needle on the record. A Strauss waltz started. "That's OK – it's easy and fun and I'm going to teach you – but with a twist." I smiled at you wickedly.

You giggled. "Bad, bad Daddy."

"Yes, and no, darling. Hopeless romantic 'Daddy,' I think."

Facing you, I lifted your right arm and slowly tied the red ribbon around my left wrist. Then I tied your left wrist to my right – having to drag your hands with me to accomplish the deed. I smiled. "Tethered, my dear – now – like this."

I placed my hand on your waist – your hand came with me. I held your other hand out and slowly I began to move you. You caught right on. And soon we were waltzing and spinning through the room. Song after song, then the other side of the record too. Then another record. We had to cooperate to change the record and the effort made us laugh and you carried on. Making me hit myself in the face and causing me to drop the record (which I explained were delicate – not like CDs). You dragged me all over the room. You made me laugh from the bottom of my soul – laughter like I hadn't made for years – not since – not since...

"Daddy, what's wrong?"

I had stopped. I was lost in the memory. You lifted your hand to my cheek. "Daddy, where did you go?"

I looked into your bright, dark eyes pulling me back from the precipice. "Nowhere, darling, nowhere at all. Just the old ghosts of long ago."

"Daddy, you always seem so sad. Even when you smile. It's like you're far away much of the time." You were stroking my cheek (which meant that my own hand came along). "Someday you'll tell me about the ghosts. I think it'll take the power away from them. But not tonight. Tonight is for laughter and love, Daddy." And you made me smack my own face with my hand again. And you laughed so hard you could barely stand. And I laughed along again, temporarily freed of care.

Twisting you around so your arms crossed in front of you and your back was against me, I slowly walked you over to the wooden chair. We stood before the mirror, in front of the chair and I began to slowly pull the skirt of your dress up. More and more of your legs were slowly exposed. Slender, strong – and you lace panties came into view. You watched intently. I could feel you tremble.

"Look how beautiful you are, darling." I hooked my fingers into your panties' waistband and began to draw them down your legs, making you crouch as they came off you feet one by one.

I sat on the chair slowly pulling you onto my lap facing the mirror. I lifted your skirt again and gently but firmly pushed your legs open.

You could see the lips of your pussy slightly parted. You could see a bit of glistening moisture between them. "Now, darling, hold your hand out of the way so you can watch. I want you to see how beautiful you are."

"I never looked, Daddy. It's – it's exciting."

"Spread wider, darling – open wide."

You spread your legs wide. Your reflection looked wanton. My right middle finger was stroking your clitoris. My left hand was spreading open you lips. Your breath was coming harder and harder. You leaned back against me and squirmed and I bent my head down and nibbled on your neck. My teeth seemed sharp and I bit you. You squealed and came, watching your pussy flood – but I kept on stroking you – teasing you – lifting you to another – and another.

You shamelessly moved against my hands. You used your own fingers to heighten your pleasure. It was so novel to watch. It was so naughty. And you could see me bent over your neck, biting you, sucking your flesh – biting hard as you came each time.

You finally came down to earth.

I stood you up. I turned you around again, facing me.

"I love you Daddy – so much. Please, take me to bed now."

We walked still facing each other through the door, still tethered at our wrists. We made our way, giggling, back through the passage and up the narrow stairs – back into my bedchamber. A small meal was ready – cheeses and tea – bread and a bloody-rare roast of meat. Venison, I told you when you asked.

We sat before the fire. We fed each other. We laughed and you told me about your day at school. We kissed often, and I pushed half-chewed meat from my lips into your mouth – "My little bird," I said.

"Oh, Daddy – you're so romantic," swallowing my feedings – over and over. You began to breathe heavily.

"My darling will need her strength." My hand fell to between your legs. I found your clitoris. You came hard and fast. "Another bite, darling." Eating the meat I'd chewed for you was exciting you beyond reason. You swallowed. I made you come again.

You kissed me deep and long and stood up and reached down to unbuckle my belt. I stood and my trousers fell to the floor. You undid my tie. You unbuttoned my shirt. Then your buttons. We took off you bra by actually undoing the straps. Then – something you hadn't foreseen – "Daddy – I have to pee."

"I'll have to come along, little girl."

"Wicked Daddy!" You laughed and we awkwardly made our way to the bathroom. Using the same trick, we turned so, this time, you were behind me... and you took great amusement holding my cock and aiming my stream into the toilet. Then we untwisted ourselves and you sat down – me facing you and, blushing so your skin turned a redder shade of light chocolate, you peed, staring into my eyes the whole time.

When you finished, you kept looking into my eyes. I held you there – just like that as minutes passed and you finally slowly leaned to me and kissed me so tenderly I thought my heart would explode.

We reached for the paper. You wiped. I stroked you again until you came, you, gently biting my lip and trembling.

We didn't speak – we went to bed still tied together. You eagerly spread your legs and took me in. I bit your neck again and you screamed as you came as if a freight train had thundered through you small body. I filled you with my come over and over – three times – and we fell asleep just that way. With your nose tucked under my jaw, your dress all pulled up around your waist, my shirt undone.

Now, you nuzzle me again.

I stir.

I feel you tremble and you begin to weep.

"What's the matter, darling."

"Daddy – don't ever leave me."

"No – no"

"Every day I will sit in the chair by your piano while you work. I'll do my homework while you write."

"Yes, darling."

"I want you to get a portrait made of me. I want it to hang in the hall with the rest – or over the mantle in the great room."

"Of course, darling."

"I want babies – six or so."

I hesitated - "Grad school first."

"Whatever. I will knit. They will play at your feet."

I paused - "Yes, dear"

"Don't you 'yes dear' me. I will have these things." You sob suddenly - violently. "They are my dreams, Daddy. This is my place now – here in your life."

"Yes, my little girl." Now I understand... you are claiming me in an instinctual way. You want to manifest your feelings – it is the natural uprising of your love. I take a deep breath and hold you tenderly. I stroke your curly hair.

You are calmer now. "And I and the children will defy your mean old ghosts. And you will never leave. And you will never be lonely any more."

I am aware that leaving you is inevitable. I'm thirty three years older than you. Even assuming that you stick around longer than a year or two, even assuming that you stay until I am in my dotage, then I will necessarily leave you – you will watch my final bow. The curtains will close. The house will clear.

But your tender youth has touched me deeply. I remember that kind of optimism. I remember living under the assumption that every day was new – that all things are possible. The memory is like a little candle being lit again in my heart.

"I will have these things, Daddy."

"Yes, darling, yes. If you wish it."

It was my turn to cry – silently