Turning over on her stomach, her bottom exposed to the sky, she practiced being lewd, wagging her ass end at the taunting sun, allowing her cheeks to part with the action of her hands, letting all her secret body parts exhibit the erotic possibilities of her root end as though she was inviting a lover to dine there.
She would climax a second time, half in her imagination, feeling eyes browsing her offered posterior, half just from the feel of her body’s atoms made more alive by the intense orb of heat burning into her fleshy home.
Savannah lived for the unashamed moments in the greenhouse cavorting with the elements of nature, and for the letters that arrived infrequently from her lover.
“I’m pleased you heeded my advice. This second set of pictures is much more what I had in mind. I’m sure you’re more satisfied with them as well. It annoys me that you required my admonishment to get your compliance. It would be a shame to have to punish your misbehavior.
Concerning the reality of punishing you, I’ve thought a good deal about that and would suggest that you purchase the necessary implements, in case it becomes necessary: A cane, a bamboo one; a small leather spanker with cut ends; and a wood paddle will do. We’ll forego the whip for the time being, if I can assume that you’ll behave yourself and will only need a moderate chastisement. I believe there is a shop on 17th street that can handle your requests. Have the cane and wooden paddle wrapped and sent to me at the beach house. The leather spanker you’ll keep for yourself. The first night you have the leather in your hand, use it on yourself, make certain that your buttocks are red before you stop. I know you’ll follow directions. Write to me of how it makes you feel. Every detail will be expected.
Putting punishment aside for now, please have your photographer take you through the city taking shots of you exposing yourself. Draw on those licentious fantasies of yours. Ass, breasts and cunt must be visible to please me, and so please yourself. I’m not after endangering you, but you need to be willing to risk yourself or you won’t feel satisfied. I’ll expect your next package of photographs and the implements requested, within two weeks. Until then, my darling Savannah, I remain . . . . Guillaume.”
The letter on the heavy buff-colored stock rested in the palm of her hand, wavering in her nervous fingers. The neatly typed words had such power over her. She wondered sometimes if they were written in long hand would she orgasm without a single touch to her body? The words cryptically fused to the paper by a harsh striking machine, the effect maintained the distance between them. Half the allure of this affair being the mysterious way they teased each other. Reading the note for the third time, she picked up the paper and moved towards the greenhouse. But changing her mind, she decided on the sofa in the loft, in the darkly sensuous corner of her home where she always seemed to relish her indecent fantasies most.
Settling into the shadows and the comfort of plush cushions, she began to disrobe as though her lover was actually ordering it. She could hear his voice in her head dictating each move. She bared her breasts, pinched her nipples, then pulled her skirt up to her waist. The voice of her lover was not pleased. As if he had eyes to stare at her, he could see that she hadn’t obeyed his command to remove the skirt. Hearing his displeasure in her mind, she reached around and undid the zipper of her skirt. Pushed down to her hips, it dropped with a lazy swish to the floor, and she began again to play with herself again. From a table by the sofa she pulled out a thick dildo and slipped it inside the warmth of her vagina. That done, she realized that her lover wanted even more, though she feared the message that came so clear to mind. Ignoring it at first, she went on to pleasure herself until that nagging command became too annoying to disregard.
He demanded a second dildo in her rectum, and she knew how harsh that intrusion would be—she knew as well the gratification to be gained. In the drawer beside her, there were three sizes of rectal plugs and one penis shaped. She chose the penis shaped one sensing it was her lover’s choice of torture. Moistening the tip and her anus with a soothing cream, she then pressed the phallus against her sphincter and cried inside her mind, as the penetration in her bottom created a sharp spike of pain. The pain receded as the shaft became deeply buried inside. While she thrust one dildo in and out of her vagina, the other inside her back entry remained a constant reminder of the depths she plumbed. She heard the voice, exhorting her to reach deep, pummel herself as though he was using her. He wanted her orgasm to be swift and would punish her if it was not.
The thought of yielding to his every whim made her buck hard against the invading rubber, and the spasm that followed was so painful for its ferocity that she passed out for a second after the wave of pleasure shook her. She woke from the episode with the voice still speaking to her. “Be willing to risk yourself, be willing to risk . . .”
***
“Michael?”
I picked up the phone; it had been ringing when I arrived at the studio. When I heard her voice, I sighed relieved, then slumped down at my desk chair and allowed her words to touch my ears with their beautiful sound. Days had passed without my hearing from Savannah. I imagined all kinds of mishaps and bad fortune. But then, why should she call me? Or keep me posted on her life? We hardly knew each other; my only claim on her was an intimate knowledge of her sexual fascinations, and the way she looked when she orgasmed. The tiny tidbits of information about her life hardly qualified ours as a relationship. Still, I felt like a spurned lover not hearing the sound of her voice for nearly a month.
“Savannah, how are you?”
“I’m just fine.” She was silent for a moment. “You don’t suppose we could see each other sometime soon?”
“See, as in a session, or what?”
“I thought lunch maybe tomorrow, at the Spice House?”
“Sounds good to me. About what? Noon? One?”
“One o’clock sounds good, and if you could bring your cameras.”
“More pictures?”
“I have my orders,” she said.
My heart sank. “So, I suppose that’s the only time we’ll meet?” I jumped in with my private agony.
“Does that upset you?” I immediately felt embarrassed revealing my feelings.
“Taking photographs of you would never upset me,” I recouped. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’ll tell you when I see you.”
***
Savannah was in her office at the university. After grading papers, she’d made the appointment with Michael. The letter had hung around for days, taunting her with its demands, each one so strikingly put. Taking care of the new photographs was easy, continuing with her lover’s other demand was a more formidable challenge.
“Concerning the reality of punishing you . . . purchase the necessary implements . . . a cane, a bamboo one; a small leather paddle with cut ends; and a wood paddle . . . We’ll forego the whip . . .”
How her lover could comb her thoughts for truth made him appear to be a genius, perhaps telepathic. That he could strike at the essence of her desire made her longing for his presence in her life swell. She felt as if she would burst if she didn’t have him perpetually near her. That he would think of punishing her, demanding that she purchase the tools to torture her body, had made her stall in following these orders much too long to be acceptable. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to walk the necessary steps to the store on 17th street and buy the required items.
However, when she woke that morning, the driving need for orgasmic relief was so strong that she masturbated in seconds to the very idea of making this necessary trek. She decided to quit whining to herself about her fate and take the plunge. After classes, after the papers were graded, after her conferences, then, about three in the afternoon she’d have the time. Just as she finished with the papers, there was a knock on her office door.
“Come in.”
Savannah looked up startled to see the department head, Mack Brundage, looming over her. The graying professor cut quite an ominous picture at times. Ta
ll, robust, with sharp cultured features. He moved with a steady, graceful determination. And while his smile was kind, he had a presence about him that always made her think of her long-distance lover.
“Savannah, I haven’t seen you for days. What’s this, disappearing after classes so fast?”
“There’s nothing behind it that I know of,” she replied, perfectly poised.
“Are you avoiding me?”
They’d had an affair of sorts. Several dates, and a dozen steamy encounters in her loft, his car and the office. She was a little scared however, the way the man pushed his authoritative style on her, though she always willingly succumbed. Seeing him now, she instantly thought of riding his erection to an end. She squirmed in her chair.
“Why would I do that?” she asked.
“I was gone six weeks, I return and you’re always scurrying someplace else when I try to get close. Perhaps you had a problem with our last meeting?”
Savannah remembered the evening that Mack had undressed her in the hallway outside the loft; they were both heavily intoxicated and without much inhibition. They had sex, Mack pressing her to the wall, pounding her against cold brick, and it didn’t faze her until morning when she saw the scratches on her back and realized how rough he’d been.
“No, I had no problem at all,” she smiled while trying to keep her composure, her eyes seemed riveted on his crotch. Savannah wondered if he was getting an erection. She was afraid he’d notice her rapt attention to his groin, but he made no mention of it.
“Would you like lunch, maybe tomorrow?” he asked.
“I already have a date.”
“I see.” He looked as if he was figuring another strategy, stroking his chin. He moved closer to her desk.
“Is there something else I can help you with?” she asked.
She had the strongest desire to run from the room. He was descending on her, almost as if his dominant presence was taking over for the voice in her head. Her desire climbed. Could he feel it?
Sitting on the corner of her desk, he purred his next remark. “I guess I have to know something.”
“What’s that?”
“How I could spend six weeks away from here and think only of you?”
She blushed. “That’s a shameless come-on,” she said trying to laugh it off.
“Come-on or not, it’s the truth. I thought we might have something special, I mean after the last date. And now you’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then cancel your lunch appointment tomorrow.”
“I can’t do that.” She looked at her watch. “It’s nearly noon now, how about today. We could even order in.”
“I’m afraid if we ordered in, I’d rather have you than Chinese or pizza,” he said.
“Are you suggesting we have sex?”
“Only if you’re willing.”
Her desire was climbing out of her skin with a crooked finger beckoning him. Of course, he could feel her body heat. See the lust in her eyes. People always said that her passions were right on the surface. For weeks she hadn’t thought about making love to anyone but Guillaume, but then he hadn’t been at her side, flesh and blood. Though he loomed over her ghostlike, morning until night, he still was just words and paper, at least for the moment. Mack was real, with a real erection. She could see it throbbing as he sat on her desk. Impulsively, she reached out and felt it.
“What does this mean, if we do this?” she asked.
“Whatever you want it to mean.”
“I’ve got other entanglements, Mack.”
“That doesn’t matter to me. I have entanglements too.” (Of course he did, he was married.) “I guess I just need to refresh my memory, if that’s not too bold to suggest.”
She continued to massage him, feeling the erection pulse in her hand. Scooting her desk chair closer to him, she reached for his zipper and drew it down while he looked on from above. Withdrawing the stiff rod, her lips encircled the large head, the sucking movement of her mouth drawing groans of delight from his lips. He had his hands in her hair, hanging on to it tightly. She figured him good practice for the rest of her life, since he was so obviously dominant. At the moment he was beginning to taste of cum, she drew away. Rising from her chair, she took his place sitting at the edge of the desk, her hips adjusting to the right angle so that Mack could enter her while she remained upright in his arms. She shimmied her skirt up on her thighs and opened her legs. Mack did the rest, one arm coming around her, the other, with his hand pushing her panties aside. A joyful burst of pleasure raced through her at the first strike. Her aching groin needed the relief from the incessant sexual demand her body made. However, while Mack kissed her, while he massaged her covered breast with an avid hand, and while he whispered things in her ear she could just barely hear, all she could think of was the pictures that Michael Renz would take the next day, and the trip she needed to make to the shop on 17th street that afternoon.
Once he ejaculated, Mack remained inside her while she squirmed on him to her own finish. He held her as if he loved her, and she relished that masculine warmth after so many nights without it. Yet, as softly sensuous as it was, she couldn’t expect or want anything more with him than these hot nooners, and a few nights stolen from his wife.
“So did you aptly refresh your memory?” she asked, as they pulled away from each other.
He kissed her. “I think I’ll miss this when you start to refuse me,” he said, as if he already knew that the end of their affair was imminent.
“I hope you do,” she answered back lightly.
“You know there’s never a department meeting I don’t think about screwing you?”
“I guess that’s going to be your burden to bear,” she said. She tugged down her skirt, and ran her hand through her hair. “I think I have a twelve-thirty conference.”
“So, I should take off?” he asked.
“Unless you want to be the source of some juicy gossip.”
They did kiss before Mack left her office, something wet, but meaningless. He gave her a surprising smack on one rear cheek at the end, which only reminded her of 17th St., and the implements she’d buy there.
Savannah was glad for the opportunity to dispense with the pent-up sexual energy. Though there was still a cauldron of churning heat enough to fuel another dozen orgasms and her real affair.
And yet, her interlude with the department head, and a half dozen unexpected interruptions, pushed her timing back more than an hour, so she wasn’t able to get out of the building until nearly four thirty. It had to be a fast trip up town to make it before the shop on 17th St. closed. With another day’s postponement facing her, Savannah let the anxiety mount a little higher. She wondered if she’d ever follow her lover’s explicit orders. He was waiting and didn’t like being put off.
Instead of having a leather spanker to use on her bottom that night, Savannah stopped at the market on her way to the loft. She bought the makings for a fresh salad and a bottle of wine. Though she didn’t like to drink alone, she didn’t really think of herself as being alone. She had her lover’s letter to answer and that would require a little alcohol in her system to make her brave.
Tossing greens, peppers, avocado and artichoke hearts with a fragrant vinaigrette, she sat down to her feast, thinking how much she’d appreciate a man at the table. Strangely, it was almost easier to think of Michael, than either Mack or Guillaume. The photographer hardly knew her, though what he did know, set him in a category apart from any other man. Sipping the wine she began to relax; and before she could even finish the salad, she was drawn to a task she didn’t relish, but was bound by promises to complete. Carrying her refilled wine glass to her writing table, she sat down to compose the letter.
My dearest Guillaume,
I was overjoyed receiving another of your letters in my box. Thoughts of you are always so fresh with me, I can’t ever
seem to drive them from my mind. I suppose that is the way you’d have me. Oh, I wish I could see your face and explain these things to you in person. But since that’s not possible right now, I need to make a clean breast of my days since I received your latest instructions. I admit, I haven’t completed either one, though I do have an appointment with Michael Renz for the pictures tomorrow afternoon. I’m wet constantly thinking of the exposure you’re demanding of me. In my thoughts and masturbations it drives me wild.
The implements you’ve requested I purchase, that is another matter altogether. Every day I wake thinking I’ll make the trip to the shop, and everyday something happens to keep me from it. This morning, I was sure I’d finally complete this instruction, but as the day progressed, everything conspired to delay me.
And then, there was sex with Mack, from the department. I’ve spoken to you about him before, when you suggested that sex with a married man carries a great deal of danger. You forbid me to give in to him again. It was the lust, the raging thing in me you ignite so easily with your carefully constructed phrases. I was raw, completely undone, and fell for Mack’s lovely gestures of warmth. I must admit to you I enjoyed the feel of his erection inside me, how long it’s been. I long for Michael’s too, if he’ll have me. He smolders, as do I when we’re together, but we have these proprieties that have gotten in the way so far. With your permission given in advance, I have a feeling that the distance between can be altered.
Dance For Me Savannah Page 3