The Crimson Z

by Robert Cloud, Lee Rush, Richard Savage

  His eyes fixed on hers, “I hope so too.” Peter's lips curled into a natural smile. There was a flash of white teeth and the soft edge of affection in his voice. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “I would like you to do something for me, but it must be done freely.” His eyes never broke contact with hers as he spoke.

  She shifted her weight slightly from one foot to the other and said, “What would you like me to do?” The tremble in her voice was half in fear of the answer and half in anticipation. Right here and now she would do anything. Her eyes were locked to his. She was drawn like a moth to the flame.

  Peter uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, “Firstly, I would like you to take off your blouse."

  Evelyn was not used to men being this direct with her, she felt a second rush of blood to her cheeks, but it excited her beyond belief and she felt herself moisten. Was it wrong of her to do as he asked, she wondered. Yet, it felt so right, how could she not comply?

  Her heart beat faster as her nervous fingers fumbled with difficult buttons. Her mind flicked to a time in school changing rooms and other girls laughing at her developing body. She had been the first in her class to develop breasts and had been teased endlessly for it. As she loosened the blouse from her skirt, she relived every negative comment she had ever heard. Was Peter going to judge her? How much easier sex would be with the lights off.

  She shook as the garment slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor. She was revealed. Her mind raced. Where was this going? She knew it would end in sex, but this was so different from the usual courtship ritual. Would the sex be that much different too?

  In contrast to Evelyn, Peter looked and sounded contented and relaxed. “And now your skirt please.” His voice was calm and measured, his face placid. Evelyn found her gaze slipping from his eyes to the prominent bulge in his trousers. She felt flustered, and she contemplated sinking to her knees there and then and releasing the captive. However, the instruction had not been given and she was not brave enough to deviate from Peter's word.

  She wondered what her friends would say, if she told them, a man had told her to do this and she had complied. Indeed, could she ever tell anyone how much it excited her to give this control to a man? Nice girls didn't do such things. Did they?

  She had undressed in front of men before, but usually the man would be busy removing his clothes at the same time. This felt more personal. She was under the spotlight; it was her performing for him. Trembling fingers grappled with the belligerent fastening of the skirt, she quietly muttered under her breath as the clasp surrendered and the skirt puddled at her feet. Evelyn looked closely at Peter looking for any reaction negative or otherwise, as her thighs were now revealed. To her relief, Peter's gaze traced admiringly up her legs and the swell in his trousers confirmed, in a most honest way, he liked what he saw. Again, her nerves twitched and she wished this first time had been beneath the cover of a darkened room.

  She looked at Peter and his eyes were still fixed on her. It was obvious that he was amused by the struggle with the skirt's clasp, yet he only kept a slight smile, not wanting to break the sensuality of the moment. “Your shoes please."

  Evelyn looked down at her shoes. A part of her wanted to resist. This was wrong, wasn't it? It was wrong for a man to issue instructions for her to strip, wasn't it? She was not a whore, to do as she was told, a plaything, a life-size, queen-sized, Barbie doll. Yet this was compulsive. Peter was no monster, quite the opposite. He had a charming way about him. He was a gentleman. She felt like she was being charmed out of her clothes, but there was something compelling in the way he talked. Something in the matter-of-fact way, he asked her to remove each garment that made it impossible to refuse. She felt his glance alter from warm to steely, the longer she delayed, though in truth from request to action it was a fraction of a second. Peter was almost motionless, yet the glint in his eye and the power of his voice made each request overwhelming.

  She was confused why the removal of the shoes was so symbolic, was it the reduction of height? Or her feeling of helplessness? Evelyn took a deep breath and steadied her nerve. She slipped into the abyss, as the shoes were gently slid off and she stood before him in bra, panties and pantyhose. Now resigned to her fate, she felt the sooner she was naked the better, then at least there would be the love making. Evelyn went to remove her bra, but Peter stopped her.

  "Not until I am ready, please. You may remove it, but only when I ask you,” he continued with cool measured voice.

  Evelyn was confused, he didn't want to see her naked? “I don't understand, Peter."

  Peter leaned forward, “This will happen all in good time, but it will happen in my time. I would like you to do as I ask.” There was no anger in his voice, just the opposite; it was a calm response, which Evelyn found comforting rather than upsetting. “I want to savor you, as I would a gourmet meal. Which is better filet mignon or hamburger?” Peter clasped his hands together and studiously steepled his fingers “Which would you like me to consider you? Filet or burger?"

  Evelyn needed no time to think “Filet.” She had been regarded as a burger, too many times in the past.

  Peter leaned back in the seat again. “Are you ready to continue?"

  "Yes Peter.” She looked directly at her lover.

  Peter returned her smile and said, “I have a request. I have certain tastes and it would please me, very much, if you would address me as Sir. It is a simple word that shows respect. It is a word that shows me you are ready and willing to serve. The choice to serve is for you to make, and this is a choice you must make freely. It will feel a bit strange at first, but it is a way some people live their lives. It is a way I live mine.

  "I have a profound feeling that you would take to this lifestyle. I feel deep down, that you have a need to serve. I know you have a need to please me. Do you feel you are you ready to take this first step? Do you feel you are ready to do as I ask? To please me?"

  Though she was unsure in her mind of the implications of what it meant to serve, without hesitation she replied, “Yes Sir.” The sir came out of her lips naturally, as an involuntary reaction to his authority and she liked the way it sounded, respectful and comforting. She was aware again of the moistness in her panties and she knew there would be no hiding it from Peter.

  "Good girl,” Peter said, with a flash of white teeth. Then his lips set to a warm smile.

  "May I ask a question?"

  "Of course, you may ask anything."

  "What does it mean to serve? What is it I have to do?"

  Without hesitation Peter replied, “To serve me well, requires you to do as I ask, when I ask you to do it. This requires you to trust me. I wish you to follow my requests carefully, without question, because you know it is what I wish. In serving me, it also fulfills a side of you that has not yet been fulfilled. This is very much a two way street. You must want to serve. You must want to trust. In return, our love for each other will blossom."

  Reassured by his words, but still a little apprehensive she asked, “What if I fail? What if I can't live up to all you expect?"

  Peter took her hand and kissed it his warm lips grazed her flesh, “I want this as much for you, as I do for myself. It is not an audition to be passed. You need to want to do this. You need to feel in your heart that this is right for you. In return, I will support you, nurture you, guide you, and hold you.

  "I feel that you have been repressing these feelings of submission, a little like a caged bird. I want you to be the person that I know you have locked away deep inside you. I want you to be that person for you.

  "It will seem a little strange at first, giving me that power over you. In time, and with trust, it will become second nature for you. With trust, you will focus on your service to me. I in turn will devote my life to cherishing you. Trust is needed because you have to know instinctively that what I ask you to do will not harm you. You will find a deep sense of well being in your service. But it is your service to give free
ly."

  Peter paused for a moment, to let the depth of his words sink in. With a kind warm tone in his voice he continued, “I ask you again, freely and happily would you choose to serve me?"

  Evelyn searched her mind. Yes, she wanted him. Yes, she was burning with desire, but more than that, much more, she knew within her very soul that the only truth that mattered was, she loved Peter more profoundly than she had ever loved before. “Yes Sir I am willing to serve. I will do all you ask of me and I will try to serve you as well as I can."

  "I can ask nothing more from you than that. This makes me very happy Evelyn, very happy indeed."

  "Sir, what would you ask of me?"

  Peter paused for a moment, “I am not fond of pantyhose, I would be happier if you never wore them again. Stockings are fine, but I just don't like pantyhose. I would be disappointed to find you wearing them.” His words were friendly, yet Evelyn was in no doubt that his likes and dislikes must be taken seriously. There was an undeniable throbbing at her center. Her clit ached to be touched.

  The suspense from what was happening was incredible. Never before in her life had she been so turned on, so very aware of her body and her needs. Right there and then she would give anything to have Peter rip off her remaining clothes and fuck her. Yet she knew she would have to wait for his instruction.

  "I wish you to remove your pantyhose, please.” Peter spoke as if he was at the dinner table asking her to pass the salt, yet as much as it sounded a request; there was no getting away from the power of his tone.

  Evelyn looked down, as she hooked her thumbs under the elastic of the hose. She tried to make the removal as elegant as she could for Peter. Boyfriends in the past had never paused at this stage; they were so intent to getting at what was inside. There was such an awkwardness about getting them off that she vowed never to wear them again. Having removed the garment she stood head lowered, looking at her body.

  She wished at that moment that she was a size 10, but the fact remained that she wasn't and with Peter looking at her with the I am going to eat you for breakfast look in his eye she realized, maybe for the first time in her life, she really didn't give a shit. This man lusted after her as she was, and she wanted him inside her. Size was irrelevant. She was hungry.

  She was so excited she was about to explode. Her nipples were painfully hard where they pressed against the flimsy fabric of her bra. Peter would be able to see how hard they were. A glance down showed her panties were every bit as embarrassingly wet as she feared they would be. Peter would be able to see that too. Calmly she waited for his next instruction.

  "Please look up,” again in his tone was friendly.

  She happily obeyed and their eyes met again. She looked closely at him, his face showed its 35 years. Though clean shaven, at this stage in the evening a light shadow was on his chin. His hair, a chestnut brown was neatly trimmed but slightly mussed from where he had run his fingers through it during the course of the evening. Evelyn saw warmth and kindness on his face. She returned his gaze and licked her lips in anticipation. This wait was a tantalizing game of tease and denial that was delicious.

  Without her power suit, she felt more vulnerable, but the way Peter looked at her made her feel strong again and she minded less that he could see her like this. She switched her gaze from herself to Peter's face and then to his groin. He made no effort to try to hide his erection, which strained against the fabric of his trousers. Here was a man at home with his body.

  She felt Peter's savoring of her body ... She felt his eyes linger on her ample breasts and the fact that he could see her erect nipples and the damp patch on the front of her matching pretty pink lace bra and panties, somehow empowered her. The bulge in Peter's trousers showed that he was every bit as excited as she was. He wanted her and that made everything all right.

  She became calmer and she felt her breathing grow less strained as she felt a little of the tension ease from her neck and shoulders. She began to feel comfortable, yet still excited, as she waited for his next instruction.

  "How are you feeling?” Peter sat back, his thumb stroking his trousers, lightly just beyond the end of his penis.

  "I feel fine, Sir.” His words reassured her and she straightened her back.

  "Good,” Peter paused, “are you excited?"

  The answer to the question was obvious in the wet stain on the front of her panties and the erect peaks of her nipples showing through her bra. He could see how excited she was but she hesitated to voice how excited she was.

  "I would like you to tell me how excited you are. I know you find it difficult to verbalize this ... But I want you to try."

  "Yes Sir,” her voice trembled and her face flushed. “I am very excited, Sir.” Why should this be so hard to say out loud? She didn't understand why, but it was and she felt a little embarrassed to say it.

  "Good girl. I am very pleased with you."

  Pleased with her? Did he think of her as a pet? She should have been angry, yet she wasn't. She was quite the opposite. She was proud that he was pleased with her. She was proud of being strong enough to do what he had asked and she replied with a simple, “Thank you, Sir."

  Peter continued to stroke his leg, his thumb now catching the tip of his member on each stroke. “Your bra now, please.” The tone in his voice had not altered; he was totally calm, totally in control.

  She shrugged one of the shoulder straps down and unclasped the hooks and her soft firm breasts swung free. The cool air caressed her firm orbs and erect nipples. She felt calm and relaxed, showing Peter her charms. Her eyes flicked over her pale breasts crowned with erect pink gumdrop nipples. His smiling face and hard cock told her all she needed to know. She wanted this man.

  The instruction to remove her last garment could not be far away yet it seemed an age before he said, “And now Evelyn, your panties please.” She had been expecting that, and shimmied out of the lacy material. What she hadn't expected was his next request. “Would you be so kind as to hand them to me?” Again, the power of this simple request hit her and she handed him the damp swatch of fabric.

  Naked and vulnerable now, she looked down at her own body, her erect nipples and damp pubic hair, and the moistness on her thigh. She felt so exposed that she wanted to hide. Her natural instincts made her attempt to cover her body with her hands.

  Peter with an almost inaudible “No” stopped her. “You have nothing to worry about you have a lovely body. Let me feast my eyes upon it."

  She stood still as she watched him looking at her, then she saw him switch his attention to her panties. As he fingered the cloth, she could almost feel his hands on her. She watched him scrutinize this most intimate piece of clothing. She felt a little embarrassed as he lifted the cloth to his nose and inhaled her scent. She hoped she smelled sweet. His facial expression reassured her. He obviously liked her musk.

  Peter's attention moved from her to her panties and back again. When he looked at her she could see he looked at her naked body approvingly. Peter had a look in his eye that said he could and would devour her and she liked that.

  "You have never given yourself to a man this way before,” he held her panties to his face and inhaled again, “and it troubles you a little ... yet it excites you too?” Peter's voice was calm as if he was talking about the weather.

  "Yes Sir ... very much,” her voice was trembling and husky. She could not disguise the fact she wanted him. As she stood, her legs parted a little and she gave a little sigh as a cool wisp of air whispered across her labia. She was hungry.

  Peter looked directly into her eyes. “I want you.” He stood and moved to her.

  Evelyn dropped her gaze but Peter lifted her chin. His hand was warm and smooth. He looked her directly in the eyes again, and stroked her cheek.

  With her face in his hands Peter whispered, “I want you to give yourself to me. I want you to do it totally. I want you to do it willingly and without reservation. Do you give yourself to me?"

  She felt he
r face melt into his hands, she felt her knees tremble. There and then, she would do anything he asked. “Oh, God yes.” she gasped. “Yes Sir, whatever you wish of me."

  "Without reservation?” Peter stroked her cheek and looked her in the eyes, never breaking eye contact.

  Evelyn blurted out, “Yes Sir. I will do anything.” Her words left her lips without the full implication of what anything could mean. There was nothing this man could ask her to do that she would not do for him. She was his. Her body shook.

  "Thank you. I would like you to turn around for me."

  Slowly she turned for him and though she could not see his face, the small grunts he gave, reassured her that he appreciated her back view every bit as much as he had the front.

  "Truly exquisite,” whispered Peter. His words were reverent, as if describing a work of art.

  Peter held her from behind and whispered in her ear. “You are beautiful, truly beautiful. I wish to prepare you, to make you even more perfect. Please show me the way to your bathroom."

  His words reassured her. It was as if her every nerve was attuned and alert. Evelyn caught the smell of his subtle citrus aftershave, as she led him to the bathroom. She felt the carpet beneath her naked toes, as she crossed the living room. She felt the blood pounding in her veins. A million questions went through her mind. Whatever would this preparation entail? Were they to shower? Was he to wash her? She knew better than to ask, yet her mind and heart raced.

  They walked through her bedroom to get to the bathroom. She was proud of her bedroom's décor. It had an air of elegance, as did her bathroom. In the bathroom, she looked around trying to imagine what Peter would think. It was a large opulent room with cool marble tiled floor and walls, sophisticated antique mirrors, and art deco light fittings. Matching pink towels and floor mats and gold plated fittings crowned the appearance. She could see Peter looking around and hoped he was impressed.