by Liz Bradbury
Finally I suggested the category I’d thought she’d meant all along. Her provocative half-smile and a single raised eyebrow confirmed it.
“Just tie you to the bed? Shall we do it right now? Oh, and is this something you imagine doing to me as well?”
“Would you enjoy it?” she asked with interest.
“Of course. Are you surprised?” I replied.
“May I do it to you first?” She seemed to think I was going to say no.
“We have all night. There’s plenty of time for this fantasy to play out with each of us as the main character. And yes, I’d love to be first. By the way, when I was twenty-two, I had eleven orgasms in one night. But we can reserve that goal for the multi-day bout.”
Kathryn was making that humming noise that made me as ready as a revving race car. “Well, it is your birthday... but eleven? We may need the appliances after all!” she chuckled.
I thought to myself, With the way I feel right now, I doubt it.
She stood up and undid her hair clasp, shaking out her hair in a sensual way. She said seductively, “I need a little time, so wait out here until I call you. Would you build a fire?”
While she walked slowly across the room, I wondered if I was actually going to get my hedge clipped a dozen times. That’d be something to write home about. Wouldn’t Sara be jealous? Not that I’d tell her.
As I was building the fire and pushing the logs from the main room side to the bedroom side of the fireplace, I went over what had just happened and realized Kathryn had played me like a harp. She’d been in total control and managed to engineer the entire outcome. Had she wanted to do it to me all along? Geez, she’d finally found a way to beat me at wrestling. And she’d made me think I was figuring her out! Had she really planned this whole scene or did she just seize the moment? I shook my head in wonder.
Wow, I smiled, formidable may be an understatement.
When the fire was burning in the grate I went into the guest bathroom for a quick shower. When I came out, she called me into the bedroom. I was beginning to crave hearing Kathryn call me to the bedroom. The room was warm. Firelight made dancing patterns on the walls.
I sat on the end of the bed and looked toward the closed bathroom door with growing anticipation. This must have been how Victoria Snow felt when she realized Evangeline was shedding her inhibitions along with her riding habit. My mind wandered to Fen house and how Gabe had looked just minutes before a bullet had ended his life. He really hadn’t looked like a person who had given up hope.
Kathryn pushed the door open and I forgot about everything but her.
She was leaning against the doorframe in the sexiest outfit I’d ever seen. It was cream silk, sleeveless, and tailored to fit her perfectly. The neckline plunged to show the sides of her breasts. The hem touched the floor but there were side-slits to her thighs that showed her lovely legs. She held a little glass jar in her hand.
“Oh, Kathryn,” I breathed. She’d brushed out her hair so that it curled gently around her face. Her expression held the promise of all sorts of delightfully dangerous things. Shadows from the flames in the grate accented the contours of her body. I was fully ready to let her do absolutely anything she wanted.
“Where did you get that outfit? It was made for you,” I asked in awe.
“I love it when you look at me that way,” she laughed. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. It does fit rather well, doesn’t it?” She turned around in place to show me every angle.
I stared at her for a full minute and she just stood there and let me. Finally I said, “But... you know Kathryn, what we’re about to do, you could have just asked me directly. You didn’t have to make me think I’d figured it all out on my own.”
She snorted. “Honestly, you’re too smart. You caught me again. Look, Maggie, I’m not as sure of myself as you think I am. I didn’t plan every word. Does it spoil it for you? Are you still... willing?” she asked, crossing her arms and walking toward me.
“Yes, yes,” I said exhaling and nodding.
“Ready?” she asked in a very low voice, stepping closer.
“Just what are you going to do to me?”
Kathryn took a very deep breath. She dumped the jar on the nightstand. Twelve pennies fell into a pile. She said in a low voice, “I’m going to keep count until the pennies are all back in that jar. Stand up.”
I glanced at the bed and noticed she’d set it all up. This was way more exciting than Christmas morning to a six-year-old. I could barely stand it. I made one of those gulping swallows and did my best to stand despite a heck of an ache that needed to be relieved very soon. I hoped she wasn’t going to tease me too long.
She came close to me and ran her fingers under the collar of my shirt lightly. Then she stepped back again and said, “Take off your clothes.”
She crossed her arms and watched as I did as I was told. She didn’t move closer when I was done. She just looked me over from head to foot and said, “Lie down on your back and reach for the corners.”
She had me secured and stretched out in no time. If I’d really wanted to, I could have pulled my wrists out of the velcro cuffs. But I didn’t want to. She stood and looked down at me with an incredibly satisfied expression.
“I feel surprisingly powerful,” she said.
I felt more vulnerable than I would have imagined. I said, “Are you going to punish me for all the bad things I did the first week we were together?”
She just smiled in a predatory way and a tiny thrill of fear tingled through my body like low voltage electricity. The ache between my legs now verged on charlie-horse. “I can’t stand to wait much longer,” I admitted in a low whisper. “Please.”
Kathryn sat between my legs near the end of the bed looking at me. I could see the flashing firelight in her eyes. She slipped her fingers between my legs and stroked. The sudden sensation was startling and made me strain unconsciously against the cuffs. The bonds were loose enough for movement but not loose enough to resist.
“Yes, that’s what I want to see you do, but not so easily,” she said watching me. She stopped stroking, leaving me so close to the edge I nearly whimpered. She went to the top of the bed and tugged on a strap. It pulled my right arm straight toward the corner. She did the same to the left. Then she went to the bottom of the bed and tugged both leg straps at once. The slack was taken up; my movements were reduced.
“You know, you kept me waiting quite a bit this week. Perhaps I should punish you,” she said rather wickedly.
“Please,” I whispered urgently.
“Shhhhhh.” When I stopped making noise she began on me again with long and full strokes that were perfectly aimed. They rapidly brought me to a rocketing climax that astounded me. She reached over and dropped one of the pennies in the jar. She did it to me again, and then another time with the perfect application of pressure and friction. They happened quickly, like she’d flipped an electrical joy switch that jolted sensation through my body. Just the sound of the next penny dropping was a total turn-on.
“Feel better now?” she asked me, shifting to my side. She propped her head up on one fist and reached for my breast, idly teasing my nipple to hardness again.
“Uh huh...” I squeaked as she traced her finger along the inside of my thigh. I was already feeling arousal again.
She moved to lie on top of me, holding my face in her hands, kissing me lovingly. They were wonderful caring and exploring kisses that made me want her to go on forever. She slid down my body, nipping and sucking at tender areas, until she settled between my legs. The velvet caress of her tongue pushed me up the ladder. It took longer than the first times, but the feeling of her was exquisite. I was peaking again and groaning at the pleasure of it.
Finally she rolled to my side. She whispered candidly, “Is this all OK for you? Is it too kinky?”
I turned to look at her.
“Honestly, is it too much? Are you uncomfortable? We can stop if you want. Shall I
stop?” She was caressing my cheek with the back of her figures with such a look of genuine concern.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I whispered back. “It’s been great. Very exciting. I feel wonderful, not uncomfortable. But... um... well, I’m up for anything you want to do. Don’t you have some wild oats you’re dying to sow? Sow them!” I looked deeply into her eyes, smiled salaciously, and challenged, “I dare you!”
Kathryn responded to this invitation with astonishing delight. It was like a green light at the races. The firelight infused her entire expression and she became a panther. She kissed my neck just at the base near my collar bone and then bit me hard enough to feel it.
“Vampire,” I groaned and shifted my body.
She purred while beginning to rub my breasts with both hands. “So you feel all right then?”
“Yes, very fine. What are you going to... Oh!” I began to ask, but before I could get out another word she’d lightly drawn her fingernails along my side, near my waist. Oh no, I thought wildly. She’d found the part of my body that was the most ticklish. I squealed and strained to pull away.
“Ah, ha!” she said triumphantly.
I was in trouble now. She touched me in the same way and this time I convulsed, arching off the bed.
“Now I can get you to tell me all your secrets,” she said with supreme amusement.
“Oh geez, no, stop, please... oh... a...” I was reduced to a series of unintelligible noises of desperation as she plied this sensitive place more firmly. She seemed fascinated by what it made me do.
Suddenly I was her x-rated science project. Simulation: Cause and Effect. And it wasn’t just the tickling sensation that was the problem. The ache between my all-too-open legs had galloped back and was making me strain for relief. I really needed to be laid not teased, but I could see Kathryn was having too much fun with me to change directions. She was controlling me completely, and I wasn’t stopping her, and that’s what she wanted.
I had a lot less willpower than Kathryn when it came to tickling. She began to whisper intimate sexual questions about what I enjoyed in bed and forced me to answer. I was panting out anything I could think of just to get her to stop tickling me.
“Well, isn’t this entertaining?” she teased fiendishly.
When she finally let me breathe, I gasped, “I thought you said you couldn’t talk about sex?”
“It depends on the context. About myself, yes, that’s very hard to do, but I’m not finding it hard at all to ask you about your desires. This is a new experience for me.” She seemed very pleased. Kind of liberated.
“It’s new to me too,” I said, marveling at the vast, if somewhat old-fashioned, sexual vocabulary she had.
“Oh come now, I know enough about S. Peck Fuller to be sure she didn’t let you off too easily,” Kathryn laughed throatily, recalling a visiting college professor I’d admitted to knowing when she’d been at Irwin several years ago when I was on the police force. Professor Fuller had quite an erotic reputation in the academic world, but I hadn’t admitted to Kathryn that I actually had a short but intense affair with her that had focused on her fascination with my police handcuffs.
“You slept with her?” I asked incredulously.
“No, I didn’t, but I know some women who did. They were eloquent and unstinting in praise regarding her talents and demands. A bit of a modern day Charlotte Cushman from all reports. Would you care to tell me what you two did together?” she asked, sliding her hand from my hip to my breast. She fluttered her fingers against my side again. I squirmed desperately
I couldn’t help flashing momentarily on some of the practical aspects of my relationship with Dr. Susan Abigail Peck Fuller. She was a professor at the Slade School of Art in London and the daughter of a Duke, though she eschewed the aristocratic title of Lady Susan in favor of her academic one. In intimate situations she often dropped her first name and said that they didn’t call her A Peck Fuller for nothing. She had a doctorate in art history, but she also had a master’s in physical anatomy. She’d explored some vitally important biological secrets that intensify sexual sensation with me. She was not the type to fall in love with, but a skilled teacher. Yes, she was a great deal like Charlotte Cushman. I certainly was planning on sharing what I’d learned from her with Kathryn, but this wasn’t the time to be talking about other women, so I said, “What you’re doing to me is erasing my memory of anyone but you.”
“What a flattering answer. You deserve something nice for that.” Which she gave me leisurely and intimately with her tongue while both of her hands massaged my breasts. I could just barely hear the pennies clinking into the jar. So, this was Nirvana.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” she commanded, firmly patting my cheek. I snapped my eyes open.
“What we’re going to do now will be a little more... aggressive.” She knelt on the bed close to me and whispered seriously in my ear, “Do you want a safeword?”
“Will I need one?” I asked in surprise. “Um, I’m not fond of pain either.”
“If it hurts, say so and we’ll stop, I promise,” she told me gently. Then she produced a round-handled paint brush. It had long soft bristles and a wooden handle that was about the diameter of the shaft of a heavy shovel. The wood was smooth and polished; the end was rounded. I had a stirring feeling that I knew just what she was going to do with it.
She began by drawing the brush over my skin. Along my sides, under my arms, over my breasts. It tickled and heightened my senses. I was highly aroused all over again. I was amazed that a profound need was returning. I shifted my body and drew my legs together a few inches trying to ease it.
“Stay still,” she demanded.
“Make me,” I whispered.
She checked the velcro cuffs on my ankles to be sure they were secure and then tried to pull the ends of the straps at each bedpost to draw me wider, but I resisted. She climbed over me and sat straddling my hips. She looked at me intently then traced her fingers firmly up my sides and over my stomach. I felt a shock of sensation. I arched off the bed involuntarily, lifting her with me.
“Ooh that was rewarding. Do that again,” she said, tickling me in the same way. I couldn’t help arching and raising her off the bed again. “Mmmm, no more,” I groaned.
But I hadn’t said anything about it hurting, so she ignored my pleas. She tickled me again. This time saying, “Reach for the corners.” I did it. She tightened the straps mercilessly. Then she did the same thing to my legs until I was totally splayed and unable to move an inch. “Yes, very good. Now,” she said in a satisfied voice, “I’m in charge.”
I laughed. She did too.
“You’re going to be sorry you’re doing this. Remember, you’re next.”
“You’re in no position to make threats right now.”
She began to do just what I thought she was going to do with the paint brush handle. First she parted me with her fingers. The light tickling touch drove me wild, especially because I couldn’t move. She went ahead slowly, but without hesitation. I was so wet and ready there was no resistance. Just the penetration nearly brought on an orgasm.
“I saw a print of this very situation in a book of ancient Japanese erotic art. The Edo period produced many painted scrolls of beautiful women in tight bondage being taken in just this way,” she said, as though we were having a casual conversation over coffee. In reality she was slowly pumping the thick handle of the brush as she stimulated me. I heard the sounds of each penny dropping into the jar but I’d lost the ability to know what they meant.
Kathryn shifted again and leaned close to my ear to say, “There’s one more penny left...” As she pumped the brush handle slowly, she lightly stroked with her tongue, holding me on the edge for what seemed like eternity, and then when she finally let me come, she wouldn’t let me stop. When I thought I couldn’t possibly go on, she redoubled her efforts and I experienced a wave of sensation that made the room black and my mind devoid of everything but the ecstasy of her
touch. As I floated over the edge of a churning, satisfying waterfall I could hear someone making a sex charged howling scream. It was me.
When she finally stopped, I was shuddering with pleasure.
“Shhh,” she said kissing the side of my neck and stroking my hair. “Shhh, relax. That’s all... for now.” She pulled open the velcro cuffs at my wrists, then undid my ankles.
I groaned, moving my arms and legs slowly. I was breathing hard and shuddering intermittently with little earthquake aftershocks.
Finally I said, “Oh, Kathryn, that had to be some kind of magic.”
“What time is it? Shall we have some wine or something to eat? Jessie gave me some wonderful cheese,” called Kathryn, going into the bathroom.
The clock said it was only 11:30.
“I’m getting the feeling that Jessie catered this sex fest intentionally. How much did you tell her about your little plan? Oh and by the way this break is just the half time show. There’s still the second act of this fantasy.”
When Kathryn came out and went into the kitchen, I moved slowly to the bathroom, stretching my legs.
When I finished in there, I put on my bathrobe and joined her in the kitchen area. She was putting something into the oven. “This just has to warm a bit. I think we’ll like it.” She kept her back to me and avoided looking at me. She seemed nervous.
I caught her in my arms and held her to me. “Why are you shy all of a sudden?” I said trying to look into her eyes. She turned away a little.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Was it too much?” she asked, still not quite looking into my eyes. She put her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder.
“Look at me, Kathryn,” I whispered. “It was wonderful and fun and exciting. The best sex I’ve ever had. I liked it. I hope we do this kind of thing again, many times. I loved it... OK?”
She finally looked into my eyes in her searching way and then she smiled, “Really?”
“The best. I’m still smoldering. You’re not feeling residual guilt from those years in Catholic school, are you?”