by Gray, A L
"What are you Elijah - are you one of those men who enjoys women as pets?” I ask with a flummoxed mien that I’m sure he’s clocked.
He tilts his head to the other side. “I don't label myself with a name. My pleasures are specific and my decision to act upon my cravings are perfectly healthy. And no, I don't see women as pets - I see them as the object of my desire Anile."
Wow, that must be the most erotic opinion I have ever heard - object of his desire!
He walks towards me, glides so elegantly. His eyes are luminous, sexy, filled with the low orange light. He stops in front of me and stares down at me. I see deep interest, with a hint of desire as he glowers. What the hell's he thinking?
"Can I touch you, Anile?" He whispers.
I start to pant, desperation has become a part of me.
"Yes, yes you can." I say in a low breathless voice.
He gently places his hand on my neck below my chin. He strokes my skin with his index finger. My chest grinds to a halt as my veins are filled with a rush of ecstasy from his touch.
“Do you want me to show you how pleasurable this place can be?” He motions his other hand around the room for me to feast my eyes. I turn in sync with his hand gesture and register all the instruments hanging from the wall behind me.
Holy shit! My eyes are agape! I have seen things like this before - in movies and on television - but I never imagined the mental impact of a fucking whip!
"What are they for?" I blurt out. My hands tremble a little and I wonder indecisively whether or not to cover my damn mouth before something else unorthodox comes out of it.
"What? You need to be specific Princess."
He drops his hand to his side. The immediate longing for his touch hits me like a ton of bricks. My burning desire for him is flooding my body with a sensation of... desperation, I think - it must be desperation, who feels loss when the person you yearn for is not touching you? Get a fucking grip Anile, you need to stay focused!
He walks over to the wall, slowly, with a sense of curiosity. He quickly steal's a glance in my direction. He stops and faces the wall fully.
"Every item is used for something specifically. Tell me what interests you Anile."
"That." I point to an odd looking body suit that's made from shiny silver barbwire. It fits the central body and upper legs - like a vest with shorts attached. Jesus it looks painful! I swallow hard as a sudden feeling of worry washes over me.
"That is called The Standing Room Basque. It's specially made. I would dress you in it, and if you were to move, it would pinch at your skin - it's main role is to teach you to stand very still while you orgasm."
"Okay,” I croak - discipline freak, “what about that?" I point my finger towards a deviant black leather mask. Honestly I feel like I’m at BDSM school!
"You know what a gimp mask is, don't you?"
I shake my head - why on earth would I know what a bloody gimp mask is?
"I enjoy a full sense of control Anile - but you know that already. If you wore a full gimp suit, you wouldn't be able to move much, you would be completely at my mercy," he smiles and reveals his most dirty expression yet, "and I like the feeling of leather against my skin."
"Oh!" I gasp wide-eyed. No wonder he was laughing at me when I asked him why all of his furniture is made from leather!
"Anything else?" He says.
He turns to look at me. I heed his gaze, paying extra attention to try and evaluate what his purpose in bringing me here is. My cheeks heat, and my system almost crashes with a sudden realization – does he want to tie me up and beat me?
“I think you need to turn the bath off before it over flows.” I say trying to change the subject; honestly, the stench of my horror - slash - embarrassment is overwhelming! If he thinks I know anything of BDSM, he’s got another thing coming!
He glides towards the bath. His eyes are ablaze, intoxicating - they almost force me to surrender myself. My heart rate picks up to an alarming rhythm - Fuck, I think I'm going to pass out!
“Take your clothes off.” He says.
What - did I just hear him right? I have to do a double take. My head thrashes in his direction too hard. I feel my brain jolt, a headache is coming for me.
"Come again?"
He smiles at me, revealing a full set of perfect white teeth.
"Take your clothes off, Anile."
“Fuck no!” I snap.
His head shoots upright as he kneels besides the bath. His eyes narrow at me and almost turn black; his lips press into a hard line.
“Anile, you made me bring you here - you wanted this, not me. If I have to take your clothes off, I'm not sure I will be able to control myself, I will probably fuck you instantly - and I don't want that, I want to play with you first." He smiles to himself and he lowers his head in confusion. "I should have rephrased my last statement - it's you that is the object of my desire."
I stand open-mouthed. Holy fuck! He wants to play with me? I don't really know what that means but the wetness of my arousal does!
“Trust me, I will never hurt you.” He promises.
His words distract me.
“Have you hurt people before - accidently?” I question, hoping for the right answer - I know he hurt Jane Doe but that was at her own request.
“Yes, many times - but it was all consensual, and desired by both parties. I have never accidently hurt someone. Everything I do is very safe and practiced many times Anile.”
Well that's good to know!
"Both parties?" I say quiet, "you make it sound like business as usual."
He stares at me impassively, giving nothing away – damn him! What’s he thinking?
“Do you beat women or do women beat you?” I ask.
“I am the master around here Anile, no one touches me.”
“So you are a Dominant.”
"That's not a question."
"Sorry, my bad - are you a dominant?" I scoff shaking my head.
“I am the master, and women enjoy pleasuring me in any which way they can.”
I lower my head, wondering how the hell he can be this fucked up?
"Why are you like this?" I blurt out.
"Why is anyone the way they are?"
"That's not an answer, Elijah!"
His eyebrows crease as he questions himself - why is it so damn difficult to get a straight answer out of him?
"Do you want to hurt me?" I whisper in a trembling voice.
"No." He says firm, shaking his head with absolution.
"What - not even if I want you to?" I challenge.
"Anile, you may receive a few slaps to your beautiful derrière, but that's all. I don't want to hurt you."
Well, that's appreciated!
"Elijah, what of your wife?"
I'm desperate to know if she did this with him. He doesn't even look at me to visually acknowledge my question, and now I think I have crossed an invisible line. His wife really isn't any of my business - is she?
I shake my head in aggravation. His lack of answers are pissing me off.
"Well, are you going to answer me?" I snap.
"What's wrong Anile? Talk to me. I'm not a mind reader and your body is telling me that you feel uncomfortable." He says.
He edges closer to me, slowly. He reaches me and stares down at me with sympathy. He lifts his hand to touch my face but I immediately back away from him; he may see it as fear but I see it as thinking outside of the box. One more touch from him and he becomes the air I need to breathe, the magic that unknowingly removes my clothes - I'm not ready for that just yet.
"Don't do that Anile," he warns with a hard face, "don't be scared of me. You know I will not touch you without your consent." He says with deferential eyes.
For a few seconds I want to scoff again, but my memory serves me right - he always asks if he can touch me before he does.
"Elijah, I'm not scared of you - I just feel..." I cannot even finish.
"What do you feel Princess?" He
whispers.
"I don't know." I lower my head, feeling confused and ashamed by my lack of experience. I breathe a sickening *sigh* that almost gets stuck in my chest.
"Is this right - is this okay for people to indulge in? Because it feels, kinda wrong, to me."
He licks his lips and appears nervous for once. He blinks rapidly, strangely in tune with my heart rate.
"It's not wrong and it's not right - it has to fit the person, Anile."
Oh, this is hopeless - that's not a damn answer! I’m scared - not of him - I'm scared of his darkness. I'm scared of how I know I'm going to allow him to do whatever he wants to me.
"Anile, if you don't want to do this, I can take you home." He says soft.
I look at him questionably - does he really mean that? Because his offer to take me home confuses me further!
"Do you want to go home?"
"I don't know Elijah." I whisper embarrassed.
"Everything will be okay Princess, I promise - I will not hurt you. I want to give you pleasure - not pain."
I look him dead in the eye, knowing I can spot a liar when I see one.
"Do you swear you won't hurt me?"
"I swear on your life." He says. He cocks his head to the left and gazes at me affectionately.
I'm not sure that means much to me - him swearing on my life.
“How can you tell that I look uncomfortable?” I ask. I'm curious about his attention to detail.
He smiles at me and shows a hint of knowledge with one raised eyebrow.
“You bite your nails; I have been meaning to bring it to your attention. That old saying - the eyes are the entrance to ones soul - I believe is wrong. I believe hands are the entrance to ones soul. You touch, sense, show firm body language, all this with only your hands. Your hands tell me that you are extremely uncomfortable with confrontation - and this situation - you haven't stopped nibbling.” He sighs long and hard. He’s contemplating his next statement. “Anile, from now on, every time you bite your nails, I will punish you – it will inevitably be for your own good.”
“You can try to punish me, but you won’t get very far!” I warn as I take another step back from him.
“Princess, I live for the fight, and your being reluctant to cooperate will make your punishment worse - which only excites me more. So, I look forward to it.” He jokes. He winks at me sexually.
Bastard! I will hold my own against the likes of him – or I will try to!
“What else? Recognizing nail biting as signs of stress is not rocket science.” I challenge.
“Your upper lip – you constantly lick it when you are questioning a situation. You incessantly tap your foot - which I might add is extremely annoying," he raises his eyebrows and I shoot him a warning expression, "and finally, your eyes. You can never seem to hold my gaze for too long, I know it’s because you find me intimidating.” He smiles.
“You are very self-assured, aren’t you?” I snap while crossing my arms.
“I am.”
His answers annoy but intrigue me. His warning to punish me pisses me off to the point of me wanting to create a situation, just to show him that he cannot bully me. But, I also cannot believe he has paid such close attention to my habits. I want him - so badly. I want a man who is self-made, smoking hot, sexually experienced - noted, I would have taken a man a little less experienced but hey, we cannot have it all.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask, hoping to get some insight into what will happen.
His eyes are suddenly fiery, incandescent - filled with possibilities. He walks past me and stands flush behind my back. He sensually breathes down my neck. I feel feverish - oh no! I'm suffering with Darks flu again! My tummy quenches with an unknown thirst. I also feel fear, or worry, gathering inside my mind - it makes me almost tremble to the point of no return.
I see his hat fall to the floor, it almost lands on my feet. Everything suddenly feels closer, like every smell, touch and sound makes a difference to how I'm going to sexually react to him.
"Close your eyes." He whispers into my ear. The warmness from his breath almost feels frosted cold compared to my body temperature.
"Why?" I say in an alarming voice - I wanted a mental experience before the physical thing!
"Just do it."
"Ahhh." I gasp breathless.
Chapter Fifteen
I SUBMIT MYSELF to him by closing my eyes. I don't think I'm ready for this, but will I ever be truly ready to lose my virginity? My tummy pangs with a strange drum affect - I think my heart has fallen inside my stomach. My breathing picks up and my mouth waters – what’s he going to do to me?
"Elijah." I breathe.
"Shhh - listen to my voice Princess. I'm going to place your arms across your chest."
He stands from behind me and takes both of my wrists - I feel the static from his touch, it's overwhelming! He lifts my hands to my neck and crosses them over one another. He slides his fingers across my hands, leaving a sense of loneliness to linger.
Suddenly I don't feel him near me, I don't sense him in my safety zone. I want to open my eyes but I'm too scared.
"Imagine you are in a field that is overflowing with lavender flowers," he whispers, "imagine you can almost feel the violet petals caress your naked skin. You are walking freely with me, side by side. The sun feels warm on your beautiful face, and I feel homely walking besides you. Suddenly you feel my hand on your naked back. Desire floods your system - and mine. You stop with me and peer up at me. You realize you want this as much as I do. My touch lingers on you, even after my fingers are gone."
Holy shit! This is intimately erotic. I start to pant, my veins are thriving off of his intoxication.
"Anile, can I touch you?" He whispers.
I lick my wet lips. I crave his touch.
"Yes." I breathe.
Bizarrely, he doesn't touch me, and now I wonder why he even asked if he could?
"Imagine I am holding your small face in my fingers - I am clutching at your chin, forcing you to look up at me again. I release you, and you are fixed in place, compelled by my stare. My fingers are gliding down your chin, now down the centre of your body. You feel the heat from my touch on your chest - my brush feels warmer than the sun against your beautiful translucent skin. I want to kiss you, but all I can manage is a dream of what your lips would feel like against mine. I imagine how sweet you would taste. Can you feel me in front of you, can you feel my breath on your face Anile?"
Strangely I can - how the hell is he doing this? I want his touch, I want it so bad that I can almost feel my own hand twitching with desperation.
"Open your eyes." He whispers.
I open them, slowly - I'm not ready to let this image escape from my mind just yet. Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I'm hit with shock as I see him just inches away from my face! My breath hitches. His eyes burn into me. Desire thickens inside my tummy. Every inch of me is now ready for him.
"I'm ready, what do you want me to do?" I whisper.
“I don't want you to do anything."
Okay, that didn't go as planned. I frown deeply.
"What do you want to do to me?"
He gazes at me with heated eyes. I cannot hold his stare, I feel weak, hormonal. In his hand he's holding a long shiny black controller. He presses play. The most beautiful soulful music fills the room. Otis again, but this time, I've Been Loving You For Too Long, wow! How can he and I be so alike when it comes to music?
"I want to gag you, tease you, and make you cum until your body can no longer take it, and then, I want to fuck you until you pass out. I have dreamed about how good you will feel around my dick Anile, I need to be inside you.” He whispers.
My mouth drops open. I'm shocked, excited, infected with his words - I am officially defeated. How can I come back from that?
He walks behind me and stands almost flush against me. I feel myself let go - mentally, emotionally - and I just allow him to take control. I lean my head back onto his
hard chest. He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing I have submitted myself to him - his underlining throaty raw sends shivers throughout my body. He slowly runs his fingers down my arms, touching them so gently, savouring the moment. I'm ablaze with sensations as his touch finally burns at my skin through my sweater. He reaches my hands, he takes them in his. He lifts my arms into the air, forcing me to stand in a Tadasana position.
"Keep them in place." He orders, "I'm going to take your sweater off."
He tugs at the hem of my sweater. He quickly takes it off in one swift motion - it doesn't even catch my face. I watch it effortlessly fall to the ground next to his hat. I'm now standing in only my white lace bra and jeans. I quickly lower my arms and almost sink into myself as a cold damp rush hits my chest.
“Look at you. You are so beautiful and innocent Anile. I need to be inside you.” He whispers.
He starts trailing feather light kisses from my ear to the edge of my lips. He never touches my lips with his, he only reaches a safe distance - safe enough for him. I lean my head to the side, giving him more access to my skin. I try to turn and face him, but he quickly and firmly grabs my arms. His fingers are so cold and unsympathetic. His nails dig into my flesh.
“Stay still and close your eyes.” He orders.
He releases me from his tight grip. I do as I'm told by closing my eyes.
I feel something slide across my lips. I think it's silk. The soft material repeatedly caresses my lips - almost making them swell - sliding back and forth, back and forth, mentally torturing me, until finally, he pulls it tight - maybe too tight - and he ties it at the back of my head, forcing it into my mouth. I grip the silk with my teeth, not out of choice, but out of force.
“Now you cannot talk, you will have to trust me Anile. Do you trust me? Nod if you do."
I nod willingly but question myself - do I trust him? I must if I'm allowing him to have my virginity!
"If you cannot take anymore, use this hand signal.”
I quickly open my eyes to see his signal. His hand is held out in a star shape - his fingers are so long, his hand looks so strong as his veins almost pop out of his skin.
“Do you understand?”
I nod again and my anxiety levels shoot through the roof - what won't I be able to take?