An Afternoon in Paris

It had been a while since I'd been back in that magical, ancient city, which always filled me with a rush of borderline recklessness at the mere thought of being ever s far away from the into which I had settled. Yet as I strolled along the banks f the Seine, down the narrow winding streets, and across the grand boulevards, each corner, every landmark, came to vivid life in my memory.

I had made the trip with my two closest girlfriends, a jaunt to celebrate our collective birthdays in the most carefree of fashions. For months, we had giggled over cocktails, imaging the three of us, all very single women with nothing more than time on their hands in the most captivating city on earth.

However, unknown to even my two most cherished confidantes in the entire world, this journey bore my most clandestine secret -- a facet of my life that I had revealed to only one man.

Tired from our morning of shopping and meandering through the cobblestone streets of the Latin Quarter, we stopped by a tiny, dark restaurant for a couple of drinks and a light lunch. All the while, I was careful to mind my watch. I had a phone call to make, and I knew that one single minute could easily ruin the meticulously laid plans I had for that afternoon -- plans which did not involve my two friends.

Just before our salads arrived, I excused myself from the table, saying that I had to make a trip to the ladies' room. My friends didn't speak a word of French, and had no idea what I was saying when I asked the waiter if there was a pay phone nearby.

I followed his instructions down a short flight of stairs and found the phone in a corner closet. Clutching the receiver, I held my breath as I waited for the call to ring through to the hotel room, praying that a woman's voice didn't answer. Each ring seemed to last a lifetime, as I stood in the tiny alcove, keeping careful watch so that the girls didn't catch me.

A sigh of relief trickled through my trembling lips when I heard his voice.

"A fax," he said, and I began to smile. We had worked out our code words long in advance of this chilly April afternoon. "I'll be down in a bit to pick it up."

Without further conversation, I placed the receiver in its cradle, then returned to my table. Admittedly, I rushed us through lunch, but time was ticking and every second counted. My suggestion to return to the hotel for a bit to freshen up went over unanimously.

As we strolled into our tiny suite, I dashed to the bathroom to prepare. Carefully, I removed my white silk blouse and hung it over the back of the door, followed by the scant of a skirt I was wearing. Systematically, I removed my bra and panties, which were already damp with the illicit thoughts running through my mind, then straightened out the black thigh high stockings. With just as much concern, I slipped back into my skirt and blouse, spritzed myself with my favorite lily perfume, then pulled my coat around me.

My friends were yawning and settling themselves in front of the television to watch CNN International, as I announced that I wanted to take a walk to clear my thoughts for a while.

Before I headed out of the hotel lobby, I stopped quickly in the gift shop to buy a large bottle of Evian, gulping religiously as I continued along.

My pace quick as I moved ever closer to the banks of the river. Crossing from the Right Bank to the Left, my three-inch heels pounded the boards of the old footbridge, and when I stopped for just a second to stare at the Eiffel Tower hovering in the distance high above the city under tufts of white clouds in the mid-afternoon sun, my breath caught in a sudden surge of sheer anticipation.

Following the river, I headed ever closer to my destined spot. With each step, I could feel the uncomfortable swell of my bladder, but I knew that it would be quite a long time before I would have the opportunity for release.

Crossing through the Champs des Mars, where happy children and playful puppies scurried on the pristine green grass in spite of the signs which warned them to stay away, I squinted in the brightness of the rays which beat down upon my face and saw him standing beneath the north pillar of the Tower, just as we had discussed.

In my approach, I lowered my head to stare at the ground. It had been too long since we had last seen each other back in the United States, living too many miles apart from each other. While I wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his face, trace my finger over the angle of his jaw, I knew much better than to dare even a quick glimpse into his deep blue eyes.

Staring at his leather loafers, I could feel his hands slip inside my coat, then pull the side panels away for his inspection. I couldn't fight the smile that curved upon my lips as he leaned ever close and whispered in my ear, "You've dressed for me, and you've been drinking your water. You're such a good girl."

Then he took my face in his hands, and lifted my chin. All the while, I could feel his eyes, razor sharp in their gaze, looking at the curve of my breast through the thin silken fabric of my blouse. My nipples were taut, standing straight out as they rubbed against the slip of material, and I knew this pleased him immeasurably.

"Why don't we take a quick ride on the carousel?" he suggested, taking my elbow in his gentle fingers. "I know you enjoy it so much."

As we turned to walk toward the intensifying echoes of carnival music, I murmured, "Your wife..."

The simple tap of his finger over my lips commanded me to say no more.

He bought the tickets, then turned to me to trace my nipple with the sharp edge of the tiny paper square. I still didn't dare to look into his eyes, but I could feel the gentle strength of his hands close around my shoulders.

With that steady, even stream of his voice, he outlined every move I would make next, and in my submission, I followed each order precisely. Heels scuffing against the concrete, I strolled toward the carousel, three paces in front of him. My legs weakened in the throes of my desire, but he kept a close watch on me, prepared to catch me if I stumbled. The games we shared always brought me to the edge of danger, but I had never known such a warm comfort of safety with any other man.

His hands steadied me as I climbed up to the platform. Just feeling his eyes on my back, my waist, my ass, my hips and my thighs intoxicated me. And then I reminded myself that my body was no longer my own, but his to use in whatever fashion pleased him at the moment.

Treading up the stairs, I clutched the handrail, but I knew he was close enough behind me to break any chance of a fall. I could feel the gentle spring breeze pass under my skirt, tickling me with the reminder that anyone could easily see that I wore nothing beneath. When I reached the top step, I looked for two empty seats, one behind the other, just as he had told me to do. Before climbing upon the mechanical horse, I took off my coat, and handed it to him.

Not so carefully, I hoisted my leg over the tiny saddle. The dichotomous feel of my warm, wet cunt pressed against the cold plastic seat caused me to squirm in dark delight. As I struggled to hold my balance, sliding my swollen clit back and forth with the slight buck of my hips, I felt his lips on my neck. "Good girl," he whispered.

Those two simple words, a phrase one might use to praise a pet's good behavior, could manipulate me into nearly any scenario he chose. After all, I wanted nothing more than to please him, and the encouragement that rung through his voice every time he murmured that delicious sentiment in my ear enveloped me into the folds of his mystical spell.

Slowly, the tier began to spin, fluttering my skirt up for his view as the ride picked up speed. Just wondering who might be looking, who might be engaging in the same pleasurable stare as my Master, carried me close to the tethering edge of climax. However, he had trained me to ask his permission to cum, and I knew that he would dangle me over the edge of the ravine to my pleasure before granting that privilege.

When at last the ride stopped, my breaths were short, and my breasts heaved against the blouse that suddenly felt too tight. Looping his arms around my waist, he lifted me, then helped me to stand. Dutifully, I slipped my arms inside my coat which he held out for me. The light wool covering was a welcome to my shivering body.

He continued to hold me steady as I trembled down the stairs. I craved release, but I reveled in the sweet sensation of restraint. Crossing the concourse again was an effort in futility on my behalf, but the curiosity for what else my beloved Master had in store for the afternoon motivated me to carry on.

There was quite a lengthy line waiting to board the elevator at the Eiffel Tower, and it was then that he took my chin again, inviting me to look into his eyes. We carried on a conversation as if we were just another pair of lovers touring Paris, without a single mention of the events that preceded the moment or of what scenarios might follow.

The elevator was crowded, and I pressed against him in the crush. Through my coat and skirt, I could feel the heavy pressure of his cock, wedging as close to my ass as the folds of material would allow. The buildings beneath passed by my eyes in a blur, as the car inched upward along the steel piers, and when we reached the top, he nudged me forward with a squeeze to my shoulder.

Without a thought I strolled toward the edge, and lost myself for a moment in the grassy park below. He stepped behind me, and allowed me a moment to take in the beauty of the old city. He was so close that I could feel the tickle of his breath against my hair.

With such delicacy, his hand roamed downward to caress my knee, smoothing over the silky fabric of my stockings. In one quick movement his fingers swooped upward to stroke the bare skin beyond the tight band of the thigh-highs.

"You're wet," he murmured. "I can feel it on your stockings."

I was numb to his words, concentrating instead on his cool palm which continued to roam between my knee and the top of my thigh. His touch, as always, had a way of drawing me into a hypnotic state, levitating me from the normalcy of the life I lived. And as he continued to caress, teasing me with the brush of fingers against my bare wet lips, I swayed against him.

"Please touch me."

"Touch you where?" he said with an air of nonchalance as he looked over my head to the scenery below.

"Rub my clit, please."

His silence left me unnerved with anticipation.

"Please," I said again, "rub my clit."

Instead he chose to cup my breast with his other hand, maintaining the soft rhythm of his exploration beneath my skirt. I could feel the heat of my own lubrication dampening my legs, as his fingers danced ever close to warmth of my cunt. Catching his hand between my legs would only be cause for punishment, and until he decided that it was time to fulfill my request, I had no choice but to writhe in his arms.

Gently and slowly, he took my nipple between his thumb and index finger, increasing the pressure with each second that passed. No one ever understood my body as well as he did, and he knew that the continuous tug against my right breast would throttle me into the folds of delirium.

"Harder, please," I whispered. "Please, pull harder. Please."

"You're such an exhibitionist," he said against the top of my head. I could feel his lips curve into a sinister smile, as he continued to pull and twist my nipple. "But you're so well trained."

"Thank you," I breathed, bucking against his hard cock. I struggled to catch my breath, while the pressure around my nipple tightened. He had taught me so well to hold myself at bay, to near the edge without slipping over, but his grip was quickly obliterating the self-control I had honed in the early stages of our relationship. "Please -- let me cum. Please..."

"Cum now," he commanded, his fingers still manipulating my breast, squeezing, pulling, tugging.

Collapsing against him, I caught the moan in my throat, and bit down hard into my lip. I felt as if every eye in the crowd was on me, as I gave into the sensation he permitted. My unattended clit was still swollen, but I could feel every muscle within my womb contract with his utterance. All the while, his hand continued to caress, making its circle over my upper leg.

"Good girl," he cooed in my ear as the final tremors of orgasm washed over my body, tingling every inch of my flesh from head to toe. "Easy now..."

Before I had the chance to blink, he took my hand and led me toward the elevator bank. Dazed, I fell against him, unable to ascertain my surroundings, and allowed him to guide me along. The trust I placed in him surpassed all of my innate instincts. He was my partner in this dangerous dance, and my protector from the ills of the world.

Enraptured by his touch, I merely moved my legs as the circle of his arms supported me, and we moved ever further away from the crowds of tourists, leaving behind the fleeting memory of one single moment in time.