Carol looked at the paper in her hand. He'd told her to be there at 7:00 P.M. and to not be late. She'd left her home in plenty of time, so it came as no surprise that she was there 15 minutes early. Her long, slim fingers were clean of all polish and her face was clear of all make-up, just like he'd told her it needed to be. She was supposed to come to him clean and she was, even her hair was free of the usual chemicals she used on them.
Alan first saw Carol two months ago; they'd been inseparable ever since. Wednesday night they'd made love for the third time in their relationship; now he wanted to introduce her to what he hoped she'd enjoy. He told her that night she was to come to his place free of all inhibitions and with an open mind. He'd given her his apartment number as well as directions, and now he stood looking at her from his balcony. "God she's beautiful," he whispered. At that moment she looked up and saw him, their eyes locked and he stared down at her.
Something told Carol that this evening was just the beginning, the beginning to a new self-awareness and she felt as if a flock of butterflies had been let loose inside her. "I belong to him," she thought, wondering how she ever made it in life without him. She shivered as she made her way through the building until she reached his door. Carol was surprised when she stood before a closed door, she assumed he be there to greet her, but he wasn't. She knocked and waiting, wondering if perhaps he had to use the restroom before he opened the door.
Alan heard her knock and looked at the time. His fingers itched to touch her again, but he would have to start this evening out correctly so he sat there watching the television and ignored the second then third knock.
Carol screwed up her face and leaned against the wall of the hallway. A young woman and her boyfriend walked by and looked at Carol, an odd expression on the man's face. Carol watched them leave and saw the man bend down and whisper something in his girlfriend's. The girl turned around and said a bit louder then a whisper the word "pet?" Carol could tell by the girl's voice that the boyfriend hadn't explained something to his lady friend and when the couple left she found herself curious as to why the man had groaned and hurried his friend along.
Looking at his watch he saw the time hit 7:00 and he opened the door to his apartment. "Hello. 7:00 on the dot," he said.
Carol smirked, "Hello... umm yeah. 7:00." She shook her head in confusion, but said nothing else, nor did she mention the couple she'd seen. She was just glad to be with him.
They could feel the electricity running between them, neither spoke as he stepped away to let her enter the room. Carol's heart beat rapidly as she felt his arms surround her. He pulled her close, kissed her deep, and pressed her back against the now closed door. His tongue moved over her lips, down her chin, her neck, the dip of her chest that was exposed by the cut of her blouse. He tasted her flesh, smelled the perfume of her body; the natural scents of her aroused him. His fingers tore at the buttons of her blouse; he was too hungry to wait. Pulling the sides apart with his hands, the sound of tearing fabric filled the room. "You're mine," he growled before ripping the clasp apart on the front of her bra.
The twin globes sprang free, the nipples hard and full. Carol whimpered, watched his mouth take in one of her pink pearls, and felt her body attempt to slide down. "Yes," she muttered, her fingers moved to his hair. She held him close. She felt the bite of his teeth; the tearing and pulling of her flesh brought a moan to her lips. "Alan," she gasped. "I can't wait."
Alan looked up, his features changing slightly, but not enough to startle her. "You have to wait . . . that is what tonight is all about . . . waiting. Learning and waiting Carol. You'll learn to wait. I'll teach you how." He stepped back, took her hand, and led her through his apartment, making sure to show her the lay out. When they arrived at the bedroom, he sat on the bed and stared at her. "Strip for me," he demanded, his voice not frightening, yet full of demand.
Carol smirked, "Gladly." She finished taking off the tattered shirt and torn bra. Her fingers ran over her nipples and she tweaked one. Before she could tweak the other, Alan was gripping her wrist.
"No," he told her. His voice was stronger, more demanding, and a shiver ran through her. She cocked her head and a look of questioning crossed her face. "From now on I tell you when you can touch yourself. Agreed?"
Alan watched her lips pucker as she thought of what he'd said. She knew she'd liked the feeling that ran through her, as well as the firm, forceful grip he had on her wrists. "When we're together? Or always?" she asked. She was curious as to the "rules" of this little demand he'd asked of her.
"Always. I'll let you know when it is okay to touch yourself. I travel a lot, so there will be times I'll allow it, but I will have to give you permission first," he told her. He waited for her agreement and when she accepted his rule he released her wrist and moved back to sit on the edge of the bed. "Finish," he told her.
Carol smiled. Her fingers slipped to her waist and curled into the waist band of her denim shorts. She unsnapped the button and slid the zipper down. Her finger slipped over the bald mound of her sex, and she pressed against it, no panties blocked her path of exploration.
He'd seen her face change from the seductress stripping for her lover to one that showed a hint of pleasure. Again he was up and pulling her hand away from her body. "Did you forget already slut?" Alan wanted to feel the place where her hand had been, but he waited for her reaction to his words.
A flash of indecision and then excitement coursed through Carol as she was forced to feel shivers of another type of desire roll over her. "Slut?" she whispered, her brow lifted, her pulse raced. She'd been called that before, but it never had this effect on her. She felt a bead of moisture slip from her sex.
"Aren't you?" he asked. Alan wanted her so much, but he also knew she was headstrong, not easily bent, and not easily broken. He didn't want her broken, but he did want her to bend. His sex was aching to slide into her slick folds, but he knew he wanted and needed her to give herself over to him.
The shudder that passed through her caused her whole body to shake slightly. Another bead of juice freed itself from her pussy. "Only yours Alan," she whispered, licking her lips in anticipation for more. "Only yours."
"Sir," he told her. "I'm Sir now. When we make love, I'm Alan. When we fuck, I'm Sir. Understood?"
"Yes Sir," Carol knew this first time was going to be fucking and she grew more heady with lust.
"And what am I?" she asked him. "Slut and Carol?" she rolled her eyes at him.
Alan's other hand grabbed her chin and pulled her face close to his. He glared at her. "Don't disrespect me, slut. You're Alan's slut and you're only Carol when I say your name, other wise you're always Alan's slut when we are screwing, understood?" Alan's cock strained against his slacks. He would need her to relieve him of the pressure soon, but he couldn't right now. He had to wait and see how far he could go this first time. She'd not given him head yet, but all day he'd been wanting it, wanting to see her mouth take him in and swallow his seed.
"Yes Sir," she whispered, her fingers curled into fists at her sides. No fear was evident in her face, body, or thoughts. If someone were to look at the couple, they would only see pure hunger raging through them both.
