He held her legs apart, then quickly cuffed each ankle to the corner post of the bed. Spread eagled as she was, he now had total access to her body, the knowledge bringing his own body to full excitement.
He moved up towards her head and looked down at her. Her eyes were wide with anticipation, but fear also lurked there serving to heighten his lust. He watched her face, her eyes dropping to stare at his hands as he moved to his belt, unfastening the buckle then pulling it from the loops of his trousers. He let the leather run through his hand before tossing the belt to the side chair. His fingers worked at the buttons of his fly, but instead of letting his jeans fall, he reached inside and ran his thumb over the tip of his cock. He heard her gasp and watched as her hips began a subtle thrusting.
"Slut", he whispered as he withdrew his thumb, now wet from the pre-cum gathered on his tip. He leaned forward and gently brushed his thumb across the fullness of her lower lip, the gag in her mouth not allowing her to yet taste him. She whimpered her distress, all the while continuing the gyrations of her hips, a part of her so eager to allow this man liberties with her body, another part of her anxious to acknowledge his control of her – yet she could not voice her desires.
He stepped back and moved out of her range of sight, quickly disposing of the confines of his clothing. He needed to slake his thirst for this slut, but on his own terms; he would not be pushed by her need to give in to him.
He sat back in his chair and took his cock in his fist, beginning a slow rhythmic pumping, watching her as she strained to find him in the room. Her moans of frustration angered him. "Enough slut", he yelled. "My belt longs to sting that pretty flesh of yours. Do not tempt me to heed its wishes."
As he leisurely fisted his cock, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander back to the beginnings that brought this wanton whore to his notice.
It had begun innocently enough, a chance meeting in a chat room – domestic politics of all things. They had begun a heated debate, keeping the other chat room occupants amused with their strongly opposed views and intense exchanges. After that first night, they had agreed to disagree, but each visited the same room a number of times over the coming weeks in the hopes of enjoying further discussions to promote their views.
As they got to know each other, they found that while their politics would always be at different ends of the spectrum, they had other views they could discuss calmly and rationally, even agree upon. They also found that they lived within 100 miles of each other. This "closeness" encouraged them to open up further and they soon moved to more personal discussions about their lives.
He was a good listener, very perceptive and soon she was telling him about failed relationships, hopes for her future, desires unfulfilled. And he quickly grasped that one of those desires was something she could not yet acknowledge even to herself. To bring her to that acknowledgement, he knew he would need more intimate time with her, not the sterility of a chat room. So he suggested that perhaps their conversations would be more fulfilling over the phone – inflections and modulation of the voice offering each a better understanding of the other's view. She readily agreed, especially as he didn't push for her number, rather offering his own for her to collect call.
Their first conversation was stilted in the beginning but as he warmed her to her topic, he heard ease and comfort seep into her tone and knew he would quickly have the measure of this woman. Their call finished sooner than perhaps she expected, but he wanted her confident that he was not pushing for more than she was prepared to give. But he immediately emailed her after the conversation:
"You know, we never did get around to describing ourselves. Now that I've head your voice, I want to see you in my mind. Paint a picture for me."
She replied: "LOL – I'm not a very good artist, but here goes. I'm petite, only 5'2". It's not an issue for me though. I have long dark curls – natural.. actually, I'm only just starting to appreciate them! *sm Um, I have green eyes and pale skin thanks to Scottish parents. But I tan at the salon. Naughty, I know, but hey."
She wondered about offering more information but as he'd kept their conversations to quite a factual level, she wasn't sure that that was what he wanted. So she ended... "Your turn...".
His response was immediate: "Sm* You sound very pretty. I'm imagining a Boticelli angel with dancing eyes and a wicked sense of humour. Am I right? -Me, I'm 6'3", dark hair, blue eyes, Spanish background but distant. Fairly muscular, I like to work out. A natural tan – saves on those salon $$$s you're dishing out!! Sleep well, my dear. We will speak again."
She read his message with an unexpected thrill – something in this last email triggered a response in her that she couldn't quite identify and it left her oddly unsettled.
That night when she went to bed, she couldn't stop her hands from drifting to cup her breasts. Although the sheets were cool and she was naked between them, her body was throbbing with a desire she didn't fully understand. She twisted her nipples between her fingers and spread her legs wide, lifting her hips as if she were fucking an imaginary lover. With her eyes closed, her lover began to take form, with dark looks and piercing blue eyes.
She pictured him watching her, taking in her rounded breasts and their pouting pink nipples, her softly curved belly and the pussy she liked to keep perfectly bare. She imagined him readying himself to thrust between her thighs, and with a high pitched cry of release, she pinched her nipples hard and allowed the friction of the top sheet against her clit to bring her to orgasm. Her breath came in quick gasps as she came down from her climax; she had never cum so quickly and her blood burned as it raced through her veins. but while it had been an enjoyable experience, she felt strangely unfulfilled.
She rose from the bed, and returned to her computer and logged in. She wanted to email him again but was unsure of what she was going to say. While the computer logged her in, she began reading through their past emails, not sure what she was looking for, or how it would quench the thirst gripping her. When she came to that last email, the words "my dear" jumped out at her, causing an uncontrollable shiver of desire to snake through her body. What was this? Why would two words bring such an unbidden response? As she gazed at the words, another email flew into her inbox... It was from him. He was obviously logged in too, and must have seen her come back on line.
She opened the message... "Can't sleep, huh?"
Quickly she typed back, "No, not quite ready yet." She had a feeling he knew how she had satisfied herself only minutes before, but she wasn't quite prepared to share that with him, so she tacked on, "I have a report due on Monday and I don't think I've got it quite right. Thinking about it is keeping me awake." The she added, "Want to chat on MSN?"
"No. Why don't you call me and let's see if I can help you get to sleep. If you can take your phone through to your bedroom, crawl into bed and we can have a late night chat."
She pondered his reply... did she want to talk to him again tonight? She wasn't feeling uneasy but she sensed that this phone call would change the direction of their friendship. Was she prepared for that? Would she be losing a friend or gaining something far more special. Deciding it was worth the risk, she quickly replied with a "yes, I'll call"... and logged out.
She went back to her bedroom, shimmied out of her robe and slid back between the cooling sheets. Fluffing up the pillows behind her, she dimmed the bedside lamp and picked up the phone. The sheet and duvet were pulled up over her breasts, tucked in under her arms and her knees were bent, forming a tent in the bedclothes. She took a deep breath and dialled his number.
"Hey there, beautiful." The warmth in his voice made her smile and her misgivings were quickly forgotten.
"Hi yourself. You couldn't sleep either?"
"No, but I had a brief to finish anyway. I was just emailing it to my colleague for his input when I saw you come online again. What were your plans? Going to surf or chat?"
"Oh, I just thought I'd surf around – no, that's not quite true. In all honesty, I was going to email you again but I'm not quite sure what about!" She sighed, shifted a little in the bed and patted down the covers with her free hand.
"So, what would you like to talk about? Politics, hmmm?"
She laughed, "Lordy no, not at this time of nigh!"
His tone lowered as he replied, "I like it when you laugh... very sexy."
She flushed, warmed by his comment. "Oh well, I've heard laughing is good for the soul."
"Ah the soul. Life is always good when the soul is nourished." The timbre of his voice lulled her into a warmth she had long forgotten, and they continued their conversation in hushed tones, exploring their philosophies and sharing anecdotes of their lives.
She snuggled into the bedcovers and hugged the phone to her, wishing instead that it was the tenderness of his embrace rather than the plastic of technology that pulled them together. She must have expressed her wish to be close to him out loud, as he came back with a desire of his own.
"Ah my dear, if I were there right now, I would be happy to warm your flesh with my body." She gasped, embarrassed that she had let slip with a comment she thought she only had in her mind.
He lightened the mood a little, understanding that she had not meant to impart her longing in such a way. "It's ok. I'm not going to rush out and try and find where you live. And I must tell you, I have been lying here thinking the same thing myself. You have a beautiful voice, and I am imagining your body will match it perfectly"
She smiled again, relieved.. "Thank you. I love listening to you too. And I guess that wouldn't be so bad, to maybe meet sometime."
