You’ve only asked me to your house to dance, only to instruct me in a few new flamenco steps. That’s all. But I put on my sheer black lace bra and garter set anyway, embroidered with tiny red roses. I feel my breasts cupped into the lace, nipples pink and almost peaking over the top, the raw silk of the thigh-high stockings like a cool silken tongue on my legs. My tiny lacy thong is already moist with my juices as I think of you - your hands caressing the air around my body as we dance, so close I can feel their heat.
My hand shakes as I knock on your door. Is it my imagination or do your eyes light up when you see me in my red dress? I’ve picked it out especially to please you. The skirt is slit to show my legs and the rest hugs the tops of my hips, my waist and breasts. You say nothing, but your glance is slow and lingering. I hope you notice the daring flash of my cleavage in the low neckline, my perfume (your favorite) wafting up to tempt you. I’ve been aching for you ever since I saw you in flamenco class. I had tried to hide how you affected me and made every effort to stubbornly school my mind on the steps, but your unexpected invitation was too much to resist. Tonight I don’t care. I want to be completely yours, drinking you in, trusting you as you lead the dance.
You gesture me in and lock the door behind us. I feel like I have just entered a comfortable lair. Your house is darker than I expected with oak wood paneling and wrought iron decorating the doors, but the entire “dance floor” of your living room is wreathed in candlelight. I notice the enormous, thick Turkish rug on the floor. My pussy aches watching you move and it’s everything I can do not to pull you down on the rug and straddle you right there!
You’ve set out wine for the two of us and suggest we start with a drink. As we talk, I find myself surprised at how relaxed I feel with you. Something about you instantly puts me at ease, yet as we laugh together I sense something dark and animal just beneath this civilized surface we share. I cannot tear my eyes from you and realize that I’ve become so caught up in watching your mouth as you speak that I’ve allowed the silence to go on for almost a minute. I’m certain you can see the naked hunger in my eyes, but your own gaze is unreadable.
I shiver in anticipation as you move away for a moment to start the music, and then turn back to me, holding out your hand. The look on your face is so intense that for a moment I cannot even move. Never in my wildest dreams did I truly imagine that my longing for you would be returned. A slow tangos rhythm starts. You go over to a table and pick up a fan and a shawl. The silk fringes of the shawl brush my thighs as you drape it over my shoulders and hand me the fan. Without speaking, we begin to dance. This is not the more rapid footwork we’ve practiced in the past, but slow and muscular. The muscles of your body curve toward mine like a predatory shadow as I trace the air around us with the shawl and fan. We circle without touching, eyes locked, caught up in the passion of the music.
I raise my hands high over my head, spreading the shawl like a veil between us. Your fingers brush me as you lift the shawl from my fingers and whip it through the air, stepping behind me. A strong arm slips around my waist while the other runs over my hair and shoulders. I prepare to step forward for the next floor pattern and gasp in surprise as your grip hardens. Before I can move, you quickly draw the shawl around my wrists and secure them together. I’m pressed tightly against you, rocked between fear and desire. Your house is in the middle of nowhere. There is no one to hear me scream.
Your voice rasps in my ear, “Do you want this?” Your breathing is ragged. My arousal is so intense it is actually painful. Your whisper continues, low and commanding, “I have never wanted anyone so much - but I insist on having you by my rules. Say the word and I will release you - but say it now. Otherwise, I will consider you mine for the evening. Choose. Now.”
I writhe in my bonds and find them immovable. The choice must be my own. You moan my name ever so softly and I am completely undone.
“Yes.”
The word hangs in the air for a split second, and then you spring into action. I feel your grip tighten around me as you lead me over to the doorway to the room. An intricate wrought-iron molding has been worked around the frame. I had noticed it when I entered, but had thought little of it at the time. I now observe that the molding is exceptionally sturdy and bolted to the wall. You loop the loose ends of the shawl through a section of the molding above my head and tie them tightly.
“What are you going to do?” My voice is breathless with anticipation and a tinge of fear. I have never put myself completely in another person’s power before. I am sure you can see my heart thumping through my dress.
“Shhh” you whisper, covering my mouth with your lips. Your kiss is deep and slow. I feel your tongue probe deeply into my mouth and I groan with pleasure. The music continues in a slow sensual rhythm as your hands lift my skirt and feel the lacy fastenings of my garters. Your fingers slide up my thighs, gently penetrating my now incredibly moist and ready pussy. I watch you pull them from me and lick them, sucking my juices, then you reach back to tease me until am whimpering in the pain of my arousal. “Please….” I gasp, begging you to take me.
Instead you walk away. I groan in agonized frustration and stamp my heels on the floor. You walk over to a table in the corner that I hadn’t noticed before and lift up several items. I stamp my foot again and tug fruitlessly against the shawl. Your footfalls are measured as you move back to where I am tied to your grillwork, carrying several lengths of rope along with some other things I can’t quite make out.
I know immediately that I am in trouble. “You will learn patience tonight. You will learn that pleasure is a privilege – one you can earn by pleasing me. You will learn that disobedience or argument of any kind will be swiftly punished. Tonight, you are mine on my terms, and will do as I say. If you are obedient to my wishes, I promise you will not regret it. If not, I will discipline you. Are we clear?”
I nod slowly, my eyes huge. I shrink back toward the wall. Your eyes rake over my body as I stand before you trembling with my need. I feel the whole length of you against me as you reach up with your free hand and undo the knots holding me to the molding. You turn me around and push me face down on the carpet, my legs spread wide. The weight of one strong knee pressed over my back is enough to prevent me rolling over or getting up while your fingers work through the knots binding my wrists.
My hands free, you pull me to my feet, never releasing your firm grip on my shoulders. Then with one swift motion, you unzip my dress and slide it from my body. I hear you catch your breath as you see me in my sheer lacy bra and panties. My nipples are straining to escape the top of my bra and I’m certain that my juice could drip down my silk stocking at any second. I can sense the self-control it takes you not to rip off what clothes I have left on my body.
For a moment, you simply look at me, drinking me in. You yank me against you and wrench my wrists behind my back, my breasts teasing your chest. Some kind of cord – soft, but strong pulls tightly over my wrists and then my elbows. I relish the raw tension of the cord in contrast to your gentle fingers. The excess cord you pull under my breasts and around me again, firmly holding my arms in place. Once again, you move me toward the doorway and secure me to the iron working with another length of rope. You loop a rope around each thigh and tie those to the iron so that my legs are held slightly apart. I sense a drop of juice escape from my pussy and am sure I’m making a puddle of my desire on your floor. Mischief glows in your eyes and I wonder what’s next!
