He took his time. Just watching me, he leisurely drank his whiskey. His eyes smiled the whole time. I tugged my skirt straight, drew circles around the rim of the glass, studied the ceiling above him. Anything to avoid the stare of those intriguing blue eyes. Most women longed for a man with dark hair and blue eyes. I didn't, though I did like this particular specimen.
Almost, I was almost on the verge of asking him what to do. I had already drawn in my breath to start speaking when he moved his finger. Come here, he motioned. My heart fluttered again. We began.
I got up, put my glass down, straightened my skirt and took the four steps to him. He traced my buttock with one finger. He held up his other hand and swirled one finger. I turned around. I knew where this was going, but I pretended not to know. He pushed at my back, signaling me to bend over. Just as I had expected.
_Smack_ The impact of the sound and the feeling startled me. I put my feet back together. He hit me again. He pulled my skirt up and stroked my bare ass. The next one stung harder. Blood flowed to my ass and made it feel warm and glowy. My back and legs started to hurt from being in this position, but I didn't wiggle. Again he hit me, and again. In fact, he didn't stop until my legs were so cramped and my ass hurt so much I wanted to beg him to stop.
He tapped me on my back as I sign I should get up. Carefully I erected myself and turned to him. He got up, pulled me close and kissed me. The spanking had aroused him as much as it had me. He pulled me to the bedroom.
He stripped me. It wasn't lovingly, kindly or softly. Just taking off the clothes. He put my blindfold on me. He led me to the bed and into the position he wanted me in. I was lying on my back, arms to my sides and my legs slightly spread apart. Then he put the headphones on me. That was scary. We had used the blindfold before, you could say I was used to that. But being kept blind and deaf was different. It wasn't until now that I appreciated how many clues I had gathered from hearing alone. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hear a thing.
For the longest time I just lay there. Usually I could hear him rummaging through the drawers or undressing himself. Now all I had for entertainment was my own breathing and the sound of my own heartbeat, like you would when keeping an empty shell to your ear on the beach.
Something stung at my breast, like an insect's sting. My heart rate increased, as did my breathing. Soon there was a pattern of little stings. It didn't hurt exactly, but it was a strange sensation, difficult to place. Then it was gone and I was left alone again. Was he gone? I tried to use some sixth sense, but it was useless. No matter how electric our connection was, right now I couldn't feel a thing.