-- Early in their relationship Kathryn visits William's house for the first time, content is mild, the story continues to set the background up for and create the context for their later adventures.
-- In the timeline the events occur before Kathryn Goes Shopping.
-- Always happy to receive comments and suggestions.
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Kathryn luxuriates in and then finishes her shower, does her hair and applies her make-up before he is done with his training session, she heads down to his home gym to find him shirtless and sweating as he swings a kettlebell that looks almost impossibly heavy, after a minute or so he places it down with a soft thudding sound that confirms its solidity to her, breathing as heavily as he is sweating he reaches for a drink before he speaks, "Sorry, just five more minutes and I'll be done. You can stay if you want."
She enjoys watching his body but, silently aware of her own near non-existent fitness regime, she declines and leaves him to it, opting to start coffee instead. She finds an espresso machine and several of cafetieres in the kitchen and, opting for the latter puts the kettle on. As it heats she decides to dress and heads up the stairs to his bedroom, it's a large house for a man on his own and her curiosity getting the better of her, she turns the handle of the one closed door on the landing.
She can't been able to believe her eyes at what she finds within, she isn't a total innocent, and, well everyone has had fantasies, but she'd never quite imagined anything like the display the walls of this bedroom, if she'd still been clothed and they had not already made love tenderly, if she didn't feel so much as though she belonged when in his arms she'd have made her excuses and fled, even if her heart might have later regretted it, it was a moment her dreams would revisit time and again.
As she stands in the doorway she can see one display that is striking, ah, a poor choice of words if ever there were one for it contains over a dozen varied crops, canes and whips, another an array of feathers, brushes, strange spiked wheels that looked like spurs.
The room smells richly of expensive leather, as in the rest of the house the decor is, for the most part, conservative, but in place of his modern bed is a four-poster, and instead of the bookshelves, music library and LCD screens on the walls elsewhere she finds tall, elegant mirrors and a serious of quite outrageous display cabinets, or, to be precise, conservative dark wood display cabinets displaying outrageous contents. Despite her shock, and as there is no sign of William finishing his training and coming upstairs, she thinks she can still faintly hear the sounds of his exertion...
...Kathryn had always mocked the girls in horror movies who stepped into the unknown but now that the unknown presents itself she finds herself looking over her shoulder and with a quickening of her heart deciding that a few short steps while no-one was around can do no harm. She steps inside to see more closely. She moves toward the cabinet that is filled with a bizarre array of whips, sees a third, to her right with a variety of restraints, if these are the items on display she hesitates to think what must be in the tastefully matched cupboards and drawers.
First, she pauses at the display of restraints thick black leader and bright polished steel. There is no denying the visual artistry of this or the other displays, she allows her fingers the lightest of touches on several items, and is surprised by the weight of even the slim steel chains, the soft, yet unyielding nature of the leather cuffs, realises the tactile richness matches the sight and scent. One set of chains has strange clips at its ends which distinctly worry a part of Kathryn's imagination and she quickly moves on.
The array of whips though is even more daunting, there are long thin ones that remind her a little of those a coachman might use, she recognises the riding crops and canes, there had been a cane on the wall in her headmistress's office. She remembered being teased about it by Nancy Turner and living in fear of it for almost a year before she learnt that corporal punishment had been banned in schools years before. On an impulse, she lifts it from its peg, feels the fine harsh grain of the wood, tests its springiness, taps it against her hand. When she tries a practice swing she is surprised by the sound it makes through the air, she tries a harder tap and jumps as it makes a slapping sound, then she feels heat spreading through her palm from the point it has touched.
A shade of the naughty schoolgirl she hadn't dared be rises and she slides the sleeve of her robe up, pauses to gather her bravery and brings it down in a slap, "Fuck!" she exclaims almost dropping the cane in shock at bright pain that flashes through the soft skin on the inside of her forearm.
Then she almost leaps out of her skin as William's voice, murmurs, "If you're a pervgin, I'd start with something a little milder than a cane."
"But, why? Why would you use those things on a person?" Kathryn felt intimidated, she was wearing nothing but his borrowed bathrobe, she wished she had more on, wished she were not alone with him, that she hadn't read those books, hadn't stepped into this room, hadn't failed to hear him coming upstairs, she wished many wishes in a rush of quickening heartbeats.
"Which things? The fur mits? Feathers? Soft skin brushes?" He asks in response, with the devil staring deep into her and the boy dancing in his eyes. He reaches past her and she freezes at the motion, she sees him take a wide blusher brush from its place and feels a rush of relief, he holds it up for her inspection and then in a slow, deliberate motion places its soft bristles against the skin of her cheek and uses it to caress her skin, the effect is completely unlike using a brush to apply make-up on herself.
The stroking makes its way back down the V at the front of her robe and as it does his free hand passes over her breast, a jolt of pleasure, shoots through her and the hardness its tip confirms to her that he is aware of her arousal, not trusting herself to speak she tilts back her head and raises her mouth towards his.
She thinks, "Damn you, you know which things" but only says, nervously, "The other things, the whips and canes." She can't believe she's barely clothed in this man's home talking about these things, trying to stay calm while he seems on the verge of laughter and her own heart tries to escape her chest.
He looks into her eyes as if for permission and then slowly draws its softness from her hairline behind her ear down the length of her neck, his bass tone enquires, "Have you liked the things I've done with you?" Sparks of unexpected pleasure radiate from its touch as his voice sounds inside her.
"Yes, um, of course I have." She says, wishing that she were enjoying the things he was doing to her right now just a bit less.
"And have I done or forced you to do anything against your will?" Eyes dead serious as they seek her attention, he trails the brush down the robe's collar, she's glad the belt is done up, though she is becoming aware that her stiffening nipples don't agree with her.
"No, of course not, I wouldn't have..." Here she remembers him holding her on the edge of her orgasm, insisting that she open her eyes and watch herself before being allowed to cum, and she remembers the overwhelming surge of pleasure as she surrendered to his demand, how he would partially undress her and use her own clothing to keep her arms immobile while his gentle caresses worked their magic, "I trust you but..."
"But what?" He challenges her and raises an eyebrow, and she is amazed that he seems genuinely curious. The fine bristles, softer than any in her own make-up bag move begin to upwards, to her relief and disappointment.
"But what if I didn't want you to do something?"
"I imagine that either you'd ask me not to or that you would not appear to be enjoying yourself and that would make me stop." He carries on caressing her with soft, confident motions of the brush, each a delightful note as he plays her warm, glowing freshly bathed skin. "Why? Is there something you want me to not do to you?" Damn his seriousness and damn that laugh hiding behind it! "When people are playing physical games there are signals and words, whether it wrestling, martial arts, or, so to speak 'marital arts', for example, if you chose pineapple as a word meaning stop..." He loosens her robe, and trails the brush down the curve of her breast, "All you would have to do to make me stop would be to say 'pineapple'".
The strange, soft caress is tantalizing, one more thing unlike any other Kathryn's body has ever experienced, she opens her mouth, but does so in the hope of his kiss, not to say "Pineapple." And his lips find hers as the robe's belt falls and one hand reaches to the oh-so-sensitive skin of her waist, sending a delicious shiver through her. The brush continues to the underside of her breast and slowly spirals towards he rapidly stiffening and suddenly aching bud, as it arrives at and then circles its destination sparks of pleasure radiate throughout her body. Time slows for Kathryn and after a moment or an age when William pulls the brush away; she finds her body leaning forwards. He leans forward once more and first his warm breath and then his lips find her aching tip, drawing a gasp from her.
He pushes her robe wider open exposing her other breast and the once again begins stroking her skin softly with the delicious device, She finds herself standing in a passive reverie, warm, comfortable, for the first time in her life in such brazen exposure, lulled by his tender attentions despite the knowledge that she stood a bare few inches from an array of torture instruments.
He mirrors his earlier ministrations, collar bone, sternum, the curve of her breast, and she finds her skin even more sensitive, each nerve already alive with anticipation as the brush's gentle caress approaches. Her eyes close as it nears her nipple and she gasps as it lingers there, sighs as it eventually trails downwards, tickling its way to the crease between her thigh and hip and his lips replace it in touching her breast. He breaks away just as the brush grazes her outer labia and she moans at loss of its touch.
