Lucy's Mystery Man

October 31st started with a chill wind from the north. Lucy was up and out early doing errands around town. She hugged her soft fleece tightly in an attempt to hold a little warmth as the brittle leaves skittered along the sidewalk. Her boots crunched in the leaves as she walked faster to get home and out of the cold.

She came up the stairs to find a FedEx envelope at her door. Lucy glanced at the clock as she let herself in. 10:15. Must have just missed the delivery guy. She plunked down her bag and dropped the envelope with her keys on the hall table. Lucy handled a lot of these, and they were never as urgent as anyone thought.

The freezing flat did nothing to warm her up, so she stripped and jumped into the shower. Coarse goosebumps spread over her as the hot water splashed on her cold skin. Lucy clapped her hands over her rigid nipples and squeezed her breasts. She tilted her head back to let the water run over her whole body.

Soon she warmed up and began soaping herself up, enjoying the feeling of her hands sliding over her slippery flesh. She wasted no time slipping one hand between her legs and over her labia. She pinched a nipple while her middle finger made a shallow dip between her folds. She slumped onto the corner bench in the old, tiled shower stall with the telephone-style shower head in her hand.

Her breath came short and heavy through her open mouth as she worked at her own pleasure. Quickly two fingers ran over her clit in small circles. She blasted the water at one nipple, then the other. The hot water tingled the sensitive nub of flesh and ran over her body. She could hear her own moans in the small stall as she spread her legs as far as possible and pressed her soapy index finger against her rosebud.

The finger pushed easily into her ass. Lucy directed the water at her clit while she worked her anus. Soon she was fucking herself furiously in the ass, gasping at the pleasure which spread through herself as she came.

Once wrapped in her robe, she made some tea and went about her business that day, dealing with phone calls, emails: piles of dull minutiae. By keeping busy enough she was able to push away the frustration with all the time she spent cleaning up after her "boss".

Mid-afternoon Lucy noticed the envelope in the table and grabbed it. She sat down and opened it as she ate her late lunch.

Rather than the expected, bright-white printer paper, however, a thick ivory envelope slid out. Lucy picked it up and savored the feel of the soft, hand-made paper. On the front large simple handwriting just said "Lucy".

Something small stirred at the back of her mind. Slowly she slipped a finger under the flap and separated the glue with a crackle. She drew out a large folded card with ragged edges.

Inside the vaguely familiar handwriting said:

Dearest Lucy,

Happy Halloween

Please be my guest at an intimate gathering this evening at seven O' Clock at the Robspierre.

In anticipation, your Admirer.

At the last word all mundane thoughts vanished. Who could this be? The handwriting almost reminded her of a man she had flirted with from a distance so long ago now, but it was too neat and carefully done to be sure. In any case, he was many miles away and they had not corresponded in ages.

That probably wasn't it. But what would explain this card? Lucy knew of the Robspierre as a small and exclusive hotel, frequented by people with considerable taste.

Whatever the case, she wasn't busy, and her adventurous muse quickly convinced her to go. It was just after three now, so she could have done more work, but there was no point in that. She picked up the phone and used her forthright manner to corner manicure and hair appointments at 3:30 and 4:45. She phoned for a cab and headed downstairs, mulling over her wardrobe.

It was Halloween, but there was no mention of costumes in the invitation. In the cab Lucy decided that the Robspierre demanded a classical approach, and settled on a black cocktail dress. She could wear those little jack o'lantern earrings as a nod to the season.

Things did not go well with traffic and her appointments ran late. As a result she got back to her apartment at six-thirty, with just time to shower. At seven-fifteen she was in a cab headed downtown, with her pulse in her throat. Normally not one to worry about being late to a social engagement, not knowing who was waiting made her tense.

She pushed in through the wide doors and into the quiet marble-clad lobby of the magnificent hotel. The only people in sight were immaculately uniformed hotel employees. Before they could sense her hesitation she made her way to the concierge who smiled politely.

"Excuse me," Lucy said. "I've been invited to a gathering here, but I'm not sure where to go."

Arched eyebrows. "And your name was?"

"Lucy Hampstead," she replied.

He looked down at something on his desk. The sound of turning pages was loud in the quiet lobby. "Ah, yes. You are indeed expected. Come with me." He stepped from behind his desk and led her to the reception desk. "The key to 415, please?" he said to the clerk, who handed it to him with what might have been a twinkle in her eye. He took the key walked toward the elevator. On the way he handed it to a bell-hop and said, "Please show Miss Hampstead to room 415."

Lucy thanked the concierge and followed the bell-boy. Her mind was racing. If it was a social function of some kind, why was she being given the key? The old elevator slowly climbed, and she thought she could feel the young man's eyes on her. She was used to that, but she somehow felt that he wasn't just admiring her form. There was a subtext of some kind. She stared forward and listened to the noises of the machinery.

The bell-hop opened the door to room 415 and said, "There you are. Enjoy your stay." The look in his eye was piercing, and she glanced away with uncharacteristic skittishness. She mumbled "thanks", took the key, and shut the door behind her.

A magnificent room greeted her. It was not terribly large, but it had room for a queen-sized, canopied bed, as well as a love seat, table, and pair of armchairs. The walls were a rich wine red, topped with a creamy molding and a warm white ceiling. The lighting was muted, and shone over rich brown wooden furniture with gold upholstery. Several large oriental rugs covered the carpet. No hotel furniture here.

On the bed there was a folded pile of fabric in bright blues and aquas. There was a champagne bucket on the sideboard with a bottle of Perrier-Jouet and two glasses. Another ivory envelope stood up against the sweating silver container.

Lucy's head went light. What am I doing, she thought to herself. She opened the envelope and found another card. Inside it said:

"My Dearest Lucy,

Please accept my apologies for not being here to greet you. Damnable distractions hold me up. I assure you that I am on my way, but it will take a short while. Please pass the time with a long, relaxing bath. Help yourself to a splash of bubbly to distract yourself. After your bath please try on your Halloween costume. I do pray that it fits well. Careful estimations were made, but there is no substitute for the real thing.

Sincerely, your Admirer."

Well, that was about it. Lucy's knees went weak, and she sat heavily on the bed. Her rational brain urged her to make for the door right away, but her pounding heart held her there. She ran her hand through the pile of colorful silk. Even without anyone there, she felt she was being taken care of as she longed to be, and the thought of relaxing into it gave her a warm thrill. She knew she would stay and do whatever was asked of her.

She inspected the costume more carefully, and realized it was a harem-girl outfit, with a v-necked top and a skirt made of many streaming pieces of blue, aqua and rose silk, all trimmed with gold thread. There was a pair of dark red silk panties, but no bra. There were numerous scarves as well as some glittering gold jewelery: braclets, earrings, and other chains of various lengths. She tried to imagine the man who wanted her freshly washed and dressed in this classic costume of the submissive. She prayed that it would be someone worthy of giving herself up to. The lingering uncertainty lent an edge of fear to the situation, but in combination with her arousal it left more of a thrill.

At last she arose and opened the champagne, pouring herself a glass. The delicious, dry nectar chilled her throat and spread calming warmth through her body. She went into the bathroom and ran water into the beautiful tub. She chose from a basket of lovely bath products and poured a rosy fluid under the tap. She went back to the room as the bath filled with hot water and bubbles. She took off her shoes, leaving them next to a pair of sandals that appeared to be just her size. She hung her dress in the closet and removed her underwear, folding them away in a drawer.

She topped up her glass and returned to the bathroom. As she stepped through the door and dimmed the lights she admired her tall, womanly form in the mirror. "I look good with just a champagne flute", she thought. Lucy shut off the taps and slipped into the hot water. All thoughts left her mind. Just this much made the trip worthwhile, she thought to herself, and drifted off to another part of herself.

After soaking for a suitable period of time she removed herself from the tub and slowly dried off her delectable form with a large soft towel. She rubbed the luxurious cotton over her long legs and then up her torso. She dried her beautiful arms and caressed her shoulders and breasts. The bath had left her skin soft and subtly scented. She sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed lotion into her arms and legs, and stroked the insides of her thighs with her hands.

Her hand gently traced over her sensitive petals, which send tingles through her body. She pinched one nipple and slipped a finger into her wetness, then made herself stop, savoring her level of arousal.

She left the bathroom room and stood over the bed looking at the outfit spread there. Any hesitation she had had was gone now, but the anticipation remained. The question of who would walk through that door, and when, was constantly present. She tried to picture the men in her life who might be behind this (that it was a man she somehow did not question), but none came forward. As she began to dress in the clothes of a pleasure-girl she could not help but think again of the man in the far-away land whom fate had seemed to drive away.

She pushed the long paneled skirt low on her hips to display her perfectly flat belly, and draped a gold chain around her waist. The short purple silk top covered her breasts loosely, joining at one point between them. Its sleeves were transparent, revealing the warm color of her arms. She put on dangling gold earrings, bangles, and clasped a short gold chain around her ankle. She found another fine chain and circled the crown of her head with it, clasping it at a link which kept it there. She selected a particularly sheer blue scarf and tucked it into this chain at the sides so it draped across the lower part of her face, revealing only her eyes.

There were still numerous scarves left on the bed, so she tucked several into the waistband of the skirt to hang with the various folds already there. Many still remained, but as she checked her reflection she was quite pleased with the effect. She bent to pick up the scarves to take them to the dresser when she heard a key in the lock.

Lucy straightened up and froze. She had become involved enough in putting this costume together to such good effect that she had distracted herself. Now the knot in her stomach returned. The door opened and she still just stood there, clutching the scarves with her back to him.

Someone quietly entered and shut the door. Lucy heard the rustle of a jacket being removed.

"Very nice," his warm voice said, then paused. "I'll admit that I had some fear you might not be here." She knew that voice. It was him. Her emotions raged. She was relaxed, but energy coursed through her body. She let the silk fall from her hands and slowly turned.

There stood a tall, slender man in a sleek tuxedo with a small black mask over his eyes. He was smiling as his eyes traveled up her form to hers. "As beautiful a slave girl as I have ever seen", he murmured, almost to himself.

Lucy could not talk. The moment that their eyes met she felt that things had gone beyond costumes and playacting. She was compelled to break from his gaze and stare down at the rich carpet.

He spoke again as he turned to the sideboard, "I see you didn't wait for me with the bubbly. Good." He took the bottle poured some for himself, and walked over to her glass by the bed. She took it when she handed it to him.

"To a long-awaited meeting. I suspect that the separation of time will benefit us," he said as he extended his glass. She timidly met his gaze again and gently touched her glass to his. It was slightly difficult to drink with the veil, but Lucy managed to do so with perfect dignity. She looked down again, but he put his finger to her chin and lifted her head. She shut her eyes as he leaned forward and pushed the veil aside and caressed her lips with his.

Lucy closed her eyes as the masked man leaned forward and kissed her. His lips were moist from the champagne, and coupled with her own slightly parted lips with perfection. Her nipples stiffened instantly and her body temperature jumped by several degrees. They remained there, lips lightly brushing lips for a timeless moment, and then he broke away. He smiled into her eyes and dropped his hand from her chin.

Normally an assertive woman, Lucy once again dropped her gaze to the floor. The man took her hand and led her to the other end of the room where he left her standing and sat himself on the love seat. Somehow Lucy knew she should not sit with him. She stood before him and waited for some sign of what to do.

He sat on the couch drinking in her form. Though her gaze was still averted she could feel his eyes. The feeling thrilled her.

"My goodness, I'd forgotten how lovely you are", he said. "Be so good as to display yourself for me."

He went to his bag, which he had left by the door and returned with a camera. "Simply lovely. I must have some souvenir of this occasion," he said, and proceeded to capture a few images.

Lucy slowly thrust one knee forward between the long strips of fabric and lifted her arms into what she felt was a decent harem-girl pose. She turned and moved through a number of postures which displayed herself beautifully. The man before her made appreciative noises as she did so, continuing to take pictures.

"Very good. You seem to have no trouble adjusting to the role you find yourself in," he said and rose from the couch. He moved behind her and ran his hands over her belly, and lightly up over her breasts. Lucy was in ecstasy. Performing for this man she had desired for so long was bliss, and the slow anticipatory feeling was kindling a warmth deep within.

He stepped away from her and did something behind her. When he was back he gently took her arms and moved them behind her body. He crossed her wrists and wrapped one of the scarves around them. She was surprised how tightly he bound her hands, but entirely content. He resumed his caresses up and down her body, tracing the insides of her thighs and brushing her mons with a feather-light touch. Her blood was boiling. Her nipples were stone-hard, and radiating electrically. Lucy had her eyes closed as she drifted further and further from the room.

He stepped away again, and then she felt his hands remove the gauzy veil. His fingers parted her lips and he inserted a wad of silk into her mouth.

"You've been very obedient and quiet, but I feel the need to do this, if only for the symbolism of the act," he said, as he firmly bound the gag in place with another scarf.

The first feeling of uncertainty drifted through her mind. In truth, she had never spent any intimate time with this man, and she was now being bound and gagged. She was too far gone at this point to do anything but comply, however, and she simultaneously could feel her pussy pulsing between her thighs. He came around before her and stared into her eyes. He put his hand on her shoulder and gently pressed down.

"Now kneel," he said.

Lucy obeyed, of course, sinking to her knees with her hands bound behind her. He kept the pressure up until she was sitting on her heels. He lifted her chin a bit and bent her shoulders back.

"We must present your breasts to their best effect," he told her.

He looked down into her eyes and she met his gaze. She bravely held forth her breasts and stared forward as he raised the camera again and captured her in a situation she never would have dreamed of posing in before this evening.

Lucy felt completely vulnerable and completely at ease. Somehow she did trust him, although she now had no idea where this would end up. Again the camera flashed.

"Of course you trust can trust me," he said, as if reading her mind. "What other choice does a good slave have?" He lovingly ran his hand trough her hair caressing the nape of her neck and smiled. He bent and kissed her on the forehead. His strong, slender fingers cupped her breast. He kissed her temple and squeezed the breast he was fondling. A jolt of electricity traveled to her wet cunt. Lucy moaned through the gag. He kissed her ear and ran his hand down her exposed belly.

With two hands he spread her knees apart further on the carpet. His hand traveled over the low waistband of the skirt and between the folds of silk. He stroked her wet panties and pressed against her vulva. He cupped her mound and pressed the silk into her folds. One strong finger slowly flicked over the nub her hard clit.

Then he stood up and walked away her. She opened her eyes and saw him go to the drapes, where he removed the thick silk drapery cord and brought it back with him. He dropped the length on the rug in front of her as he walked past to the champagne bucket. He set his glass down and removed his jacket, which he carefully hung up in the closet.

Lucy's captor returned to her, a dashing villain in a well-cut white cotton shirt and black spy-mask. He sipped from his glass and surveyed the damsel before him, then put it down and retrieved the rope, which he began to wind around her upper torso, pinning her arms to her sides. The thick, soft cord wrapped several times around before he started tying it. He bound the cord tightly, biting into her breasts. Lucy had never imagined an attraction to being bound, but her breath caught in her throat at the feeling of the cord on her nipples and she could feel her pussy lips swelling and parting with excitement.

Then he fetched a couple more scarves from the bed, untied her wrists and brought her forearms up against each other, still behind her back. He gently arranged her hands so that they were cupping her elbows, and proceeded to bind her arms together there. Again, she was surprised at how securely she was being tied up. It was somewhat uncomfortable, but that only seemed to add to the stimulation she felt.

After a few more tugs on his knots he stood back and admired his work. "What a pretty package you make," he said as he reached for his camera. "I shall treasure these images forever." All Lucy could do now was stare at him. Her pulse thundered through her veins. Whatever he had in mind, any noise she made would be at best interpreted as lovemaking beyond the surrounding walls.

The man sipped his champagne again and ran his hands over her body. Her legs were starting to go to tingle, but she had no desire but to behave as well as he wished her to. The anticipation of what he might do next kept her riveted. Her mind willed his hands to grip her flesh tighter, to move further. Her body hungered for whatever contact he would consent to supply.