My Mysterious Moorland Master

I never do this kind of thing. Well, except for right now, when I am doing this kind of thing.

How did I get myself into it? Well, I've been studying abroad in London this quarter, and this weekend I made a trip up to York to meet up another American friend of mine, who's studying at the university here. We've been having some ciders at a pub. I've been listening to her talk about her long-distance breakup with her boyfriend back in Portland. She's a bit of a wreck right now. He was the one who broke up with her, and, not knowing what was coming, she was the one who paid for the phone call. And it was a long phone call. I feel really bad for her. I tried to console her as best as I could, but that guy really is kind of a jerk.

After a few ciders, she said she was ready to go cry in bed and excused herself. She was staying in a room above the pub, so fortunately she didn't have to far to go. I don't have too much further – my room is just across the street, but I want to finish my cider. And enjoy hearing the Yorkshire accents of the local blokes around me.

After I'm alone at my table for a few minutes, I'm stunned by who walks into the pub door.

I had a dream about that man exactly a week ago. I'd recognize him anywhere.

We make eye contact. I feel mortified. I don't want him to know what I dreamt about him doing to me.

And then – oh my God – he walks directly toward me. And he says, "Sarah, relax. I already know what I did to you in your dream. Remember, I was there."

"Oh . . . dear," is all I manage to reply.

"I never told you my name," he continues. "Bad manners on my part, I'm afraid. But never to late to make amends. I'm Thomas." He holds out his hand, and we shake. His grasp lingers on my hand as he says, "You should see what I'd do to you when you're not dreaming."

My knees tingle in a weird way I've never known them to do before.

"I travel in and out of this world and the one you dreamed about," he explains. "I know you don't know much about me, but I do know that you know you can trust me."

I nod. "I do know that," I say. Don't ask me how, but I know that I can trust this man not to hurt me. Not in a bad way, anyway.

"That's the one thing I wanted to make sure you knew," he says. "Because I want you to come with me."

"Yes," I say. He holds out his hand again. I take it, and he pulls me out of my chair.

Still holding my hand, he leads me out of the pub into the parking lot (or, as the Brits say, the car park).

He stops in front of a black Aston Martin with tinted windows. He would have such a typically British car. He opens the driver's side door and tilts his head toward the inside of the car, indicating I should get in.

I'm perplexed. "You want me to drive your car?" I ask.

Now he looks perplexed. "What? Oh God no, of course not."

Then I remember I'm in England, and this isn't actually the driver's side at all. "Oh, sorry," I say, and get in.

He closes the door, and walks over to the actual driver's side to join me in the car.

"So glad you're able to join me," he says. "Now, before I take you to where we're going, there are a couple of things we need to take care of." He reaches over to the glove compartment (or glove box, as I think the Brits might call it), and pulls out a long strip of black satin fabric. It looks soft, shiny, and beautiful.

"I have tinted windows so nobody can see what I'm doing inside my car," he explains. "We don't need the police getting alarmed."

"No, we don't," I agree, without knowing quite what I am agreeing to.

"And actually I can't have you seeing what I'm doing in my car either. I travel a little differently than your average mortal, and since you, no offense, are an average mortal, I can't have you in all of my secrets." He starts to stretch out the fabric, and suddenly I know what he intends to use it for. My new knowledge makes me tingle in my knees again, and I start to tingle between my knees too.

Thomas looks into my face for a long moment before he speaks again. "You have such beautiful blue eyes, Sarah. I almost can't bring myself to cover them."

"Thank you so -"

"I said 'almost'," he says quickly, and the next thing I know the black satin is being wrapped around my eyes. It's long enough for him to wrap around my head twice, and then I feel him tie it snugly behind me.

I won't lie, it feels great to be blindfolded. One of the most exciting feelings I've ever had. The satin is so soft and luxurious, and as I'm completely unable to see anything at all, my sense of touch is running wild. This feels so good against my skin.

"Face me," Thomas says, and the sound of his voice is so thrilling. My sense of hearing is amazing now too. I turn my head toward the driver's seat.

"Put your hands together in front of you." I do as he says. It's impossible not to obey the sound of that deep, English voice.

I feel what I know must be the same kind of wonderful satin material make a loop around my right wrist, then my left. He wraps another loop around them both, and then I feel him tying them tightly together in a knot.

"That feels so good," I say, almost involuntarily.

"You look beautiful," he says, and then falls silent for what seems like several minutes, but it's harder to tell time in my current situation.

Then I feel him pull the seat belt over me, and hear the click of the buckle. "Safety first," he says. I giggle. He giggles a little too. What a beautiful sound.

I hear him start the ignition, and feel the car being to move.

"We'll be going to a house on the moor," he says. "The owners are on holiday on the continent, and it's one of my regular haunts. And I mean 'haunt' literally." He laughs heartily. I giggle a little, but I'm really not sure what he's talking about.

"And yes, it's something straight out of Wuthering Heights. You'll see . . . eventually. When we get there, I think I'd like to keep you in the dark for a little bit longer."

"I like it in the dark," I say.

I feel him put a hand on my knee. That makes me tingle some more, and I'm also getting very moist.

"If only you could see me grinning from ear to ear right now," he says. We both laugh, for real this time.

I feel the car wind about for what seems to me like twenty more minutes or so, then we slow down and stop.

"We have a bit of a walk to get to the house," Thomas says. I hear him get out of his side of the car and walk over to my side. I hear him open the door and feel him reach over to unbuckle my seat belt. Then I feel him hook his arm through my bound one and lift me out of the car.

"The air feels so damp," I say.

"Well, yes, welcome to the moor," Thomas says. "I'm tying a cord around your wrists now, so that I can lead you down the path to house."

I feel him pull me forward, and I begin to stumble. "I'm sorry," I say. "I'm not used to walking bound and blindfolded in heels."

"No, I'm the one who should apologize," he says. "I should have thought of that." Then I feel him hook his arm through mind again. "This should be much more stable for you," he says, and we start walking arm in arm. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Eventually he leads me up some steps, and I hear the sounds of a door opening.

"Now I'm going to pull you by the cord again," he says. "You should be able to walk more easily on the smooth granite floor."

I can.

"Wow, it's cold in here," I say.

"Yes, that's on purpose. For atmosphere," Thomas says.

He suddenly stops leading me forward.

"I'm going to untie your hands for just a moment," he says. "When I do, I want you to take your shirt off. But leave your skirt, stockings, and shoes on."

"Yes," I say. As I said, it's impossible not to obey that voice.

I feel the wonderful satin slip off my wrists. I'm glad Thomas said this was only going to be for a moment. I love being tied up with that stuff.

"Time to take off your shirt," Thomas commands. I do. "Do you want me to take off my bra too?"

"No," Thomas answers. "I want you to put your hands behind your back now."

"Oh goody, yay!" I say, without thinking. We both laugh again. I'm so silly.

The soft lovely satin is tied around my wrists again, even more tightly than before.

I suddenly hear his voice in front of me again. "You look fabulous this way," he says. "Your chest is as beautiful as your eyes."

"Thank you."

Now he must be behind me again. I can't keep up! I feel my bra being unhooked, and hear something fall very softly too the floor. Probably my bra.

And oh wow, now he's in front of me again. I suppose it's not too hard to guess that was coming, since he did just take my bra off. "Excuse me while I indulge myself for a minute."

I feel my nipples getting harder as his hands begin to explore my breasts. This feels even better than the satin around my eyes and wrists. I try to control my breathing.

"I could do this forever," he says. "And that should concern you, because I actually do have forever."

"Suits me fine," I say.

"Oh, but I have so much more in store for you." He takes me by the arm again, turns me, and leads me for several steps.

"Oh shit, I didn't plan this well," he says. "I'm going to have to untie you for a minute again. Er, pardon my language."

"Since you're so perfectly polite in every other way, I'll let that one slide."

"Much obliged," he replies. I feel him untie my hands again, and then he sits me down in a chair.

"This is your throne," he tells me. "You may be my captive, but you're also my queen."

I'm getting wetter all the time.

He pulls my hands behind my back again. I can feel that there are rungs on the back on this throne. He's passing my hands through the rungs and bringing my wrists together.

Strangely I feel the biggest sense of relief to have my hands tied once more. I was beginning to dislike having them free from that luxurious satin.

Happily, so happily, I feel some of the same stuff begin to wrap around my bare torso, just under my breasts, and loop around my belly again and again until it reaches my hips. Then I feel Thomas tie another tight knot. I couldn't move from this throne even if I wanted to.

"And now for good measure," I hear him say, and I feel the satin wrap several times around my ankles. Then another one of his wonderfully tight knots. The satin feels so good against my bare skin on top, and good in a different-not-better-or-worse way against my nylons below.

Thomas has apparently taken some steps back to admire his handiwork. "God, you're gorgeous," I hear him utter from a distance away. "I almost wish you could see how you look,"

"Well, I -"

"I said 'almost.' Hold on, one finishing touch."

I feel him put something metal on my head. It's a little heavy, but nothing I can't handle. "A crown for my queen," he says. "Oh yes, that's perfection."

"I hope I look nice for you," I say.

"Oh darling, you have no idea. Now . . . I'm going to leave you for a few minutes to get some things from the kitchen. You behave yourself while I'm gone." I hear his footsteps exit whatever room we're in.

I revel in all the satin and the pitch darkness that surrounds me. My whole body is tingling now, knowing that this time with Thomas isn't a dream, and I can't wait for him to come back to me and my throne.

Presently, I hear a sudden whisper in my ear. "Did you miss me?"

"More than I could bear."

"I brought something very special for you. Wine from one of my haunts in the dream world. Open your mouth."

I do as I'm told, and I feel glass touch my lips. He gives me a tiny taste of wine.

"It's heaven," I marvel. "Smooth like honey."

"They know how to make their mead in that world," Thomas says. He continues to tip the glass into my mouth, giving me tiny sips at a time. I savor every one of them. This is the only way to drink mead now, as far as I'm concerned. I'm never going back.

"I suppose I should feed you a little too," he says. "Bite, chew, and swallow." He puts something that feels round into my mouth.

"Tastes like strawberry jam on an English muffin," I say.

"Very perceptive girl," he says. Then he chuckles. "Now you know why they call them Thomas's English muffins."

"I think everything should belong to you, Thomas," I say. My breath stops for a moment. That's the first time I've allowed myself to say his name.

"Smart, perceptive girl." I feel him lean in and kiss me. For the first time, I pull against my bonds because I long to hold him. The desire is driving me mad.

"Lucky you," Thomas says. "I have to do all of the work." He kissed me down the neck and his lips reach my breasts.

"But really," he says between mouthfuls, "lucky, lucky me."

He moves down to my belly button, and below it. I feel him start to remove my stockings and pull them down to my ankles, where they're stopped by my leg bonds. "It's important to leave your sexy heels on," he explains.

Then I feel his fingers reach into my panties. He strokes my pubic hair for a minute, and then plunges a finger deep into my tunnel. He begins to move it in and out, and starts to press another finger against my clit and he starts to move his finger in and out of my vagina faster and faster.

This, of course, drives me wild. If I could move I'd be trashing about wildly right now. But all I can do is moan and scream.

"This is why I wouldn't dream of gagging you," Thomas says as I continue to make loud sounds. "You make such amazing noises, and there's no one to here you for miles. No one but me. Lucky, lucky me."

I feel my panties drop down to my ankles, and his tongue join his fingers between my legs. Just when I thought I couldn't get any louder.

At just the right time, I break into orgasms. I can't even describe how it feels to have such strong orgasmic spasms against my luscious satin restraints. Yes, it's a very good thing no one else could hear me for miles.

"Good, good girl," says Thomas, stroking my hair. "Such a good girl. Time to untie you from the chair now.'

I sigh. I'm exhausted, but I wish I could stay tied to this chair forever.

"Don't worry, our fun's not over yet." I feel him untie my torso, my ankles, and finally my wrists.

"Now you can take off your shoes," he says. I do, and am able remove my nylons and panties as well. Now I'm completely naked, except for my crown and my blindfold.

I feel Thomas grab my hand. He leads me up some stairs and pushes me down onto a bed.

"I'm ready to look into your beautiful eyes again now," he says, and unties my blindfold.

I blink and look around me. We're in an enormous, cavernous bedroom, on a giant bed. Lit Gothic candelabras are everywhere I look.

"I told you this place was all Wuthering Heights," Thomas laughs.

I look Thomas in the face. "You have beautiful eyes too," I say.

"Thank you," he replies. "You have my permission to hold me now."

I throw my arms around him. "I loved being tied up, but it was all in anticipation of being able to hold you and kiss you, dream man."

Someday I want to discover all his secrets about his travels and his life in the dream world, but for now I'm satisfied to sleep next to him, still feeling the impressions of the satin around all the different parts of my body.

I mount him and envelop him, and it's a good thing nobody can hear either of us for miles.