Threshold
, a short story, by His pet sarah
The elevator ride takes forever. He has me backed into a corner, hands still behind me, and He is pressed up tightly against me. I can feel His presence, His body heat, His hardness all at once. I'm basking in the joy and the thrill of how long I've waited for this feeling. He leans in even closer and whispers into my ear. Tells me how proud He is of me, how much He wants me, how much He will take care of me. I'm melting. He also reminds me of my failure to properly present my gift to Him, and of each time I forgot to say "Yes, Christopher". I don't recall making quite that many mistakes, but I believe Him. I say the words now, knowing it won't help my cause. I'm prepared to accept His authority. His judgment. His punishment. I can feel the elevator spinning instead of rising now.
The walk to the room takes even longer than the elevator. He tells me the room number and points down the hall, and I proceed ahead of Him. I assume He wants to watch me again, and I focus on taking slow, rhythmic, hip-swaying steps forward. My dress and boots help me feel very sensual. It should be calming me, but each stride is slower than the one before as the full impact of what I'm about to do starts to hit me. All our play up to now has been preparing me for this, but most of it was pretend, and none of it carried the same level of drama, or risk. Each step is laying bare for me the absolute trust that is required to keep moving forward, and I'm surprised by my nervous reaction. A fight-or-flight instinct rises inside me, and it takes all of my willpower to push down a panic attack.
I stop at the door and turn toward it, waiting for Him to approach. The key card is in His hand already, and when the lock clicks open my entire body shivers involuntarily. He smiles reassuringly and stands half way in, holding the door open for me. He places His hand lightly on my shoulder, and gives a gentle push that keeps me from staying in the hallway, frozen in place. I'm still struggling to understand my hesitation. It makes no sense to be so reluctant about something I've wanted so badly for so long. But He did warn me I might feel this way.
The interior is dimly lit by a single lamp, and I take a quick glance around the large two room suite. Random emotions start to tumble through my mind. Relief that I didn't walk right into a bedroom. Disappointment that I can't peek past the closed door to see any preparation, or his toys. Renewed fear as the door closes behind me with heavy finality. Elation as I realize my time is finally here. Anxiety because I don't actually know what comes next, or what to do.
And then red-faced shame and arousal, as He tells me exactly what to do.
He sits himself down in a heavy armchair across the room, and watches with pleasure as I slip out of my slinky, black, confidence-inspiring dress. A layer of my armour is taken away. My voice seems to have gone away as well. I mime throwing my crumpled panties on the floor with the dress, but He shakes his head. I keep them in one hand as I slowly lower myself to my knees. I crawl towards Him, my head down to hide the flush of embarrassment spreading across my face and chest. When I reach Him, I lay myself across His legs, head down and ass up like He described. It is uncomfortable, and humiliating. I can't believe I'm actually doing this. I'm in misery. I'm in ecstasy.
As He raises one hand He tells me to count out loud, and my brain abandons me. The simplest of acts has become incomprehensible right now. I hope He shows some patience with me.
I'm not sure I really mean that.
* * *
Her name was Sarah, and I had to remind myself that most of this was still very new to her; except within her imagination, of course.
As I stepped into the elevator and looked at her anxious but desperately yearning face, I could see each conflicting emotion reflected a thousand times in the mirrored glass around us. I knew the reaction she was having to the situation we were headed into. There was a terrifying moment looming that required a leap of faith no matter how much time you spent building up trust. Soon there would be no turning back, and her safety and well-being would be entirely in my hands. It did not matter what she might have imagined, or talked herself into, while lying in bed alone with one hand down between her thighs. How her mind and body would react when this particular fantasy became reality was only predictable in that I knew she would start to panic at some point, and I was going to have to prove the playfulness and sincerity of my intentions over and over again, or run the risk of ruining this first-time moment for her forever.
I glanced over my shoulder at the security camera in the upper corner of the elevator, then checked to make sure she had noticed it as well. "They probably aren't watching the live feed," I offered helpfully with a smirk. She couldn't blush any more than she already was, and seemed well past the point of caring. I moved closer, pinning her in one corner of the elevator, up against a glass railing. Sliding my hand to the back of her neck, I slowly entwined my fingers in her long hair and then pulled her head gently but firmly away to one side. Meanwhile, my other hand had slipped in-between her legs, not making contact, just waiting there. I bent down towards her and began devouring her neck and ears with my mouth, first kissing, then biting playfully, then licking and sucking hungrily, claiming possession of that innocently sensitive part of her body while she squirmed and gasped with delight. And as her legs grew weaker, she suddenly found herself held up by my other hand, and immediately began to grind herself against it gratefully.
I feasted on her primal need in this moment. I had been anticipating all of this just as much as she had, and my own lust had been kept carefully at bay for a long time. We had been dancing around each other for more than three months, exploring this mutual interest of ours mainly through email, chat and stories until a few weeks ago when we had finally met in-person for dinner. But that encounter was meant only to confirm that a physical attraction existed, and that we were truly serious about this. She had asked that we wait until later to resume our play, and so I had stayed a perfect gentleman.
After that, things had progressed quickly, as I challenged her with small tasks to see how she would respond. Rules about how to address me properly; instructions on what clothing to wear, or not to wear; emails to write about her desires, and her limits; deadlines for when to give proof of her obedience; permission for how, when and where to masturbate. Her commitment to all of it was no different than what I had seen first-hand today. She was eager to please but still inexperienced, which meant moments of self-doubt and hesitation, and she could be easily distracted and sometimes forgetful. But I'll confess that I adored those flaws -- because I could take advantage of them! And it was through the attention I lavished on her now that she would get to see the depth of my own feelings, and understand that our play was having a powerful effect on both of us.
I still needed to remind her though, that she had made a few mistakes that would have to be addressed. As I breathed hotly on her now well-molested neck, I began to whisper in her ear. I chided her on the times she had forgotten to say "Yes, Christopher." I reminded her of how she had not been able to keep still at the table. I informed her that, in my opinion, she had chosen the least appealing approach to presenting her underwear to me. And lastly, I pointed out that my opinion on all of this was the only thing that mattered in the here and now.
In reaction to my words, her body tensed against me repeatedly, but she gave no other response and continued bearing down greedily, squeezing my hand between her thighs. Unimpressed with the lack of remorse, I needed a better way to get my point across. My thoughts turned to the erotic stories I had shared with her as part of her education, each one chosen for specific topics, telling her indirectly but with explicit detail what she should expect from me if our affair ever turned into reality. I left little to the imagination, because I didn't want to mislead her, and I knew that these stories had fueled her fantasies and driven her anticipation ever since. It made perfect sense for me to borrow from that approach right here.
So, I leaned in, whispering in her ear once again, and began to tell her EXACTLY what I was going to do to her when we got to the room. It was a brand-new story for her, with each part laid out matter-of-factly ahead of her. Maybe not every part, but enough, and it was easy to do since the whole plan was in my head already. It was not quite so easy for her to hear it, all at once like that, which is how I finally got the reaction I wanted. Her body was frozen against me in shock, and her eyes were finally giving a demonstration of how to plead without words. And as she coughed out one feeble gasp of protest, her breath still firmly stuck in her chest, the elevator chimed to announce our arrival on the top floor.
* * *
His name was Christopher, and his delightfully cruel promises were still ringing in my ears, like a firecracker had gone off inside my head.
My body, meanwhile, was carrying me toward the hotel room without consulting my brain. He had already said the room number, pointed me to the left, and then let me walk ahead of him. My head was in a fog, bobbing uselessly on a rubber neck, while newly discovered instincts took over. My legs set a slow and sultry strut down the hallway. My feet planted themselves carefully, crossing over slightly with each step. My ponytail twitched across my back, tickling the exposed skin there. My ass swung back and forth rhythmically and my hands, still clutching the lace panties, pulled themselves up to waist level to ensure his view was unobstructed. My heart was throbbing with the need for him to be pleased with me.
But I didn't mean lenient. Definitely not forgiving! Please, let everything he had just whispered to me come true! Holy shit, did I ever mean that! My pussy offered its own approval for my reckless thoughts. My familiar, safe, every-day identity was finally starting to fall away and something different, something nascent, something truer, was taking over as the curtains opened and the stage lights turned up. A co-starring role was finally right there in front of me, waiting for me to step up. A culmination of countless dark, delicious fantasies, of restless time spent yearning for access to a secret world. And here now suddenly, incredibly, it was all happening at once. There were many new shades of colour to the saying "be careful what you wish for." Oh, I had been wishing very, very hard for this.
I ought to be giving myself more credit than that! It was only when I stopped wishing, and started doing something about it, that everything changed: writing my profile on the affairs site that expressed my true desires; being open and daring in response to his cautious, playful early messages; bravely suggesting topics for his stories that helped to expose his intentions, and my reactions; responding to his commands with "Yes, Christopher" and meaning it truly, feeling it deeply; facing my first punishments from him and embracing them playfully instead of taking them personally. Yes, I was far from a passive participant in this!
And now I felt like I had just cheated myself out of a moment, as I realized I was already standing in front of the door. I had been running on autopilot while my brain spent precious time reminiscing and rationalizing. That was not how I wanted this to go, just passing me by in a blur. I would have plenty of time to process my thoughts later, and I was ready to embrace the fact that I was really standing here at the point of no return. I just needed to catch my breath, centre myself again, and make sure that whatever new version of me stepped through that door, it was every part of me, connected and living in a moment I had only ever imagined. This was MY story after all.
