I saw you watching me in the library, so I quickly moved to another aisle and opened a large book in front of my face but, when I checked to see where you were, you were gone. I returned my attention to browsing, thinking nothing more of it than, "Just my imagination."
I moved to the back of the room to peruse the magazine rack and suddenly you were here, standing right here in front of me! You tear the magazine from my grip, toss it onto a shelf, bend me backwards, and kiss me hard.
Even in my panic, I realize that I am letting you part my lips, letting you slowly, seductively, wrap your tongue around mine; seeking, deepening, demanding, and drawing me out.
With just a kiss, you block out my pale existence and make me feel what I have not for a very long time. I am mystified, but wantonly returning your kiss, and I am astounded at myself, at you; a complete stranger, delivering the most passionate kiss I have ever received!
Then you push me into the alcove behind the back door and I close my eyes to my reality, as I let you, the fantasy of you, claim my desirous lips.
Roughly, crushing me to you, you lock me into your embrace, even as I am still wondering if I dreamed you, but then you take my hand firmly in yours and issue one word,
"Come."
I let you lead me out the back door, into your car, and then to your apartment, or what I hope is your apartment.
Then you watch me as I wander around, exploring my surroundings, your surroundings, touching the knickknacks, fondling the bric-a-brac, feeling everything, taking in all that I can discern about you. Suddenly, you move deliberately across the room, closing the gap between us.
Instantly I retreat, knowing an innate fear of you even as I deny my own longing, and I back away quickly, unprepared for you to steal my breath again and entirely uncertain of what you want from me, or what you mean to take.
Without a word, you pin me to the wall and I am assailed with panic. My eyes search the room for the nearest and quickest exit but you have my wrists tightly caught, pinned over my head, and pressed to the wall.
Seeing my eyes land on the doorknob lock, you remove your tie with one hand, bind my wrists together and drag me with you to turn the deadbolt, slamming it home.
You tilt my chin up, forcing me to meet your gaze.
"Tell me your name," you command.
But I am shaking, unable to speak, until you draw me firmly into your arms, just holding me there, almost tenderly, and I reply timidly, whispering my name softly against your cheek.
Then you reach around me to find my dress zipper and sharply pull it down, letting the frock slip to the floor. Stepping between my legs, you push my back to the door. With my arms still pinned above me, you land one, long, soul-searing, kiss to my lips.
Ever so slightly, I relax into your grip as fingers of lightening desire begin in my belly, spread through my pelvis and crackle like frayed electrical wires, sparking fire all the way down to steaming cunt.
You press me hard against the wall, pushing your hard frame into me as your lips devour me, probing my mouth, as soft, small whimpers escape me. Your deep, guttural, groan lets me know how much you want me.
Suddenly, I realize that you are not forcing me, not taking what I know you want, but forcing my own desires; all but daring me to give in to myself and then give in to you.
Feeling my trembling cease, you step back to hold me at arms length, watching my eyes register fear, shock, desire, and then blinding, white-hot need. Finally, I let the dam break. I let myself need you, fiercely, overtly, and intensely. I let my deep down, entirely sexual, heat and something so much more consume me.
Then you spoke for only the second time,
"You are mine, little bit. I am your Master now."
Then you wait, pausing just long enough to watch those words rankle through mind and hit home, already knowing that you possess me.
I stand in stunned silence, considering the implication of your words, until your deep voice shakes me out of it.
"Say it," you whispered harshly.
But I cannot say those words, cannot speak them aloud. After a long moment, I lean in to kiss you and your lips and hands are on me, frantically touching, as though you mean to extract the words from me physically. You are feeling and fondling, squeezing and kneading, soaking me in with all of your senses, and defining me with your fingers, hands and palms.
The heat of your touch, your breath against my cheek, your body pressed to mine, brands me your own, even as I rail against your sensuous assault, as much as I want to give in to it. Then you reach between my thighs. With a sharp intake of my breath, you stop and lay your fingers against my sensitive clitoris. Without moving an inch, you demand once more,
"Say it."