See Emily Play

The door slammed shut behind her and the loud sigh rang through the empty cottage as she irritably kicked off her shoes while throwing her bag and coat onto the sofa. The trip from London had been a bitch, the traffic heavy, sheeting rain, and flooded roads. The journey normally took anywhere between 2 to 2 ½ hours, today it had taken nearly four.

Emily went through to the kitchen where Jeannie Harris, (her guardian angel, but really someone whom she paid to keep an eye on the place while she was working in London), had lit the Agar stove and stuffed the fridge with fresh produce, even the wine rack had been filled. The next week would be perfect; she had the place to herself, away from the hustle and bustle of her job.

Taking a glass from the cupboard, she filled it with her favourite red and took a long sip of the wine, rolling it around in her mouth, allowing the aroma to permeate her nostrils and savouring its flavour to the full. Pacified now she made her way back to the living room where she saw that an open log fire had been laid in preparation. However, Emily was not quite ready to curl up on the sofa with her wine and a good book; she needed to wash off the dust of the city and a long hot soak in the luxury of her shower room beckoned.

Without wasting any more time she made her way there, shedding items of clothing on route until naked, like this, she felt freedom calling to her from across the void of time and space.

The shower room had been her pride and joy, tiled walls, floor and ceiling. When buying the cottage she had sought planning permission to pull down the existing bathroom and outside toilet, starting anew with a totally non-standard bathroom, with the inclusion of a Jacuzzi and a separate shower room.

The whole thing was utterly decadent and luxurious, Emily having spared no expense. Water for the shower came not from a single showerhead but from twenty separate jets set into the walls and ceiling, to bombard her body with anything from a soft spray, to powerful needles to massage as she required. Four extractor fans took care of the steam, unless she wanted a sauna, and drains with built-in pumps in each corner siphoned away the excess water. The room had been built having in mind the possibility of two, three or perhaps four people using it at the same time; she had simply closed her eyes when designing it, allowing her imagination to take flight.

Adjusting the lights to a low glow, and turning on the water for a soft and gentle spray at an ambient temperature, both exercises done from a panel set into the wall outside the shower room, she stepped through the door and into the steam and mist filled room. Bliss, she thought, just heavenly bliss.

As the water made little rivulets running down her body she raised her arms to ensure that nowhere was missed and in no time at all her body glistened with the droplets like the star filled Milky Way. Reaching over to the liquid soap dispenser Emily filled her hands with moisturising viscous fluid spreading it over her soft skin until producing a good lather.

Her hands worked with an easy familiarity, moving over her soft skin, the gentle curve of her breasts with their nipples becoming slightly erect, down over the slight swell of her stomach and so into the trimmed soft fur surrounding her pussy lips. Caressing herself with the soap she allowed her imagination to wander and closed her eyes as probing fingers slipped in between the folds of thickening pussy lips to find and fondle the clit that was now becoming erect.

Her mind wandered to the new tenant who had moved into the flat adjacent to hers close to Canary Wharf. She could see the Dome from her window, and from her balcony, where she grew a number of flowering plants, had glimpsed him walking about his flat naked. He had a good body, and once, she had even seen him with an erection, noting the shape and the lines of what was obviously a good-sized cock.

As the picture of it went through her mind Emily agitated her clit without realising it, climaxing very quickly she lifted her face towards the ceiling and cried out, the sound almost a howl of pleasure. The water immediately went into her mouth and caught up in her throat, making her choke.

As she regained control of herself Emily noticed that the lights had gone out, knowing that the lighting circuit was different from the shower, she believed that a fuse must have blown, and that it was not a power cut, so frequent deep in the countryside. She made no attempt to rush from the room to find out.

That another person might be inside her cottage did not enter her head until she heard the shower room door open, it was then that she realised that someone else had indeed entered, and began to feel a little afraid.

Unable to see properly through the steam, she had not realised how close the intruder was until she felt her wrist in a vice-like grip, and a hand across her mouth to stifle a scream that never came.

Emily was made of stern stuff and with her free hand balled into a fist began to rain blow after blow onto his head, at least, she thought it was a man because of the strength needed to hold onto her wrist. Although she was quite tall at 5' 11", he was much taller but still had to let go of her mouth to ward off the blows to his head.

She knew it would be a waste of time her shouting, the cottage stood in the middle of nowhere, which was precisely why she had chosen it. Only Jeannie Harris knew that Emily was here and she lived in the village about two miles away. There would be no farmers out working in this torrential rain, so she correctly judged that no one would or could come to her rescue.

With this established she leaned back against the wall of the shower, surrounded by darkness, quite frightened but nonetheless determined to resolve the situation in which she found herself.

"Right, now that you have decided to quieten down I am going to take my clothes off." The strong deep voice close to her ear surprised her, "the damp from the steam and water is ruining my attire, but maybe the dry cleaners can do something with it."

Bells started to ring, as Emily realised that she had heard this voice before, but where? She was at this time unable to pinpoint it. The fear of the situation lessened somewhat by the knowledge that she knew this man from somewhere, she found her voice suggesting that perhaps they should get out of the shower, but he replied saying, no, that she was to stay within his line of vision at all times.

She found his voice confusing, authoritative and commanding yet soft and somehow very sexy, and for some reason Emily felt compelled to obey, although unable to fathom why. So she decided to stay put, and remained standing where she was as the stranger removed his clothing, throwing them where he judged a corner of the room might be.

She knew that while he was taking off his trousers she could have escaped the shower room and phoned the police, but she wanted to know just who this man was. So far, he had said very little, certainly not enough to tell her about himself although he seemed to know something of her.

She jumped a little as she felt something slide around her throat, frightened that he might be seeking to strangle her. About to speak the sound became muted in her throat as she felt a buckle being fastened at the back.

"I have placed a collar around your neck that has a leash attached, both are locked in place so please don't even think of trying to remove them. The other end of the leash has been locked to the 'D' handle on the bathroom door; there is no means of escape."

"Now, don't just stand there Emily, do something useful, get the soap and wash me, then we can both get out of here". Emily hesitated, but for only a second, she wanted out of the shower room too, she wanted to see this man who had followed her from god knew where to invade her space and her person. She wondered why he had chained her in this fashion, although it did excite her a little. Like most other women, she also had fantasised about a rape scenario, but had never thought it might actually happen to her.

He had made no attempt to hurt her, only to stop her from screaming or running away, she began to think that her fear might be unfounded although the knowledge that she was now chained with no means of escape was a little disconcerting. Making the decision she filled her hands with more of the liquid soap, starting at his shoulders and his back but keeping her hands above his neatly tapered waist. As she worked she found that from the back he was quite a muscular chap who most likely frequently worked out, she found this interesting, and for some reason, that she thought might be out of frustration and the need for a real man, just a little exciting.

Finishing his back, she told him to turn around in order that she might do his chest. Soaping his front Emily discovered a hairy chest; she had always been a sucker for a hairy chest and ran her fingers through it in a caress, forgetting for the moment that this man had effected entry into her home and made her his prisoner.

He took hold of one hand and she gasped as he pushed it down past his waist and onto his burgeoning erection. It had been some time since Emily had last held a hard cock in her hands and far from frightening her, she felt herself being aroused. For a short while, he kept his hand on hers and then told her to soap this now solid shaft, that he wanted to feel the movement of her fingers up and down its length.

At this point, he let go her wrist and rested his hand on her shoulder, she didn't move away as he started to caress her neck; she had become hungry for his touch. Starved of male attention, her body now craved it; she carried on washing him with one hand while stroking his cock with the other as he explored her body; feeling the round fullness of ample breasts, her slim waist and her very hungry pussy with its once more erect clit.

His fingers touched her everywhere, lighting little fires wherever they settled; she began to melt as he explored, wanting him more and more.

He pulled her close to him, kissing her neck, and then her lips. His kiss was as light as a butterfly's touch and when his tongue gently parted her lips to enter her soft mouth, she let go completely, she was his for the taking. Their tongues slid lasciviously against each other, beginning the dance of lust, hands were everywhere as they each explored the other, touching, caressing, probing and wanting...so wanting.

He pulled away from her, opening the shower door and turning off the water, the extractor fans and pumps would keep going for another twenty minutes to clear all steam, and most of the water, to leave the walls and floor wet. He grabbed a large towel passing it to Emily and another for him and the dim red glow from the lounge told her that he must have lit the fire. The towel was wrapped neatly around his waist, with no sign of the erection that she had been stroking so lovingly just a few minutes previously.

Seated on the sofa she could clearly see him now and also saw that he held the leash quite firmly, but for the moment her mind was throwing a blank, probably because she was still caught up in the sensations of the shower room. He checked on the fire throwing another log onto it, refilled her glass, poured another for himself and watched her as she took a deep draught.

She was so beautiful, he thought, he had wanted to do this for a long time, since that first day when he had glimpsed her quite by chance in the mirror opposite the French windows of his lounge. She had been watching him going about his business, naked as he often was.

Seating himself at her feet, he caressed them with his free hand while sipping from the glass. He was not sure what to say to her in order to explain his presence here, why he had to follow her from the city, at the same time he believed that she would not understand his need but he had to make it known to her somehow.

Emily was at a loss for words also, basking in the warmth of the fire, the inner glow caused by the wine and the heat of her pussy because of his presence; her own desires and the 'happening' in the shower room, not forgetting her imprisonment.

Her mind was in a state of terrible confusion with it all; she knew that she should get angry and throw him out, but at the same time wanted him to stay, she was angry, but suffused with a warm glow generated by his electrifying touch.

His hand slid gently past her ankle to lovingly caress her calf before moving to her thigh. She sighed, a long and low sigh showing her appreciation, a sigh that was not lost on him.

Turning, he put down the now empty wineglass, pushing her gently back onto the sofa. Emily parted her legs readily and willingly, beckoning him on as he continued his voyage of discovery with both hands now, along her inner thigh to that point where they met at her wet pussy and throbbing clit. His tongue tracing wet lines along the inside of her thighs as it neared her well of life and lust.

He deeply inhaled her perfumed aroma, the clean womanly odour of a freshly washed, but horny pussy. She moaned as his tongue continued its journey slicing through the length of her pussy to reach her once again very erect clit. As it touched she felt the heat of his breath searing the very soul of her being.

He lingered for a while savouring the taste, the aroma, enjoying the copious amounts of the love juice that she made so readily. He had never seen a pussy so wet, so hungry and at the same time, she knew that she had never been so wet.

She wanted to do to his shaft what he was doing to her slit but somehow couldn't find the energy or the will to adopt a soixante-neuf position with him.

He reached up to remove the towel from her body, leaving her totally naked before him; his own towel slipping now to leave him as naked as she. Now he could reach her breasts and from her position she could also see his erection.

A light went on in her head, she now knew without a doubt who he was, but still didn't know his name. He was the man from the flat next door to hers in the Docklands, of all the ways that existed to recognise someone, she recognised him by his erection. It must have made a greater impression on her than she had realised.

As he handled her breasts, pinching the nipples to make them harden she moaned once again involuntarily, she was so very hungry for him, and it was obvious that he was going to make her wait, he wanted to hear her beg for him to take her. That way she could never totally blame him for what she was about to involve herself in.

He intensified his teasing using fingers and tongue he covered her with soft kisses until her juices literally dripped from her aching pussy to run down between the cheeks of her bottom. She squirmed and put her hands on his head entwining her fingers in his hair, she opened her mouth to beg him to put his shaft into her but once again he pulled away from her.

Dragging her to her feet using the leash, he bent her over the arm of the sofa, her butt sticking up into the air, pushing her feet apart to expose her pussy for his delectation. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him but he forced himself to wait, she must be on her knees begging, at the point where she would do anything to feel his length pumping away inside her.

With one hand on her cheek, pulling it to one side to expose her little brown ring he lunged against her but not into her, almost weakening. He stood back and swiped at her ass with the flat of his hand making her gasp with the pain/pleasure of it, then pushed away from her, dropping into a chair.

"Go to bed, now!" He ordered and meekly Emily stood up, her bottom stinging and her pussy on fire for him, but she obeyed and went straight to the bedroom without saying goodnight. There were a thousand questions burning in her head, as she lay there naked waiting for him to join her, but eventually she fell asleep wondering why he had not made love to her.

The next morning Emily came back to life slowly. Opening her eyes she realised that the only sounds she could hear were the twittering of the sparrows in the eaves and her own breathing. How wonderful it is to live in the country, she thought, no traffic pollution, just peace and quiet and the sounds of nature.

The four poster bed had been another of her extravagancies, and she was momentarily surprised to find the space next to her was empty, sitting up she also noticed that the pillows were still crisp, indicating that he had not slept with her through the night.

She also realised that although the collar was still locked around her neck, the leash had been removed during the night. She found it cold sitting up, and accordingly snuggled back down under the duvet, pulling it close around her neck, feeling the warmth that the goose down gave back to her.

Her thoughts went back to how the evening had ended, how he had literally instructed her to go to bed. The drive up had made her very tired, too tired to argue and she always did as she had been told. She realised that he was a strong-minded person and derived some pleasure from his strength, telling her what she should do.

Emily had been on her own for a long while now since divorcing from her husband, and the presence of a man in the cottage was a novelty, as well as being comforting. There had not been a man in here since she had moved in, and she had believed that was how she wanted it, but his presence seemed to be somehow right, although, if she had been asked she could not have said why.

Throwing the covers to one side, she moved to the window to look at the day. His car stood in the driveway, neatly blocking in her own even had she wanted to escape from him. A watery sun shone through, hinting that there would be more rain later although the sky was at this moment a wall to wall uniform blue.

Covering her nakedness with a robe, she opened the door and went down the stairs to the kitchen. Smiling she filled the kettle and switched it on before heading for the bathroom. The need to pee having been made more urgent by the sound of the running water as she filled the kettle.

Once done she returned to the kitchen. The noise of the kettle almost boiling was quite loud, therefore she had not heard him pad across the stone floor, until the sound of his voice made her feel as though she had been caught doing something she shouldn't.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. She jumped, almost spinning around, he stood in the doorway, naked, his flaccid cock hanging down and holding some kind of stick that looked like a riding crop in his hand, his face devoid of all expression. She realised that this was the first time she had ever seen his shaft when it was not erect.

Her voice seemed to lose its natural timbre, emerging from her throat almost squeakily. "Err, making coffee," she replied, "would you like one?"

"No, I prefer tea first thing in the morning, milk and no sugar and bring it to the lounge on a tray."With that he turned and was gone as quickly and silently as he had arrived.

55

Emily's pulse was racing; no one had ever spoken to her in that fashion, ordering her around, since she was a young girl at Boarding School. She had never met a man like this and was unsure just how she should react.

The kettle boiled and with the drinks made, she carried them through to the lounge. Inside she found that he had re-lit the fire banking it up high, it was warm and very cosy. Pulling a small table from its nest of three she rested the two mugs on it then moved across to open the curtains behind which stood French windows, beyond that the tangled undergrowth and overgrown lawn that she intended to turn into a garden this summer.

"Come here," he commanded, "stand in front of me with your back to me and do not turn around." She did as instructed although not sure why she had to obey. "Where is the tray, I told you clearly to bring the drinks in on a tray." A gamut of reactions swept through her mind, but she did not answer. "Next time that I tell you to do something, do exactly as you are told or I will need to punish you," he said.