Stolen Moments

On ordinary days in hidden thoughts, he will come for her, this thief of her senses...

Stolen Moments

A story of submission

She knew she ought to be working, there was so much to do and there where days when this haunting of her senses ceased to visit her and she could simply go about her day without interruption, time becoming filled up with the mundane or routine things of life.

Yet on those days, the days when she slowly or sometimes quite suddenly became aware of a quiet need deep within...

If it weren’t for certain tell-tale signs she might even miss the beginning of a quiet yet building stirring in her being that whispered a sweet longing for it, for him, this voice that brought her to places she dared not go so brazenly before. Quiet it began but did not remain so and in fact soon would begin to filter into her thoughts like the slow building trickle of water through cracked stone, moisture building in the tightest of valleys slowly forcing a blooming like the blossoming of a rose. Velveteen petals softening and warming to a blush in the in the onslaught of this building pressure behind a quiet facade.

To anyone not really watching she might have appeared unfettered, non-pulsed by anything other than the daily tasks at hand yet to the careful observer the evidence of this change within would've been apparent in subtle ways... the movement of the hands becoming more languid. The weighted lids that revealed darkening eyes... Even her mouth which up till that point had been pursed in concentration would begin to transform seemingly all at once falling gently open, the bottom lip becoming fuller and the tint beneath the thin skin warming to the blush of her thoughts.

Hands unconsciously reaching up for an almost lover-like caress of the neck before hastily being brought down to her lap, control regained, a wildness once again harnessed by the ropes of practicality. Yet the thighs atop which these hands sit clench together in an age old movement which seeks to quell the aching heat which pulses there. Her fingertips open and shut in an unconscious plea as if to beckon the release she now craves...

In a rare stolen moment she is alone in the house without the distraction of anyone there to constantly remind her of her responsibilities. It’s in this time that her thoughts go to him, this stranger with whom her body is now so familiar despite the fact that they've never officially come together in the physical realm.

Sliding into to softness of the easy chair in the bedroom she takes a pause from the demands of the day. With the help of a small remote she turns on the stereo and the room is filled with low horns and languid strings. The music, one of her favorites, is from Brazil the darkly, sensual sway of it seems so fitting to her personality.

With a sigh she slips out of her shoes and begins undoing the pearl buttons of a thin peach colored blouse. She slips it from her shoulders revealing the lacy demi –cut bra whose whisper thin molded tops shone the tops of pert nipples. Her breasts which had always been ample even as a young girl, are too large to be considered perky yet too full and firm to be anything but enjoyed.

“Come take me away from the madness of this world embrace the passion of life as this rhythm unfurls. In your island soul I can find my answers. ”

The music pulsed through her senses as she allowed her head to fall back and curled her feet up under her the action causing her skirt to reveal the tops of firm thighs the color of rich, slow melted chocolate.

Her fingertips tracing a heated line from the graceful line of her neck to the slowly rising curve of her breasts she dips in to caress the hardening nipple as she wonders if he will call tonight.

The first time she received one of the strange phone calls, she’d been more than a little alarmed listening to the almost silent breathing on the other end... Knowing as she did that the normal thing to do for such a call was of course to hang up ,something instinctive had told her that this was no random prank and that there was no immanent danger, so she’d waited, waited till he finally spoke. The words he spoke were brief and to the point yet spoke volumes in their minimalism. He informed her that during these special “conversations” there were to be no words spoken no traditional greetings offered. The only sounds exchanged were to be those of passion- the slick of skin, the catch of breath the moans of ecstasy across the electronic lines that bound them together like so much rope at ankle and wrist .Words and everyday chat were to be saved for their e-mails. Having long since discovered a personal liking for his/their games, she agreed wholeheartedly and was thus never disappointed. These conversations in sound usually left her a hot, sated heap across the bed or floor and, on one occasion, the kitchen table.

Thus far tonight however the phone had not rung and as the sun began to set she was alone with her thoughts and her longing. Rising from her position in the chair she began lighting the various colored candles spread around the room casting a golden glow that danced shadows across her skin highlighting her ample curves. The hiss of the candle wax joined the slow snare of the tropical drumbeat coming from the stereo which she turned up as she passed then continued into the adjoining bathroom to fill the oversized sunken tub. The tub with it’s adjustable jets and wave simulating features was one of a few luxuries she’d allowed herself when, due to a bursting pipe, the bathroom had ,had to be re-modeled several weeks before. It had become her late night retreat, a catalyst to this other world of languid pleasures and sensual serenity.

Feeling a want for indulgence she added scented oil to the water from a glass bottle on the vanity and as she did so, caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Looking at herself she was struck by two things... the first being that her hair which she’d finally cut short about a year before in order to let it grow back naturally was longer now than it had been in years falling in coiled ringlets about her face and shoulders. This tickled her as she remembered her years of adamant resistance to scissors, trying vainly to hang on to the barely there processed mess that had been.

The second was her eyes, for a time the light within had been dimmed now they seemed to look back with a twinkling expression of knowing, as if she now shared a secret with her sensual self.

Stepping back into the bedroom she sat at the edge of the bed and set to the task of removing the rest of her clothes. Starting with the lace-topped thigh high’s and garter which she’d worn simply because it gave her pleasure making her feel feminine and beautiful, next came the peach bra and matching thong. The large amount of pleasure she received from the tiny garment was the main motivation for buying the set, the fabric of the thong cupped her sex like a velveteen hand anxious to explore her molten depths. At the thought of this she felt the slightest drops of moister escape and trickle down her inner thigh a sign of the river of nectar building inside.

Something told her he would be calling tonight; her body always seemed able to tell. Tempted to use her fingers to dip in and find some somehow relief she instead rose and made her way to the bath, obediently saving her pleasure for him...

Stepping into the steaming waters, she sinks her silken limbs into the depth the slight sting of the heat only serving to heighten her already hyper sensitive senses. A contented sigh escapes her lips as she is struck by the thought that this must be what it is like to have the cool breeze run across the back of ones neck on a warm day in paradise, or perhaps the feeling of bathing in a tropical hot stream wearing only the love of nature. Whatever it is she loves it with every fiber of her being.

The roiling liquid and fragrant oils act like small waves bringing to her a sense of peace and taking from her the stresses of her world.

And what of his world? What did it like where he was right now? Were the colors of the setting sun the same as those that shone through the picture window adjacent to the bath? Steam rising from her skin she runs her finger across her lips and wonders what his lips would feel like against hers. Would she enjoy the taste and warmth of his mouth... the salt of his skin, the slick of his essence against her tongue like so much nectar coaxed from deep within some forbidden fruit? What of the ambrosia that their union would make? The musk like scent of it perhaps heady and sweet lingering in the air and on their skin.

In the glow of the candles light her hands slip across the plains of her breasts, over her stomach and through the foam to caress her heated folds as she slips first one , then two fingers into her hungering depths, unable to fight the need for some kind of release. The knowledge that she will later be disciplined for her willfulness only serves to enflame her passion further. She sometimes knowingly disobeys him so he can punish her. She knows it pleases him to do so and she in turn gains great pleasure from pleasing her master.

Because they can’t be physically in the same place they have to be inventive when it comes to testing one another’s limits and this requires a mutual to commitment to obedience in all things. The anticipation of it coupled with what is to come drives her crashing towards ecstasy as she proceeds to drape one oil-slick leg over the tubs edge granting better access to her probing fingers which seek to plunge deeper with each thrust, a simulation of an age old union of positive and negative space, the attraction of opposites, the union of male and female.

Pleasure ripples in building waves from her core as her head rolls back against the tubs edge exposing the long graceful line of her neck and the ripples of steam that rise from puckered nipples, a result of the mixture of hot water and cool air against the mahogany of her flesh. As the inevitable pressure builds her thighs clench together almost as if to somehow hold off the torrent of her orgasm. This motion traps and presses her hand in place pushing her fingers deeper much the same as she imagines her hands in his hair would hold his lips and tongue to her heat. Riding out her orgasm her juices flood her fingers which she now brings to her lips to be licked clean like a contented feline before once again stretching out to bask, just a little longer in the candles glow.

-End part one-

Written and arranged by: Cherished wings...

Writers note: Copyright is a beautiful thing and is in full, legal effect here...