Sweet Surrender

To: Sienna

Date: Mon Sep 21, 12:17 PM

Subject: Motivational Techniques for Erotic Writing 101 (2 / 4)

Very nicely done! We are on a creative roll together now!

Here's my inspirational offering for Assignment #2 - The Eyes Have It:

I've combined a few elements in this, working in the assignment theme, while adding a little spread-eagled entertainment. Which, as I recall, you expressed an interest in? I can't give you too much fun, however, since all of these lessons are meant to goad you on... Does being a horrible tease serve as effective motivation or not? We are finding out!

p.s. I've attached a bonus to this email for all your hard work so far. A photo of my eyes, darkly brooding? Or smirking? Check the eyebrows.

***

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. That it would take more time? That he might at least fumble a little bit? That it should have seemed like a challenge to render her helpless? She had planned to put up a little mock resistance, to make him feel like he'd earned this, but it happened so overwhelmingly fast that she somehow missed her chance.

He had sat her on the end of the bed and told her to keep her eyes locked on his face while he made some preparations. But when her first wrist was snared with rope in less than five seconds, she couldn't help peeking to see how that was even possible. It was only a moment's glance, but he grabbed her face and turned it back towards him sternly.

Her second wrist was also looped, then each ankle as well, with long pairs of ropes trailing away from each. Still less than a minute had passed. Once again, she was caught distracted, this time her eyes following along those twisted strands of red hemp. "Your eyes are obviously not going to behave tonight. That is going to cost you."

With a sudden movement, he lifted her up and tossed her back, into the centre of the bed. The ends of the ropes for her right wrist were already in hand, and before she had even stopped bouncing, he had pulled them tight around the right bedpost and tied them securely. She tried to sit up, but he had already grabbed the next set of ends as he came around the other side of the bed. He yanked her forcefully back down and pulled her left wrist tight as well. So much for that clever plan to resist him.

Having thus made her helpless already, he could take more time with her legs. He ran each set of ropes from the ankle down so they looped around the foot, creating a strange leverage that pulled and turned her feet and ankles outwards once the ropes were tied off at the base of the bed. She struggled against this unfamiliar sensation, and realized it was preventing her from even turning her knees inwards, a last-resort move that could have at least given him a little trouble. But now any physical act of resistance was lost to her. She was fully exposed, utterly at his mercy, sexually conquered.

And then he added the blindfold, the bastard. "Since your eyes are not going to behave anyway," he pointed out coolly.

Now she could hear him moving about the room. There was a jangling as he tossed a cold and metallic chain that landed partially across her chest, making her jump. She cringed when something else whistled through the air as he smacked the bed threateningly a few times with it. She shivered as he took a quick taste of one nipple, leaving it cold, wet, hard and tingling. She cried out as she felt a line of sharp pinpricks run down her side without warning, delivered with an unknown tool. She gasped when she heard a low buzzing, humming sound, and made a weak pleading noise as he turned it from low to high speed, and then off again.

"One last thing. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said suddenly, and then she heard the door to the bedroom open and bang shut. There was dead silence, except for her gasping breaths and the blood pounding in her ears. She lay there straining to hear anything for what felt like minutes. Where had he gone? What the hell was he doing? He had promised he wouldn't leave her alone! She strained against the ropes again, testing her range, but she really couldn't move more than a few inches. She moaned with arousal and desperation as the reality of total helplessness overwhelmed her and sent her pussy into little uncontrollable spasms.

And then her whole body lurched with momentary fright as she heard a small, unexpected creak in the floor. What was that? Was he finally coming back? No, the door hadn't opened again. Holy shit, had he been standing there watching me silently the whole time?

Something whistled through the air again...

To: Ben

Date: Thu Sep 24, 11:41 PM

Subject: The Eyes Have It

What the heck colour are your eyes? Brown? Green? Grey? Hazel? Is it a photo effect? Are you just trying to get me to stare at them longer? 'Cause, it's working. Mmmm, damn, I do understand the power of eyes.

The first part of my career was spent working with numbers on a computer for someone else's benefit. I was good enough at it, but It gave me no real edge over anyone and somebody else got all the credit. Once I had a seat at the table, sitting directly across from whoever I was negotiating with, my metrics skyrocketed. Suddenly I had access to all of their body language, every little unconscious habit and nervous tic, and their eyes were a huge part of that. The eyes give me insight into someone's mood, their intentions, their trustworthiness. But more importantly, I can plan for and control what I want them to see, and to communicate without ever speaking, either directly or through manipulation. Aggressive, disinterested, vulnerable, reassuring, seductive, demure... I can adapt any posture necessary, based on my read, to lead or coax or lure them where I want them to go.

So, yes! I think one of the most intense things you can do is stare into another person's eyes. An unfaltering gaze is a major, major turn-on for me. And that got me thinking: the more turned on I am, the harder it is for me to actually keep my eyes open. It's an automatic reflex for me, between the sheets, anyway. What could you do with that...?

***

ANGER

: He was so impatient. I'd just come in the door! I pushed him away, breaking our kiss with a tired but coy look. A peace offering, to keep him at bay. I was headed for the bathroom when he grabbed me. I felt a hot burst, turned to glare at him, should have just pulled away. The look in his eyes said, 'I like it more while you're mad.' It was daring me to say 'no' again. That made me gush. I lowered my head, turned back, bent myself over the plush couch arm, and pulled my skirt up for him...

SHOCK

: He was fucking me doggy. I was holding the headboard, to keep from smacking my head, and because my stockinged knees were sliding all over the bed. He flipped me over, held my arms above me in a vice grip. I squirmed in delight, tried to brace and grind against him, but my stockinged feet couldn't gain any traction. Stupid satin sheets. Tired of my flailing, he gave me a look and straight up ripped my pricey DKNY hosiery off me. My eyes were saucers. Yes! Show me you don't give a fuck!

FEAR:

He held himself up, muscular arms locked as his cock split me open. I sighed and closed my eyes, his thick shaft filling me, every ridge and vein slowly rippling the walls of my pussy, teasing me cruelly. "Open your eyes..." I did, meeting his gaze as he pistoned me, until my eyes fluttered shut. "I said, open your eyes." I did again, barely, enough to earn another barrage. "Open your fucking eyes!" I tried. I made useless, pathetic noises. I failed. And that's when he slapped me. Eyes wide open, gasping!

ACCEPTANCE:

Just because my eyes are open now doesn't mean I'm still aware of him. It doesn't mean I'm still focused on him. It doesn't mean I'm present or accounted for in any useful way. He told me to keep my eyes open, so I am. Unseeing. He is fucking me, so I am being fucked. Senseless. He has control, and at the moment I have none. My only job is to cum, over and over again. I might not survive the next one. I'm a deer caught in the headlights. Eyes wide, waiting for the inevitable, fatal impact.

To: Sienna

Date: Fri Sep 25, 8:19 PM

Date: Motivational Techniques for Erotic Writing 101 (3 / 4)

That one took you some time, but it was worth it. Holy shit! Stick with it, because we are starting to peel off the layers now! Bad joke intended.

Here's my contribution to Assignment #3 - Dress For Excess:

On the surface, this story is about clothing. A very specific, symbolic piece of clothing. But it's more about the games that are played with it, and how easy it can be to overestimate its importance, or its relevance... or to get distracted by it. I like how I ended this one. *pats self on back*

***

Friday evening had finally arrived, with an entire weekend free of obligations ahead, and no plans other than to hole up in a fancy hotel and fuck each other's brains out. It had been a long time coming, and she was already damp with anticipation, her thong sticking wetly to her smoothly waxed mound. She squeezed her legs together with a shudder. The cab she was in was already almost halfway to the hotel, so there was only one thing left to do. She tore at the envelope marked "Open on the way".

Inside there was an oddly shaped key, and a handwritten note. "I have a gift for you. I left it in a locker at the bus station. Pick it up before you meet me." Her eyes widened, and she wrinkled her nose at the prospect of having to go into that filthy terminal, but she let the rideshare driver know about the change of location. It was only a few blocks walk from there to the hotel. Not terribly fun in these heels, but she knew he would be pleased with her if she did it.

Fare paid, she stepped from the car and trotted into the old building, feeling vastly over-dressed amidst the sweat-stained ball caps, faded rucksacks and shapeless hooded sweatshirts. She pulled her mid-length trench coat around her body self-consciously, but that only served to hide the tiny skirt she was wearing and focus more attention on the fact that she was all legs, seamed stockings and heels.

She spotted a sign for the lockers and hurried across the building, feeling that little thrill she always did when drawing attention in public. She scanned the wall for the locker number that matched the one on the key. It was at the far end and all the way down at the very bottom, less than a foot off the ground, forcing her to crouch and balance precariously with her skirt riding up. Completely intentional on his part, she thought, smiling. Inside there was a gift box and a second note. "I do hope you like your present. Put it on, and send me a selfie so I know you are okay and on your way. Meet me in the main floor bar for a drink."

With trepidation, she slipped the lid off of the box. Inside on a bed of silk was a new collar, made of intricately intertwined red leather and steel. It was narrow, but not subtle; the design was angular and dramatic; and the ring at the front was large and very eye-catching. Beside it sat a small silver padlock, open and waiting to be used as the fastener at the back of her neck. She glanced nervously around to see who might be watching this little treasure hunt.

Her hands trembled as she marked herself for the world to see. Her head started spinning once the soft click told her it could not be undone. Her thong was flooded with gratitude for her present, and for this unexpected predicament. She closed her eyes for a moment, found her courage again, and then stood up. With her eyes locked straight ahead, she set off walking as fast as she could.

'This part was actually going to be quite easy,' she decided. At least compared to the anxiety she was already feeling about having to wait for him to finish his drink in the bar while the other patrons stared at her. She knew he was planning to take his time with that.

What never occurred to her was that being shown off in the bar was still far easier than the punishment she would have to face later, for having completely forgotten to take and send the selfie he'd asked for.

To: Sienna

Date: Tue Sep 29, 9:04 AM

Subject: Motivational Techniques (4 / 4) / First Dates -- Part Two

Hi Sienna, where have you disappeared to?

My original plan was to share the full conclusion of my main story with you, but I'm sure you know that it hasn't been earned yet! I'm still waiting to hear from you on your last assignment...

So, for my own amusement, I've split the story in half and kept the sex at the end all to myself. Yep, I'm totally that guy! The final section will have to be dubbed Part III now, and it will only be sent once I'm totally satisfied with what you've sent back to me. Finish up soon!

***

Standing on the far end of the train platform, he watched from a safe distance as she finally appeared, moving quickly up the steps. This would be the first time he had seen her today, and he was eager for that glimpse. He was confident that she would be dressed to kill, but as she emerged from the stairwell he was frozen by the unexpected. She looked more like she was headed to a summer cocktail party than coming from the financial district. The one-piece white summer dress she was wearing could hardly contain her, hugging her curves on top and ending dramatically mid-thigh in a swirl of fabric. Not to mention, the bare legs! Coming from the office?

This on its own was almost enough to throw him off. But she was still acting true to form in other ways. Most women would have been more comfortable with low heels or even flip-flops, but not dear Sienna. Her tanned feet and painted toenails were strapped into stiletto sandals. Her blonde hair was down but held back by the sunglasses on her head, and she had a few gold trinkets at her wrists and neck with a pink Hermes bag hooked on her elbow. None of that was helping to add any subtlety to her outfit. And underneath? He couldn't assume she had any underwear on at this point. You can't have those unsightly lines!

Had she really gone to work like that today? Even for casual rules on a Friday, this seemed way off the mark. She was turning a lot of heads, and drawing more attention than he had planned for. Every business man on the platform around her was now trying to figure out how to end up 'accidentally' sitting near her on the train. This was getting so much more interesting. The situation demanded his full attention, and was keeping him quite hard, but he was still knocked off his game mentally. His thoughts kept running in circles.

Her office couldn't possibly have approved such an outfit, could it? She was going to get herself fired if she kept pushing that boundary! An intervention was required more desperately than he had realized. She needed to find some basic functioning level of self-discipline, and clearly it would not be coming from inside herself any time soon. He hungered to possess her, now more than ever, as he realized that given enough time, he could genuinely wind up helping her; teaching her; transforming her. The art of discipline -- that was something he knew a little about.

As he worked to integrate all this new information, a more reasonable explanation occurred to him. What if she was headed to an event tonight straight from work, and had changed her outfit as she left the office? If so, the event itself was a rather critical piece of information he had missed in his "investigation". This bothered him, but he couldn't afford the time to dwell on it now. And although this new idea made perfect logical sense, it still did not quite fit his perception of Sienna. Ah, yes, now he knew exactly what she would have done: arrived in the morning, dressed as per usual (let's be honest here, still a bit slutty); slipped away and changed her outfit mid-afternoon; pranced around the office floor for a couple of hours just for the attention; and then finally breezed her way out the door. This, THIS, felt true to him.

He realized now that he was probably very lucky that she was even getting on this train today. But there she was, so he had to keep things moving forward. He wasn't concerned about his ability to adjust plans on the fly, he would just have to make his move more quickly in case she wasn't getting off at her usual stop. He began working his way down the platform, watching as the train pulled into the station, stirring up a strong breeze that he was sure every man on the platform had been waiting for. Somehow, with the slightest casual touch of one hand, she deftly kept her skirt from flying up. The flirty expression on her face said, "Ooops, that was close!" but it really wasn't. She was far too good at this game. Her side of the game. This also felt true.

***

He didn't manage to snag the seat directly across from her, but he was only two spots to the left. There was still a straight line between them that allowed for full eye contact, and her eyes had already met his briefly but with no immediate visible reaction. She seemed fully occupied with giving thrilling little teases of attention to each of the many stray glances cast her way. Even so, there was only one valid conclusion: she didn't actually recognize or remember him. He decided he would claim the right to be offended by that.

He made his gaze and his expression a little more pointed and obvious: eyebrow raised, half-smirk, subtle disapproving head shake, arms crossed. When he made a deliberate expression, regardless of the intent, it was hard to miss. But even that couldn't seem to penetrate the circus of attention she was getting, so he went straight to his backup plan. He didn't have the time, or the patience, for this.

Sienna reacted almost immediately to the buzzing noise from inside her bag. She might have already been expecting to receive a message from someone else. She pulled her phone out, and he watched as her brow furrowed when she did not immediately recognize the phone number. There was a slight widening of her eyes as she read the message:

[I enjoyed last weekend. Can't get my mind off of it. Now I can't take my eyes off you.]

His phone was still in his hand, held visibly in his lap. But he kept his gaze directly on her face while she read the message, processed what was being implied, and froze in her seat. Her eyes slowly lifted from the screen and panned from right to left before stopping as she found his face. Just before she landed there, he clicked send on the next message that was already waiting.

Her phone vibrated in her hand and she jerked in surprise, nearly dropping it in her lap. She was forced to look down and away, juggling the device back into her hands so she could check the message. She was starting to look nicely flustered now. He liked to see that in a woman.

[Remember me?]

She paused, flushed a little, and typed a response back. She tapped 'send', and then glared at him.

[No. How did you get my number?]

[You don't remember giving it to me?]

[No. Are you following me? That is fucking creepy.]

[I suppose it is. You should be flattered, but it won't happen again.]

[Perfect. Then go away.]

[Only if you admit that I've also been on your mind since last weekend.]

[Not a fucking chance.]

[I know how much you enjoyed it. I was there!]

[Don't flatter yourself, asshole.]

[You can't deny there was something in our chemistry...]