I was enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon by channel surfing while laying on my couch. It was all good, doing nothing, and I was quite enjoying it. My partner had run out to "get a few things" and it's just as well because I hadn't even taken off my housecoat and I had no intention of getting dressed. I surfed by reruns of I Love Lucy, I surfed by a football game long enough to admire some butts in tight pants, and cruised right on to the Playboy channel. I chuckled at the soft-core porn but realized that it'd been awhile. My hand drifted through the folds of my housecoat, and in the spirit of laziness I softly flicked and rubbed with no intention of making myself orgasm, but rather to just enjoy some mild stimulation. The most I that I could achieve by the gentle wandering of my fingers was that I'd be primed for my lover later on.
I heard the key in the door and removed my fingers, licked them, and changed the channel back to I Love Lucy. My lover walked in the room just as Ricky was bellowing "LUCY! You have some 'splainin' to dooo!" He smiled at me, and I smiled back at him. His face is just luscious, and I love to stare at it. He walked up to me and leaned in, for what I thought was a kiss. He hadn't said a word to me up to that point, not even hello, not a recount of what he did while he was out, nothing at all. There may have been a split second where I thought that was curious, for him to say nothing at all, but a split second was all I had...
Instead of kissing me he grabbed the back of my hair hard and yanked me to my feet. My housecoat which had been loosened by my earlier playing fell open baring my body to him. He looked at me from head to toe and I recognized that look on his face, that sadistic look, that look that told me I'd have a ride that I would not soon forget; one that I would feel for days. I wondered what brought it on, why would he come home from - where did he go? The hardware store maybe? I hadn't been paying attention, but why would he come home like this from anywhere?
Still, he did not speak. He dragged me as I grinned stupidly into my bedroom. On the way up I imagined what he'd do. I thought, he'll throw me down, pin me, and rape me. He'll want me to struggle, of course, those games aren't unusual. I prepared to be thrown down hard upon my bed, or even the floor, but it didn't happen. One of the kitchen chairs was placed by the corner of my bed. I hadn't noticed that he'd moved it there. Roughly, he directed me into it. Then, he finally spoke.
"Stay." he said. It wasn't a request; it was a command. I didn't mind playing this game, and merely sat pondering what direction it might take.
Deftly, he tied me to the chair with my legs spread and fastened to the bottom of the chair legs. Sitting there spread, I thought of how nice his tongue was going to feel on me. Once he was satisfied with my bonds, he looked at me, smiled softly, and brushed my cheek with his hand. His face hardened again and he slapped me. My head reeled from the smack and when I recovered he was behind me. My breath was already accelerating when he slipped the blindfold over my eyes and tied it tightly. I couldn't see anything, and I waited for the whip, or his tongue, or his hand which might have been hard, harsh, and brutal, or just as easily soft, loving, and tender.
Nothing happened. I just sat there, feeling the soft breeze in the wake of his leaving.
What?
It's interesting how immediately one's other senses become acute when one of them is taken away. In the air that he left behind I could discern a scent that wasn't entirely his, there was something else, diffuse, but certainly there. His footsteps fell softly, but I could still determine that he'd left, was going downstairs, and opening the door. As he came back, soft as the footfalls were, I knew he was not alone. I remained silent. I pulled on my binds, and they were as expected, tight.
The creak of my bed was the next thing I heard, and shuffling. Deeply, I breathed in through my nose. The scent was much stronger now, there was definitely someone else in the room, and that someone else was definitely female. She wore no perfume, but she'd recently showered and the aroma of her shampoo and her soap filled my brain with an image. My wondering overtook me, and as committed as I was to remaining silent, I had to ask.
