It is hot, too hot. The quiet hum of the window air conditioner is welcome on any other night, but tonight Kathy can't sleep, and the hum is annoying. Her mind keeps racing back to earlier in the afternoon at her office building. She just wants to go back a few hours and relive her naughty encounter in the private room. Now all she can hear is the hum that goes on and on, and on, never stopping. All she can feel is the stale manufactured air that is required to make it livable in her part of the world. If only she could turn back time.
Just after lunch Kathy decides to take the stairs back up to her office and the seemingly endless mound of papers that inhabit her desk. Her office is on the fourth floor; plenty of exercise indeed. There is a mysterious man in a black over coat and scuffed up black boots leaning against the door jam of the stairway door. He has a rain hat on, not a cowboy hat but a weathered leather hat that looks like it has seen many years of rain and sun. He is exciting looking to Kathy. "Why doesn't a man like that ever ask me out," she wonders quietly and with a longing stare. As she approaches where he is standing he gets out a plastic card key and inserts it in a slot. Kathy doesn't have time to catch the door before it closes, and the mysterious man in black disappears.
She first smells it as she approaches the second floor landing. It is a musty smell of cigarettes, coffee, and Egyptian spice. It stirred something deep inside her and she can feel wetness begin to form in the crotch of her panties. This is confusing to her. How can a smell do this to her? As she approaches the third floor landing the scent is stronger and her desire increases. Soon she is walking up the stairs in a trance like motion, wanting only to go to the source of the smell. She passes her own floor landing and continues up the stairs. She is a zombie, a slave to the erotic smell that is guiding her.
On the fifth floor landing she begins to hear music. It is a gentle sound with slow rhythmic bass that seems to be acting as a metronome to her stair climbing. Up and up she goes, the sixth floor, then the seventh. And the smell is stronger now. Kathy continues to climb the stairs, following the mysterious scent.
Upon reaching the seventh floor Kathy sees one door. But this is no ordinary door. When Kathy reaches the door it opens as if on some secret command. She steps through and the door gently closes behind her. She is in a large room with all kinds of medieval looking apparatus positioned about. Immediately Kathy's eyes are drawn toward a woman who is being flogged by a small looking man. He has on nothing but a g-string as he firmly swings his flogger, sometimes hard then soft. The woman strapped to the x-frame is blindfolded and shudders every time he strikes her. Kathy can't take her eyes away from the scene and the wetness that had started on her accent of the stairs starts to increase. She feels her legs become week. Her legs are giving out.
He catches her just as she starts to fall. He is strong; Kathy can feel the muscles in his forearms bulge as he carry's her. He walks toward a table that is in the center of the room that has cuff restraints fastened to each end. Kathy is in a daze of aching desire and fear. The man lays her gently on the table. He begins to take her clothes off. When she is at last naked he restrains her, she has her arms outstretched above her head and her legs are spread wide. She is immobile. She can't move, and she is blind-folded. Her sense of smell is stronger now. The music playing only adds to her sense of belonging to the room, to the restraining table, and to the mysterious man. Kathy can hear soft moans coming form another part of the room.
Kathy hears the crack of a whip. It frightens her. Her body wants to jump in surprise but she can't move, she is frozen, waiting for something to happen. The crack of the whip explodes right in front of her face. It is so close that she can feel its wind as it whips past her senses. Now there is a gentle feather being drawn across her body. She is ticklish; but the feather brings her just to point of not being able to stand it, then stops just before she has to squirm in spasmodic convulsions. Kathy wants to move but can't.
Now there are hands on her. They are gloved hands that gently caress her breasts, stopping to pull firmly on each erect nipple. And there are other hands beginning to explore her body. Some are feminine hands that massage her gently, some are ungloved men's hands that pinch her and make her wince in pain. Soon there are several hands on her at once, exploring every crevice of her body with every hole is being probed. The whip cracks again and Kathy can hear some one cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
