The Mausoleum

Picture it.

We're in the middle of the old cemetery at dusk, walking hand in hand, because you told me that you had always fantasized about being kissed here. The sun is still peeking out over the trees as the grass and the plants suck in as much life as they can from its rays. The plants know as well as we do that the sun's minutes are numbered, and that the countdown to darkness started long before you and I ever stepped through those front gates.

The countdown started when I asked why you wanted to kiss in the midst of such macabre scenery, and you told me that a little darkness mingling with love excited you. Did you even realize, in that moment, that it excited me too? Did you realize what you were awakening in me? Do you know that we're here to explore my fantasy as well as yours? Are you wanting to bring out this side of me, or will you see my darkness and reject it? Do I really dare to take that risk?

As the sun dips further behind the trees, the molecules of the atmosphere change the direction of its rays causing light waves to scatter across the sky in hues of brilliant pink and yellow.

We stand facing one another with our hands clasped together. You facing the sunset while I'm admiring it from the reflection it casts in your eyes.

As our lips are drawn towards each other with what can only be described as magnetic force, we lean in. No one leading. No one following. Each of us closing the exact same amount of space to that sweet junction where our lips connect.

This is not our first kiss. We've been here many times before, and my lips are no stranger to yours. But, just like every time we've met before, this kiss feels like the first. The weeks that pass between our encounters.. the weeks that we spend longing to share this physical space make every kiss feel like the first and also the last. There's an urgency to it. Our lips are delicate and gentle with each other, but just like a volcano hiding beneath a still, calm lake our desire boils just beneath the surface of every kiss.

I can sense your desire just as strongly as my own, and I know you feel mine too. Always there. Always burning. Always threatening to consume us and reduce us to embers.

And as the sun finishes its journey to below the surface of the horizon and the moon takes over its rulership of the sky, we continue to embrace. To kiss. To cling to one another.

It is full night now as we pull apart to continue walking hand in hand, and the tiny sliver of moon that is visible does very little to light our way. I'm wrestling with whether I should lead us back to the car where it is safe and known and comfortable for us, or if I should lead you to the place I prepared for us earlier today.

You sense that I'm struggling with something inside myself, and ask what's wrong. "I want to show you something, but I'm afraid of how you'll react to it", I say a bit flustered. "A side of me that you may not like."

"I love all of you. Don't you realize that by now?" you reply trying to reassure me. And I do know this. I know it as well as I know my own name. But, still I fear seeing something fall in your eyes and never again being able to elevate your image of me. "All of you", you repeat.

I take in a quick breath, release it, and then say, "Come with me."

We make our way through rows of headstones. Me walking just a step ahead of you and guiding you by the hand. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I try to warn you about any tree roots that have broken through the surface of the ground and might cause you to stumble. This part of the cemetery isn't as well kept as the newer sections. There are no flowers here. Those who once mourned these forgotten souls have long ago joined them on the other side of the veil. The air here feels sacred and forbidden, but still we breathe it in feeling a sense of awe and a bit of unease that makes our hearts beat a little bit faster. Is it just adrenaline? Or is something in the spirit realm watching us?

I slow my pace as we approach an old, gray mausoleum. You can see dimly illuminated stained glass that seems to flicker. "Are we going in there?", you ask me and I can sense your trepidation. But I nod anyway because we've come this far already. It's too late to go backwards.. we can only continue forward toward what waits on the other side of that old, arched, wrought iron gate and creaky, wooden door. "Isn't this illegal?", you ask me, and I smile wryly and ask, "Is that what you're really worried about?" You shake your head with your eyes closed, inhale, and then open your eyes and smile at me while shaking your head again. Then with a nod of the head you squeeze my hand lightly, and I lead you up the marble stairs.

I pull open the gate. It moans its disapproval at being disturbed yet again today. And then I push open the creaky wooden door.

I think you may have been expecting it to smell musty and dank inside because you look confused when the scent of lavender spills out of the door and you stare at the single candle flickering in the corner of the small space. I pull you all the way inside and then close the door behind us.

You stand frozen as I move to the flickering candle and pick it up. There's more wax than candle left and you know it's been burning for a long time. I use what's left of that candle to light two dozen others all placed around the room. So many different colored candles. You're wondering why they all aren't white. White is the romantic choice. This rainbow of colored candles seems like an anomaly in the scene laid out before you. The smell of lavender in the air. The sounds of a dark cello that seem to begin playing out of nowhere. The flickering candlelight dancing off the marble walls and stained glass window. The silver ice bucket and bottle of champagne. The black fuzzy blankets draped over a bench, or is that a vault? The black pillow. And the mysterious black box in the corner. It makes no sense to have these colorful candles. But here they are. And here you are. With me.

You know that I'm staring into your eyes looking for... what? Approval? Understanding? Consent? But what would you be consenting to? Why aren't the candles white?

_________

I notice your hesitation, but you haven't looked back at the door. So, I don't think you want to leave. I take your hands and walk backwards toward the draped vault keeping my eyes locked on yours as I guide you. I gesture for you to take a seat on the blanketed vault, and you do. We've come past the point of no return. I realize that. I feel the fear of your rejection wash over me, and I'm overwhelmed by it. So I kneel in front of you and lay my head in your lap with my arms tight around your legs. It is my turn to hesitate. My turn to grapple with the enormity of where I'm about to ask you to go with me.

I know that you're aware of my trembling because you're running a gentle hand over my head like a mother comforting a frightened child. "I love all of you" you say again as you lean down and kiss me on the temple. And then you linger there. Lips still. Breath warm. Breathing slowly in and out. Each exhalation feeling like a warm kiss from the wind on my skin.

Resolved and now confident, I stand. And after running the backs of my fingers down your cheeks, I kiss you on the mouth. It is gentle and warm. A slow dance of emotion as I drink in the last moments of the uninitiated you. There is an innocent beauty to this kiss, but it barely masks the deep well of carnal desire arising in me.

My hands are now behind your head. My fingers entwined in your hair, gently tugging your head further back as the kiss deepens. Your breath is quickening. I move my lips down the side of your cheek past your jaw and then let them rest against the side of your neck just below the ear. I can feel your pulse on my lips. I whisper, "Do you trust me?", and I feel your pulse quicken, but still you answer "yes".

I move my hands to your sides. With my hands beneath your shirt and my palms against your skin, I slowly move them up your sides. Your shirt is rising more and more as my palms pass over each rib, past your bra, and just below your armpits. I pause there and you instinctively raise both arms above your head. Then my hands continue on their journey slowly up your arms guiding your shirt to just before your elbows. That's when the neck of the shirt catches slightly on your chin and I give it a small tug and it slips past your face. Then I pull it off completely, fold it, and place it on the floor out of sight.

You're watching me intently as I open the black box and pull out a black silky tie. I approach you with it. My eyes are locked on yours.. unblinking. "Do I have your permission to tie your hands?", I ask, and you nod your assent.

I take your hands and hold the wrists together with one hand while weaving the tie around, between and through them. It's tight but not uncomfortable. I've had one finger against the base of your wrist the whole time I've been tying your hands. Feeling that slight rise in pulse. Fast enough to indicate excitement and possibly nervousness but not fear. The last thing I would ever want is for you to fear me. "Try to free your hands", I say and you try to tug your wrists apart a few times and then shake your head.

I take the pillow, and after raising your arms above and slightly behind your head, wedge it between your arms and head... down to just below where your neck meets your shoulder, and then I lie you back onto the vault.

You can't move your arms forward without lifting your entire body. So your arms are immobile but you don't feel trapped. You could get up if you wanted to. I'm just hoping you don't want to. I could completely immobilize you, and maybe someday I will. But not today. Not until you're ready. For now, I don't want you feeling trapped. Today is about learning what you're comfortable with allowing to happen. So I want you to know that even though your hands are tied, you are in complete control of what happens.

I pick up a blue candle in one hand and pull a piece of ice from the bucket. I'm standing over you. Looking directly in your eyes when I ask, "do you really trust me?"

You whisper "yes" just before I hold the blue candle above your stomach far enough for the wax to cool slightly before it touches skin and let it drip onto you in a line.

You gasp... quietly sucking in air between your teeth, and I watch your stomach contract involuntarily. Then I put the ice cube in my mouth.. biting onto it and using it to trace the hot wax line eliciting a moan from you.

Again I make eye contact. I'm trying to see if you like what I'm doing. If you really like what I'm doing. I need to know that you're not just allowing it because you know I like it. I want you to be liking it. I only want to bring you pleasure. You close your eyes and nod again.

I use the blue candle and ice to make a few more wax lines across your stomach, then one from your collar bone to the top of your cleavage, and then one on each uplifted arm.

I return the blue candle to its holder, and then run my hand under your back unclasping your bra. I slide it up over your head and behind your neck. It's still looped around your arms and adds to the feeling of immobility. I undo the button of your jeans and carefully slide open the zipper. I don't try to take them off yet. I just fold back the denim exposing more of your stomach.

Then I take a red candle and paint wax lines on you contrasting the sting of the burn with the shock of the cold ice.

You've started wriggling around now, but there is no indication in your eyes of a desire to stop. I step back and take a minute to just watch you. The rhythmic way you've started moving your hips is mesmerizing to me. And my eyes linger on your nipples. They have hardened and become completely alert to what is happening here. I can't resist playing with them for a while. Using my fingers, lips, tongue. Tasting them. Teasing them.

You're moaning a lot now. Rolling your hips. I put my hand between your legs and let you grind against it for a little release, but it's not time to concentrate on that yet. And I take my hand away leaving you wanting.

I pick up a green candle, and go back to painting you with hot wax and cooling you with ice. I do this with every color. Sometimes repeating colors. You have become my canvas and I'm making you into art. You are living, breathing artwork, and the way that the candlelight is making the perspiration on your skin dance is driving me wild.

I yank your jeans off by the ankles, fold them, and place them out of sight. And then I paint your thighs with wax. I lift your legs and fold them back towards you with my left arm and then use the right hand to paint wax down the backs of your thighs and onto your backside. You're gasping now and pushing back against me with your legs. I give your backside a few quick smacks and you freeze for a moment. The air feels electric. Neither of us are breathing. Then I ask, "Would you like me to stop?" and you say "no".

I didn't think you would let things get this far. I really thought you would have already stopped me. But you seem ready. Ready to relinquish some control... fully trusting that I would never really want to hurt you. So I decide to take you further.

I reach down into the black box and pull out a flogger. I'm not sure if you've ever seen one but your eyes widen. I want to tell you that it isn't as scary as it looks, but I like it that you're a little nervous. I hold the handle and let the leather tassels tickle your skin as I run it up and down the length of your body. I'm very pleased to notice that every time I bring it up between your legs that your hips lift in unconscious need.

I start spinning the flogger in arcs and figure eights. The leather tassels are lapping at and stinging your skin. The heat building for a moment and then I go back to lightly running it up and down your body. Little bits of wax are coming off of your skin with the tassel stings. And you're wriggling around uncontrollably.

I notice you trying to turn over, and this pleases me. I put the flogger down and stare for a minute before sliding off your panties. I lean with my face between your legs. I'm not ready to make love to you yet, but I'm letting you rub yourself against my tongue for a while.

I love watching you move, but there's more time for that later. I pull away and you groan in frustration.

I pull something out of the box and it makes a clanking sound. You look curious and nervous at the same time. I help you up into a sitting position and untie your wrists. You're staring at the metal bar I'm holding in my hands... the metal bar with four cuff restraints attached to it. I attach one of the outside cuffs to your left ankle and then tighten the buckle. I move quickly and tighten the other outside cuff to your right ankle. Your ankles are spread very far apart keeping your legs in a V shape. I help you scoot to the end of the vault and then lie you back. Then I lift the bar into a slow arc until it reaches your hands. I don't even have to ask you. You just put your wrists into the other two cuffs and patiently wait for me to buckle you in. Then I tell you to relax... your knees bend slightly, and you're left in a position with your backside off the vault, and your most private areas stretched open and exposed.

I pull something else from the box and then kneel beside you, stroking your cheek with my hand. You turn to look at me and I search your eyes for any indication that I've gone too far. "Are you still ok?" You don't use any words. You simply nod again. I cover your eyes with the blindfold in my hand and kiss you on the forehead.

___________

I just watch you silently for a while. Watch the way your head turns slightly from side to side while you try to use your other senses to see what might happen next. Do you know how beautiful you are? Do you realize how much seeing your willingness to be in such a vulnerable position pulls at my heart? You've seen that I'm drawn to darker things and you've gone there with me with complete trust and abandon. I have nothing but absolute love and devotion for you, and want nothing more than to bring you pleasure.

I approach you again slowly, flogger in hand. I let it dangle over your face and then slowly move it over your shoulders and chest. The tassels lightly tickle back and forth across you skin. I run it lightly down each side of you and then pull it up and back down the exposed center of you. You moan softly and begin moving your hips up and back like you're trying to chase the pleasure with your exposed sex. I pull the flogger away and then use it to smack at your backside in that figure 8 motion from one cheek to the other. You gasp at the initial shock but your moans do not sound like the painful kind. I cover your cheeks and the backs of your thighs with the tiny stings and let the heat build as your skin begins to turn slightly pink. And then I go back to the up and down motion along your exposed center. I alternate back and forth until I see your thighs starting to quiver, and then I drop the flogger.

I move up to kiss your mouth and you latch onto my lips greedily. I kiss you deeply and passionately while gently raking my nails across the tender reddened skin on the back of your thighs. Your breath is quick and shaky. I pull the champagne from the ice bucket, stick an ice cube in my mouth, and move down to the bottom of the vault where you're stretched open and vulnerably exposed.

I tilt the bottle towards the top of your sex and pour. The cold liquid pours down the length of your crevice, and you cry out from the shock of it. I see the bubbles fizz in both openings. Tiny puddles begging to be lapped up and licked away. And I do this immediately. My lips on you. Sucking the liquid away from the entranceways to your most private places. I let my tongue circle the rim of the most forbidden place and then I use the ice cube to probe a little past the rim. Knocking on the door but not barging through. Your gasps have gotten a little higher in pitch but you don't tell me to stop. I move the ice away and go back to probing gently with my tongue. I've placed the heel of my hand over your sex and you've started grinding and bucking on it. I run an ice cube along your nether lips and probe the forbidden doorway with my tongue while you're furiously grinding against my other palm. I'm not going to pull my hand away from you again. I am not cruel. I can see your need, and I won't deny you the physical release you're craving.

I touch your vaginal opening with my fingers, and you're so wet that my two fingers glide in effortlessly. You moan and clench onto my fingers like you're drowning. Your pace intensifies. I don't have to move my fingers. You're doing all the work. Riding my fingers and grinding against my other palm. The buckles of your restraints clink against the bar with an ever increasing rhythm. With every backward motion of your hips, I slide my tongue a little deeper inside you, but you're too frenzied to even think about being embarrassed. All you know is the pleasure. Everything else is irrelevant.

You keep bucking and grinding and sliding further into my tongue until your body explodes with spasms. Every nerve ending is on fire and seems to be lit from a fuse between your legs.

I'm feeling the spasms with my fingers and tongue, and I wait there unmoving until I feel them start to lessen and you start drawing in deep but shaky breaths. Then I exit you, and stand... quickly releasing you from the buckled cuffs and placing the bar on the floor.

I take off the blindfold and see that you're crying. Not from sadness or pain but from the release. I gather you up into my arms and rock you with your head against my chest until you've come back to yourself again.