She had planned on a quiet, romantic weekend away with a friend who seemed to be becoming more. And though she knew some of the possibilities, her current situation was beyond the fantasies she'd allowed herself to consider.
Her surroundings were dark, her world inky-black. She saw nothing, heard nothing, yet she was content. She knew there were candles, even if she no longer saw them, and she could still hear soundsā¦
especially her sighs.
She was warm, and even comfy -- despite wearing only a bra and panties of purest white. Leaning back at an angle, she was relaxed. Behind and beneath her was soft, luxurious fur that she didn't want to leaveā¦ not that she could.
Indeed, she had been somewhat uncomfortable at first, walking into this room of scattered, shadowy furniture, lit only by a smattering of candles. It seemed like a dream -- or her worst nightmare if she had been wrong about her host. Her discomfort had increased slightly with the blindfold, robbing her of visual references.
But she could still feelā¦ and hear. She remembered the hands guiding her in confusing circles around the room, feeling the pieces of furniture graze against her as she was paraded about. Then, she was turned around -- and with a step back and up, was lying against the relaxing fur she now enjoyed. The hands spread her legs apart, and tied the ankles down. Then they lifted her arms above her head and bound them to the fur. Her head, while not bound, rested against a padded support that took the stress and weight off her neck.
For reasons she didn't understand, when the last strap was cinched into place, her fears ran away. All that was left was contented peace, gentle breathing -- and a desire to hear one thing.
"Hello, little one."
There it was! The Voice! The Voice that had called her here, that had attracted her weeks and months before with gentle laughter and friendship, and now enchanted her with command. The Voice that made her do thingsā¦ feel thingsā¦ be things that nothing or no one else could. The velvet Voice that earlier had told her,
"strip to your undies"
-- something that, in her desire for modesty and self-control, she never would have done otherwise. But in that moment, it was the Voice that made her comply. The Voice that had initially been alluring, and was now mesmerizing.
"Are you comfortable?"
One hand grazed her right cheek, another the left side of her body. Hands whose fingers danced along her body, playing it like a concert piano. Hands whose movements turned her simple "yes" into a long, luscious and lusty sigh. As those hands glided down the sides of her body, the Voice spoke again.
"I brought your bag down here, little one."
She heard her overnight duffle thud on the thick carpet.
"I looked through it, and found you brought everything you were supposed to."
Even without his hands dancing on her hips, the Voice dispelled any concerns of her privacy being invaded.
"Very well done."
"Thank yooouuuuu, sssiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrr." Her voiced stretched and crescendoed as his hands caressed her inner thighs. Her petite body shuddered as his hands moved higher, then relaxed as they spread apart, dancing back up her hips. When the hands reached the base of her breasts, she gave voice to one lingering fear: "I hope I am enough for you, sir."
"Enough for me, little one?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Explain."
"I'm not very big sirā¦ not very well endowed. Many people have called me 'cute', but avoided me because of my small size." With a note of disappointment, she added, "I know theyā¦ they've looked at me and found me wanting."
"Your small size? Explain what you mean by that."
"Sirā¦" A small amount of despair crept into her voice. "I'm not a 'bombshell'. I'm petite, there's not that much of me. Especially my breastsā¦ Ohhhhā¦" His fingers were dancing on those small breasts, probing them through her brassiere. In short order, her dark aureoles under-painted the white fabric as her nipples attempted to break through.
"There are many reasons,"
the Voice said,
"why I have chosen you, little one. I selected you because of your intelligenceā¦ your mental strengthā¦ and not least of all, because of your beauty. You ARE beautiful, little one. There are many who look only for certain things. If and when they look past you, that is their lossā¦ and my gain. You may not be the image of a Hollywood glamour model,"
