Under Your Control Scene 03

He lay on the chesterfield, lazily smoking a cigarette and slowly sipping the aged merlot. He watched her as she slept; curled on her side on the rug, in front of the fireplace, remaining exactly in the position he had told her to take. She had been disappointed when he had untied her but it had been a necessary lesson for both of them. She had to learn that the lure of her body was resistible. He smiled, for it was a lesson he too must learn.

The curves of her body fascinated him. The sweep of her back that disappeared into the full, plump cheeks of her bottom begged to be stroked. The exaggerated flare of her hips that tapered into soft smooth thighs haunted his thoughts even when he was apart from her. She stirred slightly and her arm slipped giving him a glimpse of the full breasts and proud nipples that he loved to suck. The reflected glow of the flames tinged her creamy white skin with an orange glow and turned her nipples a dark, deep red. He knew that if he reached out a hand it would take only a single caress to bring her responsive body back to full arousal.

He sighed and a languid curl of smoke dribbled from his stern lips and fogged the gaze of his green-tinged eyes. He pondered why he found this one so unique. She was like a drug he could not live without; he both found and lost himself in her arms. It was not because she was beautiful, though there were occasions when the light caught the blue of her eyes a certain way and her face was tilted to his, that he almost saw an unearthly glow surround her. It almost transformed her pretty features into something that surpassed physical beauty. He shook his head almost sadly; the magic that she wove around him had him so transfixed that he could not even begin to imagine how she did it. What her particular difference was probably did not matter; the very fact that she existed was enough. He sipped his wine again, the heavy fermented scent of the grapes reminding him of how well her juices had mixed with it and improved its bouquet a mere hour earlier. He grinned. He just knew that she would be a merlot; heavy, sensual, mature and indolent. Each woman had her own wine: champagne for the young and giggly, a fresh sharp white for the strong, athletic career women that he so loved to introduce to the exotic pleasures they had forgone in favour of their professions, but it was a rare woman that could blend so seamlessly with the rich earthy delight of his favourite merlot.

The throbbing pleasure of his own unsated arousal flowed around his body and centred in the solid bulge of his black trousers. He loved being aroused, maybe more even than orgasm. An orgasm signalled an end, whereas arousal was a controllable source of erotic energy that enabled pleasure to be given and taken endlessly. He would wake her in a moment, he thought; it was time for his pleasure to start, but first he needed to get everything ready. He drank back his wine quickly, and grimaced as the fiery liquid stung the back of his throat, stubbed his half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray and with one fluid movement was standing and walking out of the room towards the bathroom. He did not glance back at her as there was no need; she would not move until he told her to. He allowed himself to feel proud of her and of himself.

The bathroom, just like the rest of the house, was old. Heavy pipes festooned the uneven walls and gurgled soothingly as he opened and closed cupboard doors. He hummed the chorus of an old Nina Simone song under his breath, as he gathered all the bits and pieces he would need into a neat pile. A moan of contentment interrupted his tune as he found a large metal bowl.

"That is truly excellent" he murmured, as he filled the bowl with warm water. He grabbed a couple of hand towels and bundled everything into his arms to carry back to her.

He placed everything he would need on the coffee table, all precisely lined up in order of use. The reflection of the candlelight flickered across the razor, highlighting the sharp, shiny edge. The low, cushioned stool in the corner of the room was just perfect; he smiled, not his normal quick grin that never reached his eyes but a true smile of pure happiness. He paused: he could not remember the last time he had felt this type of elation at just being with someone. It was as though everything in his world had fallen into place.

He leant over her, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Wake up, my angel." He allowed his hand to drift down her arm, savouring the softness of her skin, and smiled a greeting as her eyes flickered open and looked at him. She smiled a warm drowsy smile, filled with her trust in him. His passion surged and he fought to control the urge to crush her to him and ravage that innocent pouting mouth with hard, furious kisses.

"Lay flat on your back and raise your legs and bottom in the air. I need to place this stool under you" he said, and watched as she immediately obeyed. He slid the stool into place and arranged her so that her legs were spread wide. She was now fully exposed to his gaze, her intimate secrets revealed and available to do with as he wished. He knelt before her and gazed for a moment at the perfect pink wetness of her. He leant forward and took a deep breath, drinking in through his nostrils the heady musk of her sex and the faint scent of the merlot that he had earlier poured over her. Dried trickles of the wine could be traced down her thighs, in a fine cobweb of dusky red.

He took a precisely-folded face cloth from the coffee table and dipped it into the silver bowl. He was aware that the position in which he had placed her hid his actions completely. He could see her anticipation, the tension in her legs as she strained to stop herself from closing them. He grinned; her desire to please him was being tested against her fear of the unknown, exactly as he imagined it would be. The face cloth dripped wetly across her thighs and he saw her body shiver as he wiped firmly up one thigh and down the other. The water sparkled across the smooth skin and she moaned as the warm water cooled. He wetted the cloth again and dribbled the water across the core of her wetness and watched her body jerk in surprise.

"Stay still," he barked, hiding his amusement in sternness, and thankful that she could not see the humour in his face.

He worked diligently at her softest places with the face cloth, stretching her skin one way and then another to clean her tender lips and the swollen clitoris that peeked out shyly but rigidly from its fragile hood. He completed his task by wiping down the cleft of her buttocks and rubbing gently at her tightly closed anus. He felt her embarrassment in the clench of her buttocks and knew that her pretty face would be hotly blushing.

"Good girl" he praised her softly. "All clean". As he stroked across her plump mound, the fine trimmed hairs tickled his fingers and he chuckled unable to contain his delight in her.

He took the shaving gel and squeezed a generous amount onto her mound. "Don't move a muscle, baby. I don't want to slip with this." He bent forward so he could see her face and showed her the sharp razor he held in his hand. Her face stared back at him, her eyes wide and scared. He smiled and patted her stomach. "I'll be gentle, if you stay completely still."

The razor swept smoothly across her mound, the gentle rasp loud in the silence of the room. He could hear her breathing quicken as she felt the sharp steel sting her flesh. As he moved the razor down, he placed a finger into her vagina and spread his fingers to hold her lips apart. He heard her muffled groan and felt her juices trickle out of her to run across his palm. His face was a mask of concentration as he focused on the razor, firmly grazing down and across her mound. He removed his finger from her and began tracing the razor down and around her lips, holding and touching each tender part of her to keep her flesh taut. He worked slowly, cautiously, stretching out the pouting lips to enable the razor to access to her most intimate parts. He made a final quick sweep of the razor across her mound. She shifted automatically, and the razor nicked a small cut in the perfection of her plump flesh.

"Damn," he said as he watched the ruby red blood swell into a glossy tear. His head bent over her and his lips fastened around the small wound. He sucked and tasted the metallic tang of her blood. She moaned and lifted her hips as he suckled at her. He pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He shook his head in despair and groaned; she had an effect on him that was so powerful it shocked him. The need to be part of her was agonising: he wanted to possess her totally; he needed to own her completely.

He reached over, took her hands and pulled her on to the stool, wrapped her tightly in his arms and kissed her with all the passion he felt for her. His lips ravaged hers; she struggled but could not move against the iron clasp of his arms. She clung to him, powerless under the attack of his lips, his tongue forcing her lips apart and plundering her mouth until she could barely breathe. He bit down on her bottom lip and she instantly stopped struggling and lay still in his arms. He pulled back from her and looked at her sweet face, her eyes watching him warily, and he smiled as he released her.

"Kneel and bend that sweet body over the stool," he said, backing away to give her some room to answer his command.

He unbuckled his belt and let his black trousers fall to the floor. As normal he wore no underwear and he stood naked, looking down at the rigid hardness of his penis. The head swelled angry and red, slick with the seeping pre-cum that had flowed since the moment he had stripped her naked so many hours ago. He stroked a hand along the length of his shaft and shivered under the pleasure of his own hand.

He viewed her raised bottom with delight; the firm, fleshy roundness was spectacular in its ripeness, so completely, ridiculously delectable. He knelt behind her and moved her knees further apart the better to display her. His fingers searched out her clitoris and steadily stroked her. She was already dripping wet, the slickness covering his fingers immediately. He spread her juices down and through her cleft. He slowly eased his swollen head along her parted lips so that it rested on her clit, and bit back a moan. The slippery heat of her tantalized his penis and tempted him to enter her but he restrained himself. He rubbed his head against her wetness, coating himself in her juice and revelling in the soft, silky feel of her against him.

He pulled back again, and examined the secret place normally concealed by her ample buttocks. It peeked, tightly closed but now glistening with the oily liquid that he had spread upon it.

"Relax, darling," he murmured, and stroked a hand gently down her flank. His touch soothed her and he felt her body surrender to his voice.

His finger probed the tightness gently. He rubbed his finger around and against the entrance, pushing tenderly whilst his other hand rubbed her swollen clit. Her breathing was heavy and she moved her hips languidly under his caresses. Her juices spilled and dripped out of her, making his fingers slide. She was so decadently wet and responsive that it humbled him. The strength of her sexuality hung between them, a sweet musky haze that drowned out the rest of the world and suspended time.

As he stroked her clit, he moved the head of his penis against her anus and pushed lightly. He felt the resistance and pushed steadily against it. The taut band held against him, then suddenly succumbed and the hot stickiness of her insides enveloped his shaft. He gasped, and her heat combined with the tight embrace of her muscles almost made him lose control. He paused, whilst the throbbing in his body gentled. He rested his hands on her hips and lightly stroked her satin skin; she trembled beneath his caress. He moved in and out of her, unhurriedly. He probed the depths of her slowly, fascinated by the feel of such an intimate part of her body and luxuriating in her body's acceptance of him. A faint sheen of perspiration gleamed on her skin and he bent over to lick a droplet away. The salty taste flickered for a moment in his mouth. He moaned and pulled out of her slightly, before tenderly moving forward again to savour the hot grasp of her anew.

Every one of his five senses were sharpened; he heard her soft moans as though he had made them, the faint scent of her perfume swam around him coating his pleasure in vanilla. He examined the arch of her back minutely, spellbound by the texture and richness of her creamy skin. He could feel his seed beginning to rise, the ache for release teetering between pain and pleasure. He bent over her and thrust forward hard as he began to spurt. She whimpered and his hands gripped into her flesh, desperately pressing as deeply into her as he could, and unburdened himself into her insides. The pulsating shudder of his orgasm spiralled out from his core and he staggered against her, spent. As the last of his seed flowed, he rested his head against her back and kissed the nape of her neck. There was so much he wished to say to her, but at this moment, words were not enough; instead he allowed his arms to wrap themselves around her, and he held on.