Venice

You awake, the golden light inundates the sumptuous room, and you feel exquisite. You are naked lying on the heavy velvet bedspread, above you the painted ceiling depicts love scenes in the clouds, you believe you are immersed in the painting. The dark wood of the bed posts are carved with the same spiral pattern of the marble pillar on the balcony and the massive chest of drawers reminds you of old sea vessels. You search for me and find me sketching on the balcony. My pad on the stone railing, my naked form bent in concentration, and my eyes surveying the skyline of domes and spires. You place your body against mine and look at the drawing. I turn and envelop you in my arms.

"This city is so magnificent I can think of nothing but beauty and love. Kiss me and we will walk the canals again." You embrace me with tenderness. Your touch and softness intoxicate me; they kindle my loins and plunder my mind of reason. I want to make love anew but fight to regain my composure. "You will not deny me the sunset on the Grand Canal. Your wanton body will remain under control until I permit!" I forcefully tell you as I slip from your arms.

You pout as we dress. I sense your displeasure and tell you that I will make you desire my love with every step. I tell you not to wear your panties and to lift your dress. I tie a thin rope around your waist and run one strand from the front center, past your vulva, up the crease of your buttocks to the center back. I pull this tight for the rope to part your flesh and tie a neat knot. "Now, my dear, let us visit this magical city." I lead you into the soft evening smells and guide you through the back canals. The tourists have left this part of town; only the locals still wander the paths. Their singing Italian rings against the walls and the water. We cross little arched bridges and admire lovely villas, the gothic windows, the marble inserts, and the heavy doors. The enchantment is complete except for a fire in your belly you strive to ignore. Yet every step reminds you of my words and brings pressure to your sensitive places.

The tourists are evident as we approached Piazza San Marco, and so are the shops. Many carry fine Italian apparel and leather goods. I pull you into a lovely clothing store and explain to the sales girl that we will be staying here for a few days but our luggage is elsewhere. Therefore, you need whatever is necessary for at least three days. She smiles and begins surveying you for size and color. Soon her arms are full of skirts, blouses, and dresses she believes will suit you. She leads you to a curtained dressing room and holds the drape aside. You step in and she follows. You stumble and cough, at a loss for how to act, you don't want her to see the rope yet there is no way she won't. I enter also and quickly lift your dress and explain that you are embarrassed. She simply caresses your bottom and comments how lovely you are and offers you a dress to try. You slip the silk fabric over your head and walk to me. The pale gray cloth flows with your movement and highlights your white skin.

"Yes," I say. "We will certainly take this one." Admiring the taste of the sales girl and your elegance at the same time. You feel more at ease and begin to enjoy dressing in different outfits. We chose four complete sets before deciding we have enough. We agree you will wear the gray dress tonight and leave the one you were wearing to be sent to the villa where we are staying. As I instruct the sales girl where to send the packages she interrupts and tells you to follow her for a moment. You both return and lift your hem to show me the rope has been replaced by a magnificent silk woven piece. The waistband is wide but flat showing your skin through the weave. The piece running between your legs starts wide but narrows into a ball at the top of your womanhood, it disappears betwixt your lips to reappear where it becomes wide again at the top of your rear. You smile at me saying "Quite a bit more feminine than your rope, don't you think? Yet I feel even more powerfully the sensation of excitement and pressure. Please let me wear this."

"Yes." I answer. "You are lovely wearing that belt. May we see others?" I ask the sales girl. She answers that she will deliver everything to our room tomorrow morning and bring some samples of items that might interest us. I am delighted and set an appointment and ask her for directions to a store for men. She tells us where to go and bids us farewell until tomorrow.

The men's store has equally elegant items and I select three outfits one of which I wear for the evening and have the rest delivered. We leave feeling like new lovers in as new life. The sky has begun to fade to purple. The director of lighting exaggerates the colors. The deep purples and bright oranges cannot be real. We must be walking on a set! Your gray dress reflects the colors of the sky, the colors reflected in the water and windows. The bright yellow of streetlights paints the left side of your face. Your eyes sparkle and your moist lips shine in the Magritte evening. I look at you in awe of your beauty and wonder if your sensuality ignites the fire in your eyes. I want to make love to you every instant but know we must treasure these few moments and barely even waist the darkness.

We walk along the Grande Canal heading away from the Piazza San Marco to the east. You look at the Bridge of Sighs and comment on the delicate architecture. We continue along the wide sidewalk of the Riva di Schiavoni not noticing the other tourists, listening to the songs of the few remaining singing gondoliers. The sounds of the water and the deepening colors of the night make us feel alone despite the many others. I stop you at the church of Santa Maria della Pieta that holds the Vivaldi concerts and ask if you would enjoy listening to the "Four Seasons" tomorrow night. You seem delighted. I ask the ticket vendor if there are any remaining places for tomorrow and am told only the best seats are available. With pleasure I purchase two and tell you that we will have to buy you another dress.

We wander until we find a secluded restaurant with garden seating. We settle in for a leisurely meal full of sensuous tastes and smells. You enjoy the deep red wines and the ripe tomatoes, the fresh basil, and the figs for desert. Throughout the meal I caress your thighs under your dress and tell you of the passion I feel for you. You want to hurry the repast for your desire is building, but I force you to savor every bite and to relish even the lovely garden. "You will not return here soon, my dear." I tell you. "So make sure you waste none of the splendor, that you enjoy every smell, vision, sound, and taste. Fear not I want you as badly as you want me and I promise to love you completely upon our return to the room. But for now open your mind and let it be filled by the beauty of this place." You nod and bite your lip as I slide my hand cruelly to the junction of your thighs.

Finally I take you slowly back to the villa and undress you. I tie you to the heavy bed and worship your body for hours. You are so lost in the series of endless climaxes you really don't know what I am doing. I untie you late in the night and hug you to me in joy and appreciation of your gift. Tomorrow we will spend another splendid day in Venice.

The Second Day

The curtains were open and the sun warmed the tile floor as you awoke. You could feel the soft breeze feathering across your uncovered breasts. Lying on the open bed you stretched and absorbed the sounds and smells of the Venetian morning. The delicate odor of the sea mixed with the aroma of coffee. You scanned the room, looking for the coffee. A tray of delights sat on the trunk at the base of the bed. You took a cup, filled it, and walked still naked to the balcony. There you found me drawing again, also naked and drinking coffee. "Good morning my love." I said. "Are we not unusually lucky to be here?" I enfolded you into my arms and kissed you deeply. We gazed at the hazy skyline and felt the beauty invade our souls. "Drink, my dear, and put on some clothes for the sales girl will be delivering your packages shortly."

We dressed and waited enjoying the peace and serenity of the moment. We planned the day talking of the Gallerie dell' Accademia, the churches, and the Biennale. A knock announced the arrival of your wardrobe. The sales girl entered laden with boxes. She quickly opened each to show you the items we had chosen. Then she stopped and asked if we wanted to see the items we had discussed. I answered that we did and she began her presentation. At first she showed us delicate lingerie with osé themes, open bras, split panties, and the like. We asked for something else. She opened a dark wood box with brass corners and latches. Inside on a bed of red velvet was a magnificent Venetian glass dildo.

The whorls of color flowing along its length were so exquisite that one could easily place this piece on display were it not for it's form. We bought it instantly, not knowing if we would ever use it or simply admire the workmanship. She then presented us some lovely masks. Not the ones seen in the tourist stores but handmade pieces with themes of fantasy. Again we purchased the ones we both admired not knowing how or if we would ever use them. Her last item was truly something I desired yet had never seen. Beautiful silk thong panties with a little pouch low in front. She handed me a small control unit and a plastic egg. Turning on the unit made the egg vibrate at increasing speeds. The egg fit into the pouch tightly and would sit at the mouth of your womanhood. I was enthralled and elated.

We told her that we would pass by the shop later in the afternoon for we needed a dress for the evening, a long evening dress for the concert. She answered she was certain she had a lovely garment and that she would be happy to make sure it fit perfectly. She left us and I instructed you to prepare for a long day of walking the canals and viewing art. You chose a short pleated skirt and loose open blouse. Your skirt was basic black, and the blouse a burgundy that highlighted your delicate white complexion. My slacks and shirt complimented your outfit and we set out for a day of sightseeing and art.

We spent two hours in the magnificent Gallerie dell' Accademia, enjoying the great Venetian paintings and the sensuality of the colors and composition. While standing before a large Titian my hands slid under your skirt to cup your soft warm rear. As always I wanted you instantly but denied myself for fear of missing another masterpiece. By the time we had left the museum I had caressed you numerous times and you were complaining of a need for fulfillment. "Not until later, my dear, we have churches and art to see." I scolded.

We crossed the Grande Canal and wandered into the church of San Stefano. We opened the doors to an interior of Baroque opulence. The cool and dark chamber was a refreshing respite from the heat of the day. Our bodies cooled while our eyes and minds indulged in the magnificence and sensuality of the frescoes and carvings. Full-bodied women in flowing robes their breasts overflowing stepped out of the ceiling. Their succulent bodies ripe with womanhood beckoned lascivious thoughts. Angelic cherubs rolled their eyes slightly back in their heads, looking upward as they reached that moment of being at the edge of paradise, not wanting to give up the tension, yet wanting the climax.

The opulence that we feasted upon gave rise to our sexual gluttony and we looked for a place for our release. We scurried like two children caught in the rain into the dark recesses of the confessional. We suppressed our giggles and closed the dark heavy purple draperies behind us. The smell of dark wood and the church incense permeated the small enclosure. I trapped you between my arms and the dark wood wall of the box, my palms out in front. You could feel my sexual energy permeating the space. "Now little one." I said in a firm voice. "Confess to me the sins you would like to commit." You smile knowing full well that we have the same sins in mind. "Will you confess or are I to punish you for sins you have not yet committed?" I said as I pressed firmly against your belly. You felt my instrument of punishment prepared for the task.

I forced you to kneel on the padded kneeler. I dropped my trousers before kneeling behind you. Yes we were in prayer, but to the deity of lust. My fingers found your heat and pushed the cloth covering you aside. I felt your moist desire and slipped a finger between your lips. I spread your wetness to your nub and circled that sensitive spot. You moaned loudly so I quickly covered your mouth with my other hand. I could no longer wait and placed my rampant manhood against your lips. I held your mouth as I thrust deep into your belly and commenced the licentious dance we needed so badly. The fragrance of our love permeated the tight wooden box and the sounds of our movement would have certainly alerted anyone in the church.

Our passion involved all our beings to the exclusion of care. I could not have stopped my hips from moving had the Bishop of Venice touched my shoulder. You bit my hand and pushed back onto me as your orgasm exploded. I could feel the vise of your sheath clamp my shaft. With my left hand I pulled your belly back and drove deeper into your canal as my seed poured forth. I had to bite my arm to arrest my cries. The power of our ecstasy engulfed us completely and brought a satisfaction that surprised us. I slumped against your back and slowly withdrew. Using my handkerchief I tried to dry your lovely fruit and then wipe myself in an attempt to be presentable as we continued the day.

We left San Stefan quickly not sure if we had been observed, but frankly not caring. We laughed, held hands, and kissed like young lovers. The canals and bridges seemed to welcome us and made soft wet sounds we thought we recognized. We entered a cozy trattoria for lunch and found a cool garden in the back where we savored the summer specials. The fresh melon, the prociuto, the ripe tomatoes with mozzarella, the pungent olive oil, the basil, and the delicate pasta with olive oil and garlic were all offered. Looking at you eating brought back my desires. Your sucking the strands of pasta into your mouth with a little stream of olive oil slipping down your chin made you look so sensuous, I leaned over to lick that little stream. You tasted better than the meal.

We walked to San Marco and took the vaporetto to the Castello Gardens to visit the Venice Biennale, the contemporary art exhibition where each nation chooses its representative. You were surprised buy much of the work but found some of the pieces appealing. I noticed your desire to touch certain sculptures and rejoiced in your natural affiliation to the forms. Becoming a bit distracted and tired we headed to the shop to find your costume for the evening.

The sales girl smiled at our entrance and locked the store. "I don't want to be disturbed while I fit the dress to the Signora. If you would please remove everything for the dress must fit perfectly." She commanded. When you removed your panties we both could smell the evidence of our earlier bout. The sales girl nodded and smiled while continuing to prepare the long black velvet evening dress. The deep neckline accentuated your round bust and it seemed as if the back slit went all the way to the junction of your thighs. She busied herself with pins and markings to make the fit flawless. When she was finished she told us to go to the little café in the next square and that she would fetch us when the retouches were completed.

We relaxed and laughed from sheer joy as we sipped our wine. "She must think we never stop making love. " You remarked. "Then she is not very mistaken." I answered. "What a wonderful sensual vacation." I said. You put your feet on my thighs asking me to rub them. I massaged your toes and dug my thumbs into the arch of each foot. I rubbed your calves and returned to your feet. You made little cooing sounds that turned the heads of the couple at the neighboring table. The Italian woman poked her companion and clearly told him he should do the same for her. He didn't seem to acquiesce and she pouted. We laughed and I continued to knead your feet and legs until the sales girl called us.

The dress fit you flawlessly and enhanced your beauty, as it should. The sales girl informed us that you should wear no undergarments for you to look your best. I took her aside and informed her that I had intended for you to wear the thong with the egg during the concert. "Ah, si." She said with a knowing smile. "Then I must add a waist band inside so no one can discern the panty line. It will only take me five minutes." You asked what she was doing as we waited and I explained that she was making a minor adjustment. We thanked her for all her help and returned to the villa to rest and prepare for the evening.

Our room was bathed in the evening light accenting the warm colors of the woods and fabrics. We showered and lay on the bed for a few moments of rest. Your natural aroma mingled with the smells of the lagoon and stirred my passion again. I took your hand and gently sucked each finger, feeling and tasting the softness of you, so quiet, so tender. We remained on our backs touching and kissing until I felt you slip into slumber. I knew you needed the rest so I quietly left the bed to gather my drawing utensils. While you slept, naked on your back, I drew the sensuous curves of your body. The swell of your breasts, white and full with their burnt sienna tips. Your round belly drawing the eye to the seductive curve of your mons.

Hiding beneath your dark curls the valley from which we both derived so much pleasure. Your thighs open and relaxed again drawing the eye to that warm moist province of delight. I drew trying to impart all the sensuality I could see. I became lost in the rendering of your carnality, moving about the room to capture you from many angles. My desire obvious by my constant erection, my hands and eyes conspired to create images of you both passionate and charming.

For almost an hour I drew until you awoke surprised and refreshed. You kneeled on the bed and asked to see my work. We looked and commented on the drawings and I made you promise to pose for me another time. I told you that we must dress for the concert soon if we were to have time for an apéritif first. I went to the trunk and handed you the thong with the pouch. I instructed you that you were to wear this garment during the evening. Once you had slipped it over your hips I inserted the little egg in its pocket. I then stood back and turned on the control unit. You uttered a little squeak and your hand grasped your crotch. I turned it off and advised you that I might ignite it at any time during the evening. "Do you agree to be under my control, my dear?" I asked. You looked at me searching for an indication of levity and found only a stern master returning your gaze. You nodded, yes, and continued to dress.

I wore a gray silk suit with a blue shirt and tie. Your long black velvet dress fit like a second skin, emphasizing your every curve. The slit up the back showed off the tops of your thighs above your thigh high stockings. The deep neckline displayed your breasts to the limit of decency and was perfect for the pendant you choose to adorn your cleavage. A delicate deep crimson embroidered shawl covered your shoulders in case of a chill. We strolled into another colorful evening in the magical city. Arm in arm we wandered slowly toward the church for the concert. As we crossed one of the little bridges I reached into my pocket and turned on the egg at low speed. You stopped still, squeezed my arm, and looked at me pleadingly trying to control your body. I extinguished the torment, took your arm again, and continued our walk. You wanted to talk of this torture yet you remained silent. I kissed your neck and declared my love. I was so delighted to be your companion. I infused with the feeling of being more alive than ever before. The passion we shared and the beauty of Venice had alerted all my senses and I felt inundated by their messages.