She was panicking to get ready. A quick look at the clock by the bed told her that it was getting close to seven o'clock. Her day had been spent doing the usual jobs; clearing her daughter off to her father's house; cleaning and laundry; tidying the lounge.
She had done her exercises in preparation for his arrival and was feeling taut in all the right places. Passing a hand over her belly, she knew she was feeling muscles there as well as everything else. It made her proud. Hard work always paid off.
It was her time now. Personal time. Her time for pleasure. She hadn't been allowed an orgasm for a week but complied with his instructions to edge herself every night - she took herself to the brink religiously and without fail before sleep. Gave her some discomfort and an ache of yearning between her legs. It meant her body after a week was jangling with excitement. Nerve endings on alert to touch and sensitive to everything. One finger in the right place and she wouldn't be responsible for her reaction.
She rubbed further down to the two reasonably sized rings through her pussy lips, and for the millionth time stared down in wonder at them. The day she had had them fitted replayed in her mind's eye repeatedly. The eroticism of having a stranger, albeit professional stranger, with their hands at her delicate place... the girl's knuckle on her clit.
The slight tinkle as they rubbed together enthused her every time. A finger between - fingers either side. A rub back and forth. A delicious feeling when an exploratory one entered her always well lubricated channel. The rings had been a brilliant accessory; a wonderful thought; the initial small puncture wounds healed completely, the sound of them alone; the gentle tink of the rings - it excited her every time.
No, Helen!
Her inner voice was speaking. She had been told what to do. This was to be an evening of her submission. A game that they played on occasion. One that heightened her senses, gave her uncontrollable orgasms and blew her mind. She had been given instructions to obey, and though he had never hurt her, there had been times that sitting down a following day had been a touch awkward, and memories of these times encouraged her compliance right now. She wasn't going to disobey.
She wrenched her hand away.
Slipping a little flower-patterned sundress on, she made sure it created a decent cleavage of her breasts. It was the smallest she could get that fitted her. Clinching her waist in, and pushing everything else up, it made her feel ravishing. The flaring skirt part ended way above the knee and gave her an hourglass look. She felt good. She felt 10 years younger.
Slipping her feet into the five inch black stilletos, she admired the final look in her mirror. Her hair had taken a while to get right but was worth it. Her makeup accentuated her eyes and a bright red lipstick made her feel slutty. She was pleased with the results of her efforts and hoped he would be too. No doubt the lipstick would get smeared, either on his lips or round his cock. She didn't care which.
No underwear. No surprise there. She would be open and on offer all evening if the last time they played this game was anything to go on. Her body was his for the taking; no resistance. He would make it worthwhile for her, she had no doubt. And the events would play in her mind for weeks afterwards. It was worth every moment.
She lifted the skirt and brushed her hand over her pubic mound one last time. Freshly shaved and with a copiously applied soothing cream, meant it was looking good. Smooth. Edible even. She lifted a foot onto the dressing table. It made her lower lips gape obscenely, the minute weight of her rings helping to pull the labia apart. Running her fingers from there to her ass, twisting her raised leg left and right, she checked she had cleared every last hair.
She noticed her lips were pouting. She mimicked them with her facial lips but couldn't help it quickly turning to a smile. She looked gorgeous. Sexy as hell. She wouldn't be surprised if she didn't find herself bent over the arm of the sofa in a few moments with his cock stuffed in her.
Her inner voice laughed with glee.
She returned her foot to the floor, smoothed her dress back down and wrenched herself away from the mirror. It was time to finish off downstairs.
Used to the heels now, there was no lack of confidence with movement. They made her feel taller and more confident. Gave her an air of assertiveness despite what she knew was coming that evening. She closed the bedroom door and descended the stairs to the kitchen.
Tea tonight was a simple pasta and sauce. She had prepared it all, but was leaving the cooking for later. She opened the bottle of red. Time for it to breathe.
Swinging her hips happily, she walked to the lounge to light some candles for the fireplace. She pulled out a yoga mat from beneath the sofa and adjusted the location of the coffee table. Helen expected to be spending a lot of time on the floor that evening. She didn't assume that she would be allowed on the furniture.
One last look around. Was she ready?
The glass!
The most important thing of all. She was a copious squirter. She had had to find a way to cope with the issues caused. Towels always soaked through. It wasn't always practical to be over a hard surface. A tray was inefficient.
No. A glass was the easiest and most efficient solution. It caught the majority of her leakage and was easy to clean after. Sometimes it even had the effect of making her orgasms stronger; more erotic. The level of liquid after, giving her a very good indication of how much her body needed it. It was just remembering to not leave it lying around when not in use.
She had affectionately christianed it her 'cumpot'. Trying to stop her family drinking from it without offering a reason had meant a few odd moments.
She retrieved it from the dishwasher and placed it on the floor at the foot of the sofa.
Blissfully happy right at that moment, she surveyed the scene with a full heart and a big smile. The clock on the mantle clicked over to the hour. A knock on the door.
Opening the door to him, her heart beating like a jack hammer, she allowed herself to be swept into his arms for a full on kiss. She enjoyed being lost in the moment and over-whelmed by the close contact. Her hands gripped his biceps; his hands on her face, holding her for his passion, cupping her cheeks and stroking her neck.
Eventually they broke apart and he removed his coat whilst they chatted briefly about their day. He kicked his boots off by the door and visibly relaxed after his journey.
He seemed very pleased with the effort she had gone to, to look nice for him. She did a quick twirl to show off her sundress and gave him a cheeky unrequested flash to show off her lack of underwear. He nodded appreciatively and slid a hand between her legs and then up her thighs to cup her pubic mound. A common move on his part, she instinctively opened her legs to accommodate him, desperate to feel his fingers where only hers had been for so many days.
She gasped at his touch, but wasn't entirely surprised by his audacity. She felt his finger exploring her rings. A gentle tweak. Rolling them between thumb and forefinger. Her eyes closed in bliss at the attention her labia was getting. Her breathing felt a little harder but she really wanted his probing fingers which usually made her gasp.
A click!
The sound of a spring.
A tug on her lips.
A feeling of weight.
He stood back away from her, but the pressure that he had created on her lower lips had not alleviated. Swaying slightly on the spot due to her heels, she felt the touch of metal on the inside of her thighs. It almost felt jagged.
What on Earth?
She pulled the hem of the skirt to one side to see that he had attached his entire set of house and car keys using a heavy spring clip through both the two rings pierced through her flesh, effectively pinning them together and dragging them down.
How many keys did he have?
They weighed a ton.
She was feeling very stretched, the lips looking slightly elongated from her particular viewpoint.
What was he saying to her now?
'Be a good girl and look after those!'
Cheeky!
Well, she was in no position to argue the case, and he obviously wasn't going anywhere soon, not with the keys to his car attached to her crotch. Ce la vie. No doubt he would retrieve them at some point. She felt mildly relieved that they were in the privacy of her house and not some restaurant - in public. Felt lucky he hadn't used her keys, which held goodness knows how many extra toys and charms to save her losing them. Her labia would have been at her knees.
Something else to get used to.
Wine!
She turned and left him for the kitchen, the keys knocking gently into her thighs, the jangle louder than any of the previous tinkling sounds that her lower regions had previously produced since having the rings. She felt like a cat with a bell on its collar. No stealth walking around the house now. The weight dragged a little but instead of discomfort, it created an enjoyable tug on her clit.
She shrugged non-commitably to herself - she was almost leaking now. It would only get worse. She collected what she needed from the kitchen and returned to the lounge with the wine and a couple of glasses.
He was already seated comfortably on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, but he reached forward to take and hold the glasses for her to pour into. Setting the bottle on the coffee table, she looked to him for instructions.
She wasn't disappointed.
He pointed down at the yoga mat and she understood that she was to squat and assume a submissive position that she had practiced so hard as part of her fitness and exercise regime.
Easier with heels than on a usual evening without, the angles were conducive to keep her thighs parallel to the ground, her bottom above her heels, maintain the squat and to steadily retain her balance. It pulled her belly in and made her feel good.
She folded her arms behind her back and thrust out her chest proudly. She felt the keys grazing the mat every time her body twitched, which in turn dragged and pulled her clit once more. She really felt her body responding the way it always did.
He raised his eyebrows at each jangle, and desperately tried to maintain her position without swaying. The perfect act of subjugation and obedience. She fixed her eye-line and stared straight ahead as though a sex slave waiting for her master's instruction.
After 30 seconds, he nodded for her to finish and kneel, and she responded gratefully, legs still apart but now sat on the floor next to his foot. She felt relief as the weight between her legs lay dormant and unmoving but a slight disappointment that she couldn't stimulate herself.
He passed her one of the wine glasses. A clink of a brief toast, and they drank.
Conversation flowed and they stuck to the mundane realities of life and away from anything sexual. Glasses were drained and refilled and drained once more. Typically finding it hard to sit still for too long, a couple of times she went to stand. She found herself denied this freedom of will by the simple act of him placing a foot on his keys, and she got the idea that she had to relax. Stay still. Remain at his feet
