For years he felt psychoemotionally handcuffed while she administered kickpuppy punishments. He liked the way she responded in kind to his flirtatious advances. It was a stroking game they played with each other. Later she verbally kicked him in the belly or balls when she rebuffed the remark by relating a story about having great sex with her husband. The pain was great.
Today she would use the silver manacles to further capture and punish him. One cuff was tucked inside the waistband of her pleated black tennis skirt and the other hung over her abdomen. It was a stark contrast and was the finishing touch to her improbable outfit. The black bustier was made of chiffon. He could easily make out the darkness of her nipples under it. Her legs were encased in black stockings held in place with garter straps attached to the bustier under her very short skirt. Black spike-heel pumps with ankle straps completed the outfit. The sight of her dressed like that was enough to make his groin ache. He stifled a non-word sound that would have portrayed his feelings.
The other side of their relationship was a psychic connection that unnerved her and was a mystery to him though both knew it was very real. When she was thousands of miles away on the last few days of a two-week vacation in Italy and Spain with her husband he felt a powerful tingling in his soul that meant she was experiencing something intense. It wasn't until several weeks later that he questioned her and she said, "I went like this (turning to her left and down) while we were in the shower and the muscle spasm grabbed me. I was miserable for the whole twelve hours while we flew home." He hadn't missed the plural pronoun 'we' she had used. And he didn't ask her why she had made the movement that had caused the muscle spasm.
Once she was dressed in a powder blue sleeveless sheath with white buttons from bodice to hem when they met at the coffeehouse. It was summer and she was bare legged but he couldn't remember the kind of shoes she wore. It was their third meeting over coffee and he was being cautious. They chatted about this and that and she mentioned her daughter and how the youngster was conflicted between the tenants she was being taught at the Catholic girls school she attended and what she saw at home.
The priests and nuns insisted in a mandatory class that sex was for procreation and not pleasure. The woman/mother sitting across from him related how she and her husband had locked themselves in their bedroom for sex play after dinner. She had a slightly embarrassed little smile on her lips describing how when she opened the door and came out the daughter asked her, "Have fun?' The slim, beautiful woman on the patio of the coffeehouse had said 'yes' to her daughter as the story concluded. Then she looked into the eyes of the tall, intriguing man she was having coffee with. It was the first time she stung him...the first kick to the tail-wagging, 'love-me, love-me' puppy that he was in spite of his many years of life experience. A part of him was silently screaming, "I don't want to hear this shit about how you and your husband have great sex! I want you for myself and you damn well know it!"
The next time wasn't a lot different. They were having coffee at a Starbucks when she slipped into the conversation that the daughter had unexpectedly come back to the house to find her parents clothing strewn about the family room, down the hall and the trail stopped at the parents locked bedroom door. The daughter half kiddingly deplored what she saw but secretly wished she could have the same in her life.
The woman sitting across from him had taken her daughter to a counselor because of her stress and anxiety. The counselor had suggested yoga and regular masturbation as methods of stress relief. Daughter complained to her mother about the suggestion that she masturbate, referencing the church school's teachings on the matter. Mother told daughter to ignore that dictum and admitted to her daughter that she masturbated on a regular basis both alone and with her husband. The daughter sat in numb silence.
They met at the Coffee Plantation on 16th Street at her suggestion. Previously they had met at the Plantation at the Biltmore. He arrived first and ordered. Soon after she entered and with his hands full of coffee cup and a croissant he did his best to hug her when they met in the middle of the floor. She seemed to relish it as much as he did. He found a table outdoors and settled in waiting for this beautiful, mysterious, ethereal, teasing creature to sit across from him. She did. He told her he had wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her from the first moment he saw her. She smiled and said nothing.
Then he walked into it saying he remembered her saying 'we' were in the shower when she hurt her back. She confirmed that she had been involved in soapy sex play with her husband. Out of his mind with desire for her, trying to push away the picture she had painted in his mind, she had managed to kick his puppynuts again. He retreated in pain.
Another time she has sucked him in with a comment about a French film she liked and that it contained one of her favorite fantasies. When he asked what she replied 'being handcuffed and having my panties cut off.' When he asked if she had handcuffs she nodded saying she had found them in her son's room when he moved out.
"Well, you have your husband to do that or maybe you already have," he said. She had slowly nodded her head with a smug little pout on her mouth. His guts boiled and there was a stabbing pain in his groin. He was helplessly and hopelessly at her mercy unable to object to her infernal malevolence. Almost unable to breathe from the pain of her kick his eyes narrowed. He saw her eyes go wide with satisfaction seeing his pain.
The most severe putdown was after they had coffee and were in the parking lot He asked her to cross her wrists so the backs of both hands formed a V. After she did he moved them to his face so that both were in contact with his beard. "I just wanted you to have a hint of what I would feel like on the insides of your thighs." Whatever reaction she had she hid.
The first spoken words at their next meeting was when she slid up to him and said, "My husband didn't shave for two weeks while we were on vacation in Europe so I know the feeling of a beard on the inside of my thighs." He was totally deflated and one-upped.
She called late one afternoon to say that her husband was going to be out of town for several days and she wanted to conduct an 'experience' with him, advancing the idea of locking him in a chastity device for a week and then cooking dinner for him on the Sunday evening her husband would be gone. His heart leapt into his throat and left him gasping for air. He let a few seconds go by trying to gain his composure but knew he could not refuse.
She had come by his place each day to unlock the white plastic chastity tube that contained his cock so he could wash himself and the tube. Then she had him reinstall it and click the small padlock shut. After five days of practice he had become quite proficient. That Friday morning he closed the stainless steel band around his cock and balls, fitted his cock into the plastic tube and slid the ears on the band up through a slot at the top of the tube and closed the small padlock through the holes in the ears.
Thus she knew he had not masturbated or ejaculated for one week when he arrived at her door late on that Sunday afternoon. She was dressed for sex, not for cooking when she answered the door and smiled at him. He followed her to the kitchen watching the flash of bare flesh above the tops of her black stockings and the swinging hem of her tennis skirt. She motioned him to a chair and told him to take off his clothes.
She had resumed work on the Caesar salad at the counter near the sink. She glanced at him several times while he was undressing. When he was completely naked except for the steel and plastic device that held his cock captive she approached him and pulled the handcuffs from her waistband. Pointing her finger at the floor she drew two small circles in the air. He turned away from her and put his hands behind his back knowing she was going to handcuff him. One cuff was warm from being against her belly and the other was cold steel as she clicked them snug around his wrists.
"Tell me what you are feeling inside," she said as she got a short length of chain from a kitchen drawer.
"Anxious I guess would cover it," he responded.
She had am impish smile on her face as she opened the padlock of the chastity device, added the end link of the chain to the shank and relocked it. He could feel the weight of the chain when she let go. "You're becoming more of a captive all the time aren't you," she grinned at him. He caught just a hint of something perilous in her tone. It didn't fit their situation but it was there.
Facing away from him she bent at the waist to get two items from a bottom drawer. It was exquisitely clear she was shaved and pantyless. Her pouty pink lips almost smiled at him from under the black tennis skirt. Still bent over she glanced past her right calf to make sure he was looking at her. He knew what the sleep mask was but wasn't sure about the other item. She liked to use hand signals. Poking her finger at one of the kitchen chairs he knew he was to sit. She moved behind him and fitted the sleep mask into place taking away his sight. He felt something against his lips and heard her say, "Open your mouth." The handball went in his mouth attached to the leather strap by a one-inch lag bolt. She had silenced him. "No more flirtatious remarks from you Buddyboy,' she growled at him. There was an edge in her voice that unnerved him.
