Chapter 4

"The massage is pain enough for today." But, the thought of her being tied to the stairs made his words catch in his throat. "Of course I would tie you and spank you, but you'd have to ask. First, I have to initiate you in the 'Truth in Bondage' ritual. The code says we have to agree to the rules up front."

She felt surprised by her conflict — reassured that she would not be spanked, and annoyed at not being seen as a 'sexually talented woman.' I will not beg. I am not passive. You're getting tempted, Sheila.

She was desired, admired, and envied in school — winning offices and beauty contests, and had men falling all over her. Proposals. Propositions by the dozens, even from her father's business associate. Marcia's good-looking ex-lover tempted her resolve. She knew she was desired. He will not whip me, and he will not dismiss me. Dammit. I don't want Adonis and I'm through with Kevin. My crotch is wet from just hearing these stories that I had to pry out of him. Shit.

"Tell you what — I'll tell you a story, then you tell me one — let's take turns," he offered.

"You go first," she replied instantly.

"I already did. Your turn." Then, he slowly thrust his thumb into the side of her butt — just where the jeans pocket should have been. The thumb went through two layers of muscle until it finds the incredibly sore muscle nearest the bone. There he pressed until she cried out — "Ouch! That hurts too much."

"Tennis is hard on that muscle, but working it out will relieve the stiffness. I'll go easy until you relax it."

"I'll try to endure. I don't believe in 'no pain, no gain'!"

He gently moved both thumbs on each side of her butt and found the hot muscles on both sides at the same time. He pressed gently, then more firmly, then she said, "That's much better. I think I can almost stand it before I scream.

"I don't understand why you would not rather have sex with her than play tennis with me. That doesn't make sense."

"I invited you to be my houseguest. Stephanie doesn't play tennis. You're good company when you aren't pouting. I had work to do. I made the right choice. I'm glad you came. Your turn to tell a story."

Sheila was embarrassed by the request and blushed instantly. "Kelly, my girlfriend, and I used to tell everything. I just can't tell you," she mumbled. How can I tell him about Kevin or what we did? How can I not and keep up the conversation? Maybe we should go swim! Wimp. You're just a wimp. Cat got your tongue? You cannot let him do this to you. Can you tell him that you're glad you didn't go to the Surf-n-Sand? You could just say it.

"Its only fair to share," he teased.

Sheila was furious at herself for letting him make her defensive. I will do and say what I please. He does not have the right to corner me. I am a liberated woman and I do not care what he thinks. That litany made her feel better, but her well-honed competitive self returned and she couldn't buy the cop out. Okay, Sheila, the ball's in your court. You're either a chicken or a leopard. I am, by God, a leopard and I will tell a story. I will tell him a good story.

As she pondered her response, he offered, "I would like to hear about your first sexual encounter? Did you ever have sex with a girl? How and when did you learn how to pleasure yourself? When do you use your vibrator? What have you done to your boyfriend? Did you ever have a married man or your cousin or uncle? What did you want to do with Kelly?"

It's none of your dammed business! Taking a deep breath, she said slowly, "Once, when Kelly and I were at the beach for spring break, we had to share the same bed. We cuddled together to keep warm. I really wanted to touch and kiss her and make love to her. All I could do was run my fingers through her hair and hold her next to me. I didn't tell her about my desires because she would think I'm a lesbian. I'm not," she almost whispered.

Then he patted her butt gently. "That had to be hard to say to me. Does wanting to kiss and touch Kelly make you a lesbian? I'm glad that you trusted me. How will you tell her?"

"I just don't know how, and I don't want to lose her friendship," she said with frustration. Then, looking at him, "I'm glad I didn't go to the Surf, too. I'm having a nice time."

"When I desire someone and feel uncertain, I have to rehearse the words. I don't like to be refused," he confessed.

"You get turned down? Come on. Looks like they fall all over you," she teased.

"I get turned down more often than I'd like. I figure that if I'm not getting turned down, I'm making only the safe offers. So I struggle. In my youth, my mentor told me that the most important role for a gentleman in his affairs with women is to provide them with many opportunities to say 'no.' She said that I was to make offers, provide alternatives, and never expect them to ask for what they wanted. She assured me that they might refuse, but would rarely be offended by the invitation. If I don't ask, the answer is always 'No!'"

He didn't have to tell you that. He could have made it sound so easy. What will you say if he asks you? She thought for a long time as she felt the soreness evaporate from her muscles.

"Hey, if you're not up to sharing more, we can talk about something else. How'd the market close?"

"Up six on the Dow, good technology strength," she blurted before realizing that she had just taken the bait. Then, "Forget the market. No other distractions. It's your turn. Tell me more about tying them up."

"It's all atmosphere, uncertainty, and freedom..."

"Freedom? When they're in chains?"

"Ultimate freedom. No responsibility. No inhibitions. When they're tied to the bed and blindfolded, they can enjoy and indulge — since they have no choice, they feel no guilt," he continued.

"They are helpless and can't fight back?"

"Very much like that. Maybe the other part is the uncertainty of pain or pleasure — not knowing whether they will next feel the feathers or the whip — and not really knowing for sure which one they really want."

"Feathers?"

"I have a soft feather brush. It tickles at first, then becomes unbearably erotic when it covers them from head to toe. That takes a good while, but when they're tied and blindfolded, they have time to feel all the pleasure. I talk to them and a few minutes usually gets them off at least once," he answered.

"They come with a dusting brush?" she probed with obvious doubt. Sheila! Didn't you get off on his leg last night with just fingers on your back? He talks softly to you and you don't even qualify. Can't you just hear what he says to them?

"Almost always. It is a sensual toy. They are tied and blindfolded. The ambiance is sexual and sensual. Then, I use some oils and special cream on their breasts and go over them with a vibrator. They often come quickly. I usually narrate a much more severe and dramatic scene than we are having, but they seem to like the talk," he continued.

She heard his low and pleasant tone, and when he spoke she could see herself on the bed in the candlelight being tortured. Then, she was an observer watching him do all those things to Stephanie he talked about. She was getting absolutely randy and still wanted to hear more. Damn Stephanie. But they seem to like the talk. Sheila, you are drooling from his talk. "I'll bet they like that talk. Is there more?"

"Vibrators and dildos and rituals of pleasure, these are a few of their favorite things," he sang to the tune of the old carol.

Her head was turned to the side and he noticed her pupils were quite dilated. The stories aroused her. He imagined the color of her wet, swollen vulva and the pearl drops of wetness oozing from her. He knew that the most important sexual instrument a man has is his tongue — first to talk with then to explore with. She was making him visibly horny. I guess I could make a gentle move on her. If you don't take the risk, you won't get the pleasure. Better do it now. Give her the chance to refuse.

Bastard! "What else does Stephanie do when she's not tied to the stairs?"

"Where?" he asked.

Look at those shorts! "I mean, what does she do to you?"

"Whatever she chooses. When you're tied to the post, you wait and see," he replied.

"She ties you and does the same thing to you that you do to her?"

"Listen, I obey. She whips hard. I don't like being whipped. It's hard to be sexy when you're being whipped," he offered.

Something emerged inside her that she hadn't known before. She went back to The Story of O. I think you're wrong. Where did that stupid thought come from?

Then she heard her new self ask, "When... uhh... does she get... sexual?"

"When I'm tied to the stairs. She gives me a pillow to support my back, and then, she starts her thing..."

"Her 'thing'?"

He said with intensity, "Well, she turns up the music, dances and strips — right above my head where I can see her. She straddles me and drops slowly until she tickles my face. Then, she gives me a kiss. My hands are tied. My legs are tied. I have a voice and tongue. I use the tongue to kiss her back," he replied in husky voice.

She saw him chained to the posts, lying with a pillow under his back, and this beautiful woman tickling his nose with her pubic hair. Damn her! I can't stop now.

"So, you just let her dominate?"

"At that point, I do what she says. The price for questioning is too high."

"Does that really make you feel good? You can't enjoy the whipping,"

"It makes no sense in the telling. Just like childbirth. But, when you're there, the electric excitement drives me wild. I don't like the whipping as much as she does, but I support the cause. We don't injure each other."

Still doubtful, she asked, "What then?" More, more!

"I'm tied down on the stairs. When she is ready, she strokes, uses her tongue, kisses, oils, and teases — so many that I couldn't list them all."

Sheila could see Stephanie using her mouth, hands, oils, and asked, "If you can't do anything, what then?"

"She usually sits on my face and moves around on my tongue as long as she likes. She kisses me and rubs her body against my chest and tells me stories. Then, she moves her hips down my belly and puts me inside her. She sits erect and squeezes me hard inside her with those muscles she has mastered," he answered.

As her breathing increased, she asked, "Is that when it starts to feel good?"

"That's when it starts to feel sublime. It all feels good. I do enjoy it," he reflected.

When he finished the deep muscle work, he toweled the oil off briskly, and then resumed the skin tickling that she enjoyed last night. Her back felt much better as he stroked her lightly with fingernails, then the reverse. Shortly, he could see the chill bumps coming up all over her back and legs. He moved his fingers from the nape of her neck down to the soles of her feet, on the inside of her thighs, under her arms, on the sides of her breasts, over the fine hairs on her ass, and back again. As he watched the patterns of chill bumps follow his fingers, he mused, and I will see how much woman she is — what can she stand today?

The bastard is doing that again on purpose — just like last night. God, that feels so good. I think I could retire here. How long will he keep it up? Should I let him do this to me?"

"Now, turn slowly onto your back — there are a few other places that need work," he said as he held the modesty towel and hooked the top of her suit.

She rolled over slowly and stretched her arms and legs. To watch her glorious body was to admire a work of art.

It is simply a matter of time, and now there are no pajamas in between. She can't ignore gentle caresses very long.

Should I stop and move away? Why do I like this so much? You will be out of control soon. Oh, It's okay, just do it. By then, her clitoris was swollen and her labia were getting even wetter than last night.

Aware of her every move, he noticed the tinge of wetness in her crotch as little spots on her silk suit turned color. As it did, his hands resumed their search for sore muscles and worked her calves, thighs, and shoulders. As he sat on a stool behind her head and reached under her back to complete the final touches, his face was so close to hers that he could feel her heat and breath. "Looks like amateur hour is about over, he muttered gently right next to her ear. Let me just towel you off."

"An hour? You have to be kidding. Ten minutes is more like it," she replied as she felt the glow of relaxation and the sensations on her skin. The brisk towel rub awakened her skin, then the gentle touches of his fingers again awakened her desire.

The delicious pleasure that started on her skin had gradually inflamed her. Her total being was moving to her crotch. As he continued the soft stroking, he came across her breasts, let his fingers brush against her vulva, slowly across her ass, and then up her back. By the time she felt his fingers on her nipples, she was beyond thought and, as he rubbed her nipples, the full desire swelled over her, she rolled on her side and then onto her back.