Chapter 2

With his next words, Georges admonished me to be silent from then on. Should I speak, he would end what he had begun here tonight and his (and my) hopes of allowing him to find release would be over. He told me that if I agreed, nod my head. With some trepidation, for this was new to me (yet terribly arousing), I acquiesced with a slight motion of my head. I had no idea what this evening might entail, but I trusted him and knew he would bring me to no harm.

Georges left the room, and I could hear him moving about in the bathroom nearest to the dining area. When he returned, he was carrying a towel, shaving cream, and a safety razor, which he set on the table next to my right hip. He began to explain that he'd always wanted to see a woman completely naked... would I agree? Another nod and a slight smile told him to proceed. The sparkle in his eyes as he walked into the kitchen for a basin of water was priceless.

Upon his return he placed the basin next to the other items he had brought, lifted my hips, slid the towel underneath me, and began to speak to me in a quiet voice as he applied shaving cream to my mons. First he told me how incredibly sexy I looked, how vulnerable. He continued in this vein for some moments as he deftly applied the razor in long, careful strokes, beginning at the area above my pubic bone and continuing down the outside of my labia. The feel of the razor against my tender skin made me shiver; I'd never shaved myself in this way before, and it only served to make me feel more open. Lifting my head from the surface of the table, I watched as the soft curly hair disappeared. Unexpectedly, I suddenly began to feel intensely embarrassed; I could feel the heat suffuse my body. Georges paused momentarily, gently stroking my inner thigh with his free hand, and kissed me tenderly just below my hip, giving me quiet reassurance. Continuing until all the hair had been removed, he quickly applied a soft, damp cloth, eliminating the last traces of shaving cream from my skin. Stealing a glance, I was shocked by what I saw... I guess I never imagined how it would look, how child-like and out-of-sync it would appear on the body of a grown woman.

As Georges set the implements on a chair next to the table, he reiterated his stern request that I remain silent, adding steel to his words by telling me that I would not like the consequences should I fail him in this regard. I smiled and winked impishly at him in return, but the look of calm determination on his face quelled my playfulness in an instant. I watched as he pulled a chair up close and sat down between my thighs, and listened carefully as he explained that my first transgression would receive a gentle reprimand; each succeeding faux pax would bring progressively sterner retribution. I knew Georges very well, or thought I did. He had a well-developed sense of humor, and I naively assumed I'd be able to tease him out of any intended punishments he might have in mind.

And this is where he began to drive me slowly out of my mind. Without a word, I felt him grasp my labia firmly between his fingers and open me completely. He slowly bent his head, his eyes fixed upon mine the entire time, and began a slow circuit with his tongue just at the inside edge of my labia, intentionally avoiding the sensitive nubbin at the top. He repeated this motion again and again, only stopping briefly to sink his tongue inside me, a bit deeper each time, lapping at the slick fluids. I strained my body upwards, trying to bring his tongue into contact with my aching clitoris. He would have none of this, and easily avoided my clumsy attempts at having him bring me to climax. I began to squirm uncontrollably, mewling softly, twisting my body as far as I was able in an effort to gain some relief... all to no avail. His ministrations never ceased, hardly varied at all as he drove me higher and higher but refused to allow me to cum.

As if this weren't enough, on the next up-sweep of his stiffened tongue, he lodged two fingers deeply inside me and began to rub and press them firmly against the roof of my vagina. Thrashing against the ropes that held me, I arched my back, forcing myself hard against his lips, bucking my hips in an instinctive reaction. Knowing he had me just on the edge, he backed off slightly, holding his fingers still inside me and nibbling lightly, just the barest hint of his breath against my skin. With a groan, I felt him slide his fingers out, leaving me panting and frustrated.

He sat back, a slight smile on his face as he observed me writhing, my hips jerking upwards, seeking any contact that would end this torment. Minutes passed, yet I was unable to bring myself under control. Sensing that I was losing the battle, almost as if he wanted me to lose, he pushed me a bit further. As my hips fell back to the tabletop, he began to coat each finger in turn with my copious juices, and then did something totally unexpected. With slow, lazy circles, he began to trace a pattern around my rosebud, venturing closer each time, barely skimming the rim. This was a new and completely foreign feeling; no one had ever touched me in that way before. As my breath caught in my throat and then I gasped softly, his motions became bolder. Tentative probing became direct pressure as he attempted to penetrate me with the tip of his finger. Now I squirmed in earnest, trying to avoid his probing. Undeterred, he began to stroke inside my lips, transferring slick lubricant in an effort to make his entry easier. I clenched my muscles, determined to keep him out in hopes of returning his attention to my throbbing clit. In the next instant, I felt his thick finger slide past my straining sphincter and enter me, sliding deep inside. "Georges, no, please, don't," I begged.

No sooner had the words left my lips, I began to shiver. He needn't have said a word to me; I knew I'd broken his rule. "What can he really do to me," I wondered? I was already helpless, at his mercy... what more could he do to torment me? His silence worried me, though. He slowly slid his finger from inside me (as I breathed a sigh of relief at the end of this unwanted invasion) and left the room. He returned carrying a ball of fine, soft twine. "What could he possibly do with that," I thought. I'm already tied; surely he doesn't think that small bit of twine could hold me any more securely?

Georges stood at the head of the table, looking down into my eyes. "This is your first infraction; a mild reminder is in order, I think," he whispered. Breaking off a short length, he leaned over me on the table and took my right nipple in his mouth, gently rolling it against his tongue, nipping at it until it strained erect between his lips. The feel of his mouth sent a jolt of pure arousal through me. As I pulled against the ropes, he released my nipple and looped the string around it, tying it tightly enough to constrict the flesh at the base. The pain was sharp but quickly faded, as he ministered in like fashion to the other nipple, applying a length of twine here as well.