He stood in the shadow of the trees looking up into her bedroom. She had stood in that window, framed by the soft light behind her. He had watched her removing her tee-shirt, his cock tightening as it slipped up to reveal two large, meaty tits. Gods how he loved a woman with big tits. It wasn’t the most important thing, but it was right up there.
When she started playing with that long mane of hair, he thought his cock would tear through his zipper, and lead him like a dousing rod, straight to her pussy. He imagined her face as he walked in, being pulled by the invisible force of her cunt on his cock. He imagined his own face. He wiped a hand across his eyes. He had to have her. He knew she was frightened, she’d opened enough at last to tell him, in stuttering bits and pieces, of her past relationship.
He watched her move away, and finally the light went off. He gave her more time to drop into sleep, before he climbed the steps that led from the backyard, upwards to the little balcony under her window. He adjusted the backpack he carried over one shoulder, before easing open the screen. He slipped inside.
She was sprawled across the bed, lost in slumber. Perfect. She had mentioned the four-poster bed, an antique from her grandparents estate. The heavily carved walnut posts would hold through anything, he surmised. Quietly he secured a length of black silk rope to each post, then, gag in hand, he slid onto the bed, and sat on her stomach.
With a gasp she opened her eyes. Wa…. was all she got out before a ball gag was pushed, firmly but gently into her mouth. She tried pulling his hands away, but he whispered
“hush, hush, little one” and she knew the voice. She froze, no longer resisting, but neither accepting him. It was shock, pure and simple that held her steady as he looped one length of cord around her wrist. Over and around her slenderness, tightening the cord enough that the marks would be visible later, reminding her of his nocturnal visit. He took her other wrist, and wrapped it the same.
Sliding down her body, he leaned forward and lapped at one nipple. It rose quickly and he heard her faint indrawn breath catch, holding. He felt the tension in her, but sensed her need. He bit her. Sucking the hardening nipple into the warm darkness of his mouth, he sucked it hard, laving it with his tongue, while holding it captive between his teeth. He felt her struggle to remain still, but his hand over her heart knew the full truth. He felt the trip-hammer beat under his palm. His lips curved around her nipple.
Releasing her flesh, he slid off of her and began winding the silk rope around her ankle. The dark rope was nearly invisible in the dark room, but set against her pale skin it was a beautiful contrast. Once she was fully tied, he left the bed and began to tighten each cord around the bedpost.
She was spread-eagled on her grandparents bed. He had pulled her so tightly she could not move. She was open to him. He had taken the initiative, had somehow thought she would be receptive to him. How she wished she could prove him wrong. Spit invective at him. But the animal that lay dormant beneath her smooth skin had erupted at his demands, and she was heating.
He moved around the bed, talking softly to her. Telling her how beautiful she was, tied by his hand, wrapped in his rope, a symbol of his deep desire. How giving herself to him, now was a gift for them both. He ran his hand up her thigh, the goosebumps following in its wake. He stopped just shy of her pussy, but he felt the heat pumping from there. He smelled her need, felt her need, but craved her final submission.
He removed the gag.
“Say “no”.” He said.
“Say no, and you will be released, and I will not bother you again, sweet slut.”
“Say yes, little fuck toy, and I will be your guide out of the darkness that you have wrapped around yourself. I will show you the incredible lightness of being owned by one who will cherish your service, and the gift of your submission.”
He left her then, closing the door to her bedroom softly. She faintly heard his steps on the stairs, then nothing but the soft sigh of wind in the trees, the trickling tinkle of the brook, and the hummm of the night.
She pulled at her bonds, her arms pulled so widely apart. Strong from all her physical work, it was, nonetheless, a stressful position after a while. Stretching to pull one shoulder then the other, she eased the tension in her upper body. A breeze blew into the room, and her nipples rose. The one still ached from his teeth, and she felt her pussy flush with heat, remembering.
Straining, she tried to move her hips, but only her ass moved, up and down on the mattress. He certainly knew his bondage. The silk cord was soft on her flesh, yet so tight. Pins and needles tingled in hands and feet. Her breath was shallow, her heart racing. She lusted.
He controlled her. He was smooth, no doubt. His hands on her had been sure and steady, but she had felt his cock against her hip as he’d eased off of her. She wanted it. Thirsted for a cock in her mouth, thirsted for him to bury himself inside of her.
The worry was being vanquished by her need. Seven months without sex had taken a toll, yet, six weeks of kindness, of shared intimacies on internet and phone had broken through the barriers she’d put around herself.
He slipped into the room again, so quiet he could have been a shadow.
“Yes” she whispered into the darkness, then again, louder…
Snapping on the light beside her bed, he looked down at her. She saw him, a wine glass in his hand.
“A toast then, little one, to new beginnings, and to coming out of the darkness.”
He tipped the glass, spilling wine onto her breasts, her belly, and began to drink.