Mistress Aura
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Once again, I offer a short story at the advice of Redscript and Embraceabl. There is no extreme tickling in this, just a brief interlude between a submissive and a top...and may I underscore that this is truly a work of pure fiction, jotted down in order to succeed victoriously in a personal gauntlet tossed at my feet by Redscript. (Listening, Redscript? 
)
My hope is that you find this tale enjoyable as I continue to fight my way through producing Part Two of "Of Course You Can" (Editor's Note: Part Two now finished and merged)... and my thanks in advance to all who take the time to read it.
Mistress Aura
_______________________________________
“Close your eyes, please.”
She looked at him in surprise as he closed the door to the room. “What? Why?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow slightly.
“No questions. Just do it, okay?” he replied, his face impassive save for the hint of a lopsided grin.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously for a moment, having learned just a bit more about what his different, subtle expressions revealed in the time they'd spent together. Finally, she shrugged and shut her eyes with an answering grin. She heard him move around the room for a moment, then felt something gently pressed into her palm. “Now?” she asked, closing her hand around it.
“Yes.”
Opening her eyes, she saw that he’d turned off the overhead lights, leaving only the one by the door and the one at bedside on, both on dimmer settings. Puzzled, she looked at the paper he’d put into her hand and her expression faded to one of dawning understanding laced with apprehension.
It was the coupon. The one she’d sent him on a whim over a year previously offering a night of submission, and the one she had been dreading ever since, praying in the flurry of her arriving for vacation and the passage of all that time, he’d have forgotten all about it.
He hadn’t.
“Okay, look,” she said, her sudden nervousness showing in her eyes, “if you’re really wanting to do this—”
“Shhhh,” he hushed her. “You knew this was going to happen. I told you often enough.”
“No, I didn’t,” she argued. “I think—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted again. “Don’t think now. You know you’re a woman of your word and a very good Mistress…” he grasped her upper arms and turned her to face him fully, “…but you’re not the Mistress right now. Not tonight.” He leaned just close enough to be within her personal space, holding her still and preventing her from leaning away from him. “Are you?” he murmured, keeping her eyes imprisoned with his.
Her back stiffened defiantly at the authority in his tone. “Fine, yes, I’ll honor it,” she retorted. “But seriously, I’m not going to—”
“Stop.” He gave her a small, swift shake, startling her to silence. “I won’t say this again. As of this moment, what you think or want only matters if I ask you. What you will and will not do is no longer for you to decide tonight. If you continue to show me this attitude, then be absolutely prepared to face the consequences.” He continued to hold her gaze unwaveringly, watching her flush slightly, until at last, she dropped her eyes from his. “Better,” he encouraged. He released one of her arms and smoothed his hand down the back of her head, along the silky length of her hair. “Now assume the position,” he ordered softly.
Her eyes widened and snapped back up to his. “Wh—what?!”
His fingers closed firmly on the hair at the nape of her neck, bringing a gasp of surprise from her. “You will regret making me continue to repeat myself.” He exerted steady downward pressure from his handful of her hair and said with quiet force, “Assume…the…position.”
She obeyed at last, lowering herself to her knees both to relieve the gentle but increasing pull at her hair as well as to hide the trembling she felt in those knees. Her heart began to pound more quickly as she automatically clasped her hands together behind her back and lowered her head out of years-long ingrained habit.
“That’s excellent,” he said. “Especially for such a naughty girl,” he then added, a note of sternness creeping into his tone. “You know better, don’t you?”
For a long moment, there was no reply. Then he heard her reply in a whisper, “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he pressed.
Another long moment of silence. She looked up at him, her lips parting wordlessly, her eyes pleading with him, but there was no mercy in his face. She quickly and instinctively lowered her head again. What he wanted was there, way down deep in there…but she couldn’t get it out. Not quite yet.
She continued to kneel in silence, her eyes squeezed tightly closed. Her mouth opened once, twice—but still no sound emerged. After a few more moments, she chanced a glance up at him only to find him staring down at her impassively, his arms folded across his chest. “Yes…what?” he pressed again. His left brow rose slightly, causing a tumult of emotions to churn inside her—frustration, irritation, vulnerability, anxiety…but underneath even that was the undeniable spark of excitement, the thrill rush, the memories of her time spent in this position and what followed.
She started as he reached down and grasped her upper arm, directing her to her feet. Without a word, he led her to the corner of the room, then placed his hand on the top of her head and pushed. Once again, she automatically assumed the appropriate position, but now facing into the corner as a child punished.
Her face flamed as he said, “I’m surprised at you. You led me to believe you were better-trained than this. Wasn’t it you who told me that in order to be a good dominant, you had to be a good submissive first? I expected more.” He paused. “You’ve never disappointed me before.”
She was shocked to feel the beginnings of tears well up in her eyes as he continued, “Since you can’t seem to be able to speak what you’ve been told to, then you don’t need to speak at all. You’ll stay right here and think about it. Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me and don’t you dare leave this corner until you decide you can behave as you know you’re supposed to.” With that, she heard him walk away from her and take a seat on the other side of the hotel room, leaving her to her thoughts.
She lowered her head until it rested against the corner’s walls. God, God, God, she thought, hating with a monumental passion all the feelings roiling inside her, even hating him for the moment. How could he do this to her? To her? How could he treat her this way, treat her like…
(like she promised he could, like he wanted, like she deserved…like she needed)
(NO!)
(Yes. Yes, please. I’m so sorry, sosorrysosorrypleasepleaseforgivemesir--)
She wiped away the few tears that had begun to spill down her cheeks and risked a glance over her shoulder. He was sitting in the chair near the bed, gazing out the plate glass window that showed a magnificent display of the ocean. She was struck immediately by the change that had come over him, the attitude of quiet dominance and almost regal posture he’d assumed in such a short time. Something about that quickened her pulse and set the small ember that had begun to burn in her core to a full flame.
She knew what to do.
She turned from the corner and, like a proper repentant, crawled slowly towards him, her head lowered. When she at last reached him, she dropped even lower and rested her forehead on his foot, waiting. After a moment, he said quietly, “Speak.”
She drew a trembling breath. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me… Sir.”
He let her wait again, then replied, “Perhaps. Eventually. We’ll see if you’re worthy of that. Now stand up.”
She hastened to obey, keeping her eyes averted. She was astonished at her reactions, the easy way she resumed what she thought she'd surely left behind forever. She barely withheld her gasp as he said, "Take off everything but your underclothes and stand beside the bed." God, no, no, not that! He knew, he knew how uncomfortable she was with herself! How could he? How could he??
(because he knows)
She covered her face with her hands for a brief moment, until he heard him exhale sharply; the sound galvanized her into action. She quickly did as he asked, feeling almost sick, yet slipping into the mindset of not daring to hesitate any further for fear of the retribution. She already knew what he was capable of—she'd heard him discuss it many times before and was truly fearful of anything she knew he would consider true punishment.
"I'm going to touch you. If you pull away, I'll restrain you. Do you understand?"
"Yes…sir." She kept her eyes tightly closed. He turned her to face the side of the bed, then placed his hand on her back. He directed her with his touch to bend forward and place her hands on the mattress, then used his foot to tap at her ankles and widen the space between her feet. At last she stood in yet another familiar position; she gritted her teeth, unconsciously anticipating the expected crack of the first stroke against her posterior as she'd endured so many times before.
Instead, she jumped imperceptibly as his hand ran gently down her back. He began to explore her skin, alternating between gently stroking her with his palms and raising goosebumps with his fingernails. She fought to stay motionless when his nails trailed down the backs of her legs, thankful that they stopped before reaching the overly-sensitive skin behind her knees, then rising on her tiptoes with a gasp as he drew them up her exposed inner thighs. He paused, then repeated the motion several times. She fought to hold still, clenching the bedspread in her fists.
But when those vicious hands then ran down her arms, she tensed. Not there, she begged him silently, please, not there! Yet she knew what he was going to do as well as what would happen. He ran the nails of both hands along the insanely hypersensitive skin of her inner forearms. She gave a soft shriek and pulled them away from his touch, unable to maintain her stoicism against an attack there.
He stopped immediately. "What was that?" he accused quietly. She began to stammer a reply, but he interrupted. "No excuses. You've disobeyed again. Get on the bed."
"But..." she tried to say again, but before she could continue, he lifted her off her feet and deposited her where he'd told her to be.
"What did I say?" he asked. "Didn't I tell you what would happen if you pulled away? And yet you still want to argue with me." He shook his head, the glint of determination in his eyes quickening her pulse even further. "Don't fight me anymore, little girl. Not unless you want the neighbors to call the police." As he swiftly began to bind her with the very restraints she'd used on him just a few hours previously, he added with a wicked half-grin, "Knowing how loud you are, they may do it anyway. But I suppose we'll deal with those things as they happen."
She lay still after he'd finished, her mouth dry with anxiety as he completed her incapacitation. She was spread wide across the bed, taut, more vulnerable than she'd been in more years than she could recall. He stood at the foot of the bed and surveyed her. Raising his eyebrow, he said, "Uh-oh. Now what?" Her eyes widened as he began to crawl panther-like up the bed toward her, then over her. "What's he going to do? Hmm?" he continued wickedly. He stopped when he was directly over her, his knees on either side of her hips, his eyes locked onto hers. "I'm going to drive you mad," he whispered sinisterly as he leaned forward until his nose almost touched hers. "It's your turn to beg for mercy...and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
He placed his fingers against her chin and turned her head to the side, then fastened his lips to the side of her neck. She whimpered as his mouth began to torment yet another hypersensitive area of hers, unable to pull away. Her back arched as his teeth gently worried the juncture at her neck and shoulder, then a small shriek escaped her as his nails once again began to stroke her fully-exposed and vulnerable forearm simultaneously. "Shhhh," he warned against her flesh, "It's too soon for all that. We just started."
"Please, don't do that!" she cried, trying in vain to shift her arm from under his assault. "I hate it! Please!"
"I know you do. If you'd been a good girl, I wouldn't have to." He pulled back from her neck and suddenly both her arms were under assault. She howled despite herself, becoming even more panicked as she fought to move away from his hands. "Shall I find the special places on your kneecaps instead?" he asked casually, chuckling at her attempts at evasion.
"No! God, no, please!” she begged. “Please!”
He sat back, still straddling her waist and appeared to think about it as he gazed down at her. Then with his index fingers, he reached forward to draw along the edge of her bra, across the tops of her breasts; he followed by tracing the patterns on the lace of her bra, teasing her already stiffened nipples through the material until her moans spilled out. He stopped to release the clasp between her breasts and the garment fell open, exposing her to his eyes. Again he began to tease her now-bared nipples steadily, never ceasing even as she began to twist from one side to the other in an attempt to gain a break from the maddening stimulation.
“You can’t get away,” he taunted, rolling them between thumbs and fingers. “Why are you even trying?”
“Enough! You’re killing me!” she ground out between clenched teeth. “It’s too much!” She heaved again, trying to move him away from her breasts, embarrassed by the overpowering surges of excitement he was creating. “Stop!! Damn it, you are going to pay for this, I swear to you…”
“Still trying to tell me what to do? And threatening me?” He shook his head in mock chagrin. “You really are a naughty little one, aren’t you?” He continued to torment her there for a moment longer, then paused. “You know, I have a better idea,” he said thoughtfully. “You need to be reminded just what it means to submit. You know how to make me do it, but I think you’ve forgotten what it’s really like to do it yourself.”
He leaned off to the side and retrieved something from the nightstand. She squeezed her eyes shut again, unable to hold back the trembling anymore. He was in control and he wasn’t giving in, wasn’t backing down—and now he had her convinced he could and would do far worse than she’d ever imagined if she continued to try and resist him.
She felt something tap her on the nose and her eyes flew open. Her mouth opened soundlessly as she saw what he had in his hand. The feather. Oh, God. The very one she’d mercilessly tortured him with earlier. Gratefully, she was relatively certain there were very few places on her own body that would create the kind of intense reaction she caused in him when she’d used it, but still…there were one or two that would drive her mad—if he remembered where they were.
She was wrong. There were many. She’d had no idea how sensitive she was to his explorations, her moans and cries bringing more and more wicked grins to his face as he trailed the feather along her flesh after he’d climbed off of her. He examined each rib, played hide-and-seek with her navel, wrote his name with flourish along the insides of both her thighs, flicked and tickled her nipples, traced along as much of her neck as he could reach, even made her cry out in agony again as he dragged it along the full length of her arms. He left no area of her exposed skin unexplored as she twitched and moaned; not her knees, her shins, the unbelievably sensitive tops of her feet and toes, along her soles…the only area he’d not touched was the one still covered by the panties she still wore.
She gasped as she felt him swiftly rip open one side of them. “Oh, no,” she whispered as he peeled the garment down and away, exposing her fully. “Please, please—I don’t think I can deal with that…” She couldn’t. Any vestige of control she had maintained throughout this night would be ripped from her if he used that thing on any part of her womanhood.
“Still refusing to willfully acknowledge me as top, eh?” he remarked, twirling the tip of the feather around her hipbones, then dragging it along the hairline. “You’ll deal with whatever I decide you will. You’re behaving so badly tonight. Let’s see if you’ll change your mind and be my good little girl when I do this.” He ran the feather’s edge directly up her center and she bowed upward, astonished at the razor sharp intensity. “Ohh, you do like that, don’t you?” he teased her, beginning to tickle every part of her there. “‘I can’t deal with it’,” he then mocked her teasingly, “yeah, right. The only thing you can’t deal with is me being in control.” He focused the feather’s tip on the point of her rising excitement, brushing back and forth for a few seconds until he elicited a squeal from her before returning to slow, steady exploration of her most private places.
She panted, trying desperately to direct her thoughts as the feather stroked her over and over. He was a vicious genius with it, the torment sporadic, bringing her closer to her finish then stopping, laughing softly as she arched herself toward his manipulations. "You're wet," he observed. "Look at you." One of his fingers dipped slightly into her, drawing out some of the moisture. "I'm not done yet...but think of what it's going to feel like if I decide to let you go over the edge and finish, hmm?"
She moaned frantically as he resumed his methodical torture, the feather drifting down to lazily play along her inner thighs, tracing the creases at her legs and groin, then sneaking back upwards to tickle along her opening until it again began to brush her swollen nub.
He stopped suddenly and waited. Her eyes, which had been squeezed tightly closed, sought out his and found him staring at her with an almost diabolical grin on his face. He held the feather up away from her, leaned forward and asked, "Who do you belong to?"
Oh, no! she thought. How many times had she demanded an answer of him to that very question? Her pause was too long, and the tip of his feather once again played along her, circling her excitement without touching it, driving her faster down the road of insanity. At last, she cried out, "You! I belong to you! Sir!"
"Mm-hm, that's right, you do." He stopped again and leaned forward, his grin impossibly growing even more wicked. "Now say it in my language."
She gaped at him, thoroughly taken aback and panicked at his demand. “I—I can’t!” she finally responded frantically.
“Oh, come now. You’ve made me say it enough times, you should know it by heart,” he retorted, then began to sweep the feather slowly up and down between her open legs, never quite touching the area he knew she so urgently wanted. “Go ahead. Try it.”
She racked her brains but could only recall the first part. “Pre…prepi...oh, God, I don’t remember! Please!” she burst out, writhing as uncontrollably as her bonds would allow.
“Pripadam tebi.” He brushed over her throbbing button slowly, bringing her closer and closer, then stopped again. “Try again.”
“Pripit...”
“No. You’re not listening, little girl.” He said it again and she fought to concentrate, but that feather was driving her past distraction. He stopped each time she attempted to say the phrase, then began anew when she got it wrong. She repeated it again and again when he demanded it, but still he shook his head every time. On and on for several minutes, each time her pronunciation not quite meeting his satisfaction and her slow agonizing torment continuing.
Finally, he sighed and said with a chuckle, "Poor little American girl. You always amuse me like this. It’s still not right but you’ll learn.” He ran his fingers across the inside of her thighs while his feather searched out more of her sensitivities. “I suppose we can continue your language lesson later."
She felt as though her entire body was going to explode and at that moment, she knew with a curious combination of horror and peace that she had fully reverted to purely submissive. “Oh, God..! No more…please, please, no more!” she wailed. She rocked her head on the pillow. “Mercy, sir! Please, sir, please have mercy on me!”
“Indeed. Did I just hear you beg for mercy?” he repeated questioningly. She nodded, her face an ultimate mask of pain and pleasure combined. “Should I?” He suddenly focused full attention and contact on that single area and she nearly wept as she cried out in ecstasy. “Yes, I think maybe I should. Finally…what a good girl you’ve become from such a naughty girl before,” he continued as her hips began to thrust upwards. “I knew there really was an obedient little girl in there somewhere…and now--” He reached forward and captured one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger, tweaking and rolling it, “—now I’m going to make you come harder than you ever have in your life.” With that, he also concentrated the feather’s stimulation on the swollen tip between her legs. Within a few more moments, the joint actions of his attentions to both places escalated her resultant moans to cries and finally reverberating as shrieks when her long-awaited climax shattered her.
He slowly unbound her as she regained her breath, then lay down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Volim te,” he whispered in her ear, holding her closely. “Sleep now. But you do need to remember…” he kissed her temple as she turned and snuggled into the warmth and comfort of his chest, “…I still have the three other coupons…”
Her eyes flew open in horror and she stiffened as he laughed evilly, then groaned as he began to relate more of the things she was going to do—willingly or not…
)My hope is that you find this tale enjoyable as I continue to fight my way through producing Part Two of "Of Course You Can" (Editor's Note: Part Two now finished and merged)... and my thanks in advance to all who take the time to read it.
Mistress Aura
_______________________________________
“Close your eyes, please.”
She looked at him in surprise as he closed the door to the room. “What? Why?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow slightly.
“No questions. Just do it, okay?” he replied, his face impassive save for the hint of a lopsided grin.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously for a moment, having learned just a bit more about what his different, subtle expressions revealed in the time they'd spent together. Finally, she shrugged and shut her eyes with an answering grin. She heard him move around the room for a moment, then felt something gently pressed into her palm. “Now?” she asked, closing her hand around it.
“Yes.”
Opening her eyes, she saw that he’d turned off the overhead lights, leaving only the one by the door and the one at bedside on, both on dimmer settings. Puzzled, she looked at the paper he’d put into her hand and her expression faded to one of dawning understanding laced with apprehension.
It was the coupon. The one she’d sent him on a whim over a year previously offering a night of submission, and the one she had been dreading ever since, praying in the flurry of her arriving for vacation and the passage of all that time, he’d have forgotten all about it.
He hadn’t.
“Okay, look,” she said, her sudden nervousness showing in her eyes, “if you’re really wanting to do this—”
“Shhhh,” he hushed her. “You knew this was going to happen. I told you often enough.”
“No, I didn’t,” she argued. “I think—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted again. “Don’t think now. You know you’re a woman of your word and a very good Mistress…” he grasped her upper arms and turned her to face him fully, “…but you’re not the Mistress right now. Not tonight.” He leaned just close enough to be within her personal space, holding her still and preventing her from leaning away from him. “Are you?” he murmured, keeping her eyes imprisoned with his.
Her back stiffened defiantly at the authority in his tone. “Fine, yes, I’ll honor it,” she retorted. “But seriously, I’m not going to—”
“Stop.” He gave her a small, swift shake, startling her to silence. “I won’t say this again. As of this moment, what you think or want only matters if I ask you. What you will and will not do is no longer for you to decide tonight. If you continue to show me this attitude, then be absolutely prepared to face the consequences.” He continued to hold her gaze unwaveringly, watching her flush slightly, until at last, she dropped her eyes from his. “Better,” he encouraged. He released one of her arms and smoothed his hand down the back of her head, along the silky length of her hair. “Now assume the position,” he ordered softly.
Her eyes widened and snapped back up to his. “Wh—what?!”
His fingers closed firmly on the hair at the nape of her neck, bringing a gasp of surprise from her. “You will regret making me continue to repeat myself.” He exerted steady downward pressure from his handful of her hair and said with quiet force, “Assume…the…position.”
She obeyed at last, lowering herself to her knees both to relieve the gentle but increasing pull at her hair as well as to hide the trembling she felt in those knees. Her heart began to pound more quickly as she automatically clasped her hands together behind her back and lowered her head out of years-long ingrained habit.
“That’s excellent,” he said. “Especially for such a naughty girl,” he then added, a note of sternness creeping into his tone. “You know better, don’t you?”
For a long moment, there was no reply. Then he heard her reply in a whisper, “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he pressed.
Another long moment of silence. She looked up at him, her lips parting wordlessly, her eyes pleading with him, but there was no mercy in his face. She quickly and instinctively lowered her head again. What he wanted was there, way down deep in there…but she couldn’t get it out. Not quite yet.
She continued to kneel in silence, her eyes squeezed tightly closed. Her mouth opened once, twice—but still no sound emerged. After a few more moments, she chanced a glance up at him only to find him staring down at her impassively, his arms folded across his chest. “Yes…what?” he pressed again. His left brow rose slightly, causing a tumult of emotions to churn inside her—frustration, irritation, vulnerability, anxiety…but underneath even that was the undeniable spark of excitement, the thrill rush, the memories of her time spent in this position and what followed.
She started as he reached down and grasped her upper arm, directing her to her feet. Without a word, he led her to the corner of the room, then placed his hand on the top of her head and pushed. Once again, she automatically assumed the appropriate position, but now facing into the corner as a child punished.
Her face flamed as he said, “I’m surprised at you. You led me to believe you were better-trained than this. Wasn’t it you who told me that in order to be a good dominant, you had to be a good submissive first? I expected more.” He paused. “You’ve never disappointed me before.”
She was shocked to feel the beginnings of tears well up in her eyes as he continued, “Since you can’t seem to be able to speak what you’ve been told to, then you don’t need to speak at all. You’ll stay right here and think about it. Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me and don’t you dare leave this corner until you decide you can behave as you know you’re supposed to.” With that, she heard him walk away from her and take a seat on the other side of the hotel room, leaving her to her thoughts.
She lowered her head until it rested against the corner’s walls. God, God, God, she thought, hating with a monumental passion all the feelings roiling inside her, even hating him for the moment. How could he do this to her? To her? How could he treat her this way, treat her like…
(like she promised he could, like he wanted, like she deserved…like she needed)
(NO!)
(Yes. Yes, please. I’m so sorry, sosorrysosorrypleasepleaseforgivemesir--)
She wiped away the few tears that had begun to spill down her cheeks and risked a glance over her shoulder. He was sitting in the chair near the bed, gazing out the plate glass window that showed a magnificent display of the ocean. She was struck immediately by the change that had come over him, the attitude of quiet dominance and almost regal posture he’d assumed in such a short time. Something about that quickened her pulse and set the small ember that had begun to burn in her core to a full flame.
She knew what to do.
She turned from the corner and, like a proper repentant, crawled slowly towards him, her head lowered. When she at last reached him, she dropped even lower and rested her forehead on his foot, waiting. After a moment, he said quietly, “Speak.”
She drew a trembling breath. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me… Sir.”
He let her wait again, then replied, “Perhaps. Eventually. We’ll see if you’re worthy of that. Now stand up.”
She hastened to obey, keeping her eyes averted. She was astonished at her reactions, the easy way she resumed what she thought she'd surely left behind forever. She barely withheld her gasp as he said, "Take off everything but your underclothes and stand beside the bed." God, no, no, not that! He knew, he knew how uncomfortable she was with herself! How could he? How could he??
(because he knows)
She covered her face with her hands for a brief moment, until he heard him exhale sharply; the sound galvanized her into action. She quickly did as he asked, feeling almost sick, yet slipping into the mindset of not daring to hesitate any further for fear of the retribution. She already knew what he was capable of—she'd heard him discuss it many times before and was truly fearful of anything she knew he would consider true punishment.
"I'm going to touch you. If you pull away, I'll restrain you. Do you understand?"
"Yes…sir." She kept her eyes tightly closed. He turned her to face the side of the bed, then placed his hand on her back. He directed her with his touch to bend forward and place her hands on the mattress, then used his foot to tap at her ankles and widen the space between her feet. At last she stood in yet another familiar position; she gritted her teeth, unconsciously anticipating the expected crack of the first stroke against her posterior as she'd endured so many times before.
Instead, she jumped imperceptibly as his hand ran gently down her back. He began to explore her skin, alternating between gently stroking her with his palms and raising goosebumps with his fingernails. She fought to stay motionless when his nails trailed down the backs of her legs, thankful that they stopped before reaching the overly-sensitive skin behind her knees, then rising on her tiptoes with a gasp as he drew them up her exposed inner thighs. He paused, then repeated the motion several times. She fought to hold still, clenching the bedspread in her fists.
But when those vicious hands then ran down her arms, she tensed. Not there, she begged him silently, please, not there! Yet she knew what he was going to do as well as what would happen. He ran the nails of both hands along the insanely hypersensitive skin of her inner forearms. She gave a soft shriek and pulled them away from his touch, unable to maintain her stoicism against an attack there.
He stopped immediately. "What was that?" he accused quietly. She began to stammer a reply, but he interrupted. "No excuses. You've disobeyed again. Get on the bed."
"But..." she tried to say again, but before she could continue, he lifted her off her feet and deposited her where he'd told her to be.
"What did I say?" he asked. "Didn't I tell you what would happen if you pulled away? And yet you still want to argue with me." He shook his head, the glint of determination in his eyes quickening her pulse even further. "Don't fight me anymore, little girl. Not unless you want the neighbors to call the police." As he swiftly began to bind her with the very restraints she'd used on him just a few hours previously, he added with a wicked half-grin, "Knowing how loud you are, they may do it anyway. But I suppose we'll deal with those things as they happen."
She lay still after he'd finished, her mouth dry with anxiety as he completed her incapacitation. She was spread wide across the bed, taut, more vulnerable than she'd been in more years than she could recall. He stood at the foot of the bed and surveyed her. Raising his eyebrow, he said, "Uh-oh. Now what?" Her eyes widened as he began to crawl panther-like up the bed toward her, then over her. "What's he going to do? Hmm?" he continued wickedly. He stopped when he was directly over her, his knees on either side of her hips, his eyes locked onto hers. "I'm going to drive you mad," he whispered sinisterly as he leaned forward until his nose almost touched hers. "It's your turn to beg for mercy...and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
He placed his fingers against her chin and turned her head to the side, then fastened his lips to the side of her neck. She whimpered as his mouth began to torment yet another hypersensitive area of hers, unable to pull away. Her back arched as his teeth gently worried the juncture at her neck and shoulder, then a small shriek escaped her as his nails once again began to stroke her fully-exposed and vulnerable forearm simultaneously. "Shhhh," he warned against her flesh, "It's too soon for all that. We just started."
"Please, don't do that!" she cried, trying in vain to shift her arm from under his assault. "I hate it! Please!"
"I know you do. If you'd been a good girl, I wouldn't have to." He pulled back from her neck and suddenly both her arms were under assault. She howled despite herself, becoming even more panicked as she fought to move away from his hands. "Shall I find the special places on your kneecaps instead?" he asked casually, chuckling at her attempts at evasion.
"No! God, no, please!” she begged. “Please!”
He sat back, still straddling her waist and appeared to think about it as he gazed down at her. Then with his index fingers, he reached forward to draw along the edge of her bra, across the tops of her breasts; he followed by tracing the patterns on the lace of her bra, teasing her already stiffened nipples through the material until her moans spilled out. He stopped to release the clasp between her breasts and the garment fell open, exposing her to his eyes. Again he began to tease her now-bared nipples steadily, never ceasing even as she began to twist from one side to the other in an attempt to gain a break from the maddening stimulation.
“You can’t get away,” he taunted, rolling them between thumbs and fingers. “Why are you even trying?”
“Enough! You’re killing me!” she ground out between clenched teeth. “It’s too much!” She heaved again, trying to move him away from her breasts, embarrassed by the overpowering surges of excitement he was creating. “Stop!! Damn it, you are going to pay for this, I swear to you…”
“Still trying to tell me what to do? And threatening me?” He shook his head in mock chagrin. “You really are a naughty little one, aren’t you?” He continued to torment her there for a moment longer, then paused. “You know, I have a better idea,” he said thoughtfully. “You need to be reminded just what it means to submit. You know how to make me do it, but I think you’ve forgotten what it’s really like to do it yourself.”
He leaned off to the side and retrieved something from the nightstand. She squeezed her eyes shut again, unable to hold back the trembling anymore. He was in control and he wasn’t giving in, wasn’t backing down—and now he had her convinced he could and would do far worse than she’d ever imagined if she continued to try and resist him.
She felt something tap her on the nose and her eyes flew open. Her mouth opened soundlessly as she saw what he had in his hand. The feather. Oh, God. The very one she’d mercilessly tortured him with earlier. Gratefully, she was relatively certain there were very few places on her own body that would create the kind of intense reaction she caused in him when she’d used it, but still…there were one or two that would drive her mad—if he remembered where they were.
She was wrong. There were many. She’d had no idea how sensitive she was to his explorations, her moans and cries bringing more and more wicked grins to his face as he trailed the feather along her flesh after he’d climbed off of her. He examined each rib, played hide-and-seek with her navel, wrote his name with flourish along the insides of both her thighs, flicked and tickled her nipples, traced along as much of her neck as he could reach, even made her cry out in agony again as he dragged it along the full length of her arms. He left no area of her exposed skin unexplored as she twitched and moaned; not her knees, her shins, the unbelievably sensitive tops of her feet and toes, along her soles…the only area he’d not touched was the one still covered by the panties she still wore.
She gasped as she felt him swiftly rip open one side of them. “Oh, no,” she whispered as he peeled the garment down and away, exposing her fully. “Please, please—I don’t think I can deal with that…” She couldn’t. Any vestige of control she had maintained throughout this night would be ripped from her if he used that thing on any part of her womanhood.
“Still refusing to willfully acknowledge me as top, eh?” he remarked, twirling the tip of the feather around her hipbones, then dragging it along the hairline. “You’ll deal with whatever I decide you will. You’re behaving so badly tonight. Let’s see if you’ll change your mind and be my good little girl when I do this.” He ran the feather’s edge directly up her center and she bowed upward, astonished at the razor sharp intensity. “Ohh, you do like that, don’t you?” he teased her, beginning to tickle every part of her there. “‘I can’t deal with it’,” he then mocked her teasingly, “yeah, right. The only thing you can’t deal with is me being in control.” He focused the feather’s tip on the point of her rising excitement, brushing back and forth for a few seconds until he elicited a squeal from her before returning to slow, steady exploration of her most private places.
She panted, trying desperately to direct her thoughts as the feather stroked her over and over. He was a vicious genius with it, the torment sporadic, bringing her closer to her finish then stopping, laughing softly as she arched herself toward his manipulations. "You're wet," he observed. "Look at you." One of his fingers dipped slightly into her, drawing out some of the moisture. "I'm not done yet...but think of what it's going to feel like if I decide to let you go over the edge and finish, hmm?"
She moaned frantically as he resumed his methodical torture, the feather drifting down to lazily play along her inner thighs, tracing the creases at her legs and groin, then sneaking back upwards to tickle along her opening until it again began to brush her swollen nub.
He stopped suddenly and waited. Her eyes, which had been squeezed tightly closed, sought out his and found him staring at her with an almost diabolical grin on his face. He held the feather up away from her, leaned forward and asked, "Who do you belong to?"
Oh, no! she thought. How many times had she demanded an answer of him to that very question? Her pause was too long, and the tip of his feather once again played along her, circling her excitement without touching it, driving her faster down the road of insanity. At last, she cried out, "You! I belong to you! Sir!"
"Mm-hm, that's right, you do." He stopped again and leaned forward, his grin impossibly growing even more wicked. "Now say it in my language."
She gaped at him, thoroughly taken aback and panicked at his demand. “I—I can’t!” she finally responded frantically.
“Oh, come now. You’ve made me say it enough times, you should know it by heart,” he retorted, then began to sweep the feather slowly up and down between her open legs, never quite touching the area he knew she so urgently wanted. “Go ahead. Try it.”
She racked her brains but could only recall the first part. “Pre…prepi...oh, God, I don’t remember! Please!” she burst out, writhing as uncontrollably as her bonds would allow.
“Pripadam tebi.” He brushed over her throbbing button slowly, bringing her closer and closer, then stopped again. “Try again.”
“Pripit...”
“No. You’re not listening, little girl.” He said it again and she fought to concentrate, but that feather was driving her past distraction. He stopped each time she attempted to say the phrase, then began anew when she got it wrong. She repeated it again and again when he demanded it, but still he shook his head every time. On and on for several minutes, each time her pronunciation not quite meeting his satisfaction and her slow agonizing torment continuing.
Finally, he sighed and said with a chuckle, "Poor little American girl. You always amuse me like this. It’s still not right but you’ll learn.” He ran his fingers across the inside of her thighs while his feather searched out more of her sensitivities. “I suppose we can continue your language lesson later."
She felt as though her entire body was going to explode and at that moment, she knew with a curious combination of horror and peace that she had fully reverted to purely submissive. “Oh, God..! No more…please, please, no more!” she wailed. She rocked her head on the pillow. “Mercy, sir! Please, sir, please have mercy on me!”
“Indeed. Did I just hear you beg for mercy?” he repeated questioningly. She nodded, her face an ultimate mask of pain and pleasure combined. “Should I?” He suddenly focused full attention and contact on that single area and she nearly wept as she cried out in ecstasy. “Yes, I think maybe I should. Finally…what a good girl you’ve become from such a naughty girl before,” he continued as her hips began to thrust upwards. “I knew there really was an obedient little girl in there somewhere…and now--” He reached forward and captured one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger, tweaking and rolling it, “—now I’m going to make you come harder than you ever have in your life.” With that, he also concentrated the feather’s stimulation on the swollen tip between her legs. Within a few more moments, the joint actions of his attentions to both places escalated her resultant moans to cries and finally reverberating as shrieks when her long-awaited climax shattered her.
He slowly unbound her as she regained her breath, then lay down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Volim te,” he whispered in her ear, holding her closely. “Sleep now. But you do need to remember…” he kissed her temple as she turned and snuggled into the warmth and comfort of his chest, “…I still have the three other coupons…”
Her eyes flew open in horror and she stiffened as he laughed evilly, then groaned as he began to relate more of the things she was going to do—willingly or not…
FINIS
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Aura, I am so happy you did this. I love this story. 
You had a reward coming, anyway...and if it weren't for you, this fictional story never even would have been written--so once again, my pet, I must thank you for your original challenge as well as your sweet words here. You remain my solid inspiration! (Remember, hard drives can and do fail occasionally, so don't get so cocky, either. 
LOL )
LOL). "End of Times" must never come true and "Window Shopping" progresses into fairy tale realm, I think. No such place as Lady Moriah's exists that I know of. 
