Another Evening

She immediately recognised the brown envelope in the mailbox. It was the same type he used to send. Half curious, half irritated, she opened and read. What's this nonsense! The letter was short, almost commanding. "Enclosed are three tasks of varying level of difficulty. Select one, return the others” was the short message. The envelopes were marked "easy", "medium" and "difficult". She did not hesitate but instantly picked the one containing the difficult task. It was so long now. Some time ago she had been used to such games, almost to the point that the thrill got lost. 

But that was long ago. A long hot summer had made her forget all demanding tasks, exam stress and love hassles. Back in the city, she felt a bit empty. Not that she wanted to reinstate the relationship, but somewhere she lacked the temptation. That was the curse of her looks. The boys never offered any resistance. After the first exciting physical sensations had blown over, little remained. She needed someone to master her, someone that would set the limits; otherwise she just went bitchy in search of the boundaries.  She found this balance in the demanding games with him. At times even too much, since she sometimes had felt like a toy.

It took a while before she opened the envelope with the task. Occasionally glancing at it with a mixed feeling of curiosity and disgust. Should she, or would it be best to return it with a short "please do not disturb"?

In the evening, after a glass of wine, she took it with her to bed. She had taken her time in the shower, shaved her legs and dressed in her fine champagne coloured silk pyjamas. Somehow it felt like she was dressing up for a party, although she was only going to bed. Nervously and slightly trembling she opened the brown envelope. The task was bizarre and totally impossible. Did he believe that she’d accept such follies! To give herself away like that. It was true that he had got her to proudly pose nude among unknown tourists, to go to a club in a semi transparent dress wearing no underwear, to enjoy being photographed from all angles, or to take an unknown man to a restaurant. Nothing of this she would have accepted beforehand, but afterwards she’d seen those as exciting, stimulating and developing experiences. Even the occasion that left her with marks on her behind was positive in retrospective. But this...

Just the co-ordinates were strange. No dinner mentioned, no dresscode. "Norfolk studios, Wednesday at 21.00. Pick key up in reception. Await further instructions". Wednesday was anyhow several days away and she could always return home if she found it too strange. She put the letter on the bedside table and turned off the light. Sleep she thought, but her body was restless. Her thoughts went in strange loops and she could certainly not find the peace for sleeping. “Merde!” he was getting back under her skin. She had been so free for a while, so free and unconcerned. At the same time she knew all too well that such a life was not for her. She needed the spice. Resisting it, but dependent as from a drug. That was nothing a young man could manage. Such things required more experience. Her hand wandered under her pyjamas, the orgasm was short, but brought peace and soon she was swept in the veils of sleep.

Next morning, only the empty glass and the letter reminded her that it all had not been a dream. It could have been a dream, since it was so distant and so unrealistic. She carried the expectation within her like a secret, but remained confused by his certainty of command. Why should he just presume she would accept? She wondered what the other tasks would have been. Did he do the same as the first time, when she was ordered to dine with Juha and got three envelopes handed over. Then she had also selected the one marked "difficult'. Excited she read the task, which comprised the instruction to go to the ladies and remove her underwear. That she liked. It was thrillingly challenging without being too revealing, although the dress she wore was short, so short. Then she had followed the instructions to the point and afterwards returned the envelope containing the two unopened tasks plus her knickers. Afterwards he told her that all three tasks had been identical, he just wanted to test her courage and had been very satisfied with her choice. Was it similar his time?

Wednesday arrived. The tension rose, despite her attempt to push thoughts away by arranging small practical tasks. Strange there were no instructions for clothing? He used to excel in detailing each item of clothing, each piece of jewellery, something she found pleasures stretching. Certainly she was not his marionette! She prepared herself a light meal and thought about what to wear. He would presumably have suggested something short with high heels, to show her long slender legs. He would not have allowed for underwear either, since he loved to challenge her to a state of naughty excitement that she would feel when being exposed among strangers. Consequently she should have worn jeans and sneakers, just for the revolt. But if you would be going anywhere to eat, it might not fit. After some thoughts, she settled for a black suit with a body top. Female, but not too revealing. As if dressed for a job interview, neutral and suitable.

The receptionist just handed over a key, as she mentioned his name.  On the ring was a small disk with the number 206 engraved. The corridor was sparsely lit and the scent of carpet cleaner and some vague flowery perfume made the atmosphere sober and elegant. A place designed for secret meetings. The door, which felt solid and heavy, opened easily to a room radiating an expensive warm tint. A cooler with a bottle resided on a sideboard and an envelope lent against a single champagne glass. It was only her first name, but she immediately recognised his handwriting.

When taking off her jacket, she felt a strange mix of pleasure and fear, like when caught in an exciting book that is too thrilling to put aside, but where you would fear the ending not being pleasant. The bottle was a good Champagne vintage, but why only half a bottle and why just one glass? He could not mean for her to sit here all alone? She poured a glass, sipped the bubbles and opened the envelope. The instructions were short. "Undress, open the top drawer where you will find a blindfold, a Walkman and two sets of handcuffs. Fit a handcuff on each wrist, lay down on the bed, turn on the Walkman and lock a handcuff to each bedpost". What was this? Should she just commit herself like that without knowing what might happen. However, he had never insulted her and always respected her ‘no’, so she might not be entirely without control. But this was on the limit!

Having another glass of Champagne she felt her hands trembling as the bubbles rose on the rim. Her body was heated and the juices flowed. Certainly she could just leave right now, but that would mean another sleepless night so, half consciously, she at least decided to try. Swiftly she stripped, felt a cold shiver as she saw the shiny metal of the handcuffs.  Trying the left wrist, she was surprised to find how easily it joined close to her fragile arm. She took the stereo and entered the bed. If anyone saw her now! This was the utmost perversity. 

Fitting the headset and the blindfold she tried localising the bedposts. The first was easy, since she had an arm free, but what about the other? But the clove had a chain, which meant she could hold it with her hand. Click, it was there and she realised she was captured. What if he did not come? What if no-one came and she would be found tomorrow by the cleaning lady. Maybe he would send a complete stranger, or a crowd. He had sold tickets for her gang bang! She tried to work out how to open those cuffs, but her fingers only found a keyhole. She was caught.

Naively she had closed the trap around her. Just as her panic started to build the music filled her head. She had just assumed that it would be Billie Holiday as customary, that the sounds almost shocked her. Harmonies. Pleasant, but full of sounds of nature. Seagulls flew over her, waves breaking against the shore, the whisper of wind. Time disappeared, there was only darkness and she floated submerged in this strange music.

No feeling for how long it had been, when a faint tickle reached her. Like the wind blowing over her naked body. A caress, so light that it was hardly felt. A feather or a hand, or many hands? She was slowly touched in soft caresses, which gradually became more and more real. Was it him, was he alone? It did not really matter. She was bound and enclosed in darkness and sound and there was nothing she could do. She tried to speak, but hardly could hear her own voice and heard no reply. The blindfold deprived her of vision, but she realised that it at the same time partly hid her identity. Nobody that did not know her well would recognise her. Anonymous she was encompassed in a cocoon of pleasure. 

The caresses became more and more sensuous. She felt the contact of skin and the scent of man. Her nipples hardened, her heartbeat rose and she unconsciously parted her legs. A finger trailed her lips, followed the cheek to her erect breasts, and drove sensations along the abdomen to the hot sensitivity of her vulva. Electrified by each stroke, each kiss on her toes, earlobes, armpits. He kissed, almost bit her nipples, his tongue tickled her navel, slowly and softly swept her swollen clit, which made her moan in pleasure and arch her body towards him. The first orgasm came quietly emerging behind the overwhelming sound of breaking waves. 

He continued treating her like a fragile china doll. She raised her legs and his tongue entered her while his strong hands caressed her arms and breast. Now he was licking her anus, she tried to pull back but his arms held her. It was forbidden, but oh so pleasant. A finger entered her grotto and circling brought tingling sensations while the tongue continued its venture at her forbidden zones. More fingers entered until she was filled to the level of hurting and her clit was sucked between his lips. Again she came, this time much more intense. She tried breaking away, but remained tied and had to capitulate. Suddenly she felt his manhood at her mouth and she nibbled the swollen head. He was big and he was evidently aroused. Her mouth was overfilled and she drew pleasures from this unreal reality. Now she felt more hands. 

My God, was there more than one! When he finally entered she felt like the wooing cries of her longing grotto had finally been heard. Slowly he moved within her while she was continuously caressed and kissed. She no longer remembers what happened, so unreal and dreamlike was the experience. A finger touched her anus. She stopped resisting and just floated on the waves of pleasure. Orgasms followed upon orgasms and she lost sense of time. He entered in her behind while fingers played hide and seek in her velvet grotto. Did she remember correctly that she simultaneously was entered in both openings, if so they must have been at least two, but now it did no longer matter. Afterwards they remained in a pulsating pile of lust, skin and sweat. Someone lifted her head and offered more Champagne. She fell asleep from sensations and pleasure. 

When awaking all traces were gone. She was in a foreign bed, but no longer bound. No glasses, no traces, her clothes were neatly hang over the chair and a morning gown rested on the bedside. Perfume of lovemaking lingered in the air and her body was heavy from pleasure. Slowly she got up, put on the gown, checked that the door was locked and went to the bathroom. After a long hot bath, she dressed, left the key at the reception and headed for home.

Was it like that, or was it only a dream?

16/12/01