Working Away, Part 1 of 2, By RopeBinder (BDSM, Mf)

Part I…Lunch at the Versailles Room

It was a busy week, a busy workweek, yet he'd set time aside to meet her.  Now
back at his office, a million things to do, he sat, thinking...daydreaming.
He should have been concentrating on something else, but his attention
wavered.  Images flashed before him, her smile when they first met, black
knee-highs gripping her lower thighs, her expression as he playfully grabbed a
chunk of her hair.  It was no use.  He worked halfheartedly.

Their time had been brief, two hours to be exact.  Halfway through lunch, rain
attacked the window behind them.  What did it mean?  Death in fiction, but not
this time.  It meant something else.  He wasn't sure.  Conversation was
pleasant, tight yet easy, passing over subjects uncommon with the lunch crowd.
They talked, at times nervous of eavesdropping ears and at other times not
caring.  Her smile came easily.  Her gestures told him what she wanted, what
she was hoping he'd see, but unfamiliarity kept them distant.  This would take
time.

Their goodbye was cute and uncomfortable.  She tried to duck out, but he
called her back, wanting another look at her tiny frame dressed in black.
They smiled, embraced and pecked each other, destiny unknown.

Sliding into her leather car seat, he challenged, "Raise your skirt."

She smiled sassily, "No."

He smiled again.  He expected her to fight.  That was her nature, a fighter,
5'2" of feisty determination.  Perhaps she thought he didn't understand.  He
was difficult to read.  He was mysterious.  They would be marvelous together.

The next day, he picked up the phone and asked her to meet him.  She didn't
know why she agreed.  She needed time to think, but she was drawn.  A magnet
pulled her.  Two hours later, they stood toe-to-toe.

"You want to fight with me, don't you?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied, taken by surprise.

"You know exactly what I mean," he countered, "You want me to take you, to
brandish my desire for you."

"I'm not sure," she admitted, "I'm still uneasy about things, our common
ground, your needs."

"Nonsense," he quipped, "only two things matter...our desires and how we
funnel them."

He reached for the nape of her neck, caressing it with his fingers, playing
with the tiny hairs draping her skin.  He caught her eyes with his...both
frozen.  He slowly gathered her hair in his hand, some in his palm, some
tangled with his fingers.  Improving his grip on her mane, they breathed
quicker now.

"Let's be clear," he whispered, "I don't expect you to come willingly, but I
know your desire.  Our arrangement will be flexible.  I care not if one day
you're the willing submissive and the next you're a feisty opponent, but
understand that the result will always be the same.  You will be mine.  Do you
understand?"

She said nothing.  With playful anger in her eyes, she tried to spin from his
grasp, but he tightened it.

"This will get as rough as you want," he continued, "I hope we don't come to
blows.  I don't want to get hurt," he smiled, knowing her vicious uppercut,
"but I will defend myself and in the end, you will lose."

His smile softened her.  She smiled, but still tried to break free.  He pulled
her closer, as much to protect himself as to feel her beating heart.  Tugging
her hair downward, he exposed her neck.  He thought briefly of vampires and
bent his lips to her flesh.  She smelled fresh...womanly.  He sucked her
through his nostrils, then his lips, finally chewing on her neck, letting her
know the possibilities.  With a surprising toss by her hair, he threw her to
the floor.  Caught off guard, she landed in a heap, legs and arms pointing
different directions.

"Sara, I will often give you choices," he said with a serious tone, "Each
option will typically end in the same result, but I will let you choose the
method or path.  I will do this to measure how deeply your needs run, but
sometimes it's purely for my amusement.  For instance, right now, I want you
to remove your clothing...ALL OF IT.  If you're reluctant, I will assist you.
If your mood is stubbornness, I will cut them from you, although it pains me
to think of ruining your outfit."

She sat motionless.  She didn't know what to say or if she was ready.  They'd
only met yesterday.  "Why is he doing this?" she thought, "Why must I leave my
comfort zone now?"  She was paralyzed.

He went to the chair and waited.  Several minutes of silence passed.  Then she
rose and delicately shed her clothing.  She stood before him, hands in front,
covering herself, shortened breath, chest slightly heaving, nipples tightly
knotted, nervousness pervading.  He loved this moment, the exhilaration of
anxiousness.  She loved it also.  He sat a moment longer.  In silence he drank
in his first gaze at her flesh.  His desire mounted.  He called inside himself
for control.  He rose and walked behind her.

"Hold still," he said reaching around her body.  With the slightest touch, his
fingers traced along her upper thighs and across her stomach, then over her
breasts and tightened nipples.  He rested his hands near her neck, on her
collarbone.

"Are you excited?" he whispered, just wanting her hear her answer.

"Yes," she exhaled.

"Good," he whispered, directly into her ear.

His fingers continued exploring.  He closed his eyes wanting to know her body.
This was the first step.  Their breathing collaborated.  His chest and stomach
pressed against her back.  She nestled her head to his chest.  They floated
away before he stopped and backed away.  Now he stood in front of her.
Tipping her chin to his, faces inches apart, he spoke.

"I want to kiss you, but that will wait.  I want to whip you, but you're not
ready," he stared into her eyes, "First, we'll test your desires, a simple
test.  It will go on as long as you tell me.  The difficulty is that your
words will be meaningless.  Come...I'll show you."

He sat on the edge of the bed and with a gesture and a firm grip on her wrists
pulled her over his thighs.  Her chest and stomach supported her weight on
him.  With his left arm, he held her shoulders tightly to his thigh.  Her arms
and legs dangled freely.

He continued, "I enjoy spanking, but in my mind, it doesn't compare to
whipping.  I find whips more versatile and more fun, but spanking provides an
intimacy that's difficult to duplicate.  My hand against your bottom will give
me a better feel for your desires and limitations.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Jeffrey."  It was the first time she'd spoken his name.

"I believe that thresholds are difficult to discuss," he said.  "Pain clouds
the mind, but never the senses.  Irrelevancies and mirages can be mistaken for
reality.  I believe there is nothing your words can tell me that your body
can't tell me more accurately.  Am I being clear?"

"I'm not sure...I think so," she said with apprehension.

"For example, I'll stop spanking you intermittently.  It will give you a
reprieve and a moment for me to examine your needs.  During each pause, I will
dip my fingers into your pussy.  If you're dry, we'll stop.  If you're wet,
we'll continue until my hand tires.  Is this acceptable?"

Pausing briefly, Sara murmured, "Yes, Jeffrey," but she knew her fate.  He
hadn't touched her and her pussy was drenched.  Had he opened her flowered
lips, she was certain her fluids would stream to the floor.  She closed her
eyes and waited, amazed at how differently she saw him than 24 hours ago.


Part II…The Spanking

It always amazed him that no matter how shapely a woman's behind, it's beauty
was enhanced tenfold when draped over his thighs.  It felt natural and
uncontrollable to stoke and brush her bottom with the palm of his hand.  He
thought of forcing her thighs apart slightly, but decided against it.  Her
clenched thighs were her mask hiding her wetness.  He would let her part them
when she was ready.

She hadn't anticipated that he'd start out so briskly.  Perhaps she thought a
warming up period was in order.  The first sting of his hand shook her.  Each
stroke seemed stronger than the last, but it wasn't.  The sensation was caused
by the increasing redness and blood flow in her bottom.  By the time he
reached ten strokes, palm prints painted her backside.

She'd kept still and silent mostly.  Her desire to show her toughness
impressed him.  He massaged her redness before touching her swollen opening.
Two fingers stroked her lips, and she cooed.  Gently prying them apart, he
discovered what he already knew.  His cock strained against the zipper of his
jeans, pressing against her belly.  He thought he felt her squirm to touch it
with her stomach, but he wasn't sure.  "Enough of this childish pleasuring,"
he thought and continued the spanking.

At some point he lost track of the count.  His hand swelled and matched the
color of her bright pink bottom.  He slowed his strokes, grabbing handfuls of
flesh.  The grabbing provided no physical relief, but the mingled throbbing of
his hand and her behind excited him.  She parted her legs, now barely fitting
on his right thigh.  He took the invitation and twisted his strokes, slapping
her pussy and asshole.  He held her shoulder blades tightly with his left arm,
but she bucked wildly anyway.  Sex permeated the room.

"Tell me what you want, Sara."

"I don't know what you mean," she whimpered.

"I'm tired of your games.  I want to know what you're thinking at this moment.
I want you to quit pretending that you're some high-class executive that needs
to fit your next orgasm into your busy schedule.  Tell me what you want!"

"I want to cum…" she whispered.

"Then ask...ask for what you want."

She paused, but he waited.  "Please...Jeffrey...make me cum."

He paused longer, "I want you to cum, Sara, but I have a condition."

"Anything."

"If I do this for you, you belong to me.  Know fully what that means and
choose wisely."

Their silence was tense, but her answer unwavering, tough as she was, "Yes,
Jeffrey.  I understand.  God I want to cum...pleeeaaasssee."

"As you wish, my love."

And he stroked her hood gently, tracing his fingertips along its edges, then
along its length, brushing her swollen knob with each stroke.  At first he was
amazed and distracted by her wetness, then he reveled in it pressing deeply
inside her with his thumb and brushing her clit with his fingertips.  Bending
at his waist, he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck.  Then breathing
lightly into her ear, he asked her to cum for him.  Eventually, she did, with
such force that he had to hold her tightly to keep her from falling.

Panting and baked with sweat, she gathered herself and climbed to straddle his
thighs.  With a hungry look, she pushed her hands against his shoulders until
she toppled him onto the bed.  She gripped her arms around his neck tightly
and drove her tongue into his mouth.  He wrapped his arms around her
midsection and savored her taste.  A simple kiss that turned seconds into
minutes and then longer.  He caressed her back and behind, soothing her pain
with his aching hands.  Their adventure had just begun.