1. Other Colors -- Ch.16


    Date: 12/23/2014, Categories: BDSM, Author: mascodagama, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    and lift me up to slip them over my hips. It was beyond the pale, really, being dressed for bed by him like a child. I’d like to believe that if I’d had even an ounce of defiance left in me, I would never have consented to it. But then, he had an uncanny knack for siphoning off my resistance just before I might need it. And as such, he seldom appeared to take anything that wasn’t, to my not infrequent wonder, already his. It could be called a seduction only insofar as Hemingway said the same thing of the bullfights in Pamplona. By the end of it, one of us was too tired to move, and would have to watch, helpless and expiring, as the other made ready to run us through. Pasiphaë. Poor girl… “Alright,” he smoothed my hair over my shoulders, and helped me down off the desk, “Now off to bed with you,” he drew his mouth to one side, “I’ll likely be gone before you wake up.” I sighed. Somehow in the skirmish, I’d almost managed to forget that he was leaving. “…How long will you be?” I crossed my arms, staring down at his shoes. “Two nights,” he raised my chin, “I’ll be back before the weekend. Think you can stay out of trouble for me that long, Miss Foster?” I leered at him, realizing with a soft throb that I would miss more than his looks and his witticisms in the next several days. It embarrassed me a little, that already I could feel ready for him again, when here he had abstained from his release completely. It made me self-conscious, and it made me question whether or not he ...
    was truly attracted to me. Although… I smirked as he stepped closer. The still-pulsating hard-on in his slacks offered no small measure of reassurance. I nodded, “Only two?” “Only two,” he leaned closer, and kissed me on the forehead. “And remember—you’re back in this house by five tomorrow.” “Yes, sir…” I breathed it out of instinct, without any trace of irony. And had my blood not already given up all of its color in the midst of our mêlée, my skin might have flushed even deeper. “Good girl,” he kissed me once more, this time on the lips, and spun me around. “Now scram,” he growled, “I have some work to do. And you, little girl, are a very deadly distraction.” I giggled as he gave me a playful push toward the door. Mon criss… I grasped the handle, and glanced back. He’s really leaving me alone for two days? He stood almost motionless over my little heap of discarded clothing, staring back darkly as I drew the door shut. But I caught the handle again just before it latched. I wanted to steal one last look; one precious tableau to carry me through the next sixty some odd hours. I held my breath, peering back at him through a tiny crack in the door. He bent down slowly, snatching up my dress and my bra from the floor. He held them for a moment, meditative, then brought them both beneath his nose, and breathed deeply. He sighed, and I felt myself flush crimson. I really shouldn’t be spying on him, should I? It honestly hadn’t occurred to me that, as a voyeur, I might make the ...
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