her force intensified. Her mouth was indescribably luscious. It was rouged without gloss so that the deep red appeared natural and the bones of her delicately sloping shoulders were for some mysterious reason as enticing to me as the full slope of her breasts. But the current coming from her was not the sum of all the splendid physical details. No. It was as if she gave off invisible heat.
She was smoldering in the skimpy little slip and the fragile satin slippers. And you couldn't see the smoke but you knew it was there. There was something almost inhuman about her. She made me think of an old-fashioned word. The word lust. I looked down deliberately. And going on my hands and knees towards her, I stopped when I had reached her feet. I could feel the force coming from her, the heat. I pressed my lips to her naked toes, to her instep above the band of satin, and I felt that strange, baffling shock again that left a tingling in my lips. 'Stand up,' she said softly. 'And keep your hands clasped behind your back.' I rose as slowly a I could without breaking the movement, and when I obeyed, I was certain my face was really red. But it wasn't the old ritualized emotion. I stood over her, and though I didn't look at her again, I could see her perfectly, see the well between her breasts, and the dark rose-coloured circles of the nipples under the white slip. She reached up, and I almost backed away from her, feeling her fingers move into my hair. She clasped my head tightly, massaged it with her fingers, sending the chills down my back, and then brought her fingers slowly over my face the way a blind woman might, to see it, feeling of my lips and my teeth. It was the touch of someone burning with fever, the hot dancing tips of her fingers, and it was further heated by some low sound she made, like a cat's purr without opening her lips. 'You belong to me,' she said in something lower than a whisper. 'Yes, Madam,'
I answered. I watched helplessly as her fingers dropped to my nipples, and pinched them, pumping them as my body tensed. The sensation shot down through my cock. 'Mine,' she said. I felt this compulsion to answer her, but I didn't say anything, my mouth opening and then closing as I stared at her breasts. That sweet, clean smoky scent came to me again, flooded me. I thought, I can't bear this. I have to have her. She is using some altogether new weapon on me. I can't be tormented like this, in this silent bedroom, this is too much. 'Back up, there to the centre of the room,' she said in a low monotone, advancing as she spoke, her fingers still pressing and pulling at my nipples, pinching them hard suddenly so that I gritted my teeth. 'Oh, we are sensitive, aren't we?' she said. And our eyes met again, the heat blazing in hers, her red lips just parted to show the barest flash of white teeth. I almost begged her, said 'please.' My heart was skipping as if I'd been running. I was on the very edge of bolting, just backing off from her -- I didn't know what exactly -- trying to shatter her power. Yet there wasn't the remotest possibility that I would or could. She rose on tiptoe in front of me. I could see she had hold of something above me, and I glanced up to see the pair of white leather handcuffs with buckles dangling at the end of the white leather chain. That I had forgotten about that stuff seemed a fatal error. But what did it matter, after all? 'Lift your hands,' she said. 'No, not too high, my tall beauty. Just over your head a little where I can still reach them. Fine.' I heard myself shudder. Little symphony of stressful admissions. I think I was shaking my head. The leather went round my left wrist first, buckled very tight, and then around the right. My wrists were crossed, bound together. And as I stood as helplessly as if six men were holding me there, she went to the far wall, and pressed a button that silently made the leather chain above me retract into the ceiling, causing the cuffs to pull my wrists up well above my head before it