Lustful Memoirs
By: Gina - gina@basic-nstynct.com
Chapter Fifty FourA mass of silver rayon, the appearances of a floor length gown. Shoes were nestled beside it, matching silver, shimmering, squared heels, the leather straps only enough to hold them on. Next to the shoes were two black velvet boxes. I moved toward the bed, lifting the smaller one first. It creaked before revealing two slivers of diamonds, small, elegant, the light above reflecting off of them. I placed them where I had found them before moving my hands over to the larger box. My fingers slipped over the velvet, as it opened, I gasped. Inside held a platinum choker. The metal entwined like tree branches, wisps of diamonds nestled on each as leaves. The whole ensemble held me stunned. My brows furrowed, never had a client ever provided such elegant clothing.
I quickly stripped of my clothes, slipping into the soft material of the dress. Spaghetti straps, crisscrossed over my bare back holding it in place. The front scooped, small rhinestones adorning the neckline, revealing just the hint of cleavage. The fabric clung to my every curve, leaving me to wonder when the client had arranged this meeting, for I’m sure he would have needed time to arrange all of this. I glanced at myself in the mirror as soon as I finished dressing. The clothing, the jewelry, the shoes, they were all too perfect for the night that lay ahead. A night that wouldn’t mean anything to the person I would share it with, a night that would mean even less to me.
I made my way back to the main room, a feeling of uncertainty regarding the evening filtering through my mind. I glanced around the empty room, wondering if the client had gone to change as well. Surely his butler getup didn’t match the elegant ensemble I wore. I seated myself on the plush sofa, my finger twirling the lose strands of hair that fell on my shoulder. I surveyed the room while I waited, it was nicely decorated in earth tones, warm, rich browns, stunning, forest greens, deep, crimson reds. The furniture expensive, the paintings even more so. Crystal and silver adorned the many tables. The room was full, every possible space occupied. Yet it held an uncluttered feel. It was comfortable, like home. My perusal stopped, turning toward the man that had reentered. I looked up at him. He smiled.
"The outfit flatters you. Please have a seat at the table."
I rose from the plush couch, doing as he asked. He pulled the chair out for me, and I settled into it. He then pulled a black scarf from his pocket. I furrowed my eyebrows, my face grimacing with confusion. Was he going to tie me to the chair? Did he not have dinner planned? How was I to eat with my hands tied? The night already was like none I had ever experienced and I suspected it would continue as such. My hunch was more then right.
"Ma’am, Mr. Jones ask that I restrain your hands and blindfold you. Do you mind?"
Do I mind? His question raged in my ears. Was he crazy? Of course I minded, was appalled in fact. Yet when the answer left my lips, it was the answer Marie would have expected of me. "No," I replied, as my thoughts scanned back over his words. He had mentioned Mr. Jones. So the man standing was not the client? And this man I had yet to lay eyes on wanted me blindfolded? He was extremely shy, extremely ugly, or extremely kinky, or perhaps, a combination of them all.
The man in the butler outfit approached, the material in his hands that had had once appeared as the single black scarf, multiplied into three. He first secured my right hand to the dark wooden spoke of the chair, then my left. Lastly, he covered my eyes, knotting the fabric tightly at the back of my head. The room plunged into darkness, my own vulnerability rose from within me. I was powerless against this man, could not move, and could not see. I silently prayed, prayed that he wouldn’t hurt me, prayed that it would be over quickly, prayed that I would survive. When Marie had mentioned this "special" assignment earlier, I hadn’t a notion that this is what she had meant.
Silence surrounded me for a time, only heightening my fear, until I heard a rustling in the distance. My ears captured the muted sound, their ability more acute with the loss of my other senses. I assumed that the mentioned Mr. Jones had arrived.
I could feel the movement in the room, just by the shift of the air around me. I wanted to reach out and touch it. I moved against my restraints, they only reminding me of how defenseless I was. The chair scraped against the floor, as I presumed he sat.
"Blake."
I heard my name spoken, whispered really, the voice deep, penetrating, unlike I had ever heard before. This certainly wasn’t a regular client, certainly no one I recognized. He must have noticed my tense posture, my rigid stance, my fear, his next words hinted to such.
"Relax, Blake, no one here is going to hurt you. I don’t wish you any harm. I would like for you to enjoy dinner and the night stretching out before us, as I enjoy your company. I will not take advantage of your current position. But I must insist that you stay restrained and blindfolded. I can't risk revealing my identity. I’m sure you can understand, at least Marie assured me that you could understand my need for total and complete secrecy."
His words were strangely comforting, like something a friend would whisper to me prior to my embarking on something that I feared more then anything. I felt myself grow more relaxed, however far from letting my guard down. I still had no idea what his intentions were, and as soft as his voice was, as soothing, as genuine as his words sounded, I could not believe him. Yet, my instincts told me that I could, I didn’t listen, couldn’t listen, for listening could get me killed.
I took a deep breath, whispered another silent prayer to a God that I hoped existed. A clatter of dishes echoed in my ears, dinner had arrived. I heard the wooden legs of a chair slide against the carpeted floor, I felt his heat on my skin as he moved closer to me. A chill ran through me, causing tiny bumps to rise over my flesh.
"Blake, relax," he whispered, so close to my ear I felt his breath tickle my earlobe. "I’m going to feed you. Marie assured me, that you would enjoy this food. Please believe me when I tell you that I want this evening to be as pleasurable and as fulfilling for you as I know it will be for me."
Once again his words wrapped around me, pushing my fears away, calming me, yet I could not do as he asked. Relaxation would not come as I sat before this complete stranger tied and blindfolded with the thoughts of the coming events lingering in my mind. The clatter of silverware pushed back the silence that had enveloped us. Suddenly, I felt a slight pressure on my lips.
"Blake, come on, let me feed you."
With fear penetrating every cell in my body I opened my mouth. He gently placed the fork on my tongue, my lips closing around the offered food. The tastes swirled on my palate, chicken, pasta, and vegetables, combined into a wonderful sauce. It was succulent. He presented another forkful, and this time, time I readily accepted. I let myself forget about the circumstances surrounding us, forget about the fact that a complete stranger, that I had never laid eyes on, sat just inches from me, offering me food, that I had never seen. I let go of all of it, losing myself in the delicious concoctions that he fed me. Dinner continued that way, a few bites, then the offered glass of wine, white, dry, as delicious as the food. He didn’t speak, nor did I. He never made one advance to touch me, the only contact between us, my tongue, lips and mouth to the fork or glass that he held.
As time passed I began to grow full, unable to accept one more bite. I turned my head away. He understood.
"How was the food? Did you enjoy it?" His question, like all the other words he had spoken, were soft, gentle, so intent on my pleasure that I wondered if I should be paying him. I wondered further why he would chose to spend his time feeding a total stranger. I was sure with the care and concern and kindness that his voice held he could have had a woman share the evening with him, without having to pay her. Unless, of course, he was too shy to find someone or he wasn’t attractive and no one could see past his physical features to the goodness inside.
I shook my head yes in response to his question. He whispered that he would be right back. I heard a door open and close as I felt the fear creep its way back up my spine. Dinner was over, the night stretched out before me, and I had no idea what was to happen next.
"Blake," it was the voice of the butler, "do you need to use the powder room? Freshen up a bit?"
I nodded my head in the affirmative. Within seconds he had undone my restraints and removed the scarf from around my eyes. I blinked at the brightness, my eyes adjusting.
"Through that same door, miss."
I thanked him and retreated through the door into the room that I had changed in earlier. I grabbed my makeup bag and headed into the bathroom. After reapplying my lipstick and powdering my nose, I wandered back out into the main room. The butler had cleared the table and was standing peering out the windows. As he noticed me he turned, a smile plastered on his lips.
"This way, ma’am."
I followed him. We entered what appeared to be the sleeping chamber. I was thankful that my eyes were opened, and that I could peer at my surroundings. The decor was much the same as the main room, warm colors, spaces filled. In the center of the room a massive sleigh bed, dark wood, many pillows, a soft inviting comforter.
"Ma’am, please have a seat on the bed. Mr. Jones asks that you once again be blindfolded."
The full wave of fear returned. I was sitting on the bed, still clothed in the garments he provided, his jewels still hanging from my neck, from my ears. And now I was going to be blindfolded.
"Mr. Jones does not wish to have you bound though, so I must ask that you not attempt to remove the blindfold."
I almost laughed at his words. Of course he doesn’t want me bound. How could I please him if my limbs were not free? The familiar sensation of the black silk scarf covering my eyes returned. Blackness again enveloped me. Fear threatened to stop my heart. I heard the door open and close. He was in the room. I could sense his presence with my heightened awareness.
I heard his slow footsteps as he crossed the room. As he stood before me, I could feel his heat penetrate my bare shoulders, penetrate soft rayon that covered my body. He kneeled in front of me, I could feel his motions, I could then feel his breath skip across my chest. I took a deep breath as I felt him move forward, his lips gently brushing against my own.