Subject: We are such stuff..(sp,M/F,sex)kfr
Date: 24 Oct 1997 15:26:48 -0700
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction dealing with adult subjects. If you are not of legal age stop reading now. Any resemblance between the characters in this story and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Annie turned the key in the deadbolt, hearing it snick loudly in the dim hallway. It was a drab place, she thought to herself, silently regarding the peeling wallpaper and beat-up woodwork. The stairwell had a stuffy odor, compounded by the orangey lighting from grimy fixtures. Just for a moment, she wondered what she was getting into, paused with her hand on the doorknob. "It's not too late", she told herself, "I can just leave." A nice thought, but she realized almost immediately that she couldn't. She had to see it through, whatever happened. With a looseness caused by age and use, the knob turned under her hand, the black-painted door opening into an equally sad-looking apartment. Dim, dusky silence greeted her, almost oppressive in its muted presence. Timidly, Annie stepped inside, surprised for an instant by the harsh sound her leather- heeled flats made on the carpetless hardwood floor. Peering into the gloom, she could make out a worn sofa, backlit by grubby windows that had no curtains, just beat-up shades, halfway drawn. A small, threadbare oriental rug lay in front of the couch, which was flanked by an Art Deco floor lamp that had seen better days. Something inside her was saying, "Get out of here, Annie, and right now." The thought was still echoing in her mind when the door closed quickly behind her with a slam. In the smothering silence, it was like a cannon shot.
"Ohhhhh!" she screamed, whirling toward the source of the sound, backing further into the room as she yelled.
"It's about time you got here." A masculine voice said, the rough-edged tone making her quiver.
From the shadow behind the door, a man stepped into the dim circle of light she inhabited. She still held the key in her right hand, which was just then in front of her mouth, stifling a scream. Eyes wide with something like terror, she watched him approach, frozen in place like a deer in the headlights of a car. His hand snaked out rapidly, plucking the key from her hand, his eyes boring into hers as if he dared her to resist. Turning from her, he stepped to the door and locked the deadbolt, looking over his shoulder at Annie's terrified face as the bolt clacked into place. The echo thundered in her ears, or was that her pulse, she wondered, regarding her companion with a strange detachment.
Just about her age, she guessed, maybe a year or two younger. Dark, oily swept-back hair, a stubbly face, unshaven for at least a day, white raggedy T-shirt and black leather pants dotted with silver studs. A chain secured his wallet to the wide Garrison belt around his slim waist. Motorcycle boots, well-worn, completed the ensemble. He stood for a minute or two, right thumb hooked in the waistband of those rather tight leather pants, regarding Annie. The eyes, black as coal in this dim light, made the trip from her ankles to her face several times, not missing anything, like a prospective buyer looks over prime livestock.
Annie was prime livestock, if it came to that. Thirty-something, with a subdued beauty that went deeper than most, she was what old-fashioned men would call a "handsome woman". With curves that not even the plainest wardrobe could hide, Annie quickened pulses wherever she went, but not in the glitzy, Hollywood way. Instead, her natural quiet beauty struck men deep inside, where they lived, going to the heart of their desire to lose themselves in a woman's warmth, her nurturing tenderness. Soft warm brown hair with lighter accents surrounded a face that seemed ordinary at first glance, but kept drawing the viewer's eyes back for another look, becoming prettier with each re-visitation. Soft, understated curves led from one portion of her body to the next, leaving one wondering where one part left off and the next began. The legs that showed beneath her pleated plaid woolen skirt didn't need special footgear to be attractive; smooth, lovely knees connected with well- turned calves, which led down to chorus-line ankles and ladylike feet. Above those twin pedestals, a full but tight bulge in the plaid wool skirt spoke of a bottom that might be termed magnificent.
For what seemed like ages, he stood looking at her. Annie's heart pounded, her own eyes roaming over his trim figure. He had strong, muscular arms with well-formed capable hands, cleaner than she would have expected. His slicked-back hair wasn't dirty, just being held in place by hair oil. A firm chin showed black, bristly stubble, giving a tougher look to a face that was patently handsome. Her eyes moved to his waistline, where the tightness of his T-shirt showed the flat hardness of his belly. She had a perverse quickening of pulse as she imagined how it would feel under her hand. And then there was those pants, those tight, smooth leather pants. A secret place in her mind gave her entire body a twinge of pleasure as she followed the contour down to those rugged engineer boots. Licking her lips nervously, she fidgeted, not quite sure what to do with her hands. Abruptly, he turned and walked over to the ratty old sofa, picking up an object she couldn't quite make out. Whatever it was, he stood looking down at it for a moment, then turned with it in his hand.
"Take off your clothes."
He said, in a flat tone, looking directly at her. From her position about ten feet away, Annie could see that the object he held was a short piece of leather strap, doubled up and dully gleaming in the glow from the ancient floor lamp. Her pulse skyrocketed, and another reaction, quite a bit lower, began to raise her temperature.
"W-what?" she asked timidly, dry-mouthed and not a little scared.
"I said, take off your clothes." He repeated in a measured tone, adding, "You won't be needing them for the rest of the afternoon."
For emphasis, he smartly slapped the leather strap across his palm, making a cracking sound that caused Annie to start.
Hesitating, she stammered,
"W-what are you going to do?"
Now, her pulse was really racing, as she pictured terrible things happening to her. She was just on the verge of screaming, but didn't. Instead, her fingers toyed with the strap on her purse.
"Everything." His answer came, like a proclamation of doom. "Now do as you're told, before I get angry."
Another slap of the belt made Annie jump. She felt her eyes begin to water.
"I - I want to go home." She said plaintively, twisting her hands.
"Yeah," He said, "they all do, at first. Then, they want to stay."
Annie had never felt more vulnerable in her life. With escape nearly impossible, she watched in helpless frustration as he ran the strap through his hands again, almost caressing it.
"Who are you?" she asked desperately, stalling for time.
"Jake." The answer came, falling out of his mouth bluntly.
"Jake?" she repeated, feigning interest, "Jake what?"
"Just Jake." He replied, snapping the belt once more. "Now get your ass moving before I have to strip you myself!"
Galvanized into action, Annie dropped her purse and started to unbutton her blouse. Stepping out of her skirt, she shed her slip, and then stood for a long moment before taking off bra and panties. Blushing like a schoolgirl, she at last took off her shoes and stood naked in the center of the shabby apartment.
Jake's examination of the nude and quivering Annie was even more thorough, as he walked slowly over to her, and circled behind. Annie started, a little whimper escaping her lips as Jake slowly ran the strap over the sumptuous curve of her bottom.
"Yes," He said softly to himself, "Oh, yes."
Annie was shaking visibly now, trembling like a fawn, partly from the chill in the stuffy apartment, but mostly from fear. Jake retraced his steps to the old sofa, and said quietly but firmly,
Now the tears started in earnest, as Annie hesitatingly stepped toward him, bare feet padding on the dirty wood floor. As she drew near, her knees almost gave out.
"Please..." Annie begged, not quite knowing what she was pleading for.
"I have something for you to do," Jake said casually, "but we need to warm you up first."
Taking the quivering Annie by the arm, he sat down on the sofa, dragging her across his lap. She felt the sensuous smoothness of the leather against her skin as he hauled her into position, noting how easily he controlled her. Without warning, a fiery sensation assaulted her bare rump as the strap whacked it hard. She let out a gasp of surprise.
"Ahhh!" her breath exhaled, as she twisted in an attempt to see the source of her pain. Another whack, and another slapped her bare bottom as the strap rose and fell. Slowly, very slowly her tormentor plied the nasty piece of leather, making sure Annie felt every whack to the fullest, and had time to anticipate the next. Her gasps changed to cries and pleas, and as the strapping went on and on, to a moaning sob only interrupted by sharper yelps as the leather stung her bottom. Attempts to use her hand to interfere were met by solid resistance as Jake's steel fingers imprisoned her wrist. Her bottom and upper thighs felt like they were on fire, and it didn't seem right that the strap still stung, but it did: over and over until her whole being seemed aflame.
Annie wasn't sure when the strapping stopped, but she did feel Jake's hand between her thighs, questing, probing gently. She felt herself sliding off his lap, felt the coarse rug under her knees. Hot tears leaked from her red and swollen eyes, her nose running freely, mingling with salty teardrops. Jake stood up. As if Annie hadn't been through enough, the distinct rasping sound she heard made her look up at him to see him reaching into his pants for the thing that swelled there.
"Now," he said dispassionately, "you know what to do."
The fire in Annie's bottom had spread to encompass her entire loins with a pervading warmth. Reluctantly at first, and then with an enthusiasm she didn't know was in her, she pleasured the man who had punished her so thoroughly. His large, handsome hands caressed her hair, holding her to him to the last as he convulsed in climax.
Collapsing on the sofa, Jake moaned in the afterglow of ecstasy. Annie knelt motionless for a moment, then pillowed her head on the soft leather covering his knee. Part of her was still inflamed with an incredible passion, which the fire in her bottom was keeping stoked. Almost of its own accord, her hand sought out that which her mouth had embraced, and with deft stroking brought it to life once more. Sensing the intent, Jake sat up, drawing Annie onto the sofa and placing her on hands and knees. Annie waited breathlessly as Jake positioned himself behind her, caressing her flanks as he entered, then putting his hands on her back to thrust deeper inside her. Moaning in delight, she moved with him, every hard lunge taking her higher. It continued sweetly for a long time, carrying Annie to incredible heights of pleasure.
Afternoon passed into evening, and then night. Jake spent a good deal of the time warming Annie's bare bottom, both with his hard hands and the wicked leather strap. The fire generated in her rear quickly migrated to other areas, which Jake also frequented in another, more pleasant fashion. After a time, it was like they had always been together, molded to each other like parts of a jigsaw puzzle.
A shaft of light, born of a bare-bulb streetlight outside, lay across two naked forms, cuddled on the battered sofa. Annie lay enfolded in Jake's arms, supremely content and more fulfilled than she had ever imagined possible.
"Where did you get the name `Jake'," she asked, rubbing his stubbly chin.
"Seemed like a good idea at the time. Do you like it?" he asked, running his hand over her silky skin.
"Un-huh." She murmured. "Sounds tough. Maybe you ought to keep it."
"Why not?" he said non-commitally. "After all, it's only play."
"That's a matter of opinion, sweetheart." Annie corrected. "Want to go home now?" she added, stretching up to kiss him softly.
"Yeah. This old couch is murder on my back." He agreed, giving her a slap on her rosy rump. "What do you want to do next week? It's your turn."
"Oh, I'll think of something;" Annie said, grinning wickedly, "I'll think of something."