Let's Play a Game

4 - Dark Magic

Dark Magic

1 oz Dark Chocolate Godiva Liquor

1 oz Baileys

1 oz Kahlua

Mix, shake with ice, and strain into glass.

He took a step closer to me, and I held my breath, waiting for the first touch. It didn't come. "Breathe," he whispered in my ear. I could feel his warm breath on my neck and ear. "I hear it's been a while. Is that true?"

"Yes sir." I exhaled slowly, trying to calm myself. My heart was racing.

"Should we fix that?" He was just close enough that I could barely feel his lips against my skin, and it sent nervous hot waves through my body. I felt him smile.

"Yes please, sir." My voice was breathy. The anticipation was killing me. Questions flooded my mind; would he be rough or gentle? What did he like? What did he feel like? What did he taste like? Would he like me?

"May I touch you?"

The question surprised me. It had been so long since anyone had actually asked me that. Although technically I always gave consent, it had been ages since someone had straight-up asked.

"Yes sir." I took comfort in the ability to agree.

A finger at the nape of my neck, dragging a delicate finger down just to the edge of my blouse, carelessly tracing the chain tattoo. "This is lovely," he whispered.

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you have any others?"

"Several, sir."

"I'd like to see." his voice was more authoritative with that statement; it was a command, not a preference. Strip, it said. Show me.

I answered by unbuttoning my blouse, quickly, from the top down, but not hurrying. It came naturally, like muscle memory taking back over, the exact speed that I'd been taught. Fast enough to not drag, but slow enough to not look rushed or desperate. Obediently efficient. If I'd known I would be doing this today, I would have worn a nicer bra, I thought to myself. Today I was just wearing one of my ugly camisole sports bras. I tugged it up over my head gently, careful not to accidentally pull off the blindfold.

Having finished removing the items, I folded them gently and bent my knees to set them on the floor, careful not to push back against him as I did so. I straightened, and hesitantly began to unbutton my jeans, but I felt hands on mine and I stopped.

His fingers, though I could only feel them on the backs of my hands, were calloused and rough. I sighed a little and felt myself relax a little, a hint of a smile twisting my mouth. Of course they'd be rough. Why would Mr. Weston send me into a room with a man he knew wouldn't turn me on? A flash of desire went through me and I wanted those hands all over my body.

"Wait just a minute," he whispered against my ear. "Slow down. Why don't we take these one at a time?" He re-buttoned my jeans, and then his hands settled on my waist. "Tell me about this one first."

"I... I got it after I got my collar," I whispered, taking another breath to steady my voice. "He kept me on a chain at night, in a cage under his bed... I said I wished I could wear my chain all the time, and so he let me get it tattooed."

"Do you miss it?"

I was a little surprised at the question. "The chain?"

"Sleeping in a cage like a dog."