Pleasure First
Copyright 1997-2002 by OldTom, all rights reserved.

He found that with a mere 241 words, he could haunt her dreams.

This time she is standing, for she has no choice. Her wrists are tied together, gently but securely, and thence to a hook above her head. She wears nothing else but a blindfold - and her hands are fastened just barely high enough, to keep the blindfold out of reach.

He stands behind her, belt quadrupled and ready to strike. There is plenty of room to swing; he is confident he can connect with his target no matter how frantically she chooses to dance.

But this is not to be a frantic dance. This time is for her pleasure. This is one dance she knows well. Not a word need be spoken, but words are spoken anyway - for this is her assurance that she is not passing this way alone.

Her destination reached, he gives her six final, harder, strokes, just because that is his way. He drops the belt and speaks meaningless words, bringing her back from where she was. He stands away, not touching her.

She eventually makes it clear that she is ready to be released now, but does not ask - that is not her way when she is in such a position.

Now he speaks directly. "My dear, you were such a good girl this morning, that I felt you deserved that. But it is now time to speak of this afternoon. And speak we shall."

And he took up the belt once again, this time for real.

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