The room, mostly empty, vacant, with only one small chair against the far wall, invited her in. She’d received her instructions late the previous night, descriptive, precise, knowing of the things she needed and enjoyed. She played his games, enjoyed all of the words he sent across, despite being the type of woman that she was within her day to day life.
She had secrets, those moments where her desires threatened to rip her controlled life apart, the kind of secrets that she wouldn't tell a soul about. Somehow, along the way, she met someone that could see right through her thinly veiled façade. She’d only spoken to him for a few minutes, those unforgettable seconds, before he engaged her mind. For once, finally, here was someone that wanted to connect with the one place that mattered. Her thoughts. She was a woman. She was many things. But when truly laid bare she was truly the thoughts within her heart and mind.
Closing the door, behind her, she wondered if she’d become obsessed with the moments he brought into her life. Thoughts cascaded, asking questions, only to be pushed aside as no-one would come between her and her desires. Finally, she was free. No obstructions, no idiotic fleeting relationships, filled with the day to day selfish motivations. He connected to her in a way, that way, that she didn't even realise that she needed. He didn't say much, using his eyes to speak volumes, while his fingertips said everything else. If he did speak, with that damn voice of his, his words were often the most seductive connotations imaginable. He knew what she wanted, needed, thought about when the lights were low and the world outside seemed silent.
At times she thought that he could read her mind or, maybe, know exactly what her senses required. The day to day being so very, very boring. The moments filled with tedium, the relaxation being few and far between, until he called. Just the thought of his call. His words. His touch. It filled her with a rise of emotion, her heart beating that little bit faster and her legs pressing together as she denied her thoughts. Those moments, spinning, skin feeling alive, senses enlivened with the very thought of his lips doing the very things she’d hoped he’d do on this very day.
They had talked. For hour upon hour. Describing, learning, exploring, with his ear becoming a place to which her voice drew comfort and found solace. He’d tested her, slowly, enthusiastically, before starting to introduce his way of thinking. He wasn't like the others, the players, the leavers. He wanted something from her, was willing to allow her into his fantasies, while enacting all of the thoughts she never knew she’d enjoy. She felt so alive. At times she could hardly stand with the thought of what he did to her. She’d never known that she had no pleasure limitation, until he found her. A woman, her, finally open to whatever he’d planned.
As a younger woman she’d been told how to act, what to be, to conform, to act like a lady. She complied. She stood in line, obeyed, played the wife of a house, while never quite having her own needs met in so many, many ways. Over the years she’d felt anger, frustration, at such thoughts but that was then. This, however, was now.
She replayed the instructions over, within her mind, whilst smiling the filthiest smile. She couldn't see her smile, but she knew it was there and how it looked. Most men would blush at her thoughts, but it took the right man to allow the right woman, to feel this way. A balance to all things and, right now, she equalled and excelled at all of his little scenarios.
Turning around, back against the wall, she sat onto the small chair while arranging her dress to allow her legs freedom. He adored her legs, had spoken about every single part of her body, at length. He’d stated, at least three times, that no part of her body would be attractive, truly adored, unless her mind believed it to be true. Sexuality, freedom, all permitted by her own thoughts. People would judge her, had judged her, all her life. No matter what she wore, how she presented herself, there would always be one person that commented. Before now, before his words, she’d feel vulnerable in such a place. She’d never even dream of doing any of this and, while she was being honest, no other man would be worth her thoughts. Somehow, at some point, he’d convinced her to actually believe in herself. There were no selfish motivations. No greed, no malice, with his words only allowing positivity into her thoughts.
She opened her legs as much as she could, the dress flowing as it should, knowing that she wore nothing underneath. He liked to see her, look at her, the visual stimulus being something that he enjoyed. He found beauty within so many people, places, words and art. He said that in order to enjoy the world you simply had to see, to experience what you wanted, before taking part with any connection. He knew that she was hungry, that hunger aching within her, left dormant for the longest of times, despite men trying and failing to even rouse a small amount of her inner womanly needs.
Every woman, a potential torrent of fire or ice, depending on how you approached them. She, at this point in her life, felt as if her entire body would burn to ashes and she had but not one care within her world. She lived that life, the boring life, but now she could escape to have her desires met, equalled, increased and sated.
The feast of life, the gorging of her body’s desires, overwhelmed and freely conquered while taking satisfaction from every, single, touch of his tongue. Even the thought of his touch made her body shake. The thought of his lips ensured that her mind stopped. Stopped thinking, stopped questioning, the inner-monologue finally ceasing to undermine her wants within the moments.
She ran her fingers along her legs, her soft touch embracing her bodies command, as she heard the door in front of her open. It was time. Her time. Their time together. After the following moments, she knew that he’d spend time with her, listen to her, whilst holding her closer than she even knew possible. She enjoyed that time but until then, she’d enjoy whatever happened next, even more.
He walked in, as she stared into his piercing eyes. She wanted to laugh, that nervousness rising within, as he stood in front of her. Naked. Natural, sculptured, defined, a physical powerhouse that knew no limits and wouldn't stop until she reached whatever level he desired she reach. She often wondered if he’d somehow been trained and, if she ever met that women, she’d thank her from the bottom of her heart. She’d often wished that he’d start a master class to teach all the others a few things. Women deserved more than the world offered and right now, she would surely deserve all of the man in front of her.
Her eyes wanted to stray, to look, but her mind asked her to stay polite, constrained, controlled. Maybe this was the game, the very aim of each lesson, to fight her restrictions and to take whatever, or whomever, she wanted. She ignored her thoughts and allowed her eyes to move down his body. He often spoke about the body, how it should be taken care of, an issue to remove from our day to day lives. Physical fitness, strong prowess, the ability to ensure satisfaction in many, many ways.
He was a specimen, that example, that you only saw on rare occasions in life. Sure, of course, she’d had a couple of men that allowed themselves time to improve, but she knew and as he said, it wasn't about the body, but all about the mind. That mind, his mind. He could have her all day long with that mind of his. He’d say a few words, look at her in his certain way, then have her as many times as he’d like. She didn't care about obsession, or any unhealthy thoughts, as she was living a new life and that was all that mattered.
She kept her eyes against his as he slowly stepped forward, eventually reaching her, as he fell to his knees. Face to face, finally so close, despite the instructions stating that she was not allowed to touch him. All her senses, her body and mind, would stay exactly where he placed them at this point in time. Confined, controlled, despite every single part of her body currently dancing for joy.
He smiled, and she felt her stomach flutter, he returned her smile with such a knowing look that her breath faltered. She knew that she shouldn't get attached to a man such as this but, when he did and said such things to her body and mind, it would eventually be inevitable. It seemed odd to her that, despite the chance of being emotionally hurt, she simply did not care. She’d cried over so many, despite offering her so little, that she’d rather cry for one more and have so much.
He moved his head slightly to the right, mirroring her, placing himself in the perfect place to kiss her lips. Moving himself closer, with barely an inch between them, she felt his warmth comfort her. He’d held her within his bed, so close, so tight, that her breath cried in vain to never leave her body. He bridged the gap and, barely, touched his lips to hers for the briefest second. A ‘hello’ from him, to her, of sorts. She loved his face, hardly a pretty boy, but with a man’s face, strong, slightly weathered, with hair expertly groomed and tidy. He kept himself in the fashion that a man should. Never excessive, but the neat fashion to which he wore clothes, complimented her. She’d stand beside him no matter the venue and hold his hand as tight as she could.
Her thoughts, once again blathering away, pushed aside and gone as his hands moved. He placed his hands, one just above each ankle, either side of her. Slowly, with reason, his fingertips moved softly over her skin. Her body responded, thoughts racing, her emotions spiking and body doing what came naturally. He reached the sides of her knees and moved his fingertips inwards. As the seconds moved, he slowed his movement, teasing, knowing exactly what he was doing, only to remove his hands as he neared the place she deeply wanted his touch. Needed his touch. She’d spent far too long, alone, in her cold bed thinking the thoughts that he’d placed within her mind. She’d often wake, in the middle of the night, catching her hands, doing what he should be doing for her. The body wanted what the might thought. Even if she denied such things.
She closed her eyes, realising what he was about to do, as he lowered himself. On his hands and knees, placing himself where she wanted him, she felt his longing kiss embrace her. Her senses exploded as he, ever so softly, barely touching, did what he wanted to do. He always felt so damn good and, for her, this was all new as he usually spent so much time touching. She knew that he’d sent the instructions on purpose, knowing, she’d want him the moment she arrived.
As he teased her, listening to every sound moving across her lips, every motion from her body, she knew that he would find her weaknesses and exploit them for her gain, her pleasure. She knew that she played his games, all his games but, if she were truthful to herself, they were also her games and she wanted to play until she reached that indefinable limit of his selection.
After all, in a world such as the one they all lived within, if you didn't feel, if you didn't experience, then any feeling you’d have would be dull and boring. To feel, above all, was all that now mattered to her and she was going to feel every single moment that he offered.