“You were right before,” he says, holding his hand out to me.
“You are clearly overdressed.” He takes my hand and walks me out of the living room into a spare bedroom. It’s nice with fancy bed-coverings, beautiful headboard, and lovely armoire. Beautiful, but clearly not his bedroom. “Take off all your clothes, fold them neatly, and place them in the chair. Sit on the edge of this bed and I’ll be back in a moment.”
“What are we doing?” I ask hesitantly. What could he possibly have to tell me that requires nudity?
“Trusting,” he replies with a smile and takes our empty glasses out of the room. After he leaves, I disrobe in a hurry and follow his instructions to the letter.
Butterflies fill my stomach as I sit here. However, unlike the unpleasant nervousness of the unknown, this feeling is something I can only describe as delicious. Excitement combined with fear and the desire to please him all combine to create an energy that is irresistible.
As Mark walks into the room, his easy smile lets me know I’ve pleased him. At least so far.
“Good, good girl,” he soothes as he reaches out running his finger down my cheek and then kisses me deeply. I thrill at the touch of his lips on mine. He reaches to his back pocket and pulls out a long, thick silk scarf. Getting very close to my face, Mark looks me in the eye.
“I want you to focus on my smile,” he says as he begins unfolding the long scarf and twisting it between his hands. “It will be the last thing that you see, for a while. Remember it.”
My heart is beating so fast I feel like I’m going to pass out. I look at his gorgeous face reassuring me that everything will be alright. I smile back, wanting his lips against mine again. Then the world goes black as he places the scarf across my eyes. It’s thick enough to keep all light out and it offers not even a corner for me to cheat with. I keep focusing on his smile and the feeling of his closeness to my body.
I feel the rough tip of his finger slide down my cheek, pausing over my nipple and circling it, sending an electric current straight to my brain and lower regions. His hands guide me back until I’m reclining against the headboard propped up by pillows. I feel his weight shift as he gets off the bed.
“Don’t move, don’t speak,” Mark whispers. I obey. His absence from the room gives me a few moments to reflect on this sensation. Not the sensation of being blindfolded, but the sensation of submission. I’ve been the strong one all my life and Dad always taught me the value of self reliance. Yet, giving myself to him in these moments of intimate trust is a feeling unlike anything the pride of standing on my own could produce.
I hear a bowl clink on the bedside table and some other sounds, but can’t make them out. Surely he must know of my excitement, I feel the goose bumps on my arms rising. His large hand holds my chin up and the air is filling with the smell of a cut orange. Sweet and ripe, my mouth waters for the taste of it. I open up instinctively and he squeezes some juice for me to taste. He leans into my ear again. My eyes blind, the energy of his presence is overwhelming.
“You know how you wanted that orange? Mouth open begging for the taste of it? That’s how you should receive my kiss, open and ready for it.”
I nod, feeling the desire for him to be in me growing stronger, my wetness building and my mouth feeling empty without something in it. Then as he shifts again I hear the bowl clink and the sound of his teeth biting something with a distinct crunch. He waves the object under my nose and my eyes begin to water at the bitter acrid smell.
“Habanero pepper,” he says. I keep remembering his smile and focusing on that, praying he doesn’t expect me to take that into my mouth. I never could handle the hot stuff. But he doesn’t. His finger traces its way down my nipple again, still erect from his former touch. He circles it once, and then rubs the pepper around my areola in circles. The heat of the pepper creates a fast and stinging sensation. By the time he is coating my other nipple in the juice of the pepper I am squirming desperately.
I whimper and begin to fidget as the burn increases. My inclination is to pull off the blindfold, push him away and get water, milk, honey, anything to take the rising burn off my chest. But I don’t. I sit on my hands to keep them from moving. I swallow deeply, the pain increasing with the heat.
I hear a glass chime against the dresser then feel an amazing cooling sensation as Mark leans over taking my nipple into his mouth, rolling it around with something cold he took in. Maybe water? Or is it milk? The soothing liquid combined with the sensation of his rough tongue on my raw ni**les elates me. I start twitching and trying to get him to notice the other nipple is still on fire. Again, he takes a drink and washes my breast in kisses and tongue laps at my ni**les, coating in something soothing. When the pain is gone and I’m breathing normally, he whispers to me once more.
“Feel that heat? That’s the way I want you to feel when I touch you.”
His hand travels down, toying with my belly button then rubbing the top of my mound. The fear of the pepper inside me terrifies me but I have to trust he will not harm me. His touch is comforting and yet inciting me to ache and tingle for him all the more. I move my hips slightly, praying he doesn’t consider me to be violating his instruction. It’s a risk. I don’t want to do anything to stop this feeling.
He leans down, his tongue sliding across the top of my vaginal lips. The sensation charges my entire being with desire. Although the pepper juice has been neutralized, the burning need of my br**sts continues. I want to move my arms so badly—to reach out and embrace him as his tongue dodges in and out of my pu**y, teasing and drowning me in my own juices. He pulls away and I want to scream. But I don’t. I don’t move at all. I must obey.
I sigh loudly enough for him to hear my longing for his body. His hand rubs my mound, spreading my legs wider. I feel his finger dive in for a moment and then withdraw, leaving me achingly empty. I start to move back and forth, seeking out his finger. Soon I am out of control, humping his hand with tears of need and frustration soaking the blindfold.
I push my hips against the dry air, biting my lip and gasping. The longer my pu**y is empty the greater my need grows. I hear a plastic cap open, and then his fingers, coated in some heavenly oil or lube or something, slide into me, filling my need completely. I slam my body down on his hand over and over trying to ease the need created inside me. It’s only after some time that I realize I’ve been humping Mark’s hand like a mad woman. I blush under my blindfold.