"He Brought Her Flowers" - a story

Discussion in 'Sexual Fetishes and Fantasies' started by Susan Strict, Oct 8, 2006.

  1. Susan Strict

    Susan Strict New Member

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    "He Brought Her Flowers" is one of a collection of short stories "Strictly Susan - The First Collection" published as an e-book by Strict Publishing International and reproduced here by permission of the publishers.



    He brought her flowers, knowing how inappropriate it was. Their age gap was too great. They were friends, good friends and just a little more than friends, but that was all.

    She accepted the flowers gratefully, knowing his feelings for her were far more than simply platonic, but not caring.

    They talked, about anything and everything, not for long but comfortably over a coffee after work several times a week. Then he went home.

    “Did you see that program on television?” she asked, “The one about the really big women?”

    “No, I missed it,” he replied.

    “I can’t see,” she said, “How any man could like women that size? One of them said she gets paid for sitting on men!”

    “Well,” he hesitated, “A lot of men like big women, although there’s big and there’s enormous and repulsive! And a lot of men like women on top of them, in charge. That sort of thing.” He was suddenly aware that he was blushing and he turned his head away from her.

    She was thoughtful. “My bum’s quite big,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice, standing up and turning round to face away from him. She patted her buttocks.

    He looked, trying to appear objective but with a sudden image in his mind of those buttocks descending on him to cover his face.

    “You’re just a nice shape,” he assured her, “Not too big at all. Just right.” Then aware that his comments might be out of place, he added, “Lots of men of your own age find you incredibly attractive, I’m sure.”

    “I don’t think I could be a dominatrix,” she said, a little sadly.

    He was at a loss for words, and she saw his confusion.

    “I used to do the Anne Summers parties,” she explained, “Selling lots of stuff. I wasn’t very good at it.”

    “Excellent,” he said at once, “I mean…. I’m sure it was very interesting.”

    He was blushing again, and she saw it.

    “Time I was going,” he said. “It’s getting late and I need to be home.”

    “OK,” she said. He stood up and, as usual, she kissed him on the cheek and they hugged for a moment. He kept his hips back, away from her, well aware that the direction the conversation had taken had excited him and not wanting her to feel it and perhaps be shocked at his physical reaction.

    She had noticed. She said nothing.

    “Maybe see you tomorrow?” she said.

    “Sure,” he agreed, “If you don’t finish work too late.”

    ****

    He got a text message from her the next day at work. ‘I’ll be finishing work early if you’re not too busy and want to come round for a coffee. Make it five-thirty and we can have a good chat.

    He was there at exactly five-thirty. She was rummaging through a small stack of boxes piled in the corner of the living room.

    “Hi,” she said. “I’ve been sorting through some of the old Anne Summers stuff I kept when I stopped doing it. There’s some other junk here too, from another load I tried to sell. I thought you might be interested.”

    “Shouldn’t you have given it back?”

    She shrugged. “I think I ended up paying for it out of my commission,” she said. “Anyway, they never asked for it, so I just kept it.”

    “Some of it’s a bit odd,” she went on, “I can’t remember what all of it’s for.”

    She held up a small whip. “I wonder whether this would hurt?” she said. “It’s a bit small.”

    “Try it,” he laughed.

    “Bend over then,” she laughed back, but he did turn round and bend forward a little, jokingly.

    She raised the whip and brought it down across his buttocks.

    “Ouch!”

    “So it does hurt,” she smiled at him. “I wonder how effective it would be on bare skin. Maybe we’ll try that later.”

    He looked at her to see if she was joking, but her expression did not reveal what she was thinking. She put down the whip and picked up a handful of small gadgets.

    “What on earth are these?”

    He looked closely at them. “I haven’t seen anything like them before,” he confessed, “But I think they’re meant to be attached to electrical things and to appropriate parts of the anatomy.”

    “Ooh,” she exclaimed, “Like a TENS unit. I’ve got one of those for my bad shoulder, but all it’s got with it are sticky pads. I always thought it could be rather fun being in control of one attached to someone else – it feels rather nice when it’s on really low, but as soon as you turn up the power or the pulsing the results could be rather interesting.”

    Her eyes sparkled.

    “You’ve got a wicked sense of fun,” he said.

    “I know,” she admitted, “So let’s work out what parts of the body these things are meant to be attached to.”

    She held up the first. “What do you reckon?”

    “I couldn’t possibly say. Too rude.”

    She picked up the whip and waved it playfully in his direction. “Don’t be bad. Play the game or I’ll whip you!”

    “OK, OK. Hmm. I think those are intended to be attached to nipples.”

    “And this one?”

    “There’s only one thing I can think of would fit neatly in that, and it’s definitely male-only.”

    “Oh yes,” she said, putting one finger through the rings and moving it around. “Much too big for my little fingers.”

    “And this?” she went on. It was a thin metal probe, about three inches long, and with the other electrode attached to two chunky metal clips.

    “Looks positively painful,” he said. “I suppose the probe is to go down the end of a man’s thing, and then you attach the clips somewhere. Not nice at all!”

    “Enough of those,” she said, dropping them all back into the box. “I know what this next one is for.” She produced a large rabbit-type vibrator.

    “Do you really?” he asked. “I can’t imagine how you know that.”

    She flushed. “They’re no good,” she said. The batteries don’t last long enough.”

    In the next box was a pair of handcuffs which did not need much working out to establish their possible uses. Then there was a blindfold, a ballgag, and after that four strong nylon cuffs with velcro fastenings and a length of nylon cord on each.

    “Wrists or ankles,” he said, “And then I guess you tie the cord round something – the corners of the bed or whatever.”

    “You’d just undo the velcro,” she said.

    “I don’t think you could once they were attached to both wrists and both ankles, you couldn’t get your hands round to pull the right bits.”

    “I bet you could if you really wanted to,” she said. “Come on, let’s try it.” She fastened the cuff round one of his wrists and then stood up, holding the long cord. She pulled at it.

    “Come on then. Or are you too scared?”

    She tugged the cord again. He stood up and allowed himself to be pulled along behind her into her bedroom and towards the top of her bed. She bent down and tied the end of the cord to the top corner of the bed.

    “Right,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “You – on the bed on your back, and I’ll put the other cuffs on you so you can see if you can get out of them.”

    She pushed him gently in the direction she suggested, and went round the bed to attach and tie on the other cuff. She came back round and tightened the first cord, so that both his arms were now outstretched above his head.

    “Now the ankles,” she said, and proceeded to cuff and attach his ankles to each lower corner of the bed. He lay there, spreadeagled.

    “I can’t get them undone,” he confirmed.

    “You’re not really trying. I bet you could if you really tried.”

    He tried, and found he really could not undo them. “I can’t,” he said, “There’s no way you can undo them yourself once they’re attached properly.”

    “You’re not really trying,” she said, sounding annoyed.

    “I am. Let me go now.”

    Instead of undoing the cuffs, she disappeared into the other room.

    “Hey!” he called after her. “Get back here and undo these cuffs!”

    She came back into the bedroom with a number of items in her hands. “Clearly,” she said slowly and deliberately, “You need a very good reason for making the effort to get them undone. So I’m going to give you some good reasons, and we’ll see if you can manage to get free then.”

    She jumped onto the bed and knelt astride his chest.

    “Stop it,” he said, but without much conviction in his voice.

    “Naughty boy,” she said, and giggled girlishly. She bent down towards him and fastened the ballgag round his head, pushing the ball into his open mouth and tightening it so that he could not push it out.

    She reached to the small set of drawers beside the bed and took out a small rectangular box with wires wrapped round it. “TENS unit,” she said in explanation.

    He shook his head vigorously.

    She ignored him and appeared to be considering her next action.

    “I think,” she said to herself, “I’ll give him a very good reason for wanting to get free.”

    She turned round to face his feet, backing herself up his chest so that the back of her tight trousers just touched his face.

    “You definitely like this,” she said. Very slowly and carefully she put one hand right in the centre of the front of his trousers, and turned her head round to look down at him.

    His expression did not change, but he was quite unable to prevent himself pushing his hips upwards just a little against her hand.

    “Thought so,” she said, taking her hand off him, putting the TENS unit and the other items down on the bed beside her, and using both hands to slowly unbuckle his belt.

    She heard his muffled protests through the ballgag, and took no notice.

    She undid the button on his trousers, then slid the zip downwards away from her. She slid her fingers under the elastic of his pants, pulling them up away from his body watching the movement as his arousal was released from the pressure of his underwear, and then gradually forcing the pants bit by bit in the direction of his feet until he sprung completely free of them. She let the elastic snap back with a slap under his scrotum, feeling his body flinch at the sudden sharp sting of it.

    She turned her head round again to look at his face.

    “You are, without a doubt, an extremely naughty boy,” she said. “Or you’d be making a serious effort to get out of those cuffs instead of lying there enjoying me playing with you! Quite inappropriate behaviour.”

    “So,” she continued, “You’re not going to make the effort because you’re enjoying it too much. I’ll have to do something you might not enjoy quite so much.”

    He felt her grasp his hardness in one hand and pull downwards hard, holding him upright and looking closely at him. Whether she liked what she saw or whether she just wanted to get more comfortable he was not sure, but she wriggled herself back a bit further, covering his mouth between her buttocks and pressing up hard against his nose. She moved from side to side slightly, so that his chin and mouth with the ballgag in it went a little further between her cheeks as the material of her trousers stretched. At the same time he felt a pinpoint coldness of metal on the very end of his hardness, then a pressing on and into it, and he realised she was pushing the probe into it.

    He wriggled as much as he was able in an effort to stop her, but she just gripped him more firmly and pushed herself further onto his face, making it difficult for him to breathe.

    The probe went further and further in, until its full three inches were most uncomfortably inside him. She gave it one last push, then snapped the clips onto the looser skin at right at the base.

    She attached the wires of the TENS unit onto the terminals of the clips and the probe, then she sat back upright with the unit in her hands. As she sat up, her buttocks covered his face completely, and his air supply stopped totally. At the same time he felt a slight tingling as she turned on the unit.

    He tried to move his head to get some air, but for a while she did not seem to realise why he moved underneath her. “Oh, sorry!” she said at last, lifting herself off him, “I didn’t realise I was suffocating you.”

    She sat on the side of the bed looking into his eyes as she turned up both dials on the TENS unit. The tingling became a buzzing, a vibrating, then an indescribable, unbearable feeling that was not pain but was pain at the same time. He wriggled and writhed in discomfort as she turned the dials even higher.

    She put the unit down on the bed and stood up.

    “Well?” she said questioningly. “Aren’t you going to try and get those cuffs undone? I’m sure you can do it if you only make the effort, so I’m going out to let you think about it without any more interruptions.”

    She left the room, and a few seconds later he heard the front door open and shut.

    ****

    It was an hour before she came back, by which time he would have given anything to be released or at least to have that infernal device turned off.

    “You still there?” she asked, surprised. “Not made the effort do get out of those cuffs yet? You must like being tied to my bed too much.”

    “Anyway,” she continued, “I’ve got to change my clothes, so I can’t have you lying there looking at me.”

    She would release him now, he thought, she would turn it off and let him go, and he would never, never do anything like this with her again!

    She came over to him and reached behind his head. Great, the ballgag first, he thought, but suddenly he could not see and he realised she had slipped a blindfold over his head.

    She turned down the TENS unit slightly, but still it buzzed and vibrated its electrical charge through him even though it was not the absolute agony he had suffered for the last hour.

    He could here her moving round the room although he saw nothing. He heard the rustle of clothes as they fell to the floor, and the opening and shutting of drawers and cupboards as, presumably, she found whatever it was she wanted to wear.

    The bed bounced next to him as she got onto it, and he felt the pressure of her dipping it slightly to his left. She must be lying down next to him, he thought, but she did not touch him. He heard her gasp, a gasp of pleasure, then there was movement, rhythmical movement and he could now hear her breathing, quick, rapid breaths. He heard something else: a slight buzzing? He was not sure. Her breaths came faster and faster, and with the yet another sound he could not place. Despite his own predicament he strained to hear more clearly and to identify the noises, quite apart from anything else wondering what on earth she might do to him next. The sound, something like air being pushed, compressed, over and over again and as it was compressed bubbling rapidly through water? Something like that yet not quite like that. Something between that and the distant sound a plunger being used to unblock a drain. All the time her breathing was growing faster and shorter, and with the rapid breathing came slight gasps and moans.

    It took him a while, but eventually he did work out what it was. He was shocked, and at the same time desperately excited, and desperately anxious to be released, to see what was happening, to be part of it. The cuffs held him tight, inescapably and only able to move a fraction. He could not reach to touch her, although she was only a few inches away.
     
  2. Susan Strict

    Susan Strict New Member

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    Finally it stopped, reaching a climax in a flurry of rapid movement and a barely audible scream.

    He heard her panting, recovering her breath. He heard her take the toy from her, and place it on the table beside the bed. He felt her swing her legs off the bed and felt the bounce of the bed as her weight left it. He knew she stood beside it, looking at him, watching him still squirm and knowing his extreme discomfort as the TENS unit pulsed on and on. He felt the slight pull from the wires on the terminals as she picked it up. Would she turn it off?

    Her fingers were on the dials. She was turning it down….NO! She turned both dials up to their highest setting and watched in delight as his body bucked, writhed and strained against his cuffs, hearing his muffled cries through the gag. She brought the settings down, watching his body slowly relax, then she did it again, and again, and again.

    “You really can’t get those cuffs off, can you?”

    She turned off the TENS unit and he felt her take the clips off him. It hurt him as she removed the long probe, but it was such a relief to have it disconnected that he did not mind the pain. She undid the gag. Then she stood up again, leaving him still blindfolded and cuffed.

    “I can’t believe you did that to me.” He was indignant, yet cautious. He was not yet free.

    “I thought you’d get out of the cuffs,” she said softly, “And you didn’t. And I might have been wrong.”

    “You might have been wrong?” He was confused.

    “I might have been wrong about what I said yesterday. I said ‘I don’t think I could be a dominatrix’. I was wrong. I think I could. I think I might really enjoy it even if I wasn’t any good at selling the stuff.”

    He could not think of an answer that seemed appropriate.

    “So,” she continued, “Do you think my bum’s big enough to sit on men?”

    “I can’t see,” he muttered.

    “But you do enjoy this. I can see that just looking at you.” He felt a touch, just a touch, on the end of his hardness which since she started talking had recovered from the shocks she had given it with the TENS unit and had sprung up fully rigid once more.

    “Anyway,” she went on, “You’re not going to see. That’s why you’re blindfolded. You’re not going to see me as I am right now, completely naked.”

    He twitched, and he knew she saw the twitch. “Bad,” she said, “Still very bad. Perhaps I ought to put the electrodes back on you, or fetch the whip.”

    She sighed. “But I do want to try the sitting. I want to see what THAT feels like, and I want to see what it does to a man, and why some men are willing to pay for it.”

    “You already sat on me,” he said, “When you attached that thing to me.”

    “Oh THAT,” she said dismissively, “When you had the bag in your mouth and I had my clothes on. THAT’S not proper sitting.”

    He felt her weight on the bed again, and her knees touching either side of his chest as she knelt astride him. He felt the warmth of her thighs and her buttocks as she sat on his chest, and the slow movement as she moved up closer and closer to his face. He felt her hands on his head, holding him steady, felt her raise herself, guide herself into position above him, lower herself ever so slowly right onto him, swamping him under her flesh, her damp, sticky flesh that not only covered him completely but also felt as though it wanted to suck him right into it. She pressed down hard, concentrating on the sensations her body felt as the contours of his face pressed into her, and wriggling around to find the precise position that gave her the most pleasure.

    She sat completely still, savouring the feeling it gave her. Then again she pressed down and relaxed. Again and again she pressed and relaxed until she bounced up and down on him, never quite losing contact or breaking the clinging contact of her flesh from his face.

    He did not know how long it went on, nor if she once again reached a climax. In total airlessness beneath her, unable to speak and tell her to stop, he lost consciousness in not much more than two minutes.

    When he awoke, the blindfold was gone. She was dressed and sitting next to him. He was still cuffed and tied to the bed.

    “Time you were going,” she said.

    He agreed. “Untie me.”

    “You’ll be back tomorrow? There’s some more I’d like to try.”

    “I don’t think so.”

    “Then I’ll have to make sure you come back.” She disappeared into the living room and came back with a device he recognised, a small male chastity device with spike on the inside and which could be locked securely around a man’s genitals.

    “You won’t get that on. I’m too…. aroused.,” he told her, very glad that he was right about this.

    “Yes,” she said as if she had already thought of it. “I’ll sort that out, lock it on, and then you’ll HAVE to come back if you ever want it taken off again. So you see I can be a dominatrix whenever I want, now I know how much I like it. You’re my perfect slave.”

    “So now I’ll sort it out,” she said simply. “Either it will go down because it hurts so much, or you’ll do it and it will go down because you’ve done it. We’ll find out shortly.”

    She lowered her head towards his hardness, mouth open. The softness of her mouth and tongue on him almost brought him to climax the moment she touched him, but he managed to stop himself from doing it.

    Then he felt her teeth. They dug hard into him, biting and holding the pressure of that bite into his skin. Without relaxing the grip of her teeth, she started to move her head up and down, rhythmically, faster and faster, and at the same time working her tongue as fast as she could on the end and the sides of his hardness.

    And he knew she was right. She was always right.
     
  3. melicious

    melicious The Old Maid
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    Is there more? I want more? MORE......!!!
     
  4. MysticKev

    MysticKev New Member

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    I agree, more definately...
     
  5. Rose

    Rose Resident Sexy Grandma
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    #1 - I usually don't read the stories on here, as they are "long" and I have a terribly short atention span.
    #2 - I am not much on BDSM, especially involving real pain.

    That said, I found myself rather enthralled as I read the story. "He" seems to have bitten off more than he could chew. "She" seems to have known a lot more about domination than she let on.
    And though the tension and control were a bit overwhelming, I believe "He"'ll be back for more. ;)

    Nice story, Susan.
     
  6. HerHubby

    HerHubby The SF Poet Laureate
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    Well, I'm thinking Nobel Prize for Literature! Maybe you could stay with Puss and Krof while visiting Sweden to receive it, ha, ha!