The Woman Who Opened Her Eyes (closed for TheOlderGuy)

[Melissa_A]

Evelyn Cross's kitten heels struck hurried notes on the old wood hallway of the Graham Literature Building. She clutched at the heather wrap sweater over her sleeveless white blouse with one hand while holding one strap of her rather utilitarian black backpack with the other. Doctor Waites had cancelled his final appointments on this last day of the spring semester, and that meant that she had one more chance to try to get his feedback on her draft. She had rushed away from her work/study job at the college library to get to his office, hoping he didn't mean to cancel their appointment. She realized that to him she was just another college student with a dream of writing, while he.... she redoubled her steps, just short of running, her black skirt bouncing around her thighs.

When we was just 15 she had discovered "Five Letters From a Treetop" by Trevor Waites and it had changed her outlook on writing, on life, ... on everything. He wasn't afraid of breaking the conventions of literature, or of describing life how it was with all the eccentricities of human nature. When she'd ask her school librarian for more work of his and been told she was too young because of the graphic nature of some of his work, that had just made her want it more. She hated the dismissive critics who said he was just a throwback to the sixties; yes he pulled from that inspirational tumult but he was so much more. He was just an intellectual adventurer.

She had tried to find her own style, breaking away from norms, but had learned to keep it close enough to please her teachers in high school and professors here at Woods College. But she'd come her because HE was here, in his role as professor between writing his novels. He only worked with seniors though, and she had applied to have him become her senior advisor, she had sent him what she'd written of her own most daring work yet, tentatively titled "The Woman Who Opened Her Eyes." She had to know at least what he thought of it, but with all her heart what she really wanted was to learn from him, to have him help shape her own start in the world of literature.

She pulled herself up short in front of his door, her heart pounding, her cheeks flushed. She steadied herself with a few deep breaths and rapped upon the wood next to the brass nameplate: Dr. Trevor Waites.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Trevor closed the door and turned the lock with symbolic certainty, pulling the shade down across the window for added emphasis that he was free. Free of class plans, and schedules, and whiny slackers who just didn't feel like doing the work, and tight assed administrators who want to know what happened to the weekly reports. Free of prying eyes convinced that his life is more sparkly than theirs. Free of living paycheck to paycheck in a city that put way too much value on real estate, Free of the crushing feeling of not being able to feed his own creativity. Today, this very minute, Trevor Waites was free.

He set his well-worn leather satchel on the wooden swivel chair he'd brought from home to make this office bearable. In the unused bottom file drawer of his desk lived a flask of tequila that rarely saw the light of day. But today, it was coming out. He placed it next to the photo of his wife, now dead fifteen years, and grabbed a heavy duty cardboard box to pack his personal belongings in before heading to the lake house for the weekend. His plan was to ready the lake house for a summer of finishing his latest novel, one that he was sure would go a step or two beyond "Five Letters from a Treetop", the book that had set modern literature on its ear. Then he'd be back on Monday to pick up his last paycheck, pick up the rest of the boxes he'd packed for the summer, and then just disappear. Cell phone off. Internet - bye bye. Humanity silenced.

He couldn't bear to look at the stuff on his desk yet because Dr. Waites knew full well that unfinished paperwork lingered there, and he wanted to maintain the illusion that he was free as long as he could. He'd need a few pulls on his flask before he could make sense of prioritizing his untidy desktop. He grabbed what few books he brought here over the course of the past nine months in naïve attempts to get one student or another interested in something beyond their smart phones. He stroked his salt and peppered beard, licked his lips longingly for the days when people interacted face to face, grabbed a few photos from the shelves, and sighed as he lifted the flask.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Jesus Fuckin Christ!" The flask flew out of his hand and rattled against the file cabinet, dribbling fine tequila onto the crass blue institutional carpet that had already seen four decades of academic horror. Trevor collected his wits, retrieved the flask from the foot wide wet spot on the floor and returned it to the bottom drawer. He thought about taking a peek through the edge of the shade to give himself fair warning about who was invading his happy place. But that could look bad if it was Dr. Simon, the very straight laced chairwoman of the English Department at Woods College.

He took a deep breath, let it half out, quietly unlatched the door and drew it open. Before him stood a nervous young woman that he instantly knew he should recognize, and yet, he failed to. "What?" He winced a little, knowing that he had sounded way too harsh.

 

[Melissa_A]

Evelyn heard an exclamation from within the office and felt her nerves flutter. She took another deep breath, let her backpack slip to the floor, and straightened her blouse. As she heard his footsteps coming towards the door she straightened up, shoulder slightly back as she had been taught by her years at a all-girls high school so that she rose to her full 5' 7", perhaps 5' 9" with her low heels. It was the pose of a confident, intellectual woman... or so she hoped.

When the door opened she found herself looking up to Dr Waites. She knew he was tall from all she'd read about him, but seeing him in a filmed interview or a lecture stage was very different from being face to face with him. She felt her heart flutter at finally being so close to the man whose writing had formed her life so much.

"What?"

"Yes, ah, Dr Waites. I'm Evelyn Cross. I attended your lecture last month on Metafiction." She was babbling, she knew, and mentioning the open lecture maybe wasn't a good idea; she had heard he'd been corralled into the semi-public format when he preferred smaller groups. She took a deep breath and tried to start again, feeling the flush grow on her cheeks and down her neck.

"We had exchanged emails about a draft piece of mine that I hoped you would consider mentoring as part of my senior project." She tried to hold a steady gaze into his eyes, but that just made her blush more. "It's tentatively called The Woman Who Opened Her Eyes." She had to glance down for a moment, his eyes too intense. "You said that you might have some time to give me some feedback and consider my application... this afternoon?" She didn't mean for that to come out as a question. She normally was able to avoid the uptalk pattern, but her nerves were all aquiver. She took another breath and looked back into his eyes.

"May I come in?"

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Trevor stared down into her face, still trying his best to remember the details she was relating to him. Instead, his mind wandered to her lips, their sensual movement hypnotizing him. Her unconscious gliding of her tongue across them between sentences left them glistening, inviting him to taste and nibble. His eyes followed a trail from them along her cheekbone to the soft flesh behind her left ear. In his mind he was grasping the back of her head with his large hand, turning her head, exposing her neck like a predator going in for the kill.

"May I come in?"

Dr. Waites retook possession of his brain and forced a bodily response. "Miss Cross, please . . . " he swept his arm toward his open office, without moving his hulky frame quite out of the way. "Please, please, come in. Miiizzzzz Cross, I should say."

As she squeezed past him, he took one edge of her wrap sweater in his hand, and rubbed the soft fabric between his fingers. His deep blue eyes twinkled, and then returned to their former intensity. "Lovely shade of grey," he muttered softly, "it's almost blue. Please, have a seat. And tell me one more time what it is I can do for you. I'm afraid you've caught me at a very distracted moment. I'm leaving in a short time for the weekend. Our semester is over, I'm sure you know. You're a student? A writer?"

As she settled into the padded chair that faced his desk, he stood behind her for a moment, his hands resting on the faux leather headrest, his tall body bent forward to allow him to inhale a bit of her earthy aroma. It pleased him when young woman didn't try to hide their naturally alluring smells with crass artificial odors. She smelled of sun, and sweat, and perhaps a hint of lust. His own lust was aroused in a way he had thought he had bridled before taking this infernal job.

Slowly, Trevor walked around the desk and seated himself, leaning over the desk in her direction, and focusing his eyes on her own quivering orbs. He did not repeat his question, but waited for her to gather her thoughts.

 

[Melissa_A]

Evelyn slipped past him, dropping her eyes but unable to avoid the masculine scent of him, the presence of his body. It flustered her, moreso as she felt the light tug of his fingers on her wrap. Her eyes turned back to him.

"Lovely shade of grey, it's almost blue. Please, have a seat. And tell me one more time what it is I can do for you. I'm afraid you've caught me at a very distracted moment. I'm leaving in a short time for the weekend. Our semester is over, I'm sure you know. You're a student? A writer?"

Of course, he must get so many would be writers. She hesitated, then took the seat that seemed appropriate, a classic looking piece that seemed to hearken to an older, more traditional time.

"Yes, I ... I was inspired by your Five Letters when I was a girl. I wanted... I hoped, you might be able to give me your thoughts on my work." She felt his presence behind her, not knowing if she should turn in the chair back to face him. For a brief moment he wondered if from here he could see down her blouse, and flicked her eyes down to check. The material laid back on her chest enough that she wasn't showing anything, but the very thought of him checking her out like that put a thrill through her that distracted her yet more from her thoughts. She took a breath, smoothed her hands along her thighs to smooth the fabric of her skirt, and continued.

"I sent you a draft of my piece. I've called it 'The Woman Who Opened Her Eyes' ... I had hoped perhaps." She stopped short as he settled down behind his desk. She was repeating herself, her work was surely sophomoric to his eyes, why had she even thought that he would take his time. All these doubts filled her mind, but then she looked up into his bright blue eyes that seemed to look right into her.

"Please." She spoke from her heart as she looked into his eyes. "I know you only rarely take rising seniors to mentor, but if you would please consider it would mean so much to me. I ... want so much to learn from you."

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Trevor watch her, intrigued by her poise. It didn't hurt that her voice was soothing, and her aroused nipples were making their presence known through the thin fabric of her blouse. All in all a very pleasing picture. And those lips, he still wanted to taste them. As Trevor, he had always had the devil riding on his shoulder when it came to curious young women. But Dr. Waites understood that that was just a ticket to job loss.

"Mentor? You're wanting me to be your mentor? Just to be clear, Ms. Cross, we may be putting the cart before the horse on that one. I'm sure I must have read your work. It's probably in this pile on my desk that I need to weed my way through now that the semester workload has finished." Dr. Waites began to sort through reams of disorganized paper spread across his broad maple desk. He paused with a ten page printout in his hand, and green sharpie notes in the margins.

"Wait! Did you say 'The Woman Who Opened Her Eyes'?" Trevor stared at Evelyn as her eyes lit up, and then retreated in dire fear. She nodded, somewhat hesitantly. "No, no, Ms. Cross. That was good. You're actually an impressive writer. I think that's why I kept this, " shaking the papers in his fist, "near the top of the heap here," making a sweeping gesture towards his desktop. He skimmed through the notes he had made on the first few pages.

"Really, you have a talent. For words. For language. For emotion. Not everyone can do that. I'm not easily impressed. Most writing is so formulaic it makes me want to gag. I guess if you've read my work, you already know that, in spades." He stopped again, and stared at her. Her deep brown eyes were fully animated now, sparkling with something: pride? enthusiasm? admiration? lust? Her lips were pursed in the cutest eccentricity, her teeth grabbing the lower right side and sucking it into her mouth. And without a doubt, her nipples were twice the size they had been a few moments ago when they first spoke to him of the many things the walrus might have said.

"I do, however, have one criticism, and it's quite a serious one, I'm afraid." Her face fell, and she thrust her chest outward, almost defensively, exaggerating the already bold statement from some of the sweetest little tits he'd seen in a while. This was already getting so complicated. He just wanted to get away to the cabin for a few days of peace and quiet, so he could focus on his own work. The question mark on her face spurred him on. "While your command of reaching people through your words is screaming with a voice so fresh that I just want to cream my pants, your command of your subject is abysmal. Research, Ms. Cross. Before you can go near a subject, especially one as complex as BDSM, you need to KNOW your subject. And it's quite clear to me, that you failed in that regard. A dime store magazine's image of the submissive woman may sell to the mediocre, but it's just going to get you laughed out of circles where people actually know the lifestyle."

 

[Melissa_A]

She thought she saw his eyes dip to her chest, looked down for a moment and realized her mistake. If she had known she was going to meet with him she would have worn one of her lightly padded bras, but it was so warm out she had chosen an old comfortable one. Combined with the thin blouse her nipple were showing quite clearly. Her heart raced. What must he think of her? Did he... like looking at her?

"I do, however, have one criticism, and it's quite a serious one, I'm afraid."

She looked to his eyes to receive his criticism, straightening her back and shoulders as was her reflex when a teacher was speaking to her. She started to fumble with her wrap with the thought of covering herself. At least she'd hear some of his feedback on her writing.

"While your command of reaching people through your words is screaming with a voice so fresh that I just want to cream my pants, your command of your subject is abysmal. Research, Ms. Cross. Before you can go near a subject, especially one as complex as BDSM, you need to KNOW your subject. And it's quite clear to me, that you failed in that regard. A dime store magazine's image of the submissive woman may sell to the mediocre, but it's just going to get you laughed out of circles where people actually know the lifestyle."

Her look turned to one of defense as she pulled the wrap up to clumsily cover her chest. "But I did do research, Dr Waites! I read blogs and erotica ... and not that '50 Shades of Grey' ... I know that was dismissed by people who live that lifestyle." She paused, her face flushed as she realized she was telling him about her secret vice, something she had told no one else in her life. Nobody knew how she had stretched out on her bed and pleasured herself to the images from the stories she had read. "I tried to learn. It's not like I'm a virgin." She stopped again, surprised at her own words. It was true she wasn't a virgin, but she didn't really have much experience either.

She straightened again, her demeanor defiant. "It's not like a writer had to know everything about their topic is it? Writers can't have experienced so many of the things their characters do. Like.. like your George Hallaway - you describe him in a fight and getting shot, but you don't need to have been shot as a writer to imagine that pain."

She trailed off though held herself high. It was a weak argument really, but the first she thought of. How else could she really know, anyway?

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Trevor scoffed, and tossed the manuscript back onto his desk. "Look Miss . . . Ms. Cross," he paused and stared at her, "Evelyn? Do you mind if I just call you Evelyn. Feel free to call me Trevor if that satisfies your feminist paradigm. I actually identify far more as Trevor than Dr. Waites. Dr. Waites is my warden, truth be told. But I digress."

He was disappointed she had hidden her nipples. It had buoyed his mood to know that they spoke his language so well. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, so he could recall the imagery of her pointed arousal before he continued. "Evelyn. You say you've read my work, and actually appreciated it. So you know very well that I don't write about events or plots of any kind. I'm not relating what someone wore to the ball. And you might do well not to assume I don't know what it feels like to be shot." He stood and walked around his desk.

Taking her chin in his hand and lifting her eyes to his, "I write about emotions. I try my very best to strip everything down to how it feels. I could write a compelling story about traveling up The Amazon, but I wouldn't, unless I had been there and knew what the shit I was talking about. Sorry. Dr. Waites did not say shit to his guest." He ran his tongue along his lower lip, and sucked the right side into his mouth with his teeth. Evelyn visibly relaxed. "Every sentence I write has significance. Every sentence takes a risk. When was the last time you took a risk, Ms. Cross?"

He let go of her chin, and she lowered her face away from him. He paced around the room, uncertain how to return to his real life without crushing this poor young woman. He saw her potential, but he also saw her fear. He walked to the door, and drew it open. "Ms. Cross -- you want mentorship. You have immense talent, but you're all locked up inside what someone in your past wants for you. Maybe it's mom. Maybe it's your first boyfriend. You might even have daddy issues. I don't know, and, frankly, I don't care. At least not at this moment. Maybe you'll allow me to care, but right now, I don't"

"So, here's the deal, Ms. Cross. You've never experienced anything even remotely close to the BDSM lifestyle, and it is vast and complex, deep and wide, beyond your imagination, and beyond anything you might read about. And, don't get me wrong. I commend your research, to the extent you worked at it. But if you want me to be your mentor, three things are going to happen." He stopped to assess the level of panic in her face.

"Relax, Evelyn, relax. It's all voluntary, and it's all good. That's what MY grandma always said when I was worried about something. 'Trevor, Trevor, it's all good.' So relax. One -- I'm leaving in an hour from this very spot," he stomped the floor in front of her. "If you're here you can sit in my car with me as I drive to my lake house for the weekend. Two -- While you are with me . . . " he glanced at his watch, " . . . for these next sixty hours, you will do EVERYthing I ask you to, as a gift to me, total submission. Three -- and this is where it gets worthwhile. If you rewrite your 'draft' based on your weekend at Trevor's, AND I'm as impressed with it as I hope to be, I will write you a letter of mentorship that you can give to the registrar. Time starts now!" He stomped the floor again.

 

[Melissa_A]

One hour. At first she was paralyzed by the thought, her senses returning to the way he had touched her, held her jaw. She felt the feel of her fingers on her chin.

"Time starts now!" it echoed in her head, her head snapping to look at him, look into his eyes. She had the opportunity to spend a weekend with *the* Trevor Waites... and the risk, as he put it.

Her face flushed, she popped up to her feet. "Thank you, thank you!"
She rushed for the door, then turned and looked back at him with a small smile. "Evelyn would be fine... Trevor."

The gray wrap was left behind on the chair.

- - -

One hour. It would take at least fifteen minutes to get to her apartment, she thought, her heels clattering on wood as she ran. She was glad she only wore low heels, and that her skirt was short and bouncy to let her run. Students and even some professors stared at her as she raced down the hall and out the door.

Back in her apartment she pulled out a overnight bag and starting throwing things into it. Her writing notebooks and some pens went first, those notebooks had most of her drafts of The Woman Who Opened Her Eyes after all. She hesitated on her laptop - he was the kind of old-school writer who might not even have WiFi at his retreat and perhaps it was best to disconnect and make the most of her time with him. A pair of bras, undies, toiletries ... it was getting quite warm as summer came so shorts, t-shirts - simple comfortable clothes. Her heels were kicked to the corner and replaced with sneakers - but then she thought - would he want her in heels?

She thought again of his fingers holding her jaw, of the erotica she had read and the videos she had watched, and she feel the arousal building in her. What would he ask of her, and what if she wasn't prepared for him? Much more delicately she put in her highest heels and her sleekest little black dress that she almost never wore. Perhaps now was the time. The very fantasy of it gave her a buzz all through her body, a tingle and a warmth that ... not now, she didn't have time.

With a zip the overnight bag was closed and she raced back out of her apartment. Her little Honda would be faster to get back to Dr. Waites... Trevor's office. A quick glance at her cell phone told her she had time - but what if she was wrong?

She pulled into a visitor's spot, a quick prayer offered that her car wouldn't be towed by Monday, and rushed back into the office building lugging her overnight bag. She was flushed, her face glistening, her clothes far more askew than the polish of an hour before, and her nipples that had caught his attention before now even more visible for her exertion and sweat-dampened blouse - not that she noticed.

She glanced at her cell phone again as she reached the doorway of his office - five minutes to spare.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

It took Trevor only thirty five minutes to pack the rest of Dr. Waites into boxes, and move them to the trunk of his car. The last cardboard carton contained the mess of lose ends from his desktop. He was so certain that Evelyn would not be returning that he had no intention of waiting a full hour. As he turned out the lights of his office, he glanced around the room one last time, spying her sweater wrap crumpled in the corner of her seat.

He picked it up, admiring once again both the color and the texture. Bringing it to his face, he inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the unfamiliar smell of this quirky young woman who had almost hijacked his quiet weekend. There was something about her. Something very different from her many peers that he had attempted to reach over the past nine months. As he breathed her into his core, he imagined her ethereal being spreading throughout his body like the first sip of fine whiskey warms him, from the inside out. He wasn't sorry he had met her, and something told him that he would long wonder about her, and her struggle to fit herself into a world she little understood.

But now it was time to go. Trevor debated whether to leave her wrap hanging from his door, or run across campus to the pathetic lost and found room in the Crasden Hall Administration Building. Both choices seemed flawed, and so he simply set it atop his boxed pile of homework, stepped into the hall, and turned his key in the lock. As he walked across the quad to his car he raised his middle finger to the distant clock tower atop Crasden Hall, and chuckled to himself. At his car, he glanced again at his watch

The hour was all but gone, and although he remained convinced that he had seen the last of Evelyn, the possibilities nagged at his conscience. "Shit!" he muttered. He knew she wouldn't be there, but he felt an obligation to be sure. Walking slowly back to his office, he raised him arm again toward Crasden, "You can still go fuck yourself." A passing student gave him a worried glance. He took the stairs two at a time to the second floor, and pulled the heavy door to the hallway open.

 

[Melissa_A]

His door was locked. Evelyn took a deep breath, drew herself up tall, and gave a loud rap of her knuckles on the door. Then she waited. She listened at the door and heard nothing. With a guilty glance up and down the empty hall she crouched down and tried to peer under the door - and found it dark.

“Shit. Bastard. Shit.” She spun around and pushed her back against the door. Was this some joke? Was he toying with her? He seemed so sincere. Everything she’d read about him - he never seemed like he would just pull pranks on people. Maybe she had misunderstood. He had said something “from this very spot” - she was sure of it. But he’d also said something about sitting in his car. Had been so distracted by his touch, by the promise of his mentorship, by the way he looked at her chest - that should could have misremembered the most important part?

The faculty parking lot - it was on the other side of the building from the visitor lot. That must be it. She scooped up her overnight bag and made a dash for the end of the hallway. Just as she was about to push the brass handle of the heavy door with all of her strength it pulled away. Carried by her momentum she sailed through the door, crashing into ... Trevor Waites.

Everything seemed to slow down as she barreled into him. Her hair was now disheveled, brown bangs just starting to be lightened by the sun. Her blouse half-untucked from her skirt. Her sneakers and socks no loner matched the rest of her outfit at all. Her overnight bag slipped from her hand in her shock and skidded on its side to the other side of the stairway landing. And she ... she was suddenly pressed bodily into his tall, rugged frame.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

The force of Evelyn's momentum caught Trevor in the gut, leaving him momentarily without breath. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling and together they crashed into the wrought iron railing that guarded the stairwell. Aside from a bruise throbbing just above his tailbone there seemed to be no dire consequences from their collision. As he drew large gulps of air into his lungs, he could smell the conditioner in her hair and the sweat along her neck.

He released his embrace of Evelyn, extending his arms to steady her by her shoulders until he was sure she could stand on her own. "Are you okay? I was just coming back to see if you had actually shown up. Apparently you did. I had some doubts about whether you're were really up for the challenge." As she caught her breath and collected her thoughts, Trevor picked up her bag, and offered it to her. "Shall we?" Trevor indicated the stairs, and led the way.

They walked in silence to his Volvo and settled in for the drive. "I'm glad you came, Evelyn. I'm really curious to know WHY you came. Mentors are a dime a dozen around here, and from my perspective, I'm not so sure I have that much to offer you. Your writing is always going to be your own. I can already hear your voice in it. You don't seem like the type that's going to let anyone mess with that. I may have a useful tip here and there for you, but mentor seems like such a self-important word for whatever help I can give you."

Trevor turned onto Route 6, and headed north.

 

[Melissa_A]

Evelyn found herself wrapped in Trevor ... no, Dr Waites ... no Trevor's arms. Surprise and embarrassment played over her face, but she also was reluctant to let go, to move away from his arms, his strength, his masculine smell.

"Are you okay? I was just coming back to see if you had actually shown up. Apparently you did. I had some doubts about whether you're were really up for the challenge." His words snapped her back to reality, but she just nodded as she took back her overnight bag back from him.

As he opened up the driver's side door she realized how her clothes were in disarray. Hoping the car would shield her from his view, and barely thinking about what other viewers might be around, she tucked her blouse back into her skirt and tried to straighten herself out. One thing she was unable to brush away was how her body was reacting to all this, how the warmth she felt wasn't just from dashing across campus. She decided not to try to much to think about how the front of her blouse looked right now - the less she thought about it the sooner her too-obvious signs of arousal would fade away.

But it was hard for her mind not to race. What was she getting herself into? She really didn't know, for all she might have read or dreamed about something like this. It seemed rather unreal to be heading off with Trevor Waites for a weekend at his cabin. And "total submission" - what would that really mean? It was one thing to read blogs and erotica, and often not really know which were true retelling and which were fantasy. Suddenly she was in the midst of it, and that was exciting and scary at the same time.

As they pulled onto Route 6 she realized he was talking to her and snapped out of her distracted thoughts.

"Why?" a thoughtful look on her face, she lightly bit her lip. "Because there is no one who writes like you, no one who's lived like you." She looked over at him. "I don't want to just write like you - and thank you for saying you see a distinct voice to my writing. Any other mentor here at university could try to tell me how to write like last summer's literary hit, or perhaps like the last young adult best-seller, or the thriller that still is popular on the shelves. But that's not what you're about, I know. I've read everything you've published from "Five Letters" to "Rusted Metal" (which I know you've said you were drunk for most of) to the essay on metafiction that was in Playboy. You're not like any mentor I could ask for anywhere else."

She paused and looked away from him. "And your condition for the weekend. It sounds like something I'd never say Yes to if I let myself think about it too long."

 

[TheOlderGuy]

The image of Evelyn adjusting her clothes before hopping into his passenger seat replayed again and again in Trevor's brain. The image of her nipples shouting to him had not escaped his consciousness either. "That's all very flattering, Miss, err Ms. oh for fucking Christ, Evelyn. EVElyn! Ok, your flattery is dutifully acknowledged. Hmmmm, I like Eve. That's who you are to me, little one. But to yourself, you must begin to identify as little one. Small l 'little' and small o 'one'. Little one, you must, for the next sixty hours, think of yourself ONLY as little one, subservient to my every desire." The drive along Route 6 was an easy one that reverberated through the Waites DNA from generations of weekends and summers at The Lake, winding slowly upstate over barely used roads. Trevor rested a hand on Eve's disheveled shoulder. "I could drop you at the Holtsville bus stations if you want to back out of this."

Her face revealed no fear as he looked over at her. But what a picture she was. Points of energy leapt out at him in that brief moment, the ridge of her determined brow, her perky little nose, a chin jutting with 'I'm an adult now' pride, a stray lock of luscious brown hair resting just inches above one of the most enthusiastic nipples he'd seen in some time all lined up and moving like ripples on a pond. "I want to caution you, Eve, that I am not worthy of your worship as a writer. Yes, I know how I manage to break the rules effectively, and yes, I can give you some tips, but you do NOT want to be me. You should strive only to be you."

Downshifting his aged Volvo for the upgrade, he glanced at her again. "Damn, this is a dangerous game I'm playing." Trevor felt the full force of how attracted he was to this young woman. His self discipline would be as important to the success of the weekend as the discipline he intended to impose on her. "I don't know you very well yet, but I caution you, little one, to ask yourself if you are really ready for this. I am going to strip you down to your most naked self, both physically and metaphorically, and I'm going to send you home to confront whatever contradictions you find between that naked little one, and the Evelyn Cross you've been masquerading as. Are you really sure you're ready for that?"

 

[Melissa_A]

”Hmmmm, I like Eve. That's who you are to me, little one. But to yourself, you must begin to identify as little one. Small l 'little' and small o 'one'. Little one, you must, for the next sixty hours, think of yourself ONLY as little one, subservient to my every desire."

“Yes Sir, I will be little one. Is Sir right?”

"I could drop you at the Holtsville bus stations if you want to back out of this."

She shook her head. She wasn’t quite sure how much she should speak, her mind racing with all the things she'd read before. She sat up a bit straighter in the seat and decided that if they were going to talk about writing then the whole idea of being a silent servant speaking only when spoken too probably wasn't what he had in mind for her.

"I want to caution you, Eve, that I am not worthy of your worship as a writer. Yes, I know how I manage to break the rules effectively, and yes, I can give you some tips, but you do NOT want to be me. You should strive only to be you."

"Yes Sir, I understand Sir. I would like to think I have, as you said before, my own voice. I just need to learn how to make it stronger and clearer, I guess." She liked the way he looked over at her, and noticed how his eye kept drifting to her chest. Maybe she shouldn't try to push away the way her body was reacting to all this excitement.

I don't know you very well yet, but I caution you, little one, to ask yourself if you are really ready for this. I am going to strip you down to your most naked self, both physically and metaphorically, and I'm going to send you home to confront whatever contradictions you find between that naked little one, and the Evelyn Cross you've been masquerading as. Are you really sure you're ready for that?"

Her heart thumped. Did she have any idea what she was really getting into? "I ..." she took a breath, still looking straight out the windshield. "I don't know Sir, but I know that I want to try." She bit her lip and looked over at him, then continued. "No, I don't think I'm ready for it. I expect I'll never really be ready for it. If I was ready for it then I probably wouldn't need it." She looked back forward, her fingers intertwining on her lap. "But I do want it, Sir. I do want it."

She could feel the flush in her cheeks, down her neck, the thrill that ran through her when she said that. It was like a confession and an invitation to a man she only knew through his writing. She had to hope that she wasn't making a terrible mistake, but her intuition told her that whatever happened that fundamentally he was a good person. Despite all that happened in his books, and they often were not happy endings, she always felt there was a good heart in the center of things. But what might happen to her ... she knew she wasn't prepared for.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

"Yes, little one, 'Sir' will do just fine. There may be moments when 'Oh, God' works better, but we'll take them as they come." Trevor kept a very severe look on his face, still looking at the road. Then he turned to determine if she had gotten his sense of humor, but he couldn't resist cracking a smile. "Yeh, Doms have senses of humor, too. It's probably one of those things you won't get from most of what you read."

They drove on in silence for a bit. "This is a big world you're entering. There are so many elements to the lifestyle that we couldn't possibly address them all in one weekend, much less do them justice. So, I'm just going to touch on some aspects of 'The Life'." Trevor reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, and then, extending his hand out to her, "Put this on. It's symbolic. It will help you to remember that as long as you wear it, you belong to me. In return for that trust, it is my solemn responsibility to make sure that no harm comes to you, and that the pleasure you feel will be unlike anything you've ever known." He dropped a narrow collar in her hand, made of purple velvet, and studded every few inches with faux crystals. "And, for God's sake, get rid of that bra."

Trevor turned onto Mountain Hollow Road, using the switches on the door to roll down all four windows. "It's a long way up to the top, and the road's kind of rough in places, but it's well worth it. You'll love this place. I've been coming here since I was three years old. A lot of memories. A lot of family reunions." Trevor stared at Eve's face as long as the winding road allowed, made a quick adjustment to his steering, and then stared at her some more. "You remind me of my niece. A lot! She and I had a thing here one Fourth of July. It was very hot. A year later she had married some big shot director from Hollywood. I never saw her naked again. But you, little one, remind me of her to an almost spooky degree."

Trevor rested his right hand on Eve's bare knee. He drew his hand along the inside of her thigh, lifting her skirt a bit before settling his large palm on a warm fold of flesh. "What do you feel when I touch you, little one? And how do you like your collar? You're being very quiet, and we haven't even gotten to the part where I tell you that you shouldn't speak."

 

[Melissa_A]

"Yeh, Doms have senses of humor, too. It's probably one of those things you won't get from most of what you read."

She gave him a smile that had traces of nerves about it. "Yes, I think that the combination of D/s and humor isn't something I saw a lot of. Sir." She almost slipped and forgot it, but she hoped that between that and another smile he'd understand.

She took the collar from him and put it around her neck. As soon as she adjusted it and fastened it she realized that it had just seemed right. Her fingers hadn't even trembled. She knew what it meant - she thought at least, but...

"And, for God's sake, get rid of that bra."

She took a breath as she leaned forward in the car seat, but didn't hesitate. She'd been expecting (hoping?) for something like this. Something simple but as symbolic an action as the collar. As she unfastened it behind her back she only wished she might have been wearing a sexier bra, or at least a nicer one. She slipped her arms through the loops and fished out of the bottom of her blouse. It was a simple unlined bra she'd had probably for too long, but it was very comfortable in the summer. She tucked it down beside her on the seat. There was no hiding her nipples now as they pressed unbound into the thin material of her blouse. In her limited experience men liked her nipples, and she liked them playing with them. What he would do... she didn't know.

She listened to his story, both turned on and surprised, and she knew it showed in her face. She really didn't even know what to say to that, but she supposed she certainly was younger than his niece - now at least. When his hand slid onto her thigh she tensed at first, feeling his warm touch and all of the warm thoughts that flowed through her from that touch.

"What do you feel when I touch you, little one? And how do you like your collar? You're being very quiet, and we haven't even gotten to the part where I tell you that you shouldn't speak."

"I like the collar sir, and your touch. Well, it is very exciting, Sir." She let out a deep breath. She was tempted to say she wanted him to touch her more, but that was just an impulse, a crazy thought - and maybe he wouldn't like if she said that. Her impulse when confused was to sit up straight, feeling the soft slide of her blouse on her breasts. "If I'm not supposed to talk, Sir, I guess I shouldn't say, but how do things work? I mean, I understand when you're in the middle of things, in a 'scene' as some say, but all the time?"

 

[TheOlderGuy]

The road wound upward, occasionally exposing a stunning view of the valley below. Trevor's hand on the wheel was sure. He could have driven it at night with his headlights off. He squeezed her thigh and released it, stroking a few stray hairs off her cheek, and lightly brushing his fingertips across one nipple and then the other before returning both hands to the steering wheel for a few especially sharp curves.

"Right now, little one, I want you to speak your mind, directly and concisely. While trust is the commodity we will value most in this time we have together, communication is the tool that enables us to build that trust. So, I want every bit of your feedback. If you hold back, it will only bite us in the ass later on. When the time comes that you are not to talk, I will be very clear about that command."

The road leveled out and ahead stretched a long straightaway. Trevor reached his right hand out again to cup her left breast, and tweak the engorged nipple with his thumb. "I like the way you dress, my little one, except for that horrid bra. You should never cover these," he gave a firm squeeze, "at least not around me. I haven't seen them in their full glory yet, but I'm quite sure I'm going to love your tits." He pinched her nipple a bit harder than he intended to, and returned his focus to the road, signaling a turn and entering a narrow driveway between thick towering pines that ended at a modest and well maintained cape cod overlooking a spectacular lake.

"We're here. So, we will talk, a lot, until we get the rhythm of this down. A few points I should make about what we won't be doing, things that are all legitimate parts of the BDSM lifestyle, but things we could never prepare for in such a short time. There will be no blood, scat, or urine. There may be some pain, but it will be fleeting, like a sharp smack on your bare ass if you disobey me. I am not generally into the sadomasochistic side of The Life, and unless you've warranted severe punishment, you won't find me trying to humiliate or degrade you. I like you as you are, and I have no need to feel more important by trying to put you down. I'm here to instruct you, not deconstruct you."

Trevor turned to face Eve, and she held his gaze with steadiness. "We should talk about any other limits you have, things that you're willing and not willing to do. The hard limits I will faithfully respect. The softer ones, well, let's just say I might push them a little bit, just to help you grow. And, this, little one, is very very important. Choose a safe word, one that you can easily remember, even while under duress, because that's the only situation you're going to be using it in. Let me know what it is. Don't make it something that you might accidentally blurt out when you didn't mean it to be a parachute out of whatever moment you just can't handle. If you ever reach that limit where you can't bear to go on, use your safe word, and I will stop, no questions asked, no judgments made."

 

[Melissa_A]

Evelyn leaned back into the seat of the car, half closing her eyes as she enjoyed feeling his hand roam over her. His fingers brushing over her nipples made her shiver, a light inhale gasping from her. Without thinking of it she slid slightly deeper into the bucket seat, her legs parting a bit wider. His squeeze on her breast elicited a small moan, her eyes flickering, It felt like it had been a long time since someone’s hand was on her breast and complimenting her.

The pinch or her nipple brought out a sudden “Ahhh”, her eyes flying open to look over at Trevor just as he turned his attention (and both hands) to driving. The warmth that was running deep in her felt so good. His voice seemed to be speaking deep inside her. The image appeared in her mind of standing before him in nothing but her black panties and kitten heels, breasts bare and nipples proudly pointing forth to please him.

His word about limits and safe words stirred her mind back to attention. The idea of his caress on her naked body was soft and warm, the edges of the Life he described were sharp .. and she had to admit, exciting. She sat back up straighter in the car seat, her knees drawing back together again.


“Limits, uh. I’ve never had anything in my - umm - ass before. I guess that’s a soft limit. It’s some of the sadomasochism things that are scarier and since you’re not into that, I think I’m okay.” Her brow furrowed, worried that perhaps this was a sign of her lack of creativity or knowledge of D/s that there wasn’t something she should want to avoid.

“And a safe word…” her mind swirled with what she’d read of before. ‘Red/Yellow/Green’ terms, ‘Mercy’, silly words and fruits. She felt for a minute like this was something he would judge her on, something that maybe signalled to him whether she was serious. Her head shook in small motions; she had to put that doubt aside. Something simple.

“How about just ‘mercy’. It’s not something I can see myself saying on impulse.” She looked over at him. “Not like ‘Oh God’ anyway”. She gave him a smile that for the first time showed just a hint of mischief rather than her usual serious demeanor.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Amused at her reference to ‘Oh, God’ Trevor smiled back at Evelyn. “Well, ‘Mercy’ it will be. Shall we go inside?” It wasn’t a question, his voice taking on a commanding tone. And he didn’t wait for an answer, or carry her bags. By the time he had unlocked the door, Eve had caught up to him, and he motioned her inside. The living room was spacious but dimly lit. Ample sunlight streamed into the dining room which adjoined the living room through a large wood trimmed archway. The Lake was visible, and the late afternoon sun splashed loudly upon it. To the left was a hallway.

“This is it, little one.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s 4:43. I’m going to give you some time to take care of things. Use the bathroom, call whoever you need to, to let them know you’ve arrived safely and that your phone will be off until early Monday morning. The bedroom is the one at the end of the hall. There should be clean towels in the closet to the left of the shower. At 6 sharp your first lesson begins. It’s a simple one. ‘Assume the Position’ Whenever you are told to assume the position, you are to get onto all fours in the middle of the floor, your head bowed, your eyes to the floor. Unless instructed otherwise ‘Assume the Position is always carried out naked. And, not always, but in this case you will also wear this.” Trevor handed her a simple black blindfold with a velcro fastener.

"Do not be late. Six o'clock means six o'clock. And this will be one of those occasions where you only speak if I tell you to." Trevor touched Eve's mouth, running his thumb along her lips until they parted, admitting his digit to the warm moist inner world of her mouth. "This mouth is mine. Your eyes look at me only when I give you permission to. These tits are mine." Trevor roughly squeezed Eve's right breast, and pinched the still engorged nipple. His hand quickly reached under her skirt and cupped his hand around her mons veneris. "And this ... this is mine. You never touch it without permission. You offer it freely to anyone that I instruct you to. You display it when I command. And while you are here, it is never to be covered. Get rid of these." Trevor gave a hard yank on her panties, ripping them, but not totally removing them.

He studied her face, unable to determine how readily she could adapt to the harsh new world she was entering. Worry and curiosity share many of the same facial expressions. "Don't worry, little one. You're actually doing really well. Don't lose your focus. Don't let your fears rule your emotions. For now you should think only about pleasing me, obeying my every command, and pleasure will begin to fill all those empty places within you that once seemed vast and intangible. Now, hurry along while you still have time." Trevor gave her a playful smack on her ass.

 

[Melissa_A]

Evelyn hurried to catch up to him with her bag, which seemed very small now that she thought about a weekend at his lakeside retreat. She was glad she had swapped her heels for sneakers now that she wasn’t on polished, level ground. In some ways, that’s the way her heart felt too - no longer on the reassuring level that she had spent the past few years trying to master.

She was distracted by taking in the new space when the strong tone of his instructions pulled her back to attentiveness. She nodded as he laid out a timetable, such structure was something she preferred, though her heart quickened as he described how she should “Assume the Position.” It was another reminder that this was no normal weekend getaway. She took the blindfold with a hand that trembled slightly.

“Yes, sir” she breathed out, processing what all this meant as then his hands were on her. She though to close her lips on his thumb but she was too slow and suddenly his hand was tight on her breast, sending a jolt through her and a gasp from her lips. That gasp was nothing to the undignified small “ah” as he yanked at her underwear, more in surprise than in pain. Surely her reaction was why his voice softened just a bit after that. Pleasing and obeying, it seemed so simple. She was pretty good at obeying, but then her will to get what she wanted had also gotten her far - in fact it was how she had gotten here. Pleasing… could she really please him? From the sharp comments of ex-boyfriends in the past sometimes she wondered if she had the instinct or the body for that. Though Trevor’s comments, and the ache she felt on her breast, told her of his interest.

“Now, hurry along while you still have time."

The smack on her bottom felt like it lifted her out of her reverie up into motion. She started to look up to find those bright eyes of his, but then remembered his instructions and looked down instead. Uncertain she took her first few steps away from him backwards, feeling the lines on her hips where the band of her panties had dug in as he ripped at them, then turned and retreated down the hall towards the bedroom. It had begun.

* * *

The contents of her bag seemed to come from the wrong world. She neatly refolded her packed clothes and put them in a stack by a bedside table, not sure if she should presume to put them away here. She hung her little black dress up in his closet and tucked her heels beneath it more to go through the motions than with anticipation of wearing it. Would she be naked the entire weekend?

She sat down on the bed with her phone, wondering who to call and what to tell them. She tapped out a brief email to her parents letting them know she was away for the weekend and would be outside of phone service. She started to call her best friend Michelle and hesitated. Michelle knew that she was trying to get Dr Waites as a mentor, and someone ought to know where she was if… she didn’t want to even think about the what if. She took a deep breath and pulled up her phone’s mapping app, then forced herself into excited language for a text message explaining that she had a chance to pitch her novel to Dr. Waites up at a retreat, while not exactly saying it was Trevor Waites’s home. She gave the nearest town as the location and ended with a “Wish me luck!”

She needed it.

There was still so much time left until 6pm. Slowly she took of her clothes, folding them and putting them aside, including the torn undies. She ran her fingers through her untidy pubes, thinking of how she’d meant to trim it tight before summer and bathing suit season came. In the midst of her most sexually satisfying relationships (which wasn’t saying much) she’d actually shaved it all off on a daring impulse, and she had been rewarded with the best oral sex she’d ever had. But now it seemed that shaving like that would require his permission - and surely he’d felt her bush when he grabbed her earlier, so he’d know. And how would she ask if she couldn’t speak?

She eyed the bedroom door, but wasn’t quite sure if she should leave the room until six. And she shouldn’t go running to him for everything… or should she? She sighed - she was already terrible at this. Taking a towel from the closet and her toiletries from her bag, she decided to at least clean up. In the bathroom she found a small pair of scissors, perhaps meant for a beard, and inspiration took her. Standing over the open toilet she methodically and carefully trimmed down until short brown clipped hairs spread across the water of the bowl. She cleaned the scissors in the sink and climbed in the shower, feeling sexy and proud of herself. She wasn’t bare, but at least it was tidy and as short as she could trim consistently. As she washed herself she was tempted to do more than just scrub, her excitement building in her newly trimmed sex, but she remembered his words and kept her touch to the utility of cleaning.

Soon she was naked in the bedroom, hair up in a towel, spreading lotion on her legs. The air felt cool on her skin, but that wasn’t the reason her nipples had returned to firm points. She checked the time on the watch she had set down on the bedside table - it was only a bit after 5:30. A long, nervous breath escaped her, her stomach tight and her heart jumping.

Where was he all this time, anyway? The thought itched at her, her curiosity building as she ruffled the towel through her hair. He didn’t say anything about restrictions before 6pm, after all. She glanced at her stack of clothes, then grabbed a pale green t-shirt and pulled it on. She took the soft blindfold and wrapped it around her wrist, looping its velcro tie one more time around to secure it. Her heart beat faster as she looked in the mirror, seeing how her nipples poked hard into the snug fabric and her trimmed pussy peeked out below its hem. She never could have imagined seeing herself like this and feeling this way. The thrill of it surged through her, a warm tingle in her breasts and deep between her legs.

She quietly opened the door to the bedroom and slipped down the hall on quiet feet, listening for any signs of where he might be.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Trevor watched her as she retreated down the hallway, smiling to himself at the exciting mix of spunky curiosity and shy awkwardness. She kept her eyes averted, a good sign that she'd been paying attention. When she turned and walked away, her hips swayed in youthful exuberance, and her short skirt teasingly flounced just enough to give him a taste of her toned upper thighs. He imagined what he could not see: the sweet creases where her legs melted into rump, and the possibility of tan lines running through the middle of her cheeks. But perhaps she hadn't yet taken advantage of the early summer sun. She seemed a little pale.

Eve disappeared into the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her, and Trevor quickly turned to taking stock of the pantry supplies, and retrieving two bags of groceries from the trunk of his car. "Damn," he thought to himself, "I forgot in the chaos of leaving to stop for perishables." In the morning they could drive down for breakfast at The Valley Cafe, and then hit the farmers' market. It would give him a chance to see how she handled being displayed in public. For now the kitchen was in good shape, and what was lacking would be easy to attend to tomorrow. He finished putting things away, and turned his attention to preparation for Eve's first lesson.

In the corner of the dining room he unlocked a plain wooden cabinet with the key that was hidden on top. He withdrew several lengths of bristly sisal rope, a few elegant but faded silk scarves, a pair of soft black velcro cuffs, two pair of metal police cuffs, and a riding crop about twenty one inches long with a softened square of well worn leather affixed to the end. He laid them carefully out on the dining room table, straightening out each chair as he circled about it, studying what few toys he had stashed here for their best use. An eye for detail had always served him well. Checking his phone for the time, 5:28, he still had time for a quick dip in the water, but he worried that he had given his little one too much time to think. He was growing attached to the idea of having her at his whim, but painfully aware that she might chicken out at any moment.

He took one length of rope, stopped at the closet by the front door for a large beach towel, and then pulled open the sliding door between the dining room and deck. Once outside, he hung the rope across a limb of the silver birch tree that branched from the main truck at a height of seven feet, and in another ten seconds he was out of his clothes and bounding naked down the stairs to the dock. He dove off the end without hesitation, the water slightly chillier than he'd expected, but breathtakingly refreshing. In smooth strokes he swam out to and around the floating dock and back to the ladder on the stationary dock. Water streamed off him as he hauled himself up, and the late afternoon breeze brought a further chill to his body, shrinking his cock and balls even further into their failsafe position. He wondered how much Eve knew about the difference between growers and showers. His had always been a modest package at rest, and quite an impressive display when aroused.

Not bothering to towel off, enjoying the feel of goose bumps on his flesh, he settled on top of his towel on the chaise lounge just outside the dining room, and began to picture Ms. Evelyn Cross, naked and yearning, hoping her talent for learning extended as far as he was hoping to take her. As the strong afternoon sun warmed him, and his thoughts wandered to the delicious task of exploring this young woman's body, and even more thrillingly to exploring her sexual psyche, blood began to freely pump into his genitals, his cock slowly rising, until it was pointing straight up. He ran his hands along its length, starting at the tip, teasing the frenum, playing with the moisture that remained. He knew it would be difficult to master his own desire for Eve enough so that her experience here would not just be a fuckfest, but would transform her in some way. In some ways, his own self control would be harder to master than her vague fears. Surprisingly he found what he desired most was to kiss her. Her mouth was intoxicating to him, but he must be careful not to ruin the dynamic of her submission by letting their sexual tension devolve into some romantic interlude.

He could not get the picture out of his mind, his mouth on hers, sucking her lower lip into his hungry oral gateway, his tongue exploring, teasing, commanding her lust and curiosity to express itself. As he daydreamed of all the pleasure to be found in just her face, his cock hardened, and began to pulse with vivid anticipation. He spit in his palm, and leisurely stroked himself, carefully avoiding any over stimulation that would ruin what was to come. Lost in reverie, he suddenly remembered the strict timetable they were bound to, and checked the time on his phone. 5:58! He jumped up, returning his phone to his pocket, and not bothering with the rest of his clothes he pulled his shorts on and rushed back inside.

 

[Melissa_A]

Evelyn tiptoed down the hall until she could peek into the living room. She couldn’t see him, but she imagined that he might well just be sitting in a chair somewhere nearby reading or having a drink. She paused for a long moment, listening and hearing nothing but her own thumping heart.

She slipped out into the living room, looking about cautiously, until she saw a glimpse of motion outside one of the gorgeous large windows. Slipping up behind one of the large chairs she peeked out, and what she saw made her gasp and her heart thump harder. She saw him take his hands down from a rope on a branch, but she couldn’t figure out what it was for and she stopped thinking about the rope as soon as he started taking off his clothes. She slipped farther forward, her back against the wall as she peered through the window. He looked strong, solid … a man who had a certain dignity and presence with his age, but not given overly to a middle aged spread.

Only in dreams had she imagined she would see Trevor Waites naked. Her hand slipped down, but as soon as her finger began to stroke over the newly-trimmed hair on her mons she remembered his instructions and she jerked her hand back, which only made the ache inside her grow. As he dove into the water, she leaned back away from the window, her eyes closed as she savored the image of him. As she arced her back, the snug fabric of her shirt sent pleasant tingles through her breasts. She slid her hands up her body, a slight smile on her face - he hadn’t said she couldn’t touch her breasts. The light friction of the fabric heightened her fingerplay on her breasts, an erotica moment she couldn’t have imagined just a day before. What would it be like for him to be touching her again. Her eyes opened as she smiled in satisfaction.

And then she beheld the array of instruments laid out on the table, her breath catching in her throat. With a quick glance out the window she saw that he was just emerging from the water onto the dock. She dashed to the far side of the table, her eyes nervously darting from the more distant figure of Trevor, and the immediate fascination of the items before her. The rope worried at her, her fingers feeling its roughness compared to the scarves or cuffs, but the item her eyes kept returning to was the crop. She had read of the use of riding crops many times, watched videos that featured its use, but she really had no idea what it would feel like. No lover had even been so bold as to slap her on the bottom during sex, much less have the finesse that Trevor would likely use with this. She hesitantly picked it up, felt the spring of its length, the soft but firm leather. With a sudden thought she put it back down, trying to arrange it in the angle it was before.

From the corner of her eye she saw movement. Trevor was almost back to the house and still as naked as before. Her gaze fell to his groin and she had a sudden feeling of disappointment before she realized he had just been in what was likely still quite chilly water. She crouched behind the table, ready to bolt for the bedroom, until she noticed that he had stopped and dropped out of her sight. Slowly she edged up to the window, until she could see that he was lying on a lounge not ten feet away from her. He was moving, slowly, and then she realized he was stroking himself. The small penis she had seen while he was walking now was quite a bit larger and growing at his touch. She let out a long exhale as she thought of what it might be like for her hands to be on him, bringing that reaction from him. She watched him and slowly teased her breasts, working her nipples to hardened points, until suddenly he pulled out his phone and began to move. Her scramble matched him, at first practically on all fours to get back to the living room. She pulled the t-shirt off over her head and threw it to the side. Kneeling, she fumbled with the blindfold with shaking hands before finally getting it over her head. Just as she heard the front door she assumed the position as he had instructed, darkness now around her. She took a shuddering breath, feeling the electricity in her nerves, the tight warmth in her breasts, the deep wet warmth between her legs. She knew surely that as soon as any touch parted her there, it would be obvious for anyone to see her arousal, her want, her need. Now she could only wait, and listen.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

As Trevor rushed through the sliders into his dining room, his peripheral vision caught a movement at the hallway entrance by the front door. Fixing his gaze there he could detect nothing further. Probably a lizard scampering for cover. They are everywhere. He had no time to waste. He hated being rushed, but it's what he gets for letting his guard down. There was no excuse for being tardy after he himself had made such a point of timeliness.

He turned to the table, intending to choose his tools. There was something amiss. Everything seemed positioned as he had left them, but, no, there it was. The leather loop handle at the end of his crop was askew. Perhaps he had been carelessly less OCD than usual? What are the odds? He picked it up along with two long silk scarves and the soft black cuffs, and headed with determination to the bedroom.

The runner at the beginning of the hallway was scrunched up at the corner, a clear sign that the movement Trevor had seen was no lizard. He smiled to himself, happy that Eveyln Cross was no empty vessel. He preferred a curious woman with spunk, with a drive of her own, and with enough courage to risk the consequences. The thrill of delivering consequences was returning the flow of blood to his already over stimulated crotch. A quick glance at his phone revealed that he was less than a minute late. Quietly he pushed open the door.

There she was, a lovely vision for his tired eyes and cynical disposition. She had arranged herself quite credibly, given how little instruction he had given her. In bare feet he softly circled her, like a predator gauging the fortitude of his prey. As he returned to her feet, he laid the scarves and cuffs on the edge of the king sized bed, and inserted one foot between hers, gently pushing her knees apart. "So nice to see you like this, little one. I am pleased with your presentation. I intentionally gave you very little direction here because I wanted to see how well your instincts would serve you. Just so you know, in this position your knees and your feet should be as wide as your hips to allow easy access."

He touched the leather tongue of the rising crop to her neck, parting her tresses with a subtle sideways motion, and slowly dragged it down her spine, watching as it sent sensations throughout her slight frame. Between her cheeks, across her puckered anus, and along the neatly trimmed slit that marked the entrance to her womb. Trevor repeated the sideways motion there in order to part her nether lips a bit, bringing his own pulsing arousal up another notch. When he lifted the crop, a wet spot on the leather revealed her state of arousal was more than this simple touch should have created. He sniffed it, inhaling slowly as if he were judging an aged wine, and exhaled in a glorious approval of her aroma.

He snapped the crop sharply on her right ass cheek right on the yummy tan line that dissected it. Eve jumped, startled at the contrast of touches, and sharply drew her breath in, but did not waver in her commitment to The Position. "Don't speak, little one. Not yet. But that was for your little adventure before." He placed the tongue of the crop beneath her nose. "You smell that, my little nympho in heat? I like that smell. But you have no right to be so aroused yet. And I better not detect that on your fingers. While your curious exploits were not prohibited, neither were they sanctioned. It's a tricky path to navigate, but you will get much better at it, once you give up any notion that your behavior will go unnoticed."

Trevor stepped around by her head. "Left hand!" Eve shifted her weight onto her right palm, and lifted her fingers high in the air. He carefully took her hand in his and checked them for any traces of pussy juices. The process was repeated with her right hand. "Look at me!" He stared into her eyes and held the gaze for what could have seemed a long time to someone awaiting harsh judgment. "You're a good girl, little one. You've done very well with your first lesson. Your Sir is pleased, and that should be your primary goal these next few days. A Sir who is displeased could bring about significant discomfort. For you, that is. For me, it's just part of the job. You may return your eyes to the floor now."

Trevor walked around her deliciously naked form again, making slight adjustments to the position of her hands, the arch of her back, the tension on her neck. He playfully slapped at her breasts with the end of his crop, bringing her perfectly hardened nipples to a screaming point. He smacked her pussy somewhat harder, one, two, a half dozen times, pausing between each stroke to examine the volume and aroma of the moisture left on the keeper. When she had learned to control her gasps and recoils from the blows, he laid the crop precisely beside the scarves and walked to the stand beside his bed. From the drawer he withdrew a tube of organic lube, mostly consisting of aloe vera juice and the smallest of the butt plugs he kept there, a clear silicon toy with a lilac colored jewel at the end that smartly matched her collar.

He coated the butt plug generously with lube, and spit into his hand, choosing his own saliva to moisten the area around and inside her anal door. She flawlessly held her position as he inserted the device, the bulbous head seating quite naturally inside the muscular rim of her asshole. "You will wear this until you no longer notice its presence. In the meantime I need to assess the most suitable use for each of your other orifices." Trevor ran both thumbs from the shiny flesh of her ass along the outside of her labia, and back up along the inside, spreading her pussy juices as he did. He pulled them apart, exposing the inner folds and tight hole, circling it with surgical precision. Once he had satisfied his initial curiosity, he moved to her head.

"Look up, little one. Give me your eyes again, and open your mouth." He ran his fingers across her lips, and along the moist inside of her mouth, her tongue reflexively replenishing with more saliva, her eyes steady allowing him to move deep inside her mind, small gulps punctuating the tension. Trevor touched his erection, adjusting it within his shorts, certain that his state of readiness for her was no secret at this point. "Yes, my little deer in the headlights. Let's start here. No hands! I want to see what you can do with your mouth." In a quick motion, Trevor dropped his shorts to the floor, and stepped out of them, inching forward until her face was inches from his rock hard cock.

 

[Melissa_A]

The quiver in her limbs turned into a jump as he inspected her and delivered the first swat of his crop. She was glad she had resisted the temptation to do more than play with her breasts, particularly after he inspected each hand. As her mind raced she responded quickly to each demand, and found herself growing all the warmer inside as he pronounced that he was pleased with her.

Her surprise was all the greater then when his proclamation was followed by stinging blows to her breasts. Her body jumped, her breath suddenly gathered, all of her nerves seeming to concentrate on the twin points of her breasts that she could only imagine were now bright red to match the surging pain she felt. Just as she was wrapping her head about this, eyes bright and watered, arms starting to shake - that's when the crop struck across her pussy. She jumped, her head jerking up, unable to hold back from the cry of pain. But she held the position, even as the blows came down again and and again against her sensitive labia and clit. She tried to hold back her scream as tears dripped to the floor.

Then it was over and she heard him walking down the hall to the bedroom. She used the moment to pull herself together, finding it hard to think of anything other than the pain until she heard his footfalls returning. She had just taken a deep breath when she felt him part her cheeks and press the smooth plug inside her. As she processed how the strangely filling pressure felt, his fingers caressed her swollen pussy, sending nerves screaming again.

Her head pulled up at his demand, yielding to his exploration of her mouth as if it was no different than the way he had parted her labia a moment earlier. She could guess what was next, but some deep part of her feared another blow on her wrought nerves. To see his unveiled cock was exciting, but intimidating, knowing that she had to please him or surely the pain would come again.

With no way to cradle his length in her hands all she had was the motion of her head, mouth, and tongue. She started by taking his head between her lips, tongue circling his tip, before pushing her head forward as much as her neck would allow. She tried to keep her lips tight about his girth, tongue moving as she explored the hot yet soft feel of his flesh. As she got a feel for his shape she tried to start bobbing her head forward and back so that she could caress his length as she would if she was holding him. She sucked as she pulled down towards his tip, her tongue seeking out that sensitive place just below the underside of his head, running lapped circles and listening for the sounds of what would please her Sir. Her eyes craned upward seeking approval, forgetting in the moment that this was only for when she was directed to do so.