Part III
Her
I sit beside you, in your fine new car, clothed in your fine new suit...so
cool...so controlled, but I can remember, not so many hours before when
your control was not so complete. I smile and touch my finger to my lips.
Is that little dab of pink still there, I wonder...on the tip of your
finger?
Your smirk tells me that you think you have the upper hand here. Well,
maybe you have...but all that can change.
You gently touch my thigh, exposed from my efforts to slide into the front
seat after releasing so many buttons. You smile as you watch me
squirm...telling me once again that I must wait...wait...wait. But I have
other plans...ones that may change your mind...
Deftly, I lift my purse from the floor where it rests, discarded in my
discomfiture, and take a tissue from the tiny, slitted palm-sized package.
Then, raising it to my lips, I begin to dab...ever so gently, until you
shift your gaze... wondering what I have in mind.
I smile...an enigmatic smile...the game is afoot.
I dab again...and again until I'm sure that all of my lipstick has been
removed, and my lips are as naked as you'd like me to be. Then...a twinkle
in my eye...my hand strays to the smooth finish of your slacks, tracing the
sharp crease upward to the union of leg and hip. I lean back against the
seat...a sigh...and gently slip my fingers inward toward the hard pulse
that I know I'll find within. So...you want me to wait, I
think...well...let's see how adept you are at the "waiting game".
"Sarah?" you question, your composure beginning to unravel. "I'm trying to
drive..."
My hand strays to your zipper...a soft zzzz...and freedom.
"I know," I reply. "...So am I."
You shift your focus...distracted...unsure. I have you now...and I know it.
Confidently...my purpose foremost in my mind, I slip my hand inside of your
silk boxers and secure my prize.
The car swerves.
"Keep your eyes on the road, my Love," I whisper. "Leave this in better
hands."
I watch as you grip the wheel, your fingers drumming nervously on the round
firmness of it. Then, scooting my velvet derriere all the way toward the
passenger door, I lean toward you and release your manhood from its silken
prison.
You gasp.
"Sarah?" you question. "Now...here?"
I smile once again.
"Yes," I reply, "...to both questions."
A red light blinks at the intersection in front of you...the car
halts...and I gently take you between my lips. You stroke the
wheel...feeling its convolutions flow beneath your fingers...but it's not
enough. You close your eyes and lean heavily back against the fine
Corinthian leather of this magnificent, luxurious automobile.
I begin to lick...lightly at first, then with added determination. You
groan. A car honks behind us...a driver shouts. What is that he's calling
you? You don't care...not this time. Let him get his own...
The car moved forward...jerkily at first... and I take you deeply into my
throat...relishing your taste... devouring you as I nestle between your
quivering thighs.
Your right hand reaches down to stroke my hair, still bound softly atop my
head. "Sarah...we can't," you murmur, but your hand, sliding down to grasp
the back of my neck says otherwise.
I feel your fingers diving into my coiffure...urging me against
you...stiffening with restraint. A hairpin? You give it a tug. And another?
And yet another? Soon you feel the weight of my hair, silken soft...wildly
abandoned, fall against your leg, and my face vanishes from view.
Was that a stop sign? You missed it!
You swell with an urgency unimagined only a few scant minutes before. Your
driving has become erratic. I can see the police report now. Do you still
want me to wait? Do you?
My lips...lost in a mass of red strands, continue to move against
you...sucking gently... teasing... testing your determination...your
control. I swirl my tongue around your hardened shaft...your fingers close
painfully around a fistful of my hair.
"OH!" I cry out.
You're not quite as under control as I'd imagined...but we still have a few
blocks to go. There's still time...victory is still within my grasp...my
lips.
I redouble my efforts, the soft pant of my breath warming the fabric of
your suit, the leather upon which you sit...and then I taste the first tiny
drops of your defeat escape tentatively against my tongue.
The car halts, and I feel you grasp my hair...tugging me from the scene of
my "crime".
"We're here," you murmur huskily. "Now, it's my turn."
Your words reverberate against my flesh.
"My turn," you repeat, sliding across the seat and pressing me intimately
against the passenger door.
I feel your finger, blunt and demanding, insinuating itself beneath my
collar...my velvet bond...set in place the day you gave it to me...
invisibly present ever since. You pull me toward you, immobile, your tongue
trailing across my cheek.
Consuming.
"Sarah Rose," you whisper against my throat, "You're going to need a 'safe
word' tonight."
My eyes shift and widen. A "safe word"? I'm confused. My uncertainty shows,
and you smile. My reaction stimulates you, and I feel your finger curl
against my throat, reveling in the rapid beating of my pulse.
"A 'safe word", Sarah Rose," you repeat, using my full name, the one most
likely to evoke my childlike obedience...the one most likely to call forth
my unquestioning submission to your every whim.
"You'll need one tonight. It's the only thing that will halt the
'game'...not tears...not pleas...not the passionate screams that you utter
so freely when we're together."
You lean closer, and mutter a word...a single word into my ear, your voice
heavy with purpose.
"Say it, Sarah Rose," you demand, your voice carrying a message I dare not
resist. "I want to hear you say it."
I swallow...hard...feeling your finger releasing my choker to trail
possessively down the front of my blouse...ever downward to the gaping slit
in my skirt.
Your hand slides between my thighs, and I hear the impatience in your
voice, as you demand once again:
"Say it...now."
My lips begin to form the syllables, to do as I've been bidden, but
wordless acquiescence is the only response I'm capable of giving. My chest
tightens, my head begins to pound. Have I forgotten to breathe? I feel your
thumb pressing heavily against the lacy barrier of my quivering mound...my
eyes close, and I try once again.
"Mercy," I whisper...as my breath escapes audibly into the leather-bound
space around me...my voice strained and alien.
"Mercy."
Your hand vanishes. A door opens...a slight breeze...and you're gone.
I feel my door, my sole support, open behind me...your arms the only thing
between my body and the pavement below. Gently...your eyes heavy-lidded,
you lead me to the threshold.
Mercy.
...my mind prods the word,
Mercy.
...caresses it,
Mercy.
...clings to it.
Mercy.......
