…Sleep didn't come easily to me that night. I was mentally excited, and physically struggling for a comfortable way to lay on the cot while being cuffed. I even resorted to helplessly pulling the blanket back up with my teeth when I repositioned myself. I also had a long afternoon nap earlier in the day, so that must also factor in there someplace. In Jane's commanding presence all this felt almost normal to me, but to anybody else watching it surely wasn't. Not many normal people would appreciate being cuffed and locked up alone for the night, nor stripped naked for such either, but I have long since discovered that I'm not normal.
Then there was Jane's offer, but only clearly stated after I had asked for incarceration from her, and after the cuffs were locked on and the door locked closed. I felt perhaps worthy of humbly serving her in a great many ways - servant-like ways really - and certainly worthy enough to be her prisoner, but it was just too much of a leap of faith to think of myself as her lover. Jane could do a thousand times better than me, that thought clearly ringing in my head, so much so that I hadn't considered asking to share her bed, it simply never occured to me to be so bold as to ask. And then there was the little matter of my manly confidence, if not ruined, at least damaged by my breakup and the stated reasons for such. In short, I wasn't rough and aggressive enough, manly enough, as in I didn't treat her badly enough. I didn't throw her around and take what I wanted like an animal, like a barbarian, that we never once had "angry sex," whatever the hell that was…
In any event I must have slept at some point, because I had some wild dreams, of dungeons, and of other things that happen in dungeons that could be truly awful. I've read enough on the time period to know that some of those people were pure evil, getting off on hurting others simply because they could, or some mass mental disorder, or perhaps, more charitably, to maintain order and discipline amongst the simple minded peasants. I myself was far closer to one of those than royalty, although the comenlly named Jane was, in my mind, far closer to royalty herself. In her high backed chair she seemed like a regal queen to me, or perhaps a duchess, and I a fortunate serf to just be in her commanding presence.
…It ironically never occured to me earlier that my former wife and I were alike, in a way, at least in our desires for rough treatment at the hands of others, but I couldn't personally deliver that kind of thing, only yearn for it myself from another. She had eventually found that "other," behind my back though, where I hadn't, at least not yet. That in itself gets just a bit complicated too, but I'm just not going there right now…
I have to pee, but I also remember my jailer's warning about peeing on her walls or floor, and I don't have the use of my hands to steer my impossibly relaxed guy stuff either, cuffed behind my back as I am. There is also the little matter of my missing glasses and the low light conditions, and I think Jane might not be the kind of woman to accept excuses, missing-glasses blurry-vision or not. With this in mind I decide to find my way upstairs to a larger and more modern flushable target; even though I'm cuffed and naked, I'm well beyond being embarrassed. My cell door is now open, but how Jane did that without waking me is a mystery.
Jane's the only one supposed to be home anyway, and she herself stripped me and made me like this in the first place, so I shouldn't be bodily embarrassed. I'm really only a few pounds overweight, but cuffed as I am this forces my belly out in an unflattering way, and I remind myself to keep it sucked in. I catch myself sneaking upstairs to the first toilet barefoot, like a naked thief in the morning, although I'm not sure what time it is really. The perpetual dark of the dungeon makes time somewhat irrelevant, several days in a row down there and I might start losing days of the week in either direction.
I sit down to take care of business instead of standing, fortunately still with no morning wood to contend with. This is odd to me bearing in mind all the kink, and the cuffs, but perhaps I'm all kinked out. I then make my way to the kitchen, and the smell of coffee, the lights on and the sun just coming up on a magnificent new spring day, which means I have apparently slept in. Jane has her back to me, and for a moment in my uncorrected vision I think she's just as naked as I, backlit as she is by the undercabinet lighting. She's not, it's just that she's wearing a very sheer pink dressing gown, and I can see right through it to that magnificent body beneath.
"Good morning" I call to her softly, so I don't disturb or startle her. I can tell that she knows I'm there though, it's as if she feels my very presence, or perhaps she'd heard the flush of the distant toilet…
"Good morning to you John," she answers, turning towards me and now that I'm closer I see that she has not a thing on under her sheer robe. She has firm champagne glass B cup breasts that ride high and belie her apparent age, and a nicely trimmed grey white landing strip above her womanhood that doesn't, the overall look stunning to me, like a model. I had never considered if a woman's hair, down there, turned the same color as her other hair later in life, but now I know.
"Did you sleep well?" she asks reasonably, although with sexy undertones. It's as if this is normal again, once I'm in her presence.
"I had some strange dreams, but I think so…yes," I tell her honestly, all while trying to maintain eye contact. This is a challenge, because she has a stunning body for a woman of any age, and I've gone without for some time now. I'm still not worthy of her, but I wish I were.
"Maybe you can tell me about them while we eat? How do you like your eggs by the way?"
"Anyway you like yours, but if you don't remove these cuffs you'll have to feed me," I offer playfully. She hasn't offered to remove them, but I haven't directly asked her to either. My shoulders are sore, but it seems petty and less than manly to complain about such. Jane has done so much so that I can have this kinky experience with her, and to complain about any aspect of it seems most ungrateful.
"Oh, I'll bet if you were hungry enough you'd eat off the plate like a pet dog, even if I put it right on the floor at my feet."
"I would," I tell Jane honestly with a smile, perhaps telling her that I'm even willing to be her human pet, if she wants one. This almost seems a more fitting role for me, rather than being a man in her presence. My ex-wife had crushed me though, and her bodybuilder boyfriend as well, and I have yet to fully recover from that. I own a piece of that, but I don't want to think about that part right now, what's done is done; self inflicted injuries.
"No worries John, I don't mind feeding you at all, if you don't mind being fed."
I wonder if this is another double entendre, as in what exactly is she wanting to feed me? In the end it doesn't really matter though…
"I would love for you to feed me Jane, I'm starving!" my tone hinting at what I'd really like, even though Jane is so far out of my league. I still don't think I'm worthy of making love to her with my guy stuff like a manly lover might, an equal, but I would gladly serve and service her just like this on my knees, over and over again for as many times as she wanted. I simply love going down on a woman, and I can give pleasure like this for an hour, or until she gets too sore to go on, where making love is something that I can only do for so long, I a "one hit wonder" as it were, a "one trick pony," but up until recently I had thought it was a pretty good trick.
Jane then abruptly turns the stove off and I go to my knees before her; no ambiguity there. I feel like a supplicating serf before his ruling queen, but I'm here to serve and service her in any way she deems fit, without any expected reciprocation. I could have had her in her bed last night in a more equal way, and she has me stripped naked and still in cuffs, after spending the night locked in her dungeon, so perhaps this isn't all that presumptuous of me after all. My guy parts are inexplicably not responding though, and this is odd as I have no problems with that kind of thing while surfing for porn, except of course that I am out of practice with a real flesh and blood woman. My mind is more than willing though, and crudely put, my guy stuff doesn't need to be on board for what I intend anyway.
She stands before me with my face pretty much where it needs to be, and she smells heavenly. I love the smell of a woman, the taste, even the feel, I just love and adore women. I want to serve them though, not manhandle and roughly take them. I have few aggressive bones in my body, and maybe even low T for all I know.
Jane runs her hands through my hair, telling me that she loves how thick it is, and I savor the personal contact between us. I return the compliment in kind and tell her she smells magnificent. I don't know that this is the very best thing to say to any woman, but it was honest and sincere, and I haven't exactly been thinking before I speak with Jane for the most part either.
"Full disclosure John," she tells me huskilly, "this is something I would never do for you in return a single time."
"I would never think to ask you to," I tell her honestly, the thought of stunning and sophisticated Jane lowering herself like that is abhorrent to me. I have enjoyed the times other women have done similar things to and for me, like any other guy would, but not THIS woman, this one belongs on a throne, not on her knees, and certainly not ever on her knees before a simple man like me.
"You're a very serving and giving man John," my gracious host tells me.
…I'm not necessarily doing this to say thank you for her kindness and indulgent kink for me though, but simply because I want to, because I think she'll like it, maybe because I think I'm good at it even. I don't know how to say this with words though, and I don't want to crash the mood like I almost did the night before when I asked about house cleaning, so I instead chose silence. My guy stuff is still limp and lifeless, but in my mind I'm lusted up excited, it's a very strange mixing of moods that perplexes me though, as the one always follows the other.
"Does it bother you John, that I'm wearing more than you are?" she asks me seductively. This is perhaps an overt offer to strip out of what she's hardly wearing, so I can see, taste, and touch the whole package for myself, in the flesh.
"No, it seems most fitting," I tell her honestly. I have just let slip another of my kinks; being fully nude in a finely dressed woman's presence, and by implication she being a powerful woman and I under her omnipotent control. I've seen this in my porn surfing, I gravitate towards it, CFNM it's called. I think this goes along with my seeing myself as less than the women in my life, or at least the one that used to be exclusively in my life. It's easy to be humbled in such circumstances, and I think this is what I get from it, at least in concept.
Did Jane pick up on this last night herself, or do her kinks and my own compliment each other? I ask myself. I also know logically that she's not exactly "finely dressed" at the moment, but she still is wearing more than I am, and the lines of separation are clear to me because of this. It's also her fine home, and she could toss me from it just like I am, that thought as well exciting to me.
With the grace of a ballerina mounting a practice barre Jane hikes her long gown to her hips with one hand while steadying herself on the countertop with the other. She lithely places her right ankle on my left shoulder, using me either as a foot rest - which also seems most fitting to me - or offering up the tender flesh of her shapely leg for exploration. I assume the latter, and kiss my way from her ankle upwards. I'm still handcuffed behind my back so this is a struggle, but in my mind, "challenge accepted."
I slowly kiss my way upwards, this no twenty five year old's leg, but shapely, smooth, and muscular, and quite nice all the same. I sense her desire for me to proceed, her body's desire for me to actually do what I'm working towards. I love serving women like this, almost more than actual sex, but again, voicing such things out loud can get one kicked out of the man club for life, so I dare not in front of any men I know. It's my little secret that I intend to keep.
Jane has a hand wrapped up in my hair, encouraging me along. She's not quite going full barbarian on me, but this is pretty far from gentle and loving too. I love that as well, the forceful interaction, the "you started this boy, now you're going to take me all the way there, as many times as I like" implied message her manhandling gives. I explore further, and she's on fire down there, like as hot as any woman I have ever bedded, or tried to bed. I go here and there, exploring this new territory, and then I go deep, she tastes magnificent, like candy. And then I just touch her in that special spot, and her legs both twitch like she just got electrocuted, and her hand in my hair clenches into a tight fist, and she might have even just ripped out some of my hair in the process.
To be able to do this for any woman, to get this kind of lusty sexual physical response, is just awesome for me. But, to do so for Jane; I can't even put that into words…
I'm not clear on this next part, but I find myself taken to the floor by my hair, I'm suddenly on my back, with the antique manicales pinned under me. Jane is on top, knees just outside my shoulders, and forcefully feeding me her womanhood. She's gushing, and I'm trying to keep up, and mostly succeeding too. She's being rough with me, but I'm getting a little rough with her too, she setting the pace and level of violence of what we're doing together, although "violence" might not be the best word to use. It's frantic and passionate to be sure though, and I feel like the luckiest man alive.
When the first big O hits her I think she might just break my neck with the strength of her tremors, or maybe just my nose, and I imagine trying to explain that to my boss, or even my coworkers. This woman is a tiger in bed, and we're not even in bed, she's like the hottest most passionate thing I've ever "cum" across, but obviously not yet, pun intended. On that note, my guy stuff is still completely unresponsive, missing in action, but I don't need it at the moment. I'm like on a lusty kind of autopilot, I know what to do for a woman by instinct though, and while it's been quite a few months I apparently haven't forgotten a thing, almost like breathing, or riding a bicycle. Breathing is more on my mind than the bicycle at that moment though, as I'm not doing enough of that, but a part of me wouldn't mind suffocating while doing this, especially while crushed between Jane's thighs.
"More?" Jane asks, when HER breathing returns to normal and almost all the tremors have abated. I take a certain pride in being able to do this for any woman, and serving a woman like Jane in this way is especially rewarding, and especially fitting. I have a knot on the back of my head though where she has bounced my skull off the hard floor a few times, but my singular focus on Jane's pleasures blinds me to this.
Having the proverbial "lay of the land" I decide to tease her along a bit, still eventually giving her what she needs and wants, but only after taking her almost all the way there a few times in playful torment first, building her up. This isn't meant to be cruel, but I know that teasing along a big O for a bit, stopping just short a few times, jamming on the proverbial brakes and swerving away at the last second, can be maddening, in a good way. She's very strong and passionate, and my head being crushed between her powerful legs reminds me of this, as do her clenched - now both - fists that are wrapped up in my hair do. Jane could easily compel me to take her where she wants to be, but she instead allows me to torment her for a bit, I think she knows that I have nothing but good intentions for her though.
"Paybacks are a bitch John,'' this stunning woman pinning me to the floor eventually warns in panting breaths, she then switching modes and aggressively grinding her womanhood onto my face to "encourage" me to seal the deal and finish her up. I think this is the first near curse word that I've heard her say, and her use of it is profound to me. She's rolling her hips into me and holding my head fast in her iron grip, to put it crudely, "fucking my face" with the entirety of her womanhood, and even a little below that. I get some small idea of what actually making love to a woman like this would be like, the physical aggression she has. Jane would almost certainly be on top, not only "on top" dominantly, but physically on top of any lover so fortunate to be there with her in bed as well. She is like an elemental force of nature, and I never want to leave her commanding presence…
First things first though, I go deep and then hit the spot, repeating this pattern over and over again, and Jane is perpetually jolting and jumping, almost all the muscles in her body move simultaneously like she's being electrocuted again, but somehow she finds the energy and focus to roll onto her back, taking me with her like a pro wrestler on the mats. I come to the conclusion that she has some kind of advanced martial arts training, enhancing her physical confidence with me, and really with anybody else. She's just so much more than she appears, every layer of her personality and magnificent body like another layer to the onion.
…Her strong legs are now free to wrap around me and assist her arms in holding me into her tightly, I am now one hundred percent on board with finishing her off, which I start to do. She's making some very anguished noises, non-verbal things that make it sound like some poor animal was being tortured, or in great distress. I'm exclusively on her button now, tormenting it with my talented tongue, the going deep just a pleasant distraction to what she really wants and needs.
Her back arches clear off the floor, and for a moment I think she might snap my spine, or my neck; she's bending me in half backwards with her strength, her locked heels digging into my lower back just above my manacled wrists. I don't dare stop though, I started this, and I WILL see it through to completion; stunning Jane deserves no less.
This next one is epic, gushing and messy. I've gotten women to orgasm like this before, but never with penetrative sex alone, only by going down on them, after teasing them along repeatedly. Jane's muscular contractions are so intense and severe that some of the bones in my neck and back have cracked, like I had just gotten adjusted at the chiropractor. This sickening crackle of bones hasn't slowed her though, but it hasn't slowed me either…
When it's apparent that her body has no more to give, the tremors have abated, and her apparent soreness down there leaves her tasting just a bit coppery and raw, I look up from my temporary home nestled between her shapely thighs. She looks down at me in return, making eye contact like never before. Her expression is hard to read; is she embarrassed, sated, or even disappointed?
In my mind I want to do what should come next with the very stunning Jane, if she'll have me. If not I'm grateful to have been permitted to go this far, and if we went no further, I'd still be grateful. There is something about Jane, after having this intimate taste of her, that makes me even more crazy to serve her. She could tell me to scrub every floor in her large and magnificent home with Q-tips, and I would, cheerfully, and I'd even thank her for letting me do so when I was finally done.
"Clean up." The words occur to me as if by magic, but the Q-tip thought drew me there, or so I assume. She tastes wonderful, and while I have consumed almost everything she had to give, some has run down just a bit further, not to mention what has crept to her thighs. I tongue bathe her thighs first, and she's obviously loving it, and when I drift down to her perineum she rolls her hips to aid my efforts. I'm not inclined to go lower as I generally find that nasty, but I do make a quick pass to ensure I have all the candy-like sweetness I can find. I could do this for her three times a day for the rest of my life and never cum again once, and I would be a happy man; and that's potentially a good thing….
There is of course one soft and flobbly little problem that interferes with my future plans and desires; my guy hardware isn't cooperating with my brain. My little guy apparently isn't the least bit interested, although I can't imagine why. She's everything every woman should aspire to be, in my humble opinion: commanding, sexy, in-control, powerful, well read, successful even. She's just the whole package, and I'm not exactly turned off by powerful women either, I prefer women this way. It's a mystery, and non-working guy hardware isn't something any guy should want to share with a woman he's trying to impress, and maybe even seduce, but still I do, after getting prompted by Jane.
"So, what should we do for you John, after you've taken such good care of me first?"
"Probably nothing at the moment, Little John seems to be sleeping." And I laugh to soften the self deprecating, emasculating humor.
"No worries John, that's just a lingering little bit of my magic."
"Magic, like a witch?" I ask, trying some humor again. Jane seems to have a dry sense of humor herself, but it is there.
"Yes, exactly like a witch, but usually a good witch."
"So you could turn this thing back on for me?"
"If I wanted John, I could turn that thing full on for like two days straight, but that might likely kill you. First I think we have some work to do though, and you do still need a 'proper' breakfast to start your day."
"Of this I have no doubt, but what if I begged?" My tone is one of humor, to match her witch satire.
"Oh, you'll beg John, of that I'm certain! Don't think for a second that I've forgotten your teasing with me mere moments before."
I smiled back up at smiling Jane, at the thought, the concept of Jane making me beg for anything, like a dog for a treat; although I know this is where it would stop being fun for most men. If she was actually a witch, even though I thought such was obviously impossible in the real world, she was at least putting some kind of spell on me. I attributed such in the real world to her beguiling feminine ways, and the mysterious way she spoke; it was captivating, but in a very good way for me. I loved powerful "in-charge" women though, where most men I knew didn't, or didn't like to freely admit such.
Handcuffs off, a naked breakfast cooked by Jane, and a shower for me, and she and I were eventually dressed and ready to work together. She was going to help me, in her words "because I had distracted you so badly yesterday." This way she'll get to see how everything works and is set up, and I am once again awe of her grasp of the more technical details of what I do professionally. Many people of even my own age simply don't want to be bothered with "how" things work, just that somebody "can" make them work. Not Jane, she asks good questions, forcing me to explain how this component interacts with that one, almost as if I'm back in tech school again.
…As a result I didn't get quite as much actual work done as I had thought possible, but the day was very pleasant, and it went fast. I've had a stunning helper willing to get her hands dirty, she more accurately like a coworker, one I'd be happy to work alongside everyday of the week, but I get the feeling she's not exactly looking for a job with Acme. She'd be a terrible sexy distraction too, and I'd want to do something besides just eat lunch with her, if we even made it that far.
We haven't talked about sleeping arrangements all day long, but we will have to at some point, as I'll need another day at least to finish the job. If I work this right I might have to stay just a bit longer, through the weekend, if Jane will have me.
"How do you feel about making our dinner tonight?" Jane asks. I know it sounds odd, but I'd prefer if she didn't ask, and rather just told me what I was to do. I get the feeling that the voice of command comes naturally to her, and I don't mind that at all, I in fact appreciate it. She might not know this yet though, and this is a hard thing to come right out and say too.
"I would just love to cook for you, and it seems only fitting as you made our breakfast." I left that hang as a double entendre, as Jane had supplied both breakfasts that I had enjoyed that morning, the fun one, and the nourishing one.
"Are you still feeling playful then John?" she asked me.
"Always," I answer honestly, as if she has to ask, bearing in mind our first breakfast together.
"And do you mind taking direction from a very demanding woman, from a witch even? I've been called that, you know," she tells me playfully.
"I can think of nothing I'd rather do."
"Okay then, I'd like you to go upstairs and take a nice hot shower, and shave, as I don't like stubble on my men at all. And then I'd like you to come down and cook for me, for us, wearing just what you wore to breakfast this morning, minus the cuffs… for now anyway, as I kind of like you in them. And in exchange I'll offer to wear anything you might like to see me in, anything at all."
"So I get to pick? You might think it's a bit odd, you know."
"Just this one time, as an experiment only, I don't want to spoil you by letting you get your way too often." This is again delivered with a playful smile, but it's impossible to look past the power she's claiming for herself. It's also not possible to look past her implied "this time" message, implying that there will be a next time, or perhaps a whole bunch of next times.
"I… I would just love to see you in a nice dress, and heels, it has to be with heels."
"You ARE a very special man John, one in a million I might say, but your wish is granted."
"Thank you."
This is a nice shower that I'm in, but it's not Jane's en-suite shower, the one in her bedroom. Once away from Jane again I feel self conscious about doing this, showering, shaving, and then walking down to cook dinner for a very sophisticated, sexy, and presumably wealthy woman, in just my skin. I'm putting on a show of sorts - or I soon will be - and reminding myself of my lowly status in her clothed presence, so this is actually pushing some buttons for me, giving me the horned up confidence to proceed. You'd think my little guy would be very "up" for this too, but he's missing in action, and has been since last night, so much so that I think something might be wrong with him, as in time to go to a doctor. That would be very embarrassing for a man my age, or likely a man of any age I suppose, but this last year hasn't exactly been a good one for my sex life either.
I enter the massive kitchen alone, Jane still likely getting ready, but I know what to do and get to work. The menu is written on a chalkboard in fine feminine penmanship, nothing too challenging for my skills either. I so want to dazzle her with my abilities, to show off for her, but perhaps next time. I'm so focused on the task at hand that I forget I'm naked in a woman's fine home, cooking for her, as if this is normal. I'm comfortable in the kitchen though, my ex-wife even joking several times during our happier days that I'd make somebody a wonderful wife someday. She was obviously telling me something back then, but I wasn't necessarily getting the message. She was a woman who wanted her man to be all man, like a caveman sort of, and I just couldn't go there, something we should have worked out long before either of us said "I do."
Anyway, I'm caught up in my tasks, the roaster is in the oven, seasoned the way I think Jane will like it, and I'm on to the vegetables. I don't know how long Jane has been watching, but something makes me turn around, and I see her. She's wearing the classic LBD, with matching heels, and to say she looks good in it is such an understatement. The heels even give her a slight height advantage over me, and it feels most fitting.
Her dress isn't tight, but it fits her magnificent body like it was custom made for it, and perhaps it even was. I know one time towards the end there that my ex-wife bought some very expensive heels that she "just had to have" and Jane's heels look like a pair of those. I don't remember the brand, but I remember paying the credit card invoice, they were like a thousand dollars and some change, or like two away from home jobs for me. Several days of labor for a pair of admittedly very sexy shoes, but I know now that she had bought them for her gym rat boyfriend and lover to see her in, and not necessarily me. To dwell on such things isn't healthy though…
"You look stunning," I tell her honestly.
"Thank you John. And I must say that I'll never get tired of a handsome man cooking for me in the buff either. You truly are a rare find, I don't know if you realize this or not?"
"Not everybody would agree," and my tone I think tells Jane that I've been going "there" in my mind.
"Not everybody likes pizza either, too bad for them!" Jane snaps back. She's defending me with a certain venom in her voice, from my ex-wife who isn't even really here with us, except for the fact that my ex-wife is still living rent free in my head, all because I let her. It's self destructive, most especially now, in Jane's well dressed presence. I've also obviously hit a nerve with Jane, and this tells me something too.
"I myself happen to love pizza John, I can't get enough of it sometimes."
…I've said it before, but it's worth repeating; this woman could teach classes on the art of seduction, on the art of being playfully sexy, and I would think exactly the same thing if I happened to be blind! She's also trying to redirect me away from my more self-destructive thoughts, and I don't know how to say thank you for that, other than the obvious way.
"Thank you."
"Yesterday, today, or tomorrow John, you need to pick one. It's okay to visit yesterday, briefly, but live for today, and look forward joyfully towards tomorrow. That's what works for me anyway; I've outlived a few husbands, as you know, and they were all wonderful men too, if I were to dwell on that too much it might not be good for me either."
"If you were a for-real witch I suppose you could just put a spell on me," I then laughed to soften the somber mood I had accidentally brought.
"Who's to say I haven't already? Although… Then I could just put a spell on her too, and maybe even her guy friend as well; maybe a nice rash in an embarrassing place, or several places, one that won't go away with any of the standard treatments. Imagine that, John, going to specialist after specialist to cure that rash, especially if one of them got it first, and then gave it to the other. Imagine it John, they could name that new rash after her; she'd be in all the medical books for a thousand years to come!"
"No, no, no, please don't do that," I laughed. "I actually wished them well, the last time we talked," I then told Jane sincerely, but then I laughed again at the absurdity of the entire conversation. Witches and spells, really?
"Curious. So you've presumably forgiven her, even him perhaps, but you still carry this burden?"
"I never thought about it quite like that before, but can we talk about something else now please?"
"Okay then, as you wish, but if I hear any more of this nonsense from you tonight I might have to once again revoke your bail, or maybe beat your naked ass with my spoon" the latter a reference to what I had thought she had wanted the spoon for the night before.
"Yes ma'am."
"You are incorrigible John."
With both her words, and my own, my "mood" was temporarily corrected, but obviously not resolved, although I once again found it easy to focus on our dinner at least…
Dinner, wine that "paired" well, and some wonderful conversation occupied the rest of the night, I cleaning up once again after the dinner I cooked, although this time no offer of help was given. I was actually fine with that as I liked serving her, doing for her, but I did notice, it to me a positive sign though. Later on it was almost an exact repeat of the night before, with me serving a second glass of wine to Jane like a humble waiter in a nice restaurant, all as she sat in her chair like a regal queen. She had told me nicely to get it for her, instead of asking this time, and I responded happily in a way that she couldn't fail to notice. I actually liked that, certainly better than when she had asked me if I'd like to cook dinner for her.
"So John, what shall we do with the rest of our night?"
"I'm game for anything you'd like," I tell her sincerely. I can't make the courageous leap to ask for what I want, because there is that little place in the back of my mind that tells me she'll reject me, even though I've done for her already. Then of course there is the little matter of my unresponsive guy hardware too…
"You're probably the least aggressive straight man I've ever met, John, but that's okay, because I have enough natural aggression for the both of us, and then some. Full disclosure, I can be an aggressive little witch when I'm hungry, and I'm very hungry right now. There is just something in you, John Renolds, that brings out the very worst in me."
"Show me, please."
"Kneel Before Me!" she commands, and the power in her voice is almost frightening, the tone change dramatic. She's not playing at this right now, I feel it, I feel the hunger. I also love it too, to have a woman with this level of power and control over me is nirvana to me.
I fall to my knees without conscious thought like a puppet on a string, my face inches from her crossed-leg bouncing high heel. Without being asked I kiss the tip of her expensive shoe, she only stopped bouncing it cooperatively the moment before so that I can. I reverently remove it next and kiss her perfect toes, they're painted and magnificent, just like the rest of her. This isn't demeaning for me, or a punishment of some kind, but instead a huge reward. I'm lusting mentally for this fine woman like I've never lusted for another…
How we end up in her massive bedroom isn't clear to me exactly, except that she's leading me by my wrist to get there. I don't necessarily care where we're going though, just as long as Jane is leading. We make out a little on the bed, I am wearing nothing at all and my flaccid man bits right out in the open for all to see and announcing their lack of readiness. I'm embarrassed, I'm in the company of the hottest woman on the planet, at least to me, making out with her as a prelude to more adult things, on her very bed, and my guy bits are MIA.
Jane is still dressed though, and this again feels fitting to me, but she can't help but to notice my lack of manly readiness. I feel the burning passion in her kisses though, and perhaps I should even be afraid of her, afraid of this hunger of hers should I not be able to perform, but I'm not.
I'm rolled to my back and Jane mounts on top of me, but I'm not exactly struggling for escape either. I passive allow her to move me where she wills, my arms then end up through the iron bars of her massive and ancient headboard. In the top drawer of her nightstand she retrieves the manacles that I wore extensively the day before, telling me I'm to be restrained once again. This also tells me that she expected her and I to end up here, and that she would need the cuffs if we did. I'll therefore be helpless before this hungry witch of a woman, but with the means to satisfy her hunger unresponsive, putting me in potential peril. Knowing all this I still don't hesitate for a second, how could I?
With a "mission accomplished" look on her pretty face she dismounts and leaves me on her very nice bed. I'm not going anywhere now, but I don't exactly want to either.
"Can't have a big strong man like you with free reign all over my bed, can we John?" she asks rhetorically. "I'm a defenseless frail old woman, you might want to take advantage" she further explains with a smile.
"You're none of those things," I tell her candidly, reverently even. I'm defending her from herself, just as she defended me from my ex-wife earlier.
"No, I'm not, am I?" It's the same beautiful face saying this, but the expression is just a bit different, perhaps just a bit more of the real Jane coming to the surface though.
"Frightened?" she then asks.
"No, disappointed that Little John doesn't seem to want to come out and play just yet, but I'll still do something wonderful for you anyway." I think maybe her expression is due to my lack of manly response to her very stunning self, something I doubt she's had to deal with all that much in life, looking as she obviously does.
"Oh, that! You still don't believe in magic, do you John? What if I were to scientifically prove my magic, would you believe it then?"
"I think there's something physically wrong with me, it's that simple, but you're perfect" I tell her honestly.
"I'll take that as a yes then."
Jane then steps back from the bed and rolls her hips seductively, sliding her hands up through her hair and into the air over her head, then letting it drop. It's almost like some kind of erotic dance move, or something a very experienced stripper would do in a high end gentlemen's club. I'm entranced, but this performance is exclusively for me, one on one. If Jane were to do this little move anywhere else dressed as she was, from a gentlemen's club to a dance floor someplace, every man between eighteen and eighty who saw it would be instantly hard. I'm not though, proving to me scientifically that there is most certainly something very wrong with my guy junk.
As her hands come back down she unzips the back of her dress fluidly, as if she stripped professionally, and I'm mesmerized. She turns and shakes her butt at me, snaking it about suggestive of some very wild sex, her dress then off over her head and onto a convenient chair. There she is, black bra, panties, and heels, and she resumes her snaking seductive moves, giving me my private show. I still don't deserve this, but I can't think of another place on earth that I would rather be.
She looks into my eye, and then down towards flobbly Little John, an odd flirtatious and naughty smile on her pretty face. She has a secret, one that she's about to share. She saunters back close to the bed, and bends at the hips toward him, stomach held flat in the classic profile of a very fit woman, but not to do "that." She instead licks her lips seductively and blows on him gently, like she's blowing out birthday cake candles, and Little John suddenly responds, jumping to full mast in nearly an instant, so quickly that she had to pull her face back to keep from getting slapped in the cheek with him.
"Still don't believe in magic John?"
"You… You really are a witch, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. But I'm a veeeerrrrryyyy needy witch right now, so shhh and please don't say another word; we'll discuss all this later" Jane kissing and then holding her right index fingers to my lips tenderly as if to make sure I don't spoil the mood with any further unnecessary conversation. I'm mindful of the house cleaning incident, or potential incident, so this is good advice. She's in charge, and I'm going along for the ride, deserving or not, it's no more complicated than that at this point.
Jane then gets back into position and continues her magnificent strip tease. I obviously don't need any further stimulation, but perhaps she does, or perhaps this is my payback for playfully taunting her earlier during our first breakfast together. I want to beg her to just get to it, even though I still don't feel worthy to be here in her bed with her, but something holds my tongue.
She peels her bra off as sexily as I've ever seen it done, not that I'm an expert or anything, but it's actually hard to do that and make it sexy at the same time, at least from my point of view. She leans in close and drags the hot gatment up my thigh and then twice around, and eventually past Little John, tugging on his erect self briefly as if it's stuck, and for the life of me I don't know why I didn't cum. She continues the path up my body, tickling my chest and nipples along the way and giving me goosebumps in the process. This leaves her bent over my upper body, one knee on the bed, and the other heel still on the floor.
Her perfect little breasts are just within reach, and now bare, and I can't resist the urge to suck one of her hard nipples into my mouth. Jane groans in response. This is usually an erogenous zone for most women, but I don't know if that includes horny witches, so this is a cautious experiment of my own. They taste just as good as the rest of her though, I nursing on one and getting something sweet from her in the process. She then feeds me both of them alternately, telling me playfully that they need equal attention, which I agree with through my silent nodding. I wish to say something else at this point, something sexy, but I can't, the words simply won't form. My mouth moves silently, and I'm reminded of a just landed fish fresh out of the water and struggling to breathe.
I can't hide the wide eyed surprise in my eyes when I realize this, and Jane notices.
She makes eye contact with me and smiles, and then touches her own finger to her own lips, mimicking what she had just done to me moments before. "Just a little bit more of my magic John, these lips of yours aren't for talking until I decide that they once again are. Just go with it."
A less passive man would have absolutely freaked out, but I just went back to nursing on my tasty treat. If Jane had meant me harm, she could find far better ways to do so, powerful and magical as she obviously was. I don't know about the whole witch thing, from a logical standpoint, but Jane obviously has some tricks up her sleeve, and a specific power over me that is far more playful than meanancing.
I couldn't ask or beg now either though, except in my mind, my condition reminding me of being ball gagged, something that I find hot in concept. I could physically encourage what I needed next though… I reluctantly left Jane's tasty boobs and kissed my way down her taut stomach, she walked her body up farther while holding the headboard and bringing more of her within my reach reflexively. I found myself kissing, and nibbling on her panties in short order, overtop her womanhood that I had visited with much more intrusively only that morning. She smelled fantastic, and what I could draw through the moist fabric tasted good too. The sound was obscene, like sucking a tall drink glass dry with a straw, but what I wanted was just on the other side, and I thought of a joke one of my coworkers used to tell all the time. "Panties, not the best thing on earth, but NEXT to the best thing on earth!"
Jane's ready, and I've been ready ever since she blew on me down there, so seeing this she sits on the bed and flips her panties and heels off in a flash, tossing them across the room with an expert flip of her sexy legs, the show apparently over and the fun about to begin. She mounts up on me, straddling my hips and guiding my erect self toward her warm wet self, all as I passively watch. This is hot obviously, I'm cuffed to the headboard and helpless after all, and even magically gagged. I also feel just a bit used though, like a human sex toy maybe, rather than a lover. It's what I've craved for as long as I can remember though, being dominated and used by a powerful and in-charge woman, but now that I'm actually here I just don't know…
She slides my little guy back and forth across her slippery lips, she's boiling hot down there, and my little guy feels this directly. He's very sensitive to such things, heat specifically, but it's a long story as to how I know that. Anyway, she has him moving up and back as if a predator searching for its prey, and when she gets her delicious natural lubrication evenly distributed, she gets him where he needs to be and slowly sinks down on me…
This too is like magic, because I haven't done this with a real woman in well over a year, and it hasn't exactly been a very good year to boot. Lots of conflicting emotions over the course of that time as well, but now's not the time to think about such things. Jane feels like a tight, custom made velvet glove, and as she slides gently down my length my head rolls back and a silent open mouthed groan fails to escape my lips. Trying to make a sound, communicating with another verbally without result, is maddening to me, but the sensory overload I feel down there is enough to bury that feeling for a bit.
It simply can't last all that long, I'm talking seconds here until I pop off. I'm no stud muffin on my best day, and all this kink combined with Jane's magnificent body there before me, sliding up and down on me and trying to find a rhythm that works for her is like my own private porn show, and it just can't last. She reminds me of a professional steeplechase jockey on her mount, and I also know that they call this position "cowgirl" so that makes sense to me now.
I'm hardly surprised to feel the very first pangs of an epic orgasm start to build, but Jane sees this too, somehow, her simple warning of "don't you dare" grabbing my full attention. She has her hands on my ribs at this point anyway for balance, so it's nothing unusual for her to slide her hands upwards, but she catches each of my very erect nipples between her thumb and index finger on each small hand, and she pinches me hard, and then she twists them. It stings like mad, but my pending orgasm is instantly redirected by her move, I vowing to myself to be just a bit more gentle with any of the nipples I have access to in the future.
Jane's "ride" then gets just a bit more intense, our thighs slapping together noisily as she picks up the pace, but the heavy bed doesn't move at all. I sense her approaching orgasm herself, I've seen what this looks like on her, so I know the signs. She's apparently allowed to cum, where I'm not! I could argue hypocrisy, but Jane's in charge, I specifically wanted this in a woman, and besides, I can't argue anything until she lets me.
She's using me for sex, but on the flip side I get to watch the most intense orgasm in my life, right before me. Her hands go up through her hair again, and she does her seductive dance moves right on top of me, while impaled on me. The anguished noises she makes are just wild too, and I don't know why I was able NOT to cum myself while watching…
Jane used me for hours like that, my back getting sore, and other parts of me as well, all as we collectively worked up a really good sweat together. She had stopped several times while pleasuring herself on my body, holding her palm on my pounding chest and taking a break until my heart got back out of the red danger zone, the term "killing him with sex" sounding like a real thing to me suddenly. I felt my pulse pounding hard in my temples several times, it sounding like somebody was pounding on a block of wood with a large hammer very rapidly, right next to my head. I simply don't have this kind of staying power, nobody does, so here again I suspect some further "magic" from Jane of some kind.
Jane finally lets me pop off myself, after too many orgasms of her own to count, the woman truly insatiable. She kissed me deeply and passionately as I unloaded deep into her, this simply the very best orgasm of my life…
Jane left me cuffed to the headboard and curled up against me, covering us up and falling asleep half on top of me, oblivious to the sweaty mess I had become. How could something like this possibly work out? I asked myself logically, but then I came to the conclusion that such wasn't my problem, but hers. She's in charge…
"Questions, Lover?" Jane asks in the morning, she's been up and showered, but has also left me cuffed to the bed, so it's not like I'm running away anywhere.
I shrug my shoulders as best as I can while still cuffed to the headboard. I can't say a word yet with her spell still in effect, but it seems as if she's forgotten this. She's nude before me, but somehow she even looks better than last night when she rode me like a jockey, as if that's possible. Maybe she's glowing from being properly sated, and even though some magic was surely involved, I feel rather proud that it was me that did this for her, serving her in still another way. I could get used to all this, but I don't know how practical these thoughts of mine are in the real world, and I still don't think I deserve her.
"Fair enough, in that case I have a little story to tell you, you may believe it, or not, it's up to you, but I don't tell this story to just anybody…"
"I was born a very long time ago in Europe, the country isn't important, but one day I may well take you there to see Papa's castle, technically my castle now. We maintain it as a museum these days, and I have to be careful with the way I own things in these days of digital footprints. Anyway, I was a sickly little girl, and Papa made a devil's bargain with all the local witches and gypsies, anything to cure his little girl. The only reason they would even talk to him was that he treated them well enough, not like in other areas where such people were persecuted."
"They cured me all right, with their herbs, roots, and other magic, so well that my ageing process slowed to a crawl once I reached puberty. Magic has a price though, as I eventually outlived everybody in my family, and even a first husband, and then a second. I became heir to my family fortune, and my husband's eventually, as I couldn't bear any actual heirs of my own, again magic has a steep price. It eventually became wise to venture to the new world; it was much easier to hide here rather than there, especially if magic were involved. I've met some very historically interesting people over the years, and made my contributions to society as well. I have many patents and inventions to my credit, but just a few to my actual name, which I have to change all the time anyway, selling my own assets back to myself in a rather complicated legal process. This fine home is one such asset, but I think you might know that as I let slip that my dungeon downstairs has been mine before."
I looked at Jane and moved my mouth silently, and she smiled back at me sheepishly.
"Sorry about that" she says, and she kisses me on the lips and blows on them afterwards.
"Thank you," I blurted out, as if I'd been holding my breath the whole time, which I obviously hadn't. I thought I sounded melodramatic, and I felt the need to explain.
"For everything, that was just magnificent, last night" I added, as if I needed to explain this particular part. I discovered that not being able to speak was actually more restrictive, for me, than the cuffs, odd if you think about it.
"What happens next?" I then asked, not entirely believing this story of hers. She believed it though, and there was proof in at least some of what she had said, this magic of her's was real enough too.
"I crave manly companionship, I need it to survive. You are a desirable man John Renolds, and I desire to spend a part of my life with you. Others will crave this with you too, so I am, in a way, in competition with those other ladies, but I have a lot to offer. Publically you'd live well with me, you could work as little, or as much as you wished, and publicly you'd also be the envy of some, and treated with the utmost respect. You have a serving heart too, and I like that."
"Privately, and between us, and possibly some of my very close friends - if you're willing - you'd be treated just a bit differently, but in a way that I think you might like. I have a dungeon after all, and I like to play with my men in there sometimes. You might even become our naked serving boy, or even boi, if you're into that kind of thing. I can be most flexible in this, for I've seen more than my fair share of kink over the centuries, and the wealthier the players, the harsher the kink. Full disclosure John Renolds, I'm fairly well off, and therefore my level of kink can get pretty wild."
"Along those lines I might also need the physical companionship of another rougher man from time to time, this isn't a "written in stone" has-to-happen thing, but full disclosure, it might. You'd either be acting as a servant during those times, for both of us, maybe even for weeks or months at a time, or if you couldn't I'd lock you away for a bit in my dungeon, or lend you off to one of my old friends. In other words, you'd live as my loving husband for the most part, but there would be times when you'd be more like my property, lent, borrowed, and maybe even put away until needed again. I can obviously ensure your chastity when we're apart, and backtalk won't be a problem either, but I have to know that you want this, like really want this. "
"If you do, and if things go as they have in the past - and I only say this as there are no guarantees in life - you'd grow old with me, and one day very far into the future I'd mourn your passing, just like I've mourned my other husband's passings."
"Like a cherished family pet?" I asked, my tone coming through far better than my selection of words would suggest.
"Yes, except that they likely aren't cognizant of their own mortality."
Several months later, and only because Jane has a dark sense of humor, and irony; on Halloween:
"Thank you for seeing us Doctor, we've been to pretty much everyone else, and you're supposed to be the very best in this field."
"That's quite all right, I'm always up for a professional challenge Mrs. Renolds."
"It's not Mrs. Renolds any longer, I DID tell your nurse all this earlier."
"Yes, sorry about that. I'll get your file updated straight away. We've been having some problems with our computers lately. Anyway, could you two drop your gowns, so I can see this rash, on both of you please?"