“You like to tease me, don’t you?”
Louise had followed Gregory’s directions to the estate. He led her past forests, past the long wall, and up the driveway to the home of a good friend–a friend whose family evidently collected châteaux and Maseratis.
Louise stopped beneath the portico, and pulled her car to the side. As Gregory had insisted, she brought nothing but a purse. He said he had taken care of all her needs.
Louise walked to the door and knocked. A small, stern woman answered the door and silently handed Louise a small bag, then brought her through long halls to a large bathroom.
“You may change here, Ma’am,” the woman said. “Mr. Gregory is in the next door to the right. Do not knock. Just enter.”
Louise walked into the bathroom and opened the bag. Ah, how sweet! Luxuries for a lovely weekend!
She looked in: a pair of stilettos and a corset, with a short skirt..
Louise hesitated, then slipped out of her own clothes and put on the costume.
Please feel free to dress in these items, darling, and use the whip as you wish. I am waiting.
Louise walked from the bathroom to the next door, paused, then pushed the heavy oak panel.
“Greg, it’s me. Where are you hiding? I couldn’t wait to see you! I…”
Gregory was naked and face down across the canopy bed. His wrists and ankles were already bound to the posts–the scratchy rope was too tight, already leaving marks though he had little reason to pull them yet. Louise stopped, then slowly circled, tentatively swinging the small whip she had received gently against her hand.
“I think you want me to tease you,” Louise said–her voice more confident than she felt. She brought the whip down against a post, so the leather wound round. Not right. She walked around the bed again, then tried it on the bed between Gregory’s leg, watched him tense at the crack, saw him smile.
When Louise had received the invitation for a weekend away, it was a surprise. She had been seeing Gregory now for months, but he was away so often. Time was so precious, so rare. Too rare, in fact. But now, at last Gregory had managed to book a romantic weekend getaway, time alone.
“No, dear, not tease. What I want is for you to really use that whip. But I am in a compromised situation to demand things from you, I realize.”
Louise wanted to kiss Greg now. She wanted to tell him about her drive, wanted to cuddle beside him as they used to when they first met. But it was not the time, she saw. She knew well of Gregory’s fantasy, though they had never played these games before. But he wanted it now.
Louise raised the whip, and let it fall on Gregory’s thigh. A light red line immediately appeared. He flinched a little as she whipped the other leg, but she continued. He tensed as the strips of leather hit his legs again and again, but he shut his eyes and a sort of calm seemed to move into the room as she whipped harder.
Louise watched as Gregory moaned and cried, his flesh turning redder all the while. The rope was even tighter now, and Louise stopped.
“Are you hurt?” she whispered, tears streaming down her face as she saw the welts rise on his buttocks, his face red, sweat streaming down his face. She bent to kiss his bruised shoulders.
“Please,” Gregory gasped, “please more.”
Louise climbed beside him, and kissed his neck, her fingers tracing the red paths on his back. “I care about you, Greg,” she took hold of the rope, began to loosen the knot. “I can’t…”
“No,” Gregory turned, “no, oh, no. Don’t stop! Please, Louise, you turn me on so much. Please, the whip!”
Louise climbed down and whipped Gregory, whipped him hard, as he begged, pleaded her to stop.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asked.
“No, no!” Gregory panted. “Oh, it’s not the word. Remember?”
Yes. Yes, Louise thought and remembered. It was not the right word at all. She whipped him then until he said it, cried it out once.
Louise loosened the ropes, and saw Gregory’s cock stand as he rose from the bed. He grabbed for it, began to sit, but then stood, then took Louise’s hand and led her to the bath.
Gregory thrust his cock into his hands, yelling out as he quickly climaxed, leaning against the cold shower wall. Come rinsed from his hands as the water poured down from the shower head. He panted, then looked up at Louise and smiled. He reached for a towel and patted his skin.
Gregory fell into the bed and lay motionless, red backside, arms, legs, skin swollen now after all, still, the sting of hot water, the long arousal, intensity of the orgasm Louise had watched. “Oh, thank you,” he said, “it was ecstasy.” His shoulders surrounded her, her arousal stirred for the moment until he let go.
“Gregory, I don’t know…” she kicked off the heals, and lay the whip on the night table. She kissed him gently on the neck and wrapped her arms around him. He was asleep.
Gregory slept the sleep of angels, Louise thought. But she was not quite sure.
The dark clouds and sunlight in the late afternoon cast shadows that made the entire landscape seem more colorful than it really was. It was bound to rain later, which always makes for a romantic evening, Louise started to dream. But not now.
Not ever, it seemed, the promise of romance gone as quickly as it had come. Or maybe the whipping was supposed to be romantic–but she felt a crack in her soul as she hurt him. And yet he seemed to need it so much. Maybe she should have stayed, even if…
But no, not like this. It was not the fantasy that troubled Louise, not the thought of the pain, the delicate balance with pleasure–that, in fact, was the seduction. No, not that she wanted to hurt him, either, but that something was missing. They had barely spoken, before or during. Nothing so intimate should ever be so cold.
As the fairy tale became smaller in the rear-view mirror, Louise felt a surge of relief, driving in the rain, toward the night, through this unfamiliar land, but eventually, finding her way back home.