In the Shadows

In the darkness we appear to be one, but a closer inspection would reveal two bodies entwined, clad in black rubber. Silent and motionless except for gentle breathing, you could be mistaken for believing that we were asleep. But to those who understand, who have experienced, such situations, there is an unmistakeable air of anticipation.

We both lie on our sides, she facing away from me with her back pressed lightly against me. My arms wrap around her, encircling her, longing to crush her; but not yet, too soon for that.

You, watching from the shadows, and I share semi-darkness as the reflection of candles in the room dance off shiny suits. But for her the darkness is total; the blindfold over her hood blocks out even the faint glimmer of light that we enjoy. And her arms, with wrists secured to her thighs; how tired those muscles must be by now. If you were closer you could see her sometimes bunch her hands into fists as she seeks some relief, but I think that for now it’s best that you remain in the shadows.

I press my lips to the side of her head and whisper.
“Thirty minutes”.
She groans and says no, it’s too long.
“Thirty-five”.
A softer protest.
“Forty”.
Silence.

I hold her and begin to run the tips of my fingers along her arm, her thighs, with a touch so light it is gone before her body can register that it was even there. I feel her body begin to relax.

“In five minutes I will touch your breasts”. A slight nod, and her body tenses at the prospect.

My teasing fingers continue to meander, touching lightly but never lingering. Always knowing where she wants to be touched but never straying so close.
“Four minutes … three … two …”

Just as I control her body, so I control time. Not for her the monotonous regularity of minutes and seconds dictated by the sun and the moon. If I choose, a minute will last for as many seconds as I wish, or minutes will hurtle past at a dizzying speed.

“One … now”. The fingers glide across the flat of her stomach to the underside of her breasts. They follow the curves, approaching her nipples, threatening to touch them but slipping on by. She tries to move her body so that my fingers find her nipples but fails.

“In ten minutes I will touch your nipples”.

The countdown resumes and the game continues. Can you see her from your place in the shadows? Do you smell the desperation building in her slim body? Do you understand that the control and restraint I’m exercising over her takes its toll on me as much as it does on her? That I ache right now to be moving deep inside her. That I want to feel her body surrendering to me and then the madness of our act overwhelming us both.

“…. now”.

Her back arches as the knuckles of each hand glance slowly across her nipples. I bite her neck, tasting rubber in my mouth and smelling the mounting excitement of her body. She gasps and in a momentary panic tries to break free. The bite with no warning was a shock and scares her, but my strong arms comfort and reassure her.

“In ten minutes I will place my hand between your thighs”.

When it comes, the hand is cupped between her legs. It is there but exerts no pressure, and when she tries to push against it to gain the relief of resistance I draw it back.

If you were closer you would see the first tear finding a path from under her blindfold. If you, and not me, were holding her tightly, you would feel her body trembling from a heady mix of frustration, despair and anger.

“In ten minutes I will unzip your suit and touch you”.

She seems more content now. Relaxed. Resigned? If we, you and I, could see inside her head we would know of the war she is waging with her body. Telling it, beseeching it, not to respond to my touches. To ignore the insidious countdowns which take her closer to the edge, but never far enough, never fast enough. Her resolve builds - she will not be used like this.

But as my fingers ease the zip down millimetre by millimetre, so her resolve crumbles. I slide a gloved hand inside her suit and rest it there. If you were to come closer, I would slide the hand back out and hold it to your face, so that you could enjoy the intoxicating smell of rubber, sweat and sex. But you know your place.

“Five minutes”.

Slowly, very slowly, I press harder, feeling the soft moistness of her cunt giving way. But then I stop, and we both lie there, as quiet and motionless as we were when you first began to watch us. She is scared. Scared that if she tries to force the pace that my hand will retreat from her.

Two minutes left and I slip my hand out of suit, roll over and leave her alone on the bed. I move across the room, open the door and close it again, tricking her into believing I have left her.

Standing beside you in the shadows we watch her. After her initial shock at my desertion, she rolls onto her back and strains to pick up the slightest sound that would betray my presence.

Nothing. She’s alone in the dark.

Your hand reaches down to my groin and you begin to rub. Ever so quietly, your lips nuzzle against my nipples while your hand strokes the back of my head. Together we watch as the girl’s world falls apart. The zip at my crotch is pulled down, and your fingers wrap around my cock, easing it out and gently stroking it.

On the bed, the girl’s hood now glistens with her tears, and softly she whispers “please”.

You kiss me, hard, and I leave you. Did you feel her surprise as I pushed back her legs? Did you want to be part of our fevered coupling? To feel that slim body crushed under yours as you lost all sense of control? To be between us, part of us, used by us? Or will you always just linger in the shadows?

Latexi 6th May 2019