A Night in Paris
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I woke with him nuzzling me, whispering, "Belle sweet, girl time to get on the train."
We found our seats. It was a weekend, not a peak time, so the train was not full. We found seats which were in relative private. There was more room on the train than on the coach, and we got a section where two rows faced each other. Another two and a half hours until we reached Paris, I was feeling cramped and irritable. I needed to move, I was restless. The journey was taking forever. Miguel sensing my irritability went to the restaurant car to buy us dinner. Standing, holding the hand rail, I leaned against the window, watching the lights in the tunnel fade from one to another then to dark, it was hypnotically soothing.
When I regained my surroundings, Miguel was standing close behind me, watching me undulating in the sensual rhythm of the train's motion. "My Belle, you are so lovely." He pressed his hips to mine as together we rocked in silence. I turned to look at him, but the train slowed suddenly and I was thrust akimbo into his arms. He lowered me to the seat under the window and leaned over me. "Belle, even when you moody you are beautiful." He held my face between his palms and kissed me gently. "Belle, will we make love on this train?" He wasn't demanding, he was asking if this is what I wanted. I wasn't in the mood. I just wanted to be left alone. He ran his fingers over my shoulders and through the thick knot of curly hair at the back of my neck. I was tired and cold and felt fragile and weak. But, his touch kindled something in me. I reached my hands up to his head and curled my fingertips through his short hair on his neck and arched against him. He pressed his body against me, pushing me into to the window with his body. He groaned softly in my ear. "My darling minha, we will eat, then we will pass the time in less athletic pursuits."
I smiled at him weakly feeling foolishly on the verge of tears when he let go of me to set out the dinner he bought. On the disposable paperboard tray there were greasy looking meat pasties, a packet of chocolate chip cookies, and a fruit bowl along with two beers and two waters set on one of the outer chairs. As we ate our meal of pasties and cookies Miguel sensed my gloomy mood opened a beer and handed it to me. He sat across from me saying nothing. After I finished picking at my pasty in silence, I felt the beer going to my head, making me more irascible. I couldn't help my festering thoughts. "Were you serious about me being punished?"'
He looked up from the fruit bowl, the fork midway to his mouth. "What?"
"On the coach, you said, I needed to be punished for making you lose control. Were you serious?"
"Yes, Belle, I'm serious, that was cruel. You should know, you do not take my manhood from me, I don't like that. You make me feel less potent. It hurts my pride. You are mine, you do what I say. I make you happy, Yes?" He paused and looked at me. I nodded slowly, not knowing where he was going with this, he continued, "Belle, you agreed to be mine, you understand this right? I keep you safe? I know your needs, yes? I satisfy your needs okay? You must understand. I also have needs. I like discipline, in my work, in my house, in my lover. You must know this. You are mine. I want you to give yourself to me always."
I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off with one finger. Holding the finger in my face as if counting for a c***d, he pointed at me for emphasis. "First, you are mine, always that first. You can't say no to me, you don't want me to be less of a man. When you say no to me, I am no longer a man. How can I be anything useful to you if I am not a man? You do not want me as a woman or a gay, right?" He continued, "What if I had made a mess, and others had seen us doing what we did on the bus. I would have been arrested. How could you trust me to keep you safe I wasn't safe myself. I need you to know that this is very important to me. Of course I enjoyed very much what we did on the coach. But I need to trust that you will not humiliate me and risk us getting into trouble because you think it's funny to spite me."
I shrugged, thinking this very machismo and silly, but not saying anything, only nodding slowly as he made this impassioned plea for me to understand. "Of course you are a man even if you came on my face for others to see."
He was annoyed. I had apparently missed his point. "Belle, I did not like it. You asked, I answered, that is all there is to it."
I shrugged, feeling sort of pissed off, and frustrated. I felt on the verge of tears, not liking being chastised for something so foolish. He read my mood and tried to lighten the atmosphere between us by changing the subject. "We will be at our hotel in Paris in an hour. I look forward to sleeping with you in the city of lovers."
I spat back petulantly, "I may not sleep in the same hotel with you tonight. I may find a new person to sleep with in Paris."
"Belle, is that really what you wish? You wound me." He was no longer playing, he was serious. I hurt his feelings.
"No, of course I don't want anyone else, I love you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I was only bickering. I'm sick of traveling. I'm taking my bad mood out on you." I was contrite, I didn't mean to be cruel. I was starting to feel bad and didn't want to ruin the journey. "I'm so sorry, Miguel, you do know I don't want anyone but you, right? You are my everything. I love you." I got up and moved into his lap nuzzling and kissed his neck.
He pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head, "Belle, do not make jokes like that, it hurts me to the heart."
I felt bad. He took the fizz out if me. I slumped onto his chest and felt the tears sting my eyes.
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When we arrived in Paris we were both unsettled and in foul temper. We walked to our hotel, a small, cheap place on a narrow side street near the train station. Irritable from our long journey, we decided to go to the bar below the hotel for a late snack and a drink. We had been traveling for 14 hours already today, my legs were sore, my pride was sore, I had a headache and I just wanted to go to sleep. I didn't want to bother translating the menu so I snapped at Miguel, "Just get whatever you want."
He ordered for us both in French, without consulting me at all, which made me bristle even more. When our food arrived, I was relieved that he had ordered exactly what I wanted; A loaf of warm, fragrant, crusty bread, soft white cheese, fruit and a bottle of red wine. Miguel poured my glass nearly full and smiled at me, holding his glass in a toast "Let's get drunk and forget the journey. Salude." When I paused before drinking, he crinkled his eyes at me, "Drink Belle, we will get drunk and sleep late, we do not leave until the afternoon, let's enjoy this night in Paris as lovers."
I smiled at him. This was his way of making it up with me. We were ok. He reached across the small table and held my hands. "Belle, meu amor, eu quero voce, I love you, I want you, I need you. You know this always, minha, mine" I drained my glass and he poured another. I was feeling the wine in my head. I shook my head side to side like a lion sniffing the air. I was feeling tipsy, my temper subsiding with the meal and wine. I looked up at him shyly, "Thank you."
He smiled sweetly at me. "Belle, I like you like this, vulnerable, but always so strong." I laughed. A rakish grin crossed his face as he raised his glass again, "To making love on every train, coach and taxi in Europe!"
I laughed, and he drained his glass. "We will go now. I will make love to you slowly and make you know who is your Mestre."
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The room was small and sparsely furnished but had a spacious en-suite bathroom with a large old fashioned ball and claw bathtub fitted in the European style with a hand body sprayer. We were both dirty and dreary from the traveling. When Miguel suggested a bath I was thrilled. He turned on the water so that it would fill while we unpacked. This is just what I needed, a nice hot, soothing, relaxing bath to wash away my temper and residual snappishness. We unpacked our toiletry kits and laid them on the small vanity counter next to the tub. I hung my skirt and sweater on one of the hangers provided in the small wardrobe and folded up my t-shirt, I shed my tights and boots. I was parading around the room in just my cotton panties and bra. I was bending over the sink in the bathroom brushing my teeth when Miguel came up behind me fully naked. He placed his hands on my hips pulling me gently toward him. "Belle, in your lingerie you are so sexy, you make me want to do terrible things to those old knickers, and then to you underneath."
Spitting into the sink, I turned and faced him, rolling my eyes at him, not feeling the slightest bit sexy at the moment, "Miguel, do your worst, I am sure it will be a challenge to keep you up."
He laughed at the double entendre. I loved that about Him. He found my silly humor funny. He pulled my bottom into his hips and gyrated. "Yes, Belle, now that I have your permission, I will." He leaned over his valet kit and took out a few items and laid them on the vanity shelf. "Now, Belle, take off your bra, sit on the edge of the tub." I looked at him, really not in the mood for being sexy, but I wanted to make Him happy. His good humor had returned, the least I could do was play along. I sat on the rim of the tub which was a little too tall for me to sit comfortably. I perched toes down with my heels on the wooden support ledge leaning forward so I would not fall back. The narrow, rolled rim of the tub was sharp on my butt. Miguel stood over me, grinning lewdly down at me. He folded a small towel and knelt between my legs. I parted my legs slightly, still wearing my panties, when he cupped my sex with his hand. I reached out and placed a balancing hand on his head. He looked up at me, and whispered. "Close your eyes, my darling."
I closed my eyes. He tugged on the narrow side band of my panties and cut them away from my body with his small manicure scissors. My eyes popped open with a squawk as I shuddered, arching back away from him. I was afraid he would hurt me. My dodge made me lose balance. I was falling backward into the half-filled tub. He leaned forward, catching my shoulders pulling me back toward him. He shook his head slowly. His face was a mask of disappointment, "You don't trust me."
I stammered, "I'm sorry Miguel, I just didn't expect you to ..." I gestured lamely at my sides. I dropped my head shamefaced. My hair curtained my view of him as I looked down at his face. He put his hand on my cheek brushing the hair from my face so I was forced to look at him. His face morphed from a hurt expression in a stern glare. He wrapped his self-possession around himself like a mantle and stared hard at me. I realized he was serious, he did want to do terrible things to my knickers. I was anxious about the underneath now.
He paused. Not moving, only staring at me, his back straight, his shoulders firm his expression a careful smooth veneer of passive control. His voice came softly, a smooth warm caress on my frayed countenance, "Belle, minha querida, trust me, I won't hurt you. Close your eyes, relax, minha, you are safe with me always." His words were like a balm. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Relaxing, I lost my fear entirely.
When I was relaxed he cooed softly at me, "I did not like those knickers, too ugly for your orchid." He continued what he started. He pinched the single drooping side band from my body and cut it from my body. He let the shreds of fabric hang under me, exposing my pubis to the cool room. Tugging on my downy fluff to get my attention he gazed up at me, "Tell me you trust me, Belle. Tell me you are mine." The word, mine, was pregnant with unspoken meaning. He was not done with the lesson on the train. He was going to teach me what he meant now.
I looked down at Him, anxious, but trusting. I nodded into his eyes.
"Say it, Belle, tell me that you are MINE. Tell me you trust me."
"Yes, Miguel, I trust you, I am yours."
His smile bloomed slowly but crossed his face, he waited until what felt like an electric buzz filled the entire room, my nerves and excitement became a palpable force, I felt myself ease and become attuned to him and only Him. He stayed kneeling between my knees but his shoulders squared. His power was evident. His lean frame seemed to grow and by contrast I felt myself shrinking, letting go of all of the stress that I was holding. "Good girl, Belle, you always make me so proud."
I glowed from the inside out. There was a perceptible link between us now. It was as if I was held in his net. The tub was still filling behind me, he spoke over the sound of the running water, "Belle, put your hands on your head, stay still, I will not hurt you, but you need to trust me. You may close your eyes, but don't move." I nodded, still under his spell and closed my eyes. He gently pet my pubic hair and curled his fingers into the downy mound, his fingertip found my opening and stroked slowly back and forth, teasing my entrance. I started to lean forward, he spoke sharply, "Belle, be still, do not move."
I closed my eyes again and concentrated on not moving, feeling his fingers massaging my entrance slowly. He leaned forward, I could feel his lips close to my opening, I heard him inhale slowly and part my legs farther, tipping my hips forward. The humid air in the bathroom seemed to thicken, my breathing was coming in long deep rasps, and my motions seemed sluggish as if I was moving through honey. He made soft soothing sounds in Portuguese which I didn't entirely hear or understand. He raked his fingers gently through my pubic hair and then kissed my fluffy mound gently. I was embarrassed. I tried to close my legs, but he stilled me with his hands on my knees. I felt as if I was being weighted down but I was aroused. I felt the dewy moisture between my legs with each stroke of his fingers. He seemed to be moving in slow motion, but so was I. With my eyes closed I heard a soft clicking, intermittently over the sound of the water filling in the tub under me. I felt the warm steam from the tub under me. He pet my pubic hair softly with his palm, I arched my hips toward him. But he stopped again, and chastised me, "Belle, my sweet, please be still, do not move." I think I was in a semi sleeping state. I am not sure how long this went on.
A heard a short hissing sound, then an astringent smell. He gently rubbed the minty lotion into my mons and fingered my entrance again. I squeaked and I arched, feeling a burn on my pussy and then realized it was mentholated shaving gel. I opened my eyes to see he had covered my entire pubic mound with shaving cream and was preparing to shave me. I dropped my hands from my head to my mound, "No, please...don't." I was apprehensive. I had never shaved there before.
"Please, Minha, do not worry, I won't hurt you. You trust me." He took my hands and placed them back on my head again and kissed my forehead. He leaned over and shut off the water. He knelt between my legs again, "Close your eyes, Belle."
I closed my eyes and resigned myself to my punishment. I would be bare there, it would likely itch, but it's not as humiliating as it could have been. He gentled me, rubbing the numbing cream into my patch again, then with deliberate strokes starting at the top he depilated my pubis. I didn't feel like crying as I usually did when he punished me, it seemed he was enjoying this and it didn't hurt, actually it felt nice. I parted my legs wider so he could shave the creases between my thighs. Then, he stood up, taking my hand, calmly telling me to keep my eyes closed. He reached around me, guiding me into the water. He asked me to turn, and put my feet into the tub. He cooed into my ear. "Touch yourself and look at what is mine." I blinked adjusting to the brightness in the room as I stood, in the bath. I reached down to feel I was not as bald as I thought I was, when I looked at my bush, I saw, he left a heart shaped patch of hair above my opening. I was so touched to see the care and careful sculpting of the heart, it had full rounded cheeks and then tapered to a thin line pointing to my entrance. I slipped down into the water which was too hot.
Miguel eased into the tub behind me. I felt the water hot on my over sensitized entrance. The menthol made me hyper-aware of my sex and I felt nearly on the verge of orgasm from the feel of the water on my exposed clit. I arched back and looked at him. I felt a lump come to my throat, the heat of the water hopefully masking the tears that started to fall. I could see the emotion in his eyes as well. He reached around and stroked the newly quaffed mound with his thumb, "My darling, minha, this is only part of what is mine." His fingers trailed up my belly to my chest and rest his hand on my breast over my heart, "This is mine," he slid his warm hands over my shoulders and rested on my temples, "This is mine. Do I make you understand now?"
A sob shuddered through me, he felt it too. Miguel pulled me closer to him, I whimpered, "I am sorry. I know. I didn't mean to upset you, I am so sorry Miguel. Please forgive me. I understand why you did this. I understand why you punished me." I couldn't stop the tears and was glad I faced away from him and looked down at the heart distorted by the water carved into my loins which made me cry more. It was such a beautiful lesson of what he wanted me to realize. I am HIS. I am his pleasure, my privates are beautiful to him, and he loves me, but, I am his to do with what he wants, to mold how he pleases.
He gentled me softly, "Belle, minha querida, do not cry, stop that now. This was not punishment. This was just a reminder. You have not been punished yet, this was just a sketch. This was for my amusement and a reminder for you." He turned my head to his and kissed me hard on the lips, "When I punish you, you will know you are being punished. Let's go to bed now, mine."
My brain was too muddy to process what he said. Feeling his hardness in my back I flipped over to see him. I stroked his manhood gently with my hand and kissed the tip which barely crested the waterline. I watched his cock bob looking for my mouth when I moved my lips away and raised myself from the tub, taking a towel from the bar wrapping it around myself I dried quickly and got into the bed not waiting for him.
He climbed in behind me and pulled me close. His fingertips found the sensitive, shorn outline of his heart. He traced it gently with his fingers which made me writhe against him. Feeling his arousal nestled into my buttocks, I wanted to redeem myself. I wanted to worship him and give him pleasure. But I thought, I knew better, he wanted my submission more than he wanted my attention. He slipped his finger into my wetness and traced the heart with my own nectar. He laid me back on the bed, and straddled my knees. He leaned down over my face. He looked at me, his eyes dark and piercing, with one index finger held in front of me, he said, "Mine." That word, again, so full of unspoken meaning, then, he slid the finger down over my bottom lip, across my cheek, down my chin across my one breast stopping to pinch one nipple then dragged the finger slowly across to the other nipple, pinching that one harder than the other. I cried out and he let go, dragging the one finger lower to my belly, across my hips then sitting back on my thighs he traced the heart at my loins again. I purred and writhed wanting to part my legs wider, but he was not letting me move. His finger trailed around the heart one circuit then another, I closed my eyes in submission telling myself to let him have what he wants. I owed him this. I felt the tension leave me and savored the feelings of his fingers on my sensitive skin, purring softly with each circuit.
Suddenly, in one fast overwhelming motion he rocked back off my thighs, pulled my legs up and up over his shoulders, and forced himself deep into me. I arched up with a scream, not expecting the abrupt intrusion. He looked down at me, baring his teeth in a grimace, stabbing himself hard into my tight cleft, forcing himself deeper into me. His fingers found my breasts and he twisted my nipples making me writhe in pain but the pleasure of his cock in me was nearly excruciating. I was a jumbled mess of sensations. He let go of my breasts letting them bounce to my chest and I reached for him, trying to anchor myself on his body. He pulled my wrists up behind my head with one hand and tangled his fingers into my hair, making it impossible for me to move without pulling my own hair. Thrusting violently in and out of me, I squirmed, whimpering my skin already so sensitive and my body alert to him entirely. I started to shudder feeling myself tipping over the precipice of my orgasm.
He scowled at me, "NO! You will not cum, not until I say."
He continued to stab himself violently in me making me so ready for my release. He fingered my sensitive clit with his other hand, watching me, requiring me to see his face, to see the pride with which he held me on the edge. He groaned and I felt his orgasm near, but he pulled out of me completely and held himself over me, still fingering my clit. I started to beg. "Oh god, please, Miguel, please I need you, please, oh fuck, I need your cock, I need your cum, I need you! Please let me have you?! I want it so badly, I want to have you! I need you so much. I can't cum without you."
He shook his head slowly, no, and glared down at me, his lips twisted into a grimace. His face looked as if he was in agony. It looked as if he was thinking about something torturous. I started to whimper and contract around his finger, which he now held still inside of me. His cock slick with my juices lay hard and throbbing on the sensitive heart he carved into my sex. He still watched me, waiting, and I started to cry again, begging, "Please Miguel, I am sorry, please, I love you. I need you. I am yours. I won't forget again, please... please, I need you so much."
As I sobbed incoherent words, he leaned in close to my ear, and whispered in a slow staccato, so softly I had to stop to hear him, "Belle, You. Are. Mine. Never forget that. You. Are. Mine." With those words he entered me again, this time, slowly, every inch of him settling into its matching sheath inside of me, soothing me with his body. He let go of my wrists and my hair, then he kissed my face, my cheeks, licked the tears where they still leaked from my eyes, and kissed my lips. He soothed me slowly, his hands finding every curve, every sore inside of me and out, as his manhood slowly, tenderly, caressed my insides. I felt myself tipping over the edge again, whereas before it was a hurtling drop, this time, it was a slow spiral into oblivion. My eyes found his and I asked, not with words, but with my body wrapped vine-like around his, matching his rhythm, if I could have his release. He looked down into my eyes, as we unraveled together into a skein of never ending fathomless need. I choked back sobs and felt myself pouring, in spurting gushes, matching his unsure where his body ended and mine began.
We found our seats. It was a weekend, not a peak time, so the train was not full. We found seats which were in relative private. There was more room on the train than on the coach, and we got a section where two rows faced each other. Another two and a half hours until we reached Paris, I was feeling cramped and irritable. I needed to move, I was restless. The journey was taking forever. Miguel sensing my irritability went to the restaurant car to buy us dinner. Standing, holding the hand rail, I leaned against the window, watching the lights in the tunnel fade from one to another then to dark, it was hypnotically soothing.
When I regained my surroundings, Miguel was standing close behind me, watching me undulating in the sensual rhythm of the train's motion. "My Belle, you are so lovely." He pressed his hips to mine as together we rocked in silence. I turned to look at him, but the train slowed suddenly and I was thrust akimbo into his arms. He lowered me to the seat under the window and leaned over me. "Belle, even when you moody you are beautiful." He held my face between his palms and kissed me gently. "Belle, will we make love on this train?" He wasn't demanding, he was asking if this is what I wanted. I wasn't in the mood. I just wanted to be left alone. He ran his fingers over my shoulders and through the thick knot of curly hair at the back of my neck. I was tired and cold and felt fragile and weak. But, his touch kindled something in me. I reached my hands up to his head and curled my fingertips through his short hair on his neck and arched against him. He pressed his body against me, pushing me into to the window with his body. He groaned softly in my ear. "My darling minha, we will eat, then we will pass the time in less athletic pursuits."
I smiled at him weakly feeling foolishly on the verge of tears when he let go of me to set out the dinner he bought. On the disposable paperboard tray there were greasy looking meat pasties, a packet of chocolate chip cookies, and a fruit bowl along with two beers and two waters set on one of the outer chairs. As we ate our meal of pasties and cookies Miguel sensed my gloomy mood opened a beer and handed it to me. He sat across from me saying nothing. After I finished picking at my pasty in silence, I felt the beer going to my head, making me more irascible. I couldn't help my festering thoughts. "Were you serious about me being punished?"'
He looked up from the fruit bowl, the fork midway to his mouth. "What?"
"On the coach, you said, I needed to be punished for making you lose control. Were you serious?"
"Yes, Belle, I'm serious, that was cruel. You should know, you do not take my manhood from me, I don't like that. You make me feel less potent. It hurts my pride. You are mine, you do what I say. I make you happy, Yes?" He paused and looked at me. I nodded slowly, not knowing where he was going with this, he continued, "Belle, you agreed to be mine, you understand this right? I keep you safe? I know your needs, yes? I satisfy your needs okay? You must understand. I also have needs. I like discipline, in my work, in my house, in my lover. You must know this. You are mine. I want you to give yourself to me always."
I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off with one finger. Holding the finger in my face as if counting for a c***d, he pointed at me for emphasis. "First, you are mine, always that first. You can't say no to me, you don't want me to be less of a man. When you say no to me, I am no longer a man. How can I be anything useful to you if I am not a man? You do not want me as a woman or a gay, right?" He continued, "What if I had made a mess, and others had seen us doing what we did on the bus. I would have been arrested. How could you trust me to keep you safe I wasn't safe myself. I need you to know that this is very important to me. Of course I enjoyed very much what we did on the coach. But I need to trust that you will not humiliate me and risk us getting into trouble because you think it's funny to spite me."
I shrugged, thinking this very machismo and silly, but not saying anything, only nodding slowly as he made this impassioned plea for me to understand. "Of course you are a man even if you came on my face for others to see."
He was annoyed. I had apparently missed his point. "Belle, I did not like it. You asked, I answered, that is all there is to it."
I shrugged, feeling sort of pissed off, and frustrated. I felt on the verge of tears, not liking being chastised for something so foolish. He read my mood and tried to lighten the atmosphere between us by changing the subject. "We will be at our hotel in Paris in an hour. I look forward to sleeping with you in the city of lovers."
I spat back petulantly, "I may not sleep in the same hotel with you tonight. I may find a new person to sleep with in Paris."
"Belle, is that really what you wish? You wound me." He was no longer playing, he was serious. I hurt his feelings.
"No, of course I don't want anyone else, I love you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I was only bickering. I'm sick of traveling. I'm taking my bad mood out on you." I was contrite, I didn't mean to be cruel. I was starting to feel bad and didn't want to ruin the journey. "I'm so sorry, Miguel, you do know I don't want anyone but you, right? You are my everything. I love you." I got up and moved into his lap nuzzling and kissed his neck.
He pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head, "Belle, do not make jokes like that, it hurts me to the heart."
I felt bad. He took the fizz out if me. I slumped onto his chest and felt the tears sting my eyes.
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When we arrived in Paris we were both unsettled and in foul temper. We walked to our hotel, a small, cheap place on a narrow side street near the train station. Irritable from our long journey, we decided to go to the bar below the hotel for a late snack and a drink. We had been traveling for 14 hours already today, my legs were sore, my pride was sore, I had a headache and I just wanted to go to sleep. I didn't want to bother translating the menu so I snapped at Miguel, "Just get whatever you want."
He ordered for us both in French, without consulting me at all, which made me bristle even more. When our food arrived, I was relieved that he had ordered exactly what I wanted; A loaf of warm, fragrant, crusty bread, soft white cheese, fruit and a bottle of red wine. Miguel poured my glass nearly full and smiled at me, holding his glass in a toast "Let's get drunk and forget the journey. Salude." When I paused before drinking, he crinkled his eyes at me, "Drink Belle, we will get drunk and sleep late, we do not leave until the afternoon, let's enjoy this night in Paris as lovers."
I smiled at him. This was his way of making it up with me. We were ok. He reached across the small table and held my hands. "Belle, meu amor, eu quero voce, I love you, I want you, I need you. You know this always, minha, mine" I drained my glass and he poured another. I was feeling the wine in my head. I shook my head side to side like a lion sniffing the air. I was feeling tipsy, my temper subsiding with the meal and wine. I looked up at him shyly, "Thank you."
He smiled sweetly at me. "Belle, I like you like this, vulnerable, but always so strong." I laughed. A rakish grin crossed his face as he raised his glass again, "To making love on every train, coach and taxi in Europe!"
I laughed, and he drained his glass. "We will go now. I will make love to you slowly and make you know who is your Mestre."
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The room was small and sparsely furnished but had a spacious en-suite bathroom with a large old fashioned ball and claw bathtub fitted in the European style with a hand body sprayer. We were both dirty and dreary from the traveling. When Miguel suggested a bath I was thrilled. He turned on the water so that it would fill while we unpacked. This is just what I needed, a nice hot, soothing, relaxing bath to wash away my temper and residual snappishness. We unpacked our toiletry kits and laid them on the small vanity counter next to the tub. I hung my skirt and sweater on one of the hangers provided in the small wardrobe and folded up my t-shirt, I shed my tights and boots. I was parading around the room in just my cotton panties and bra. I was bending over the sink in the bathroom brushing my teeth when Miguel came up behind me fully naked. He placed his hands on my hips pulling me gently toward him. "Belle, in your lingerie you are so sexy, you make me want to do terrible things to those old knickers, and then to you underneath."
Spitting into the sink, I turned and faced him, rolling my eyes at him, not feeling the slightest bit sexy at the moment, "Miguel, do your worst, I am sure it will be a challenge to keep you up."
He laughed at the double entendre. I loved that about Him. He found my silly humor funny. He pulled my bottom into his hips and gyrated. "Yes, Belle, now that I have your permission, I will." He leaned over his valet kit and took out a few items and laid them on the vanity shelf. "Now, Belle, take off your bra, sit on the edge of the tub." I looked at him, really not in the mood for being sexy, but I wanted to make Him happy. His good humor had returned, the least I could do was play along. I sat on the rim of the tub which was a little too tall for me to sit comfortably. I perched toes down with my heels on the wooden support ledge leaning forward so I would not fall back. The narrow, rolled rim of the tub was sharp on my butt. Miguel stood over me, grinning lewdly down at me. He folded a small towel and knelt between my legs. I parted my legs slightly, still wearing my panties, when he cupped my sex with his hand. I reached out and placed a balancing hand on his head. He looked up at me, and whispered. "Close your eyes, my darling."
I closed my eyes. He tugged on the narrow side band of my panties and cut them away from my body with his small manicure scissors. My eyes popped open with a squawk as I shuddered, arching back away from him. I was afraid he would hurt me. My dodge made me lose balance. I was falling backward into the half-filled tub. He leaned forward, catching my shoulders pulling me back toward him. He shook his head slowly. His face was a mask of disappointment, "You don't trust me."
I stammered, "I'm sorry Miguel, I just didn't expect you to ..." I gestured lamely at my sides. I dropped my head shamefaced. My hair curtained my view of him as I looked down at his face. He put his hand on my cheek brushing the hair from my face so I was forced to look at him. His face morphed from a hurt expression in a stern glare. He wrapped his self-possession around himself like a mantle and stared hard at me. I realized he was serious, he did want to do terrible things to my knickers. I was anxious about the underneath now.
He paused. Not moving, only staring at me, his back straight, his shoulders firm his expression a careful smooth veneer of passive control. His voice came softly, a smooth warm caress on my frayed countenance, "Belle, minha querida, trust me, I won't hurt you. Close your eyes, relax, minha, you are safe with me always." His words were like a balm. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Relaxing, I lost my fear entirely.
When I was relaxed he cooed softly at me, "I did not like those knickers, too ugly for your orchid." He continued what he started. He pinched the single drooping side band from my body and cut it from my body. He let the shreds of fabric hang under me, exposing my pubis to the cool room. Tugging on my downy fluff to get my attention he gazed up at me, "Tell me you trust me, Belle. Tell me you are mine." The word, mine, was pregnant with unspoken meaning. He was not done with the lesson on the train. He was going to teach me what he meant now.
I looked down at Him, anxious, but trusting. I nodded into his eyes.
"Say it, Belle, tell me that you are MINE. Tell me you trust me."
"Yes, Miguel, I trust you, I am yours."
His smile bloomed slowly but crossed his face, he waited until what felt like an electric buzz filled the entire room, my nerves and excitement became a palpable force, I felt myself ease and become attuned to him and only Him. He stayed kneeling between my knees but his shoulders squared. His power was evident. His lean frame seemed to grow and by contrast I felt myself shrinking, letting go of all of the stress that I was holding. "Good girl, Belle, you always make me so proud."
I glowed from the inside out. There was a perceptible link between us now. It was as if I was held in his net. The tub was still filling behind me, he spoke over the sound of the running water, "Belle, put your hands on your head, stay still, I will not hurt you, but you need to trust me. You may close your eyes, but don't move." I nodded, still under his spell and closed my eyes. He gently pet my pubic hair and curled his fingers into the downy mound, his fingertip found my opening and stroked slowly back and forth, teasing my entrance. I started to lean forward, he spoke sharply, "Belle, be still, do not move."
I closed my eyes again and concentrated on not moving, feeling his fingers massaging my entrance slowly. He leaned forward, I could feel his lips close to my opening, I heard him inhale slowly and part my legs farther, tipping my hips forward. The humid air in the bathroom seemed to thicken, my breathing was coming in long deep rasps, and my motions seemed sluggish as if I was moving through honey. He made soft soothing sounds in Portuguese which I didn't entirely hear or understand. He raked his fingers gently through my pubic hair and then kissed my fluffy mound gently. I was embarrassed. I tried to close my legs, but he stilled me with his hands on my knees. I felt as if I was being weighted down but I was aroused. I felt the dewy moisture between my legs with each stroke of his fingers. He seemed to be moving in slow motion, but so was I. With my eyes closed I heard a soft clicking, intermittently over the sound of the water filling in the tub under me. I felt the warm steam from the tub under me. He pet my pubic hair softly with his palm, I arched my hips toward him. But he stopped again, and chastised me, "Belle, my sweet, please be still, do not move." I think I was in a semi sleeping state. I am not sure how long this went on.
A heard a short hissing sound, then an astringent smell. He gently rubbed the minty lotion into my mons and fingered my entrance again. I squeaked and I arched, feeling a burn on my pussy and then realized it was mentholated shaving gel. I opened my eyes to see he had covered my entire pubic mound with shaving cream and was preparing to shave me. I dropped my hands from my head to my mound, "No, please...don't." I was apprehensive. I had never shaved there before.
"Please, Minha, do not worry, I won't hurt you. You trust me." He took my hands and placed them back on my head again and kissed my forehead. He leaned over and shut off the water. He knelt between my legs again, "Close your eyes, Belle."
I closed my eyes and resigned myself to my punishment. I would be bare there, it would likely itch, but it's not as humiliating as it could have been. He gentled me, rubbing the numbing cream into my patch again, then with deliberate strokes starting at the top he depilated my pubis. I didn't feel like crying as I usually did when he punished me, it seemed he was enjoying this and it didn't hurt, actually it felt nice. I parted my legs wider so he could shave the creases between my thighs. Then, he stood up, taking my hand, calmly telling me to keep my eyes closed. He reached around me, guiding me into the water. He asked me to turn, and put my feet into the tub. He cooed into my ear. "Touch yourself and look at what is mine." I blinked adjusting to the brightness in the room as I stood, in the bath. I reached down to feel I was not as bald as I thought I was, when I looked at my bush, I saw, he left a heart shaped patch of hair above my opening. I was so touched to see the care and careful sculpting of the heart, it had full rounded cheeks and then tapered to a thin line pointing to my entrance. I slipped down into the water which was too hot.
Miguel eased into the tub behind me. I felt the water hot on my over sensitized entrance. The menthol made me hyper-aware of my sex and I felt nearly on the verge of orgasm from the feel of the water on my exposed clit. I arched back and looked at him. I felt a lump come to my throat, the heat of the water hopefully masking the tears that started to fall. I could see the emotion in his eyes as well. He reached around and stroked the newly quaffed mound with his thumb, "My darling, minha, this is only part of what is mine." His fingers trailed up my belly to my chest and rest his hand on my breast over my heart, "This is mine," he slid his warm hands over my shoulders and rested on my temples, "This is mine. Do I make you understand now?"
A sob shuddered through me, he felt it too. Miguel pulled me closer to him, I whimpered, "I am sorry. I know. I didn't mean to upset you, I am so sorry Miguel. Please forgive me. I understand why you did this. I understand why you punished me." I couldn't stop the tears and was glad I faced away from him and looked down at the heart distorted by the water carved into my loins which made me cry more. It was such a beautiful lesson of what he wanted me to realize. I am HIS. I am his pleasure, my privates are beautiful to him, and he loves me, but, I am his to do with what he wants, to mold how he pleases.
He gentled me softly, "Belle, minha querida, do not cry, stop that now. This was not punishment. This was just a reminder. You have not been punished yet, this was just a sketch. This was for my amusement and a reminder for you." He turned my head to his and kissed me hard on the lips, "When I punish you, you will know you are being punished. Let's go to bed now, mine."
My brain was too muddy to process what he said. Feeling his hardness in my back I flipped over to see him. I stroked his manhood gently with my hand and kissed the tip which barely crested the waterline. I watched his cock bob looking for my mouth when I moved my lips away and raised myself from the tub, taking a towel from the bar wrapping it around myself I dried quickly and got into the bed not waiting for him.
He climbed in behind me and pulled me close. His fingertips found the sensitive, shorn outline of his heart. He traced it gently with his fingers which made me writhe against him. Feeling his arousal nestled into my buttocks, I wanted to redeem myself. I wanted to worship him and give him pleasure. But I thought, I knew better, he wanted my submission more than he wanted my attention. He slipped his finger into my wetness and traced the heart with my own nectar. He laid me back on the bed, and straddled my knees. He leaned down over my face. He looked at me, his eyes dark and piercing, with one index finger held in front of me, he said, "Mine." That word, again, so full of unspoken meaning, then, he slid the finger down over my bottom lip, across my cheek, down my chin across my one breast stopping to pinch one nipple then dragged the finger slowly across to the other nipple, pinching that one harder than the other. I cried out and he let go, dragging the one finger lower to my belly, across my hips then sitting back on my thighs he traced the heart at my loins again. I purred and writhed wanting to part my legs wider, but he was not letting me move. His finger trailed around the heart one circuit then another, I closed my eyes in submission telling myself to let him have what he wants. I owed him this. I felt the tension leave me and savored the feelings of his fingers on my sensitive skin, purring softly with each circuit.
Suddenly, in one fast overwhelming motion he rocked back off my thighs, pulled my legs up and up over his shoulders, and forced himself deep into me. I arched up with a scream, not expecting the abrupt intrusion. He looked down at me, baring his teeth in a grimace, stabbing himself hard into my tight cleft, forcing himself deeper into me. His fingers found my breasts and he twisted my nipples making me writhe in pain but the pleasure of his cock in me was nearly excruciating. I was a jumbled mess of sensations. He let go of my breasts letting them bounce to my chest and I reached for him, trying to anchor myself on his body. He pulled my wrists up behind my head with one hand and tangled his fingers into my hair, making it impossible for me to move without pulling my own hair. Thrusting violently in and out of me, I squirmed, whimpering my skin already so sensitive and my body alert to him entirely. I started to shudder feeling myself tipping over the precipice of my orgasm.
He scowled at me, "NO! You will not cum, not until I say."
He continued to stab himself violently in me making me so ready for my release. He fingered my sensitive clit with his other hand, watching me, requiring me to see his face, to see the pride with which he held me on the edge. He groaned and I felt his orgasm near, but he pulled out of me completely and held himself over me, still fingering my clit. I started to beg. "Oh god, please, Miguel, please I need you, please, oh fuck, I need your cock, I need your cum, I need you! Please let me have you?! I want it so badly, I want to have you! I need you so much. I can't cum without you."
He shook his head slowly, no, and glared down at me, his lips twisted into a grimace. His face looked as if he was in agony. It looked as if he was thinking about something torturous. I started to whimper and contract around his finger, which he now held still inside of me. His cock slick with my juices lay hard and throbbing on the sensitive heart he carved into my sex. He still watched me, waiting, and I started to cry again, begging, "Please Miguel, I am sorry, please, I love you. I need you. I am yours. I won't forget again, please... please, I need you so much."
As I sobbed incoherent words, he leaned in close to my ear, and whispered in a slow staccato, so softly I had to stop to hear him, "Belle, You. Are. Mine. Never forget that. You. Are. Mine." With those words he entered me again, this time, slowly, every inch of him settling into its matching sheath inside of me, soothing me with his body. He let go of my wrists and my hair, then he kissed my face, my cheeks, licked the tears where they still leaked from my eyes, and kissed my lips. He soothed me slowly, his hands finding every curve, every sore inside of me and out, as his manhood slowly, tenderly, caressed my insides. I felt myself tipping over the edge again, whereas before it was a hurtling drop, this time, it was a slow spiral into oblivion. My eyes found his and I asked, not with words, but with my body wrapped vine-like around his, matching his rhythm, if I could have his release. He looked down into my eyes, as we unraveled together into a skein of never ending fathomless need. I choked back sobs and felt myself pouring, in spurting gushes, matching his unsure where his body ended and mine began.
Libbie
- 04.10.2020
- 12
- 0
