A Well Lived Life Book 3 PiaChapter 7 Pia
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Petulant Pia free porn video
Petulant Pia
Copyright Mind Imperator 2005. All Rights Reserved.
Part One "So you Treasure your Nipple?"
I have decided to take you for a while to the Château d´Eperonin the region of Reims.
The owners are friends there from my time in Paris. They are also in the hierarchyof the commissariat and I share some leisure interests with them.
Our car pulls up along the stable-flanked gravel entrance road, in front ofthe oaken main door. Getting out, you notice a fishpond full of large yellowcarp attracted to the surface by the gentle falling rain and by fish feed slowlysprinkled by a hefty, rough-featured gardener.
We are soon inside and I bring in two large suitcases and your own. We arethe only guests this warm May night, and the intendants feed us efficientlyand convivially, imbuing us with mature red Bordeaux Rouge, and then, perhapsuncannily, they melt away into the long corridors. I lead you up the back stairsinto a large sequestered, well-appointed, warm, ancient attic bedroom underbare black rafters.
I uncork Schreiner champagne from the bar and pour two glasses.You sit quietly and somewhat self-consciously on the dark red sofa, sippingthe sharp white wine, the ephemeral bubbles tingling on the roof of your mouth.I arrange a few things in the bedroom next door, and then come to sit by you.We toast together and you see I am starting to look at you in a more concentrated,single-minded way. I put my hand on your jeans, on your right thigh.
?Wait. What are you doing?? you blurt. I do not remove my hand but gentlystroke your forehead with the other one. You respond immediately, as you alwaysdo, arching your neck back, following the caress of my fingers as they travelover your forehead. This response is automatic, one of your stirring dances.It testifies only to your subordination before the rule of Eros and carnalpleasure, no more than that. Many men have taken you only in this way, eventuallyjading the thrill for you.
The hand on your thigh moves further up. You issue a soft, preliminary, gentle ?No? intothin air. But the hand is now at the top of your thigh and the other has takenhold of your hair, turning your face towards me. You think that maybe you cansee the first light of desire somewhere in the depths of my eyes. We have nowtaken the first tiny step in the long journey towards my ultimate goal thisweek.
You snap out of it. ?Not yet. Let's talk a bit, first? you say. And many menstop there, not recognising your well-camouflaged desires, this quintessentialbehavioural self-contradiction a la Japonaise . But this time youknow it there will be no stopping, that in coming here with me you have alreadyirrevocably crossed some threshold?
Still holding your hair I speak to you, for the first time softly but firmly. ?Listen,now, Pia. You are pretty and intelligent. But you have much to learn, so muchto understand about the structural truths of heterosexual interaction, theraw nature that was seared into our souls long before the advent of significanthuman consciousness. But you will learn here with me.?
You feel uncomfortable with this demeanour of mine, which resembles that ofa doctor, a teacher, even a priest. Is he trying to belittle me? Does he respectme? But I am anxious to persuade and explain, and you are, naturally, curious. ?Whatdo you mean, learn?? you retort.
?You will learn here slowly as our time together elapses. But firstly, youmust understand that I will have zero tolerance of resistance this week. AndI mean absolutely zero.?
I pull your head towards me, kiss your lips softly, then more forcefully,relishing your sweet femininity, your vibrant youth. For an instant your previousthoughts and doubts disappear and you yield, luxuriating in being kissed inthis way.
?Now, take off your clothes.?
?What..?? You had hoped things would go more slowly, idyllically?
?Pia, either you take off your clothes now or I will have to do it. And ifI have to do it I can assure you that neither you nor your clothes will likeit one bit.?
?No. Not yet. I don't want to. Not yet?I want to go for a walk outside.? Youmove to get up.
I assert myself in my usual and practiced manner. Slow and controlled, I takehold of your wrists, the first clear act of physical domination, then takeout handcuffs from my pocket and clip your wrists behind your back. You donot resist but look straight ahead and agitatedly but softly, almost underyour breath, exclaim ?What do you think you are doing!??
I do not answer but take hold of your hair again and carefully pull you uponto your feet and over to a wooden post in the centre of the room. I unfastenthe handcuffs and refasten them with your hands cuffed behind the post.
I leave you wedded to the post and go back into the bedroom. Because I amgone you feel a strong reality check, a swell of shame at having allowed thisto happen, then waves of defiance invade you. You grapple for the safety catcheson the handcuffs, but there are none. These are different from the ones inHeidelberg. There is no way of opening them without the key. The first pangsof frustration.
I return to the lounge holding a sharp, six-inch-long steel hunting knifewith a black leather handle and curved at the tip. A quick surge of panic andadrenaline runs through you. ?What are you going to do!?? you blurt.
I bring the knife close to your face. ?My dear, I gave you a chance to cooperate.Unfortunately you declined and now it is too late?.
I hook the tip of the curved blade through the front of your blouse, and slideit down.
The honed knife quietly slides down, bisecting your blouse, and the fabricparts without a fight, obediently falling asunder, revealing your lacy blackbra.
?Look what you've just done!? you angrily complain. ?Asshole!?
?Well, well!? I retort, with an amused smile. ?Foul words and frowns cannotrepel an ardent man. You will now be stripped of your modesty, my dear. Youwill be fully exposed to me?.
I stop, and admire you, before sliding the knife under the bra straps.
?No, don't!? again loudly. ?That's my nicest bra. Please!?
The ?Please' has pleased me. It is the first sign of imploring. But the knifetalks only by action. With a satisfied smile I deftly nick through the brastraps. The bra falls softly to the ground and your charms are open to my gaze.You sigh, frustrated. I pause again, admiring your rounded breasts and pertnipples.
You watch as I take your right nipple between thumb and forefinger, and squeezeit slightly, sending a charge running from your nipple directly between yourlegs, and your knees weaken palpably. Moving closer, I whisper in your ear: ?Yournipples are erect. Clearly, you are already turned on by the shame of havingdelivered yourself so easily up to me, and at the realisation that you arepowerless to resist whatever I wish to do to you.? You are shaking your head,trying to deny this. I continue. ?Your breasts are exquisite, my dear. AndI have had much enjoyment with these nipples on past nights, have I not??
You reply this time, softly, almost inaudibly, as if only to yourself - ?Ihope so?.
Standing back slightly, I slowly run the flat surface of the knife acrossyour right nipple, which stiffens further under the cold steel. This elicitsanother soft ?No, please?, but your breathing is accelerating now, giving youunmistakeably away. You are fundamentally easy, helpless prey, now squarelypinned in the sights of a strong, merciless predator. Smiling, I place thetip of the knife under a nipple and push upwards slightly, not enough to breakthe skin.
?No don't! Please!? you burst out, standing on your tiptoes, adrenaline surgingnow, straining upwards, futilely trying to escape the knifepoint.
?Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy, Pia. You seemed to place some valueon your bra. How much do you treasure your nipple? It is significantly moredifficult to replace. I could now push this knifepoint up into it, couldn'tI? And I can assure you that would give me infinitely more pleasure than simplysnipping your polyester bra straps.?
I remove the knife. ?I will pay closer attention to your nipples later. Butremember it is within my power to do anything I wish to you. And that the onlyway you can possibly influence what happens to you is by submission.?
Your jeans are tight fitting. I start on them with the knife at your feetbut you kick out, half-heartedly, but enough to prevent easy work. Withoutthe slightest annoyance, and saying nothing, I return to the bedroom, and thencome back with a metre-long metal bar and three lengths of rope. The metalbar is placed on the ground and I take hold of an ankle, pulling it to oneside. Tight clove hitches are made and your ankles are lashed solidly to thebar, wide apart. The third length ties the middle of the bar to the post ina neat figure-of-eight. Your legs are now spread and immobile.
The knife is slipped under your jeans and works its way up the tight fittinginside of one leg, then the other. Cutting the jeans from your hips is moredelicate but I of course succeed, without grazing your skin. I remove yourshoes and you are left in only your panties.
I stand back again, appreciating the curve of your hips, your slim, athleticbody. ?Now, how should I cut the panties off?? I ask you. ?Should I cut throughthe side? Well, what do you think??
You look away from my face. You would not answer such a question.
?No. This is what I will do,? I decide. I am now behind you, and I pull yourpanties upwards, tight between your sex lips and buttocks.
?The school kids in their changing rooms call this a `wedgie` and the wordis even in the Oxford English Dictionary now, you know.?
But now the knife is cutting downwards behind you, tearing the back of yourpanties, and you feel the blunt edge sliding between your ass cheeks, thenunder, between your splayed legs. I linger there, and push the edge up betweenyour lips. I hold the knife handle with both hands, and more firmly press upwards,the blunt edge now pushing strongly into you. No pain, but discomfort. Youtry again to tiptoe but cannot now. A small movement of the knife and the pressureis on your clitoris and your delicate piercing ring.
?Can you feel the cold steel?? I ask. ?Does it turn you on? Lets find out,shall we?? I remove the knife and my finger now slides in your panties andcaresses your vaginal lips, before moving inwards inside you.
?Much as I thought, Pia. You are hot for this aren't you??
?No! That's not true!? you cry, breaking your calm, in heated shame. ?Stopit. Untie me. Let me go!? you shout.
I quickly slash with the knife through your panties and they are now halved.
Nicking the sides, they drop to the ground and you are completely naked beforeme, your breasts heaving in anger.
End of Part One.
Kierra
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