Curing Erica's Phobia Ch. 02

"You can't do this for me." Her voice was raspy, sore. "I can't do this for myself."

"Give me a chance," he insisted. "One step at a time." She shook her head, backing away from him. He hastened the script he'd been creating in his mind. "First step, glowing fire." He pulled a remote from his pocket and pushed a button that flared the gas fire to life. "Second step, sheep's wool rug." Her misgivings were actually outweighed by her curiosity as he went to a closet and pulled out a bulky roll of - apparently - sheepskin rugs. She could see seams where they had been sewn together into a foursome of thick, white wool. He rolled this out on the floor in front of the fire. "Third step. Beautiful blonde woman stretched out in luxurious comfort on said sheepskin." He made a show of looking all around, before settling on her and gesturing like a maitre'd toward the rug.

"Eric," she complained, though the pain in her voice was gone, replaced by a faint amusement.

"Just lay down and enjoy," he said softly. "Although the fourth step was to bare some skin," he admitted. "Whatever you're comfortable with." She smirked at him. Then pulled her top off, revealing the sports bra he had given her a bad time about, just two days ago.

He smiled hugely, and despite her misgivings she stretched out on her tummy on the sheepskins, reveling in how soft and buoyant the wool was, like laying on a cloud. Eric went back to the closet for a moment, then returned and sat cross-legged in front of her. One by one, he set out a row of implements. The first one consisted of a white ostrich plume attached to a two foot handle. The second one was a bundle of soft feather plumes, also attached to a handle. Then he set down a flogger and Erica's breath caught. Her eyes flashed up to his. "It's deerskin, very soft," he said reassuringly. "Not for hitting, just for pleasure."

Then he showed her sheepskin mittens. "I won't use these without your permission. All right?"

Finally, he showed her a bottle of body oil. "Only with your permission."

He rose gracefully to his bare feet, taking the ostrich plume with him. "Close your eyes if you can. Just feel." He ran the soft, fluffy feather along her arms, across her shoulders. She was lying with her head turned to one side and he ran the plume along her forehead and down her cheek to the exposed part of her neck, then swirled it about her shoulder blades. When he moved to her underarms she giggled slightly. From there, he traced down to her waist and the small of her back between her bra and the waistband of her pants. She arched her back and hummed softly.

"Roll over," he said softly. "Arms at your sides."

She complied, and he started at her forehead again, caressing her face, circling under her chin and over her neck, slowly moving lower, tracing the neckline of her bra, then lower still, across her belly, tickling her navel. After a moment of that, he moved back up along her arms and started all over again. She grinned a couple of times at the tickle, then swore, sitting up suddenly. "Fuck it," she exclaimed.

Eric jumped back, but then she was sliding her pants down, leaving only her panties and bra, before she lay back down again. With glee, he moved down to her feet and began a slow, worshipful tracing of her legs. She was humming again, her face more relaxed than he'd ever seen it. He swapped out the ostrich plume for the other feather tickler with its long, wide-splayed feathers and ran them up between her legs and softly over the fabric of her panties, then across her belly. The feathers played lightly across the fabric of her bra then across her chest and around her neck. "Roll over again," he coaxed.

She moaned slightly, but rolled, stretching her arms out, her fingers playing in the soft deep wool of the sheepskins. As the feathers played lightly over the soles of her feet and began the trek up her legs, she began humming again. When they tickled between her upper thighs, she squirmed, but the humming continued. The feathers slid across her back and up to her shoulders, along her arms. Eric quickly swapped the tickler for the flogger, letting the buttery soft deerskin flow liquidly across her skin, up and down her length. When he told her to turn again, she did so immediately, reaching up behind her head to grasp and tug on the sheepskin. This time, when the leather strands flowed along her body, she writhed, striving to follow their path, and groaned.

"What do you want, Erica? Tell me, I'll give it to you." The leather strands slid down her belly and trickled over her panties and down between her legs. She gasped.

"Stop!" She was panting. Immediately Eric moved the flogger away. He knelt beside her.

"What is it?" he asked with concern.

She looked at him. "I need to be naked." She sat up and pulled her bra up over her head.

He smiled, carefully keeping his eyes on her face. "I can help with your panties, but I would have to touch you."

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. When she laid back down, she was tense, and jumped as he curled his fingers around the edge of her panties, pulling them slowly down her legs. A moment later, as the deerskin strands wandered slowly across her breasts, she relaxed again, then arched her back, groaning. He continued to run the flogger up and down her body until she could no longer lie still, twisting and turning, straining to follow the strands.

"Erica, I want to use the mitts and the oil. May I do that?" She nodded. He took the bottle of oil and drizzled it over her breasts and belly, then pulled on the mitts, straddling her. He started by teasing just the tips of her nipples with the soft wool, then gradually increased the speed and pressure of his hands as he swirled the softly scented oil into her skin. When that was becoming too intense for her, he moved to her arms and legs, letting her catch her breath. After a few moments, he had her roll over again and began the same process on her back, starting with her arms and legs, then her shoulders, slowly working his way lower and lower until he reached her ass. First one hand would dip down between her legs as the other caressed the meeting of thigh and ass cheek, then they would reverse tasks until she was groaning uncontrollably and alternating pulling away from, then straining toward his touch.

"Damn it, Eric, if you don't fuck me soon, I'm going to explode all over your apartment," she cried.

He chuckled despite his disapproval of her language. "How do you want it?" he asked softly. "Do you want to be on top?"

"No! I need you to hold me tight, please," she said with a hint of desperation.

"Shh, shh," he said softly. "I'll hold you so tight, you'll think you're wrapped in duct tape. Except no stickiness. Roll over," he commanded, already stripping out of his clothes and rolling a condom on. "I want to taste you first." She was shaking her head, her eyes screwed shut. "I won't make you come, just a quick taste."

She was looking at him, eyes big and dark, the outer corners tight with tension, but then she was spreading her legs, even nudging him over, until he climbed between her legs and lowered himself slowly, letting her watch his approach. He was rewarded with only the slightest twitch when his tongue reached out and slowly licked from deep in her folds up to her clit. He resisted the urge to flick her clit, maintaining gentle continuous pressure back down to her flooded entry, pushing inside with his tongue for just a moment, then he was sliding up her body, wrapping one arm under her waist as she arched her back at the feel of his cock pressing against her opening. His other hand found the back of her neck and he pulled her tight against him as he pushed inside. He didn't fail to notice with wonder and reverence that she didn't jump or cringe away from his touch, even arching higher to press against his chest and hips and wrapping her arms about his back.

He slid slowly inside her, savoring every inch and determined to make slow, deep love to her. She tried to flex her hips to draw him deeper and faster, but true to his words, he was holding her tightly and she was forced to accept his pace. Despite the slow pace, she came almost immediately, so tightly wound from the overstimulation that even the orgasm couldn't entirely relieve the delicious tension. He froze and gritted his teeth as the rhythmic waves of her orgasm massaged him, threatening his control. He didn't even mind that she screamed, "Fuuuuck!" as she came. Then he was moving again, and she was building to another explosion.

This time, when she erupted with an intensity that astounded him, he couldn't ride the waves as she spasmed and bucked beneath him. He plunged twice more then came with almost as much explosive force as she had. Erica was still screaming her preferred expletive but now in a hoarse, raspy voice. Eric kissed her into silence, and his lips were against hers when she began that so soft humming that he was quickly growing extremely fond of. When he attempted to pull away and relieve her of his weight, she tightened her grip on his back, and he relented with a smile, nuzzling against her neck.

"See," he whispered in her ear. "No pain, just pleasure." Her response was to hum louder, and he smiled against her neck.

Sometime later, when they both had recovered, he returned the items to the closet as Erica dressed, foregoing the sports bra. He frowned slightly at that, cocking his eyebrow at her nipples pressing against the thin material of her top, but he didn't say anything. He put his jeans back on and headed for the kitchen to pour her some more wine. When she finished dressing and finger combing her hair, Erica noticed that the bottle of body oil was still out, and she picked it up to be helpful and put it away. She opened the closet door and stared in horror. One wall of the closet was hung with whips and quirts, crops and canes, a larger collection than Juan's. She was frozen, holding the body oil in one hand, halfway toward a shelf, softly illuminated by the closet light, when Eric walked back into the main room with her wine.

As if awakening from a bad dream, Erica dropped the bottle of oil and backed out of the closet. "Erica, wait," he said, hurrying toward her. She didn't even look at him. She ran to where she had dropped her purse on first entering his apartment, snatched it up and yanked the door open, running out into the late afternoon. Eric struggled to slip shoes on and race after her, but by the time he reached the sidewalk, she was nowhere in sight.