Stopping by Your House on a Snowy Evening

Deirdre held the envelope in her hand, looking at it uneasily. Plain, white; one would think it was a greeting card of sorts. It was in a way. Her mind quickly traveled back to the time yesterday when she found the first one. She had just come back from lunch when she found the envelope laid on the chair in her cubicle. "A Christmas card from one of her coworkers, no doubt," she thought. She picked it up and sat down in her chair, taking the time to put away her purse before opening the envelope. She pulled out the card contained within. In stark, simple lettering she read the following:

I see your soul, both dark and deep
That keeps you from a good night's sleep
Compelling you to that secret place
That from your friends you try to keep

She had sat stunned for a moment, not believing her eyes. The sinking feeling in her stomach attested to the reality. All at once she looked around, half-expecting to see someone watching her. There was no one. She stuffed the card back in the envelope, and slid it in her purse. She could not prevent the redness, however, from building in her cheeks. She sat quietly for a long time, unable to get back to work. Her mind turned over with the possibilities. Who could have left it? Who could know? Who could know what obsession had overtaken her mind recently? She had spent too many hours on AOL, exploring the dark thoughts, hoping somehow that the online play would moderate them. It had only drawn her deeper, touching something primal within her.

Now, another envelope. Exactly like the first. It had been waiting for her, in the driver's seat of her locked car when she returned to it from her Christmas shopping. She inspected the envelope for any clue to the sender. Nothing. She stared at it, unable to open it. Her hands begin to tremble slightly; her breathing began to quicken. "This is silly," Deirdre thought to herself; "Of course it's from my husband." She opened the envelope and pulled out the now familiar white card. Unfolding it, gulping, she read:
I know the way your heart does race
I know the look that grasps your face
When dark thoughts enter your mind
And the stranger's heat you embrace
She folded it quickly and reinserted it into the envelope, stashing it in her purse. Her mind tried to convince her that her husband was indeed the culprit, the hair on the back of her neck begged to differ. She started the car and began the unexpectedly arduous journey home. She inspected each and every car that fell behind her, every one that passed her. The other drivers and passengers did not seem to notice her questioning stares. As she pulled into her driveway she was relieved to see that her husband was home. She quickly gathered her things and went into the house. He had already settled into his recliner, watching whatever sports was on. Relieved as she was to see him, she felt a growing disappointment that he showed no sign of knowing about the cards. She pulled both envelopes from her purse, but was not sure where she could put them. She was not sure she wanted to show them to her husband. She placed them back into her purse. Maybe he was just playing it cool. She went about her business and tried to put the thoughts back into her secret place. She did try.

She awakened the next morning, after a fitful sleep. She readied herself for work, and then prepared her husband's suitcase. He was headed out of town on business. She saw him out the door to his car, the snow beginning to flurry about them both. She searched his eyes for any clue while she kissed him, but there was nothing there to indicate knowledge of the goings-on of the past couple of days. She returned to the house unsure. She was walking down the hallway when something caught her attention. Not quite sure what but she scanned the wall to see what made her stop. The wall was adorned with the Christmas cards from friends and family, hung along the wall, as was the tradition. With one addition. A plain white card was taped to the wall, in the midst of the rest. The fact that it was inside her home made her tell herself it had to be her husband. Then she thought perhaps it really is a Christmas card, one that he had put up. She slowly pushed up the top fold, revealing the words underneath:

I see you on your bed reclined
To your fate you are resigned
Your hands bound and pulled apart
My hand in your hair entwined.

She kept repeating to herself, "It's him, it's him", as if trying to convince herself. The logical side of her went through the reasons why. The part of her that didn't believe it took the card down and placed it with the others in her purse. She headed off to work, but her mind never quite got there. Her mind kept her hovering about that secret place all day long and her duties as an employee suffered.

When she returned home the scene was tranquil; the fresh snow blanketing the house and yard, and the hills and trees around her. This was in contrast to the turmoil boiling within her. It dawned on her as she closed the door behind her that she was alone. She went about her routine, reading the mail, putting on her comfortable clothes, fixing dinner, watching her favorite show. Holding the door closed to the thoughts. The doorbell rang. She was not sure who would be calling tonight, but it was not that late as to be completely unexpected. She went to the door, checking first through the peephole. She did not recognize the man. Possibly he was one of her husband's friends. She opened the door slightly, chain still in place, and asked him what he wanted. She almost fainted when instead of replying he simply inserted a plain white envelope into the gap provided by the open door. The man turned and walked away, and she finally regained the presence of mind to close the door. She looked at the envelope on the floor, next to the umbrella stand. After an agonizing moment she bent to retrieve the envelope. She opened it, and removed the card. Unfolding it revealed the following:

My appearance gave you quite a start
I know the fear gripping your heart
Even so your need runs deep
This night my cock your lips will part.

Deirdre went weak in the knees, maintaining enough strength to keep from falling, but lowering herself to the floor nevertheless. Her breathing quickened. Her eyes riveted on the last line. The weight of the card too much, it fell from her shaking hand to the floor. She checked the door; it was still locked. She got up and walked about the house. There was no sign of the stranger. She carefully parted the drapes, and peered out. She saw nothing but the peaceful snow. She walked upstairs, and down the hallway to her bedroom. She closed the door and went over and collapsed on the bed. The massive bed seemed to engulf her small frame, and she lay there, not crying, but unsure of exactly what she was feeling.

She felt the bed tilt suddenly to one side, and she rolled over instinctively to see what was happening. Before she could react the stranger had settled on top of her, his body straddling her, his weight holding her against the bed. He paused for a moment, staring at her. She was speechless. No scream found its way from her throat. She was lying with her back to the bed; he was straddling her about waist high, his weight pressing her, the situation repressing her instinct to scream. His hands found her body just above her waist, and inserted themselves under her shirt. The shirt that gave her comfort offered little protection as his hands slowly inched upward, forcing the shirt outward, straining against its buttons until they popped one by one, as his hands made their way to her breasts. Her eyes never leaving the stranger's, she did not see any hint of surprise when his hands found her hardened nipples. His hands passed over them and continued upward, until the last button had given way and her chest was displayed before him. He reached behind himself and pulled two lengths of rope stashed between his pants and his body.

He lifted first one arm above her head, tying a knot around her wrist, then securing the rope to the headboard after pulling it tight. She watched his eyes. He did the same for the second arm and there she was, in a situation like so many she had played over and over in her fantasies and role-plays. She watched his eyes as he moved forward. The sound of the zipper did not distract her. Neither did the warmth that she suddenly felt on her cheek, slowly working its way to her lips. She felt the stranger's finger invading her mouth, then pulling downward on her jaw. He moved forward and she could no longer see his eyes, only his chest and his arms as they braced him against the headboard. She did not deny his cock as it parted her lips. The headboard, the bed and his body served to confine her, limiting her movement, almost suffocating her. His body moved back and forth slightly, slowly, rhythmically.

Her lips accommodating the intruder, rubbing the skin of his cock as it moved inward, rubbing the skin of his cock as it moved outward. His cock had been somewhat erect when he violated her; it was rock hard now. And she felt his pleasure plunging deeper into her mouth. He was not waiting for her; he was fucking her mouth in spite of any thought on her part to the contrary. The movement within her mouth caused her to gasp; yet still he ventured on. The heat from him was growing, and she stretched to see his eyes. Her whole body moving now with his movement, she closed her eyes, and her dark thoughts were there waiting. She saw the stranger there looking back at her, his eyes afire. She could see him growing closer to his edge, and suddenly she gagged as he exploded within her mouth. Her coughing forced her body against him and against her bonds to no avail. She fought to regain her breath. As his cock relented she was finally able to breathe, and she opened her eyes. She saw him looking down at her, she smelled his cum, she felt his weight.

He got up from her and walked to the dresser. There he grabbed a tube of her lipstick and walked over to the full-length mirror. He took the cap off the lipstick, and began slowly, deliberately extending the lipstick. He began writing on the mirror. She strained against her bonds to see what it was. His body blocked her, and after a moment she laid back. When he finished he stepped back, as if to proofread. He then picked up the mirror and moved it beside the bed. He exited the room. She had no trouble now reading what he had written:

My bonds your body will keep
Ready for pleasures I've yet to reap
And hours to go before you sleep
And hours to go before you sleep.

Deirdre squirmed in her bed, her hips writhing about, struggling against the bonds, but not quite trying to escape. Not quite.