tagBDSMSunday Best Ch. 02

Sunday Best Ch. 02

byRPF69©

A second instalment in this short series of related fics. The fics are related, but can be read in isolation. This chapter contains mild elements of consensual bondage and domination. Please do not read if these things might upset you.

~~~~~~~~~

My adventure had started when the Reverend Balls came up to me at the end of the morning service last Sunday.

"Sarah?" He touched my forearm to gain my attention.

"Yes?" I replied, spinning on my patent leather stilettoes to face him: no mean feat in a herringbone pencil skirt, but I was well practiced at it.

"I was wondering if I might ask a favour?" The reverend always had a way of getting people to do things.

"You know you only need to ask, reverend," I replied, full of haughty confidence. "Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it."

"Well," he scratched behind his ear and pulled a face. "Last week Laura, Laura Fellatio began visiting a new parishioner, ministering to his needs. But she's not very well today, so I was wondering if you could step in?"

"What sort of thing is...?" I asked casually, giving every impression that whatever it was, I was well up to the task.

"His name is Dick Rockhardt, he's a charming young man who really wants to commit to our little flock, but I think a few things are proving quite hard for him."

I nodded. I'd plenty of experience dealing with crises of faith and bringing people into the fold, after all. I was confident that there was nothing about this Mr Dick Rockhardt that I couldn't handle.

"Of course. My family will just have to muddle by on their own for a while," I reassured him.

"Excellent. I knew I could rely on you: you always see things through. Once you get the bit between your teeth there's no stopping you." It always pleases me when someone says something like that about me as that is just the way I like to see myself. And it's far, far better than some of the things I've been called. I'm not even sure I even know what people mean by 'retentive' or 'up-tight' -- they're probably only jealous, when all is said and done. I've also been described as prim and proper, but I prefer just-so. When I set my mind to something I do it. If I make a promise, I follow it through. No compromises, no deviations. It's just the sort of person I am.

So, half an hour later I parked outside Dirk's address. A nice, tidy house in a nice, tidy neighbourhood. I approved already.

I swung down the sun visor to expose the vanity mirror. A final check confirmed that my dark, auburn hair was perfectly pinned up atop my head, that my makeup was also perfect and that my tailored white blouse was buttoned all the way up to the top. I swung my legs, knees held primly together, out of my car. Exiting a vehicle with your dignity intact is no mean feat in the sort of long, tight skirts I favour, but I am an expert at it. Once on the sidewalk, my four inch patent leather heels clicked satisfyingly and familiarly as I made my elegant and controlled way to the nice, shiny purple front door. I banged his big, brass knocker firmly and confidently.

The door was answered by a rather dashing looking young man. He was tall, dark and handsome, albeit dressed in running shorts and an exercise vest. I could forgive him his informality though: His muscular body glistened in places with a fine sheen of sweat, implying that I'd just interrupted his workout.

"Dick Rockhardt?" I flashed him my perfect, $20,000 smile.

"Yes?" Was that an English accent, I wondered? How dreamy.

"Sarah DeVille. From the First Avenue church."

"Excellent! I am so pleased you came! I thought I recognised you!" He beamed back. "You'd better come in!"

I followed him inside and through to his living area.

"I must admit, I was expecting to see Laura.... Laura Fellatio," he chatted as we walked. He had a nice tidy, house. I like that in a man. And he was very easy on the eye, I must confess. He looked rather like the sort of man who sometimes featured in my racier daydreams.

"Yes, well, Laura's a little unwell today so Reverend Balls asked me to squeeze you in to my schedule."

"Unwell?" he seemed genuinely concerned. It was sweet and endearing. "Oh dear. Nothing serious I hope?"

"No, I don't think so. Apparently she slipped over last Sunday and is still feeling sore -- she's just having a little trouble walking about." It's what I'd been told, anyway. Not that I really knew -- we aren't really what you would call bosom buddies.

"Oh, I'm so pleased to hear that it's nothing too serious." He seemed strangely amused and also pleased at my reply.

"The reverend said she was counselling you?"

"Yes, yes she was. Is." He smiled disarmingly and pointed towards the open-plan kitchen area. "We were going to be at it for a couple of hours today, so I'd actually cooked lunch for the pair of us. Do you like saltimbocca?"

"Whatever that is, it sounds wonderful!" I laughed, opening up to him and touching his arm in the hope that he would feel more comfortable opening up to me in turn. He smiled encouragingly back. Perfect.

"Great, great, well lunch is in the oven, keeping warm, if you're hungry."

"It smells delicious." I touched him again on his bare arm. Biting my lip, I lowered my eyes, my gaze accidentally taking in his figure. He had quite the gym-body, shown off a treat by his shorts and vest.

"It's all ready, so you'll pardon me if I don't change beforehand?" I followed him through to the dining area, enjoying the view. "I've got a nice white wine in the fridge too. Would you like some?"

"I shouldn't." I found myself charmed and delighted as he took the trouble to seat me at his dining table like a true gentleman.

"But you will anyway, right?" How could I refuse a smile and manners like that? I nodded. "So, if you're staying, I take it you're not just here to let me know that Laura is poorly?"

"Absolutely," I confirmed, taking a mouthful from the wine glass he had set down before me. It tasted like a rather pleasant Chardonnay, my favourite. "I want you to offer my services in her place. Just for this week, till she's on her feet again."

"I must say, that's really thoughtful of you..." Dirk replied, bringing two plates of something rather delicious-smelling across to the table.

"But?" I asked as he settled opposite me and took a taste from his own wine glass.

"Well, we were making such good progress last week... And we had a plan all agreed for this week." He paused and frowned. "Look to be honest, I'd really rather not go any further with the counselling unless I know you're fully committed to sticking with her plan."

"I swear by the Good Book." I declared earnestly. "You just let me know what Laura had planned and I promise I won't let you down."

"Oh," he seemed to relax a little. "Well maybe... OK, yes. That'd be great. If you're sure?"

"Positive. Whatever she planned, I'm up for it," I promised. "Shall I say Grace?"

"Go right ahead." He grinned with relief and something else that I could not quite place.

"Dear Lord," I began, laying my hand across his. "We thank you for the gifts of good food and good company, and most of all, we thank you for the opportunity to get to the bottom of whatever is troubling our beloved brother Dick. Strengthen and guide us and steel our resolve to speak openly with each other. Bless us both with the strength and courage and fortitude to say and do what must be done without reservation. We ask this in your son's name, Amen."

"Amen. Thank you, Sarah. It's good to know you're really committed to this," he smiled back at me. "Well, tuck in!"

'~'

"This is excellent." I asked and took another generous mouthful of wine. It was really quite strong stuff. "What did you say it was called again?" I indicated the food on my fork before taking it in through pouting, ruby-red lips.

"Saltimbocca. It means 'explodes in the mouth," he chuckled. I blushed.

"You look really cute when you blush," he smirked, lifting the last forkful from his own plate. "It sets off the whole 'Naughty Librarian' vibe you've got going wonderfully."

"Naughty librarian?" I blushed more deeply. "So," I looked down coyly, flattered by the risqué compliment. "What was it Laura was counselling you about?"

"It's umm.... Well, you see, the thing is..." he faltered.

"You can tell me," I looked back up and settled my hand gently, encouragingly, on his, batting my eyelids slightly.

"Well, Sarah. I've been worried... I've been worried... that... that I might be gay."

I thought that I hid my surprise at his revelation pretty well. Actually, I decided on swift reflection, it wasn't that surprising: The body, the house, the car the lack of a wife or girlfriend .... Everything. He was obviously a pretty desirable guy but was obviously single. The sound of him speaking interrupted my reverie.

"I mean, I certainly don't seem to be into normal, straight stuff. The thing is, I don't seem to get sexually excited by the sort of things that ought to... I mean... I know most guys would look at an attractive woman like you and.... Well... I can see you ARE very attractive, but nothing happens down below."

"I see," I replied earnestly, not entirely sure that I did, but not willing to tell him that, although I was deeply flattered and thrilled by his description of me as a very attractive woman.

"And, to try and get my head straightened out, Laura said she was going to take me through a few straight, sexual fantasies." My mind spun as I tried to parse what he had just said.

"I don't think that'd be appropriate," I interrupted, just a little shocked.

"She was just going to talk about some stuff, that's all."

"Even so..."

"You did swear to go along with what Laura's plans," he frowned, withdrawing his hand from mine. He looked and sounded like he was hiding betrayal and disappointment.

"Yes, but..." I continued to protest.

"Look, the plan was to try and find a heterosexual fantasy that excited me. Then we could build on that to get me thinking more like a... a straight guy." He shrugged and huffed. "But if you want to back out, if you don't want to try to help me, I guess it's best to know now."

"Well, if you put it like that?" I mulled some thoughts round in my head, trying to think of something I could say, some fantasy which I wouldn't be too embarrassed to tell him. Finally, I settled on an idea that didn't seem too outrageous or embarrassing.

"I like it when a man takes charge. Tells me what to do. Tells me what he's going to do."

"Well, to be honest, I think a lot of women do," he responded, nodding gravely. At least he wasn't nasty about it, which warmed me to him a bit more. "But I really need you to tell me something a bit... a bit more erotic. One of your actual fantasies. Tell me one of your actual fantasies," he insisted, giving me the boldness I needed to go on. I took a deep breath.

"I sometimes think I'd like a man to take charge of me. Physically." It was just a small step from what I'd already told him after all.

"Interesting," he shook his head slowly. "Tell me in what way, exactly?"

"Well," I blushed heavily and averted my eyes. I wasn't really comfortable with telling him anything more detailed. Still, he still seemed harmless enough. My eyes even quickly took in his crotch, detecting no sign of any additional life there. That lack of obvious response did back up his story.

"Sarah," he said with a mixture of frustration and encouragement. "This is an important part of the therapy that Laura was planning. You did promise that you'd follow through with it."

A promise was a promise. I steeled my resolve and pressed on. "Sometimes I like to think of a man, a strong, forceful man, bending me over his knee and... "

"Yes? What does he do then?"

"He, he spanks me." I blushed again, although he didn't seem at all embarrassed. My eyes caught sight of his crotch. He didn't seem excited either. "Not, not to hurt me, you understand?"

"Just to dominate you," he nodded in understanding. "To be in charge."

"Hmm." I agreed with him.

"Well," he gave an understanding nod. "At risk of sounding like I'm the one helping you, I don't think that's that unusual a female fantasy either, to be honest."

"Perhaps not," I conceded.

"You need to tell me something a little stronger. Something that... that even hearing you voicing the idea might get a guy aroused."

I swallowed deeply, diving deeper into my fantasies. I leapt in: "Alright. I come home from church, or work or something, and there's someone in the house."

"Who?"

"Doesn't matter. But usually one of my son's friends from the gym." My mouth ran ahead of me, the words pouring out as a catharsis. "He's fit and strong. Much stronger than me. He's dressed in his gym kit. He must have let himself in and found no one home. He's gone to my bedroom and is poking around when I get home."

"Poking around?" Dick interrupted. I stared at him for a second, absorbing the fact that, physically, he did resemble the man I had just described: Fit, strong. He was even dressed like he'd just come from the gym. "In what way?" I wondered if he realised how well he fit the description of the man in my fantasy? I was certainly fully aware that he did, and I found it enticing, exciting, even.

"Going through my clothes..."

"Your," he paused and arched an interrogative eyebrow. "Your lingerie?"

"Yes." I whispered, quiet as a church mouse.

"Do you have a lot of lingerie, then?" My blush told him that I did. I wanted to move on, talk about something else.

"Anyway, when he hears me come in, he hides, in my wardrobe." I knew it was bizarre that I was telling him all of this, but I felt compelled to do so. Partly it was the fact that he was so commanding, partly it was that I had made commitments and lastly, everything about him and the situation was playing upon and fuelling my own deepest fantasies.

"Go on," he insisted, pushing me through my pause before it could become something more permanent.

"I know he's there," I coyly admitted, briefly catching his eye and then looking down. "I can see all my stuff on the bed, but I decide to tease him a bit."

"What do you do?"

"I take off my blouse. Slowly. Teasingly. And then my skirt. Then I lie down on bed and start to...." I faltered again. "It's embarrassing, sorry."

"You start to play with yourself," he calmly stated what I could not bring myself to say.

"Yes," I confirmed quietly.

"And then?" He just kept pushing. Fortunately, this version of my fantasy was pretty much done.

"Well, after a while, I go to my bathroom, or to get a drink or something, and he slips out." I smiled and sighed, relieved to have gotten through it.

"Interesting." He nodded slowly, neutrally, without obvious excitement.

"So, Dick, does that do anything for you?" I asked hopefully. Was I hoping that this would all be over soon or hoping for something more? Was I actually hoping that I was able to turn him on? "Stir any feelings?" I stole a glance at his crotch. Nothing was happening there still. I felt disappointed that I had had no effect on him.

"Maybe. Hard to tell. Maybe if it was a little raunchier it might?"

"Raunchier!?" I protested doing my best to sound shocked and even a little horrified. I did indeed have a far racier version of the fantasy which I had just outlined to him. Surely I wouldn't have to reveal that, too? And yet, the thought of him telling me to reveal it to him was definitely exciting me.

"Yes. I'm sure you've got raunchier fantasies. You need to tell me one."

"Why? Why do I need to?" I continued to protest.

"Because you promised to and I'm telling you to." He stated flatly, exuding self-confidence. He was totally in control of the situation, totally in charge: I felt unable to resist him further.

"Well, umm, it all starts similarly." I began, still a little nervous, a little disbelieving that I was so much in his thrall.

"You come in? This young man from the gym, he's in your bedroom, going through your things?"

"Yes." My voice trembled. I could barely look him in the face. Already, in my mind's eye, Dick was now playing the part of my intruder. The way he was dressed, in his workout gear, I didn't have to imagine too hard.

"Does he hide again?"

"Yes. But this time, as I start to get undressed, after I start..."

"Teasing him."

"Really, do we have to?" I pleaded.

"You did promise to..." He nodded his head gravely. "To speak openly and fully." He shifted slightly in his seat. Fascinated, I watched his muscles cording and rippling just beneath the skin on his arms and legs.

"But..." I bit my bottom lip.

"No buts," he insisted. "The more detail you give, the more chance that you might spark some hidden urges in me. You do want to help me, don't you?"

"Yes," I nodded, talking in a voice I barely recognised as my own. Never mind sparking urges in him, I was certainly feeling a few urges of my own.

"Go on," he insisted.

"He knocks something over in the wardrobe. Well I have to investigate, I can't just pretend I didn't hear. He jumps out. He's naked. His cock is hard, so hard. And he... he grabs me and pushes me onto the bed. There's stockings and stuff all over the bed from when he was going through my drawers. He ties me up. Blindfolds me. Then he...."

"He finishes unbuttoning your blouse."

"Yes."

"Does he do it slowly or like a wild animal?"

My mouth opened and closed wordlessly a few times while I considered how to answer that, maybe whether to answer that. "Slowly," I finally croaked, half in admission, half in unfulfilled desire as I imagined Dick pinning me down and slowly unbuttoning my shirt, revealing my lace-cupped breasts.

"Then he undoes your skirt." It was a statement not a question. I nodded. "He takes off your skirt." I nodded again. "Slowly?" Another nod. I could feel my cheeks flushing. "So now, you're tied to your bed, in your lingerie, at his mercy. What does he do?"

"He... There's a toy... a big glass thing... and a vibrator."

"Yes?" He leaned over and topped up my wine. "Tell me what he does next." I took a large mouthful from the glass to steady myself.

"He... he teases me with them. Until I can't take it anymore. Until I beg him to take me."

"Does he take you?"

"Yes." I was totally subservient to Dick's will now: I had to tell him whatever he asked.

"How does he take you?"

"He... he makes me suck him off."

"You give him a blowjob." It wasn't a question. He was so matter of fact about it, so calm in the face of my timid, embarrassed excitement.

"Then he cums on me." I was making my fantasy up as I went along now, embellishing it with whatever came into my head. "All over my face, my hair, my breasts."

"So he never fucks your pussy?" The words were so harsh, so matter of fact on my ears. So controlled and confident, so sexy.

"No... Not in this fantasy."

"That was interesting," he shrugged calmly. "I was almost turned on, I think." He took a sip of his own wine.

"Almost?" I spluttered in disappointment. I was pretty sure I was wet through.

"Well you know us guys?" He chuckled. It was the first emotion he'd shown for some time. "We're more tactile, more visual. Maybe I might feel a bit more if you showed me. Just the first fantasy, of course. Come over here and lie across my lap." It was presented as such an instruction, such a statement of what was going to happen that I felt compelled to obey.

I could feel heat burning between my legs, through my abdomen, my desire sending a rush of hot blood to my brain, clouding my judgement. I felt powerless to disobey him. I could scarcely believe I was doing it, but I had promised, and there was still no significant bulge visible in his shorts as I lay down across his firm, muscular naked thighs, so surely it was all safe? Nothing was going to happen.

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