The Descent Ch. 04

Yvette was a music teacher. About a year earlier the father of one of her private pupils had invited her to a party. She was told she could bring a friend and that a car would collect them and bring them to a house in Neuilly-sur-Seine. She had made up her mind not to go until her fiancé pointed out it would surely be unwise to disappoint a man who was in effect her employer. So when the day came they dressed and climbed into the car which in due course delivered them to a large house on the Avenue de Roule.

The party was far more grand than she imagined. There was no sign of her young student. From the moment of their arrival Yvette felt at a disadvantage. She had dressed carefully but the simple shift she had chosen seemed out of place here. The women were impossibly glamorous in low-cut evening gowns that sparkled in the soft light from the chandeliers. All the men wore dress suits. For and hour or two Yvette and her fiancé drifted from room to room on the party's glittering tide barely acknowledged by the other guests.

By midnight they had exhausted the pleasures of the excellent buffet and drunk their fill of champagne. They resolved to see if they could find their host and request the name of a taxi firm that might take them home. It was at this point they were approached by an unprepossessing man Yvette had not noticed before. He was short -- only an inch or so taller than she was -- heavily built and probably in his fifties. He took Yvette by the elbow and turning to her fiancé said, "I wonder if I could borrow your companion for a moment?"

The young man had readily assented, and with a courteous bow, the stranger led Yvette out into the crowded entrance hall.

In the middle of the floor he halted. "Wait for me here", he said. "When I return we will go upstairs."

And he left her.

Yvette felt suddenly exposed standing alone among the milling crowd. People were looking at her strangely. She had no idea what to do. It seemed unfair that the man, whoever he was, should have abandoned her like this, and absurd that she should remain - but there was something in the man's manner and the tone of his voice that kept her there. And what had he meant about going upstairs? She blushed at the foolishness of the question. Surely he could only have meant one thing. What he was proposing was impossible and she resolved to tell him so the moment he returned.

She waited five minutes at the most but in her nervous state it seemed an eternity. It was with some relief she saw the man at last making his way through the crowd towards her.

"Good girl ", he said, at once taking her elbow and guiding her towards the stairs. "This way."

She knew she should tell him now, this was the moment she should explain that going upstairs with him was out of the question but somehow she found it difficult to begin.

"My fiancé -- ," she started to say, but got no further. The man brushed her reservations aside with a wave of his hand.

"Don't worry about your friend", he said, "This won't take long."

His certainty unnerved her. He had behaved from the outset as if there was no possibility of her refusal and in the end it was not his insistence but an overpowering sense of the inevitability of things that made her put one foot in front of the other and begin to climb.

Upstairs, the sound of their footsteps muffled by a thick turkey rug, the man led the way to the back of the house. He evidently knew where he was going because half way down a long corridor he turned aside, opened a door and ushered her in. Yvette found herself in a large drawing room with an oak library table and two wing chairs set in front of the fireplace. Without preamble the man removed his jacket and draped it over the chair back.

Yvette hadn't spoken since she entered the room. She was paralysed by her own inaction. She felt certain there must be a way out of this situation but somehow no possible route presented itself. Somehow the expensive curtains and the solidity of the furnishings seemed to undermine her. Watching his slow deliberate movements about the room it came to her with sudden clarity that whatever was going to happen here was beyond her control. So when the man turned to her and matter of factly told her to raise her arms she had done so. In one smooth movement he lifted the dress over her head so that she stood in her slip and stockings, shivering slightly in the cooler air.

He plucked at the soft material.

"Take this off."

She removed her slip and found herself bodily lifted and set down on the edge of the oak table. Now the stranger slipped the thin straps of her brassiere over her shoulders and took a breast in each hand. He began a dispassionate appraisal weighing their fullness in his palms and grazing her swollen nipples with his thumb.

"Wasted," he said to himself. And then as if in explanation, "On your fiancé . These are wasted. The young never know what to do with their perfect bodies. That is their great tragedy."

There was no threat in his manner, no sense of danger, just the unwavering certainty of his entitlement to her. He knew of course that she would comply with whatever he asked. And so comply she did, obediently lifting her bottom from the polished wood to allow him to remove her underwear

"Open your legs for me"

Yvette did as he asked and the man revealed a swollen cock which he took in his hand and guided to her. He fitted its head between her narrow lips, then slipped an arm under each of her thighs and pulled her onto him. Yvette felt herself open and take him in. She tried to retreat inside herself, to find a place in her head where she was shielded from everything that was happening. But there was something implacable about his slow rhythmic thrusts that made her head spin. Her thoughts became cloudy as despite herself her body began to respond. She was shocked to find how wet she had become. When she almost lost her balance her arm reached behind his head to support herself, pulling her to him. She struggled to understand what was happening to her. Her fiancé, had never taken her like this, never with this certainty and skill. Here she was with a complete stranger older than her own father, hypnotised by the movement of his cock, while, the man she was to marry waited helplessly downstairs.

This man had not asked, he had merely taken and at his call, with an inevitability that stunned her, her body had answered and she had opened to him.

She could feel the orgasm building irresistibly, bearing down on her like the Atlantic. She bit her tongue determined to forestall this last betrayal. "No", she said out loud, "No, no, no --". But even as she spoke she knew it was hopeless, knew that the wave had taken her, had already lifted her up and had begun the descent that would only end when it broke onto the rocks of her desire. A moment later a different cry spilled from her lips and shattered the silence of the room.

In response he came out of her. Now he lifted her down and bent her over the table. She felt her nipples hard against the cold wood as he fitted himself to her from behind. This time he slid into her with an ease that only seemed to confirm his rights of ownership over the warm wet cunt she offered him. Now that she was open and receptive, he went on with more urgency, driving into her until finally as he approached his own release, he paused, and slowly withdrew until the head of his cock lodged in her outer lips on the very rim of her. And to her surprise it was Yvette who moved reaching back on to him hungrily and taking him in. A second orgasm claimed her as his final thrusts drove her into the table with such force that the following day she would find the bruises on the front of her thighs.

Five minutes later they were dressed and descending the staircase.

"You behaved very well" he said, as they crossed the floor and he delivered her to her fiancé. He made no attempt to explain their absence.

"I'm sorry to have kept her so long", he said. "She's a lovely girl. You're a very lucky man."

And turning on his heel, he left them.

Lena was wide-eyed in disbelief.

"Did you tell him? Your fiancé?"

"Yes" said Yvette. "But not until much later. Back then I thought that was the end of it."

"And it wasn't? "

Yvette shook her head.

She smiled. "I'm feeling much better now", she said. "But I would give a very great deal for some brandy and coffee. There's a café across the square. Come with me and I'll tell you the rest."

Lena willingly agreed and together with her new found friend she left the hotel and was soon settled at a café table in La Tabac on the Rue Martel.

Once Yvette had emptied her brandy into her coffee and taken a reviving sip she was ready to go on with her story.

About a week later, she said, her pupil's father handed her a note as she was leaving the house after a lesson. She did not open it until she was home but when she did the contents left her in a state of confusion.

It was from the man at the party. He signed himself only "D".

Be outside the Hotel Nancy on the Rue Chevert at 3 o'clock on the afternoon of Tuesday 14th. I will meet you there. Please don't wear any underwear. On this occasion you will be caned so you should prepare yourself. D

She stared at the note in disbelief. That he should expect her to respond suggested he must have a very low opinion of her. How could he hope her to conduct an assignation like this? There were no soft words, no endearments that might have been expected to seduce her into accepting his proposal. Just the bald statement of fact, the expectation that she would do as he told her because he asked. But there was something more disturbing still. The final line of the note, the one in which he quite openly promised to beat her.

She felt revulsion at the idea that anyone would agree to meet a man like this knowing what he intended. No one had struck her since she was eight years old and she was chastised by her father for an outburst of temper which resulted in the destruction of a bowl of Venice crystal. The shame and humiliation she had felt as he held her over the chair and used his belt came to back to her now as sharply as it had done a dozen years before.

And yet -- at the same time that every bone in her body reacted against the idea something stirred inside her. Something she fought to suppress, something that left her feeling faint and -- absurdly -- aroused.

She destroyed the note and resolved to have nothing to do with D, whoever he was. And for a while she felt better, more in control of her life. Yet something was troubling her. As the day approached she became aware of a growing agitation. She could not explain why this should be. If she had no intention of going, why should the approach of the appointment outside the Hotel Nancy touch her at all? The night before she found it impossible to sleep. She touched herself under the blankets and found that she was hot and moist. Hoping that an orgasm might relax her to the point where sleep would take her she slipped her fingers between her swollen lips and began to stroke herself. And it was there with the evidence of her own arousal under her searching fingers, her fiancé sleeping alongside, she finally accepted the inevitable -- that despite everything she had said she would meet this man. But she would not do as he asked and go without underwear. She would wear what she chose. That at least would be one small victory gained. Her mind made up she found release at last and smothered her aching cry in the softness of her pillow.