The Gift

"Go ahead, open it," he said to her, smiling.

The box in her lap was beautiful, intricately carved and deeply coloured; deceptively Light for its size. She lifted the wooden lid and unwrapped the layers of silk fabric to examine the box's contents.

"It's exquisite" she gasped, as she held out the antique kimono to better see its detail. Her heart was pounding, her breath caught in her throat. She shivered at the significance of the gift.

"It's over five hundred years old, worn by one of the most renowned entertainers in all of Japan," he said. "When you wear it, you must always speak in gentle tones, never raising your voice above a murmur. And," his voice becoming deeper and darkly firm, "you must never question me, never deny me while in this garment. Whatever I ask you to do, you must trust me and acquiesce to my request."

A shudder of pleasure ran through her, from the back of her neck, down the crest of her buttocks to someplace deep within her sex. She had not anticipated this from him, hadn't realized she would find what she had silently been longing for all her life. She had found her equal, someone as strong as she was. With the receipt of a gift and with a few simple words, she could, would become his.

"Well, try it on" he said, his voice had a purring tone to it, easing her out of her astonished reverie. "I want you to go in the other room, undress, bathe and then put on for me. I want to see you in it."

Dizzy, disoriented, she nodded her head in compliance and turned to the bath. "What am I doing?" she thought. "This is too much, too fast, I can't." Despite the protests in her head, she drew a shallow steaming bath, sitting on the wooden bench in the pool-like tub, rubbing herself with soap fragranced with patchouli, frankincense, myrrh, cardamom and clove. The mélange of scents was heady and hypnotic as she stroked her thighs; her hands slippery and slick she soaped her belly, her breasts; fingertips tracing languorous patterns around her nipples, curving under each globe, feel it's weight, gently crushing them together, bubbles gathering in her décolleté.

She heard his voice through the door, disconnected and strange. He was talking on the phone, business by the sounds of it. He sounded different, harsh, and clipped. She felt a chill of apprehension pass through her; she never wanted to hear him speak to her in that tone. Heart quickening, she rinsed with the French shower, foam sliding from her body and into the drain. Only the redolence of the soap remained. Drying herself briskly, she attempted to shake off the narcotic effect of the recent events to no avail. She felt slightly calmer. She smoothed oil from a crystal decanter on her skin, the peony essence in it combined with the other spices from her bath and again she felt drowsy, the soporific scent overwhelming her.

She kneeled on the rough terry rug, thighs on calves, buttocks resting on her heels. She lifted the ornate lid of the wooden box holding the gift, the vehicle of her freedom, the means of her capture. The rustle of the heavy silk was crisp, almost crackling as she shook out the folds of the kimono. The fabric was an odd, olive green, somehow iridescent with threads of gold, palest yellow and pink running through it. Inside the lining was coral with tiny golden yellow flowers woven throughout. The olive ground was embroidered with lotus, chrysanthemum, and cherry blossoms. The intricate pattern danced and swirled in the light and she reeled, dazed by the colours. She stood up, lifted the garment from its box, and slid her arms one by one into the sleeves. She closed her eyes as the weight of it rested on her and she felt as though she were beneath a lover, captive but not trapped, restrained though not restricted. Her heart raced, fingers trembling as she tied and tightened the simple sash about her waist. She reached out her hand and grasped the doorknob, paused, apprehensive; he was going to be there, ready to see her in this robe, this item of adornment, this thing of silken sensuality that now would bind her to him eternally, inexplicably making her his. She would now be tied to him as surely as the sash of the garment wound around her waist. He would only have to speak and that 'sash" would tug at her, drawing her to him, captive and yet willing to do whatever he bade her.

Her hand still on the doorknob, she stood and trembled. She could not open the door. She had never given up control like this to anyone, and now, on the brink of this new chapter in her life, she hesitated. What did she really know about this person, this man about whom she had fantasized this very moment repeatedly. Would he be kind, would he truly understand this need in her?

A soft tap on the door startled her. "Darling, are you alright? Please don't keep me waiting, everything is going to be just fine."

Her heart racing, she opened the door and stepped into the other room. He was sitting in an armchair across the room from her. He made no move to rise, simply sat, looking at her, examining her. Her skin flushed, her breath caught in her throat, it seemed her heartbeat was the loudest sound in the hushed room.

"Stand up straight, please" he growled, his voice low and velvety. "Walk to the window, turn around and come stand in front of me." Awkwardly she turned to the French doors flung open to the ocean air. As she walked towards the windows, the crisp air washed over her and chilled her slightly. The coolness gave a tiny bit of relief to the anxiety she was experiencing. Pausing for a moment, she watched the ships in the harbour floating, drifting. She gathered her nerve, turned and walked to him, still Sitting in the chair, silent, unmoving. As she stood before him, she detected the beginnings of a smile at the corners of his mouth and he shifted in his chair. She waited, quivering as he continued to look at her.

"Beautiful, darling" he murmured. "Simply beautiful." He stood up, wrapped one arm around her, pulling her close. With his other hand, he reached up and caressed her face, running his fingertips over her brow, her cheeks, and her nose; resting them gently on her lips. She trembled with desire, apprehension, and delight at what was taking place. His grip on her tightened, his other hand meandered down the curve of her neck, slid under the collar of the garment, caressing the skin of her breast, then her nipple, delicately yet firmly. She gasped at the tingling pleasure of his fingers. He looked into her eyes. "Not a word," he said. "You will not speak unless I ask you to. Do you like your gift, do you like this?" She nodded, eyes closing, head lolling back at the ecstasy his fingers were conjuring. His hands seemed to be everywhere, teasing her, tickling her, taunting her. She moaned and as she opened her eyes, she could see he was smiling. "That's right," he whispered. "Everything you want you shall have, every secret desire you harbour will be fulfilled. All you need do is give in to me, give me what I demand of you without question, without hesitation. Can you agree to this, will you do what I ask of you, will you give me" he paused " your acquiescence?" His hand slid down to her sex and finding her smooth mound, slipped two fingers into her; curling them inside her, thumb sliding against the pearl of her pleasure. Her knees gave way at the sensations and he held her to him all the way to the floor. His hand working insider her, coaxing her hunger to it's peak, stopping only to begin again as her breathing slowed. "You may speak only one word; tell me yes or no."

She felt her pleasure peaking, her body trembled, every nerve ending brought alive by his ministrations. She began to shudder, eyes closed, breath ragged. His voice purred in her ear. "Tell me," he demanded "yes or no? Tell me now or I'll have to stop." He made to withdraw his hand from her.

"Yes" she gasped, "Yes, please."

He cradled her in his arms until she at last lay still. Her breathing slowed and she relaxed, sighed, and opened her eyes. She looked up to see his face, serene and flushed; a soft smile of satisfaction creased his lips. His eyes were gently hazel flecked with gold that shimmered whenever he laughed.

"You see darling, all that you desire and all you need do is follow My instruction. I know what pleases you more than you know yourself. I can tell by looking at you what you want, what you need. I know what you're thinking before you do."

The words came out of her in a rush. "How do you know, I've never told anyone about this, you can't know, we barely know each other. I can't do this, it's too hard, I'm afraid."

"Shh," he said, " Take a breath, slow down. Think a minute. Remember the first time we met? The blue spark that seemed to jump from my hand to yours? I know you felt the pleasure pass between us. I knew at that moment that I would meet you again, that you would become mine. It was only a matter of time until you came to me, opened yourself enough to me to allow the possibility of our arrangement to become real. But you had to come to me. I could no more force you to take your role than I could convince you that there's nothing you've ever wanted more."

The entire time he spoke to her, he stroked her hair, gathered her up in his strong arms and pressed her against him. The fabric of his shirt was slightly damp with perspiration, the scent of him clean and crisp, like the breeze on the open ocean. She could hear his heart beating slowly, steadily, like a timpani, causing her heart to slow to match his rhythm. He began to rise, stood her up and lead her to a large stone console table draped in a plum coloured satin and velvet throw. The satin was striped with dark blue; it shimmered in the light of the afternoon sun. Along with the throw on the table were two pillows in the center.

He led her to the edge of the table, stood facing the table, turned her so her buttocks pressed against the edge of the table facing him. He stood close to her, so close she could again take his scent into her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and began to realise what was about to take place. Her eyes fluttered open to find him smiling again, this time with such a turn at the corners of his mouth she knew that he knew her thoughts. She opened her mouth slightly and he laughed, his beautiful white teeth flashing.

"Need I remind you of your promise? Didn't you agree not to speak unless I asked you to? You must slow down. Look at me, look into my eyes, breathe my breath, and follow my rhythm. There, that's better. You think too much darling. Focus on nothing; allow your mind to float. You must not ruminate, must not put your mind to any subject. Listen to your body and mine and you will know what to do, the hunger will move you."

He slipped his hands under the open folds of the gift and held his hands with fingertips just at the skin beneath her breasts. She felt a tingling heat begin to flow from his palms to her flesh. Her breathing sped and he merely whispered "Hush, shhhh" in a low, long exhale. Taking his hands from her, he ran them down her arms to her waist, paused for moment, and then slipped them back over her hips to her the slope of her buttocks. Cupping his hands, he slid her to sit on the edge of the table. He slid open her kimono and ran his fingers along her collarbone. She shivered in delight as he leaned in and nibbled her ear, then pulled a long, soft kiss down the nape of her neck. As he made his way down the front of her, with one strong hand holding her he laid her back on the table. His kisses traveled down her belly to the rise of her mound and he paused there. Running his tongue across and then down the crease of her, he slid her back a bit, put his palms against the inside of her thighs and opened her to him. His tongue darted in and out of her, lightly caressing the pearl of her sex every now and again, causing her to begin to moan and writhe. Her hands found his silvery head, she held him there, the pleasure flaring to a heat in the center of her, and she thought she would faint. "Slow down" he breathed again. "You're not done yet. I'm far from finished with you," he growled. Suddenly his mouth was gone and she could feel his hands grasp her waist and pull her toward him. He ran his palm over her mound, the heel of it resting directly above the hood of her clitoris and paused, exerting gentle pressure to that tender area. She softly cried out at the sensation. He slid his fingertips along her labia, fluttering them ever so slightly. With one swift motion, he slid his thumb into her, and holding his cock lightly, slipped into her. She gasped at the sudden sensation of fullness, of being silently entered, stretched slightly, just enough to blur the line between pain and extreme pleasure. He began to move, slow, uxorious strokes, filling her completely then pulling out to the very edge of her and then pushed into again. His hands ran up and down the tops of her thighs and up to her breasts, where he held one in each hand, her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Velvet jolts of electricity surged throughout her body and she could tell by his throaty moans that he felt the same thing. Repeatedly he thrust into her, speeding up, then slowing down, matching her breathing, bringing their bodies into synchronicity, and moving them both closer and closer to ecstatic oblivion. He leaned over her to kiss her, first on her closed eyelids, then her nose, and then finally her mouth. His mouth was slightly open and his tongue demanding, yet at the same time his lips were soft and tender. The combination of the two sensations brought her heart to her throat and she welled up. Finally he could take no more, his hands slid to her hips again and fingertips brusquely pressing into her soft skin he pumped harder and faster. The arc of his stroke pressed against the center of pleasure inside her, causing her to arch her back to up to him, meeting each stroke, the silver fur on his stomach tickled and teased her smooth sex. Growls of pleasure gave way to moans, and in turn, the moans became almost a roar as he began to climax. Hearing his voice, she opened her eyes and watched him; back arched, eyes closed, that same serene smile spreading across his face. She could feel him begin to explode inside her and as he did, her belly blazed fiery, a shiver of pleasure shot up her spine, tinier shivers like the fingers of a lightning bolt moved across entire body.

"Now you are mine and I am yours," he whispered huskily. His orgasm peaked and he looked directly into her eyes as he came.

" We are equal in all things, although you have chosen to be mine and I have chosen to make you mine. I will never ask you to do anything that will harm you; I will however always ask you to do things that will challenge you. I will never hurt you. But I will leave you wanting. Desire is everything. Hunger, craving is all that are important, if we do not desire, there is no reward, no ecstasy. You will begin to understand this and learn what love really is. I promise this. All you have to do is acquiesce to me."

With that she came, all the tension in her released, she began to sob and laugh and sob again. Never had she ever imagined would she find this man standing over her, slowly pulsing inside of her.

He lightly rested on top her, kissing her, running his fingers through her hair, his breathing slowing with hers, his pounding heart becoming fainter and fainter, until she could just barely feel it throbbing in his chest. The sweetness of his breath, the mingling of their scents rose into her nostrils and for the first time, she felt content.

Her search was over; he had found her when she hadn't even known she was lost.

He had become lover, teacher, and captor. She had become lover, student, and captive.

The pairing could not have been more natural.

He gathered her up in his strong arms, carried her to bed, gently laid her down under a cloud-soft feather comforter, slid in next to her and cradled her against him, her head tucked under his arm, her arms wrapped around him in a rapt embrace. She lightly fell asleep and as she began to dream, he watched her, planning her next lesson. He could not have been happier, because contrary to what she thought; she had found him when he hadn't known he was lost.