The Mail Slot

Mary sat on the front stairs the same way she always did, waiting for the mail to arrive. She breathed deeply the scent of the old house. The sweet musty odor of the basement permeated the broken cold air return and blended itself with the smell of freshly dried varnish from the steps. Mary found comfort in this marrying of smells.

Mary had always lived in older homes. She had been fortunate enough to acquire this gem. It had been a labor of love to repair and mend what had been neglected for so long. Mary and her husband had spent much of the past two years remodeling their home and having a baby. Mary was only twenty-five but she felt much older. She was very tired and very sad. She was going to miss living here.

Mary had given herself completely to her husband. When they first met she had been a mess. He took care of her every need because she was capable of nothing. Mary never thought it was strange, and it never bothered her to ask him for permission to do the most innocuous of things.

Whether for great or small, Mary always asked for permission. Mary asked for permission to go out, and Mary asked for permission to buy a stick of deodorant. Mary liked to do whatever it was that would please her spouse. Now there seemed to be no pleasing him at all and this left her feeling lost.

Entering therapy two months before they were married, Mary sought to correct the damage her dysfunctional childhood had wrought. Now she was finishing up with her treatment and was wondering where the last three years had taken her. She was left wondering who she really was.

The front hallway was the only project left that needed completing. The front door ran parallel with the stairs. Mary normally kept the stairwell blocked off in order to keep the baby from harm. Mary's own personal room which was used for her own personal things was at the top of this particular set of steps.

Spending much of her free time in the stairwell, Mary was very much at home. She was on a regimen of diet soda and stair running. Mary had been feeling very unattractive as of late.

She had never been a beautiful woman or a thin girl. She did not have the longest lashes or the thinnest ankles, but she was nevertheless a woman. She had womanly desires and a need to be desired in return.

Always a devoted homemaker Mary took every duty seriously. Every dinner made, every shirt pressed to perfection, every mopping of the floor was an act of love. Every time she was called worthless, stupid, or bitch; every time a door was slammed in her face, and every time an object was thrown at her Mary's heart broke a little more.

Out of a sense of responsibility to her daughter, Mary left the home that she had made with her husband. Determined, Mary would never let her daughter grow up the way that she had. After much cajoling on the part of her spouse, she was back not three months later. Things seemed slightly better this time. Unfortunately Mary's husband had neglected many things in her absence.

Finances were such upon her return that her primary goal was to ready the house to sell. Mary's heart broke every time she ran her hands over the wallpaper that she so lovingly put up on those neglected walls. She always sighed wistfully as she moved her hands over the silky texture, knowing that she would no longer be able to do this in a few months time.

For now, Mary had a lot of time on her hands. She kicked herself for giving up her car the previous year in order to help with the bills. Much of her time now was spent in the house completely secluded from the outside world.

Mary thought of all these things as she waited for the mail. Sunlight filtered in through the window at the top of the door. She was acutely aware of the sunshine and warmth that lie on the other side. It had occurred to her to open the door, but she never did. Things were just safer this way.

Many older homes have lovely quirks that make them unique. Mary's home was no exception. The mail slot especially was unusually high on the door. Roughly three quarters of the way up, it lay only two feet in length below the window at the top.

Mary was a little over five feet tall, and could see directly into the mail slot. Due to physics, the outer cover, and the depth of the slot, an observer from the outside of the house could see almost every thing in the hallway. A person on the inside could only see the eyes of the outside observer, and this was only if looking straight on. Soon after they had moved in Mary observed this phenomenon.

She was startled back to reality by the heavy sound of boots thumping up the front steps of her house. The mail slot creaked open. The man briefly looked into the slot before a thick wad of mail held together by a rubber band was thrust inside. The mail fell to the floor with a dull thud.

Mary happened to be wearing a dress on this one particular occasion. She counted her blessings that she had not sat higher up on the staircase. Mary chuckled to herself at the thought of the mailman getting a good view of her.

Lonely was Mary. Lonely enough to seek comfort from the outside world, Mary used her computer and she used the mail. She had made a few friends and even experimented having a Master on the phone, but that was a shallow relationship. As with all shallow things which give us pleasure it had always lacked luster, and that became more obvious with time.

Six months earlier this would never had occurred to her. Mary had only had eyes for her husband. Now their bond was broken. Mary had her fun on the phone but she wanted to take one step further in making that human connection that binds us all.

Appealing to her husband on more than one occasion, Mary begged for things like spankings and bondage. Her husband always found it strange. Before their split she was lucky if she had sex once per month. Now sex was nonexistent. The one time post-split that they did try, her husband lost his erection claiming that he couldn't feel anything. Since then he had been reluctant to even touch her, implying that she wasn't "tight" enough to satisfy him.

Mary sucked down her pain and decided to take care of herself. She had always enjoyed playing with household items. She enjoyed the kinkiness of it, and the causative pain that larger objects gave. Her latest toy was an empty can of diet soda. Mary loved the delicious pain as the firm metal rounded her pubic bone. She loved the burn of the stretch and the subsequent sound of crinkling as her orgasm sucked and squeezed the cylinder.

Despite her fascination with stretching, Mary would never go any larger than the can. She had no interest in being incontinent of urine by the age of forty. Even still, speculums held her captive as she imagined being able to see not only the flesh of the woman, but the person inside; who the woman truly was. Life begins in the womb; perhaps that is where souls reside.

Mary waited for the mail the next day, the same way she always did. The exception being that this time she would be daring. Once again, she wore a dress, but this time she sat half way up on the steps with her legs fed through the rungs. The synthetic material of the dress lacked the ability to wick away her sweat.

The hallway was soft and warm; Mary was warm and moist with perspiration. She preparedly pulled her skirt to her knees, keeping herself well covered. She looked through the bars at her bare feet dangling below; clearing her mind of everything outside the hallway.

Once again Mary heard the familiar thud of boots. She looked straight ahead and held her breath as the mail slot creaked open. From her angle, Mary could not see his eyes. He quickly peered in, and stopped for a second as if pondering. Then he reached into his bag and gently pushed the mail through the slot. He hesitated; he stopped a second longer than he normally would. Mary felt his eyes on the door and imagined him shaking his head as he walked thudding back down the steps and up the sidewalk. She breathed a sigh of uncertain relief.

The mailman was not Mary's favorite person in the world. She had a few unfavorable, yet brief encounters with him in the past. The most memorable of these occurred the previous winter.

Mary had been working on a project in her room. She moved a few things to the base of the stairs. She expected the mail to arrive much later, so she hung a hooded sweatshirt on a hook which just happened to be on the front door. The cloth would not completely impede mail from entering; she wasn't worried.

On the day in question, he arrived earlier than he normally did. When the man tried to put mail in the slot and felt resistance, he immediately clenched the mail; crumpling it into his fists while stomping his feet on the porch. He screamed expletives at the top of his lungs. This grown man had a temper tantrum on her front porch that would make a toddler appear tame.

Mary ran to the door, swung it open, grabbed her mail from the hands of the wide-eyed postal worker, and then slammed the door shut in his face. She couldn't remember what he looked like now, nor did she really care. She held only the image of the back of his head in her mind; as she ever only saw him when he was walking away.

Over the course of the following week, Mary became more daring. She willed herself to be brave. Mary enjoyed the endorphin release that playing a controlled game of chicken gave her.

Each day as she awaited the mail, she sat on the steps with her skirt high enough to show her panties. The mailman definitely took notice now. He always would stop and stare. Yet still, neither of them spoke. Their silence said enough. Each day Mary walked away with her endorphin high, and each day Mary became increasingly brave. Ultimately she was looking to connect; she wanted that rush. At the end of the week Mary decided that the time was right.

Each day she had worn a skirt or dress and sat halfway up the front stairs with her legs poking between the rungs. Mary wanted more. The beginning of the second week Mary decided to leave her panties off. The mailman was going to get quite the surprise indeed. The thought both frightened her and aroused her intensely.

Mary sat midway up the staircase, waiting for the mail to arrive. She sat with her legs slightly parted; no undergarments to be found. This was strangely liberating for her. Mary was experiencing a tingling sensation throughout her entire body. She was surprised at her own wantonness. Mary was nervous, but markedly aroused at just the thought of being seen.

Mary was so nervously aroused that her feelings could almost be confused for a need to urinate. Mary started to get up to use the restroom as she heard that familiar thud.

Like a deer caught in headlights, Mary held her breath. Fear was her master now; its fingers gripped her and held her in place. She tipped her head back as she heard the familiar creak of the mail slot being opened. A sensual breeze flooded the hallway and Mary became very physically aware of how very exposed she was. She felt his eyes probe into the hallway. He sucked his breath in surprise.

Mary was uncomfortable, it was hot, and despite her exposure; some part of her wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. Statuesque, she took short shallow breaths as she tried to breathe as quietly as possible. After what felt like an eternity she felt him exhale.

Despite the breeze, the hallway was hot. A pool of moisture had developed under her body and holding her form became more difficult. He breathed out a soft moan.

She could feel his gaze roaming all over her; hovering over her exposed flesh. She was almost grateful when she heard a muffled voice call him out of his reverie. Mary heard him reluctantly compose himself and walk away. She took this opportunity to grab hold of the rungs and pull herself upright. She ran to her room.

Mary stood at the top of the stairs massaging the temporary marks that the rungs had left on her. She heard him come back to deliver the mail. His disappointment was evident in the way the mail fell to the floor and the cover slowly fell closed. Mary's heart sank. She was very disappointed with herself.

Mary avoided the front hallway for a few days. She was terrified of that which she could not precisely speak. Fear weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach. She felt the loss of those probing eyes, and was still without the connection that she was seeking. Despite her reservations Mary decided to continue. Compulsive, Mary set out to complete the task that she had created.

After taking a few days to herself, Mary started waiting for the mail again. She sat halfway up the stair with her legs spread taut; a few rungs apart while drinking a diet soda. Those few days had been the trick; Mary was feeling brazen. She smiled and leered in the direction of the door. That familiar thump of footsteps grew louder; albeit a bit slower than they had used to be.

Mary enjoyed the gentle bondage that the rungs provided; they gave her something solid to hold onto. She grasped the rungs so tightly in anticipation that her knuckles turned white. She was exposed once again.

This time her perspiration made her feel clean. Mary felt raw and pure. She wanted this. She wanted it all. As the mail slot creaked open, that sweet breeze permeated the hallway. She felt it touch her and cool her hottest spots. Her heat collided with the cool air striking a balance in the hallway.

His eyes were on her as she pulled her dress up over her head. His hot gaze penetrated the room as she discarded her garment, throwing it on the floor. He audibly moaned. Mary thought he sounded pleased.

Reaching down with her right hand, Mary opened herself so that he could view her better. That air touched her and aroused her further. This was her show, and here was her captive audience. His breathing became increasingly ragged as she gently started rubbing herself. Working with her own moisture, she found her rhythm. The only sound, of which she was aware, was that of her heart fastidiously pounding to that very same beat.

Mary was surprised as a new feeling replaced the nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She was aware for the first time of her power over him. Mary thought of this man held captive by just the view of her sex.

He more than likely had an erection but he was not able to touch her unless she granted him permission to enter. The laws of society forbade him from relieving himself where he stood. That thought alone was enough pleasure to send her over the edge, but she was not yet done.

Bracing herself against the rungs with her legs, Mary now held herself open with her left hand. She looked down at the mail slot imagining his eyes on her as she wielded the soda can with her right. Leaning back in order to ensure better access, she heard him moan again.

Lovely was the cold metal against her hot skin. Mary wiggled the object against her opening and gritted her teeth. She used her left hand deftly moving the skin of her lips out of the way, readying herself for this cold kiss. Mary pushed with all her might squeezing her eyes shut; focusing on the task at hand. She was well lubricated and the first half was pleasantly painful but easy enough.

Mary leaned back even more. Her exposed rear stuck to the wood of the step. She used this to her advantage as she pivoted the top half of her body backward.

Pushing the can with every bit of strength she could muster, it rounded her pubic bone. Shifting uncomfortably due to a pinching sensation, Mary grasped the small amount of metal that was left outside her body. She moved the can; pulling it, inching it out. In turn, she felt her body resist; trying to suck it back inward.

Discomfort mattered little now. She repeated that game of tug of war as the hallway faded away. Mary faded away to nothing but a living vessel comprised only of human sensation.

There was no thought in this place; only feeling. It was dark and it was beautiful; it was beautiful and it was light. It was empty and full to brimming all at the same time. It was everything and it was nothing at all. She was a walking breathing living human contradiction.

She was severely conflicted, and Mary finally found comfort. She found comfort in understanding and accepting all of this; all of her. She could hear nothing but the blood pounding in her veins. Pleasure, pain, love and hate all boiled in that same pot, surged up and bubbled over.

Mary's body rocked and squeezed with every contraction. She heard the soft crinkle of the can. Mary felt her soul reverberate. She cried out in pleasure; that pleasure became sighs, and those sighs turned into sobs.

As the rest of her senses came back to her, Mary became aware that she was still being watched. He was indeed still there, but completely and utterly silent. She was exhausted; emotionally and physically spent. Sweat ran in streams down the side of her face. Sweat dripped down the back of her shaky legs. The sensation of physical pain came back to her.

Mary grunted softly as her unsteady hand weakly removed the can. She collapsed backward onto the step and stared up at the ceiling. The can fell from her loose fingers and rolled down the steps. Left in its wake was a cavern, the depths of which he could not see. She felt his eyes penetrate intensely into her.