The Princess Muse
I had placed the personal ad some time ago. I had won it through some
drawing and on a lark decided to use it as an opportunity to focus abstractly on
whom "she" was. It went something like this:
"It would be hard for me to say that I know precisely what I'm looking
for. In short, I suppose, an elegant feminine muse, she'd be articulate,
sensuous creative, sarcastic, seductive and sometimes whimsical, someone who
inspires and coaxes that intense, complex and often hidden part of me out to
play. She inspires me and that in turn makes her smile, and, in turn, starting
the process all over again. Is that you?"
Since I wasn't single, I of course didn't expect any responses; I was
simply putting the thoughts out into the universe, happy enough that I had the
opportunity to place the vision into the ether.
Then, to my surprise, one day a response appeared. It was rather
curious that she chose to contact me through an intermediary; though the woman
she chose did indeed have a delicious voice. Russian was the accent I was
guessing. The intermediary's name was "Tatiana", an assumed name I presumed,
and perhaps that's what gave me the impression of her ancestry. In any event I
could tell, after our brief conversation that the intermediary was intrigued by
me, if not my story.
It was a crazy week, as were many those days. Tatiana told me that
although "the Princess" (which is the only way in which Tatiana referred to her)
was eager to meet me, and felt she was the woman I described, Thursday was the
only evening she would be available. Intrigued myself, and although I had
meetings all day in Seattle that day, I agreed and informed Tatiana that I would
be staying at the Ritz-Carlton that evening.
I smiled to myself as the day wore on; it became sheer drudgery. One
meeting blended into the next; issues that were important last week became pale
and uninteresting in the face of my short trip to San Francisco. It seemed I
had projected my Muse into the universe and now the universe was answering back
in the form of this "Princess." Finally, the last of my meetings ended and I
hastened to leave the office rather abruptly, grabbing the overnight bag I kept
in my office closet for last minute trips not at all like this. I returned a
number of calls in the car to the airport and in relatively short order found
myself on the 5:30 flight to San Francisco, wondering as we floated above the
clouds of the Northwest what might await me in the city by the bay.
I took notes of my meetings of the day, but my mind drifted and wandered
during the short flight south. Luckily arriving before the fog, we landed on
time and I used the cab ride once again to return voicemails, hoping to find no
one in so that my returned call was all that was necessary. The change in
geography helped to change my mind and, by the time we arrived at the lovely
rather non-descript building at California and Stockton, I was fully transformed
and ripe with a sense of possibility. Taking a deep breath I inhaled the Spring
evening, the crisp freshness, traffic humming by in either direction, the
familiar but different ring of the cable car, the incessant whirring of the
cables underneath the concrete, as if effortlessly coaxing my mind up to the top
of the hill.
Checking in was easy and brief, then once I was identified, the desk
manager handed me an envelope and indicated that it had just arrived for me. I
showed myself to my room, the familiar corner looking out over Russian Hill and
out into the Bay at some distance. Studying the envelope curiously, I set my
bag on the bed and opened a soda from the bar. My eyes moving from the front,
where there was a perfectly caligraphed "J.", to the back, where there was a
blood-red wax seal with the simple letter "S."
Hmm. My princess' name began with S, I guessed. I left the envelope
unopened while I undressed and showered. Savoring the mystery and awaiting what
I hoped would be my "further instructions" as Tatiana referred to them in our
call. Hoping that she was not simply sending her regrets, I dried and started
to dress for the evening. Having brought only my black suit, I chose a crisp
white shirt, with simple black onyx Celtic cufflinks and a silver silk tie. The
envelope seemed to take over the room, as I walked around finishing preparing.
Finally, I walked over to it, imagined that it had been slightly scented, though
from my shower I was slightly confused as to whether it was me or the envelope
and I gently tugged at the seal, hoping not to break it too forcefully.
In very simple, though stylistic penmanship, the card read:
"J.~
Post Trio, 8pm, black dress.
Yours,
~S."
I looked at my watch and immediately thought myself an idiot, if not a
lucky idiot, having played that game with myself, waiting to read the card until
7:50. I hurried, down to the lobby, glancing at the cab line and deciding to
instead walk the few blocks down hill. It's rather an odd sensation walking
quickly down a very steep hill; one has at once the sensation of needing to
propel themselves forward, yet at the same time the need to stop with each
concussion of a step to the pavement so as to keep themselves from toppling
over. I felt my breathing quicken and was breaking a light sweat, equally
caused by my pace as well as the drama I had placed myself into.
I arrived at the door at 8:05, hurriedly allowing a party to leave, and
slightly bounding into the mostly black and white scene, receiving a slightly
startled look from the maitre de. All at once, as if being called by a silent
voice, I turned and saw her, a princess quite right, sitting alone but far from
lonely in a corner booth, radiant light shining as if from her eyes as the drew
a sharp focus on me. My breath involuntarily caught and the room became still
and silent between my ears; time stopped. I felt as though my own eyes sparkled
a resonant twinkle and something between us locked. A half-smile combined with
an almost imperceptible tilt of her head, was all the permission I needed to
approach her. As I moved closer, I had this sensation of being hypnotized by
her elegance and grace.
Her hair was long and dark, pulled back tightly; to call it a simple
ponytail would be rude. Her black cocktail dress was silk, clung to her body as
if a loose skin, knowing where to conform, where to hide, where to leave to the
imagination. A simple pearl necklace reflected the smooth firm tone of her
skin. I noticed her nose moved slightly down when she smiled. A sense of
connectedness within her radiated outward into the room. Arriving at the table,
not knowing what came over me, I simply bowed and tilted my head in that
selfsame way as if to connote recognition, yet the presence of royalty.
Princess, indeed. I felt that I knew this woman and as she spoke her first
words to me, a simple good evening, it was as if I had known her voice since the
beginning of time. A resonance.
I tilted my hand to the empty chair, raising an eyebrow as if to ask may
I. She nodded to the chair, smiled and I sat. The waiter taking the napkin and
handing to me, I spread it across my lap, taking a deep breath, knowing that the
adventure of a lifetime had just begun.
* * * *
Dinner went swimmingly; although it could perhaps simply have been my
mind swimming, between the conversation, my head, the wine, the intent gaze and
flirtatious easy way she had about her. We moved through many different topics,
then at a pause, she glanced up at me, eyes fixed and focused as if tearing
through to my soul,
"Tell Me, which interests intrigue you more about bdsm?" she asked.
Startled at the question, I hesitated briefly. During dinner she had
seemed intuitive, but I found it uncanny that she connected my words with the
dabbling interest I had in what could be referred to as the darker aspects of
sensuality and sexuality. Knowing I was here for a reason, and knowing also
there was no reason at this point to hide any part of me, I decided to commit to
a course of action that opened myself fully, nodded slowly and briefly,
thoughtfully reflecting on the question, and replied extemporaneously "it's the
exchange of power...really.... the giving over of control to 'one,' the
admiration.... yearning to surrender... loyalty... based on a mutual
respect...where... coming together as equals, the relationship slowly evolves
into a willing, giving submission to her, a giving way.....and she treasures it
for the gift that it is."
She smiled as if to hide a blush, glancing down demurely but knowingly,
"That makes me smile; it was very well articulated."
Now I blushed, slightly embarrassed yet invigorated at having revealed
myself, "thank you... I am glad ... It was a privilege to have seen that
particular smile...I sense it is not shared with many." Pausing, not wanting to
cause self-consciousness, I continued, trying to place punctuation on what I
felt I had left open. "Ultimately, I suppose, I seek a Muse... 'One' that I can
make smile with my words... written for her delight."
Glancing up slowly, with my face square with her I finished, "I think
the spontaneity of your words and the ease with which we relate helped trigger
that realization for me."
Almost beaming she replied, "What a fantastic realization." Then, taking
the napkin to her lip, lightly dabbing I sensed out of habit or reflex, she
half-smiled clutched her small purse and slowly rose, issuing a "Please excuse
me" more of a statement than a request as she stood smiled and turned and headed
through the door for the ladies' room. As I stood, I watched in admiration,
nodding as if there were an alternative and slowly sat as my eyes followed the
long slender legs making their way across the cool marble floor to the dark
corner, slowly disappearing around a corner.
A soft scent still lingered in the air as the room returned into view,
or perhaps I was returned to the room. Taking a deep breath my eyes moved
around the room as the waiter approached and placed the bill politely to my
left. Reaching for it I felt as if I were moving in slow motion; as I opened the
leather folio to find the bill, there to my surprise was another sealed
envelope. Not wanting to waste time again, I quickly opened the now familiar
seal, breaking the wax gently and pulling out the card:
J.~
Thank you for the lovely dinner. Dessert is at the Redwood Bar
at the Clift, 9:30, ask for Sam McGuire.
xxoo
~S.
I quickly paid the bill, noticing that I was in a state of slight
disarray. I stepped out onto the street, eyes glancing up and down getting my
bearings and I head down the block. Turning the corner, I hadn't realized how
close the Clift was, I entered the nondescript entrance, unassumingly past the
concierge into the bar. Standing, trying not to look to disheveled or
apprehensive, I softly leaned to the hostess, with a confident tone and
questioning eye glancing down at her reservation list, simply said "McGuire, Sam
McGuire?"
She smiled and said "Right this way," I may have been a little paranoid
but I thought I detected a half smirk, though she turned too quickly for me to
know for sure. I spent the long walk down the dark bar to the back trying to
glance the room for signs or someone or her. We arrived at a booth in the very
back corner and she motioned me to sit, oddly, in the seat facing the back wall
of the bar. The photo of a woman just above the seat across from me, I glanced
back at the hostess, knowing she obviously knew more than I, and she asked,
"Shall I get you a drink?"
Realizing for the first time that I was in fact in the bar, I tried to
quickly catch up and, thought, then said, "Yes, a Gibson, please, straight up,
dirty." I watched her eyes, half smiled, she nodded and then turned away to the
bar, whispering my order to the cocktail waitress and headed to the front of the
bar once again. I sat for a few moments, my back to the room, realizing how odd
it is to be in a crowded cosmopolitan bar and yet at the same time looking at a
wall, or, as my eyes glanced up a rather odd picture that I'm noticing for the
first time is moving. The woman, so alluring, had changed positions; actually,
it was not a picture at all but a very life like movie, in a sense, where she is
moving, posing actually, very slowly, almost to the slow drone of the hum of
conversation in the room.
I was lost in the hypnotic effect the oddly sensual art had on me when I
heard footsteps in the din of the crowd approach and suddenly, looking up, my
eyes met a striking tall blonde in a simple elegant white dress, hair the blonde
of Grace Kelly's and eyes as blue as the bay. Standing next to her was a
similarly striking Asian woman, dressed or more appropriately loosely draped in
a muted floral silk that somehow clung to her tall slender body, pronounced
strong shoulders exposed. I was mute.
She introduced herself as Tatiana, with a soft smile and slender hand
outstretched somewhat demurely, I shook it gently, or rather simply touched and
lightly grasped it, feeling it silken, she gently tapped my shoulder as if to
signal my moving deeper into the booth, at the same time as she introduced
Erika, her darker exotic counterpart who slipped into the booth on the other
side of the table.
There was an awkward pause on my part, when I started to say, "So..."
and the waitress arrived with my drink, and also brought my unannounced guests
drinks as well, in martini glasses an ice blue mixture of something, the
waitress smiled at them and placed the drinks before them and then mine. I
smiled saying "Thank you," not knowing what else to do but reach for the drink
and gently hold it up for a toast, with a raised eyebrow. They both looked at
each other and smiled, Tatiana simply said, "Cheers" sipping gently glancing at
Erika, then back to me setting the glass down, with a soft lick of her full lip,
she then continued what I had started and said, "So... the Princess likes you."
Glancing at me for a reaction and a response.
"Oh," I half stuttered, flattered and looking for what I should say
next, when Erika jumped in.
"Oh, yes, she had such wonderful things to say about your dinner"
raising an eyebrow and now herself taking a second sip, then sitting back in the
booth. She then started smiling rather flirtatiously at me and as I started to
just realize this I felt her two bare feet rising up my thighs, nestling gently
between my legs. "My, yes..." she trailed off as her feet started to gently
knead.
"Oh, ummmm..." now I did stammer as I slightly tensed back against the
wood of the booth, glancing down at the small lovely perfectly pedicured feet
working slowly and deliberately.
When I looked up, I realized that Tatiana had removed a small bottle
from her clutch and was spreading lotion on her hands, glancing up at me smiling
somewhat ironically saying that "the weather is just so dry these days" and
raising an eyebrow.
Her hands glistening, she smiled at my predicament and started in, "Now,
about the Princess..." She slowly continued to talk as she reached down and
gently unzipped my, with Erika softly but firmly pressing my thighs apart,
holding me still, "...the Princess seeks your passion..."
She slowly reached in and I tensed softly exhaling my breath lightly
erratic, I felt the silken smooth slick hand gently touch as I whimpered a
gentle gasp, "but not your unbridled desire..."
The hand gently grasped, slick sliding, my eyes darted, feeling Erika
watch me intently as her feet closed back around the flesh, she bit her lower
lip, her eyes enjoying, drinking me in as the oil clung to her soft soles
lightly sliding back and forth caressing and holding me still. Tatiana
continued in a very focused way, now her both hands working, her knowing she
clearly had an effect on my as I squirmed in the booth, "Now, we're here..."
The hands and feet working in a rhythm, "...to assist you in quieting
that desire..." her words punctuating the rhythm of her hands, she then softly
whispered "Good boy, that's it" feeling me succumb to the obvious pleasure.
"Hold still" she whispered as she pulled her lips away from my ear,
glancing down at her work, and then continued in a placating explanatory voice
"...so that your passion is pure when you again see the Princess."
Her message having been given, the she smiled and again whispered, "Yes,
good boy, that's it, yes, that's it..." as her hands and Erika's feet moved in a
crescendo, smiling Tatiana freed a hand and reached for my glass, watching all
the while her focused hand stroking with an elegant purpose and glistening in
the shadow.
She took a short sip, smiling at me and then brought the glass down to
the head, holding the glass, slightly tilted as she held me tight, nodding to me
her head tilted so her eyes could watch mine as well as what was going on just
below the table, as I started to shake, my eyes helpless, a rhythmic whimpering,
then an uncontrollable response as I softly grunted a soft surrender, held
tightly between two slender feet and a strong elegant hand, a fluid softly
flowing into my drink as Tatiana smiled and smoothly stroked, cooing softly at
her art, watching the fluid, the color of the pearl onion mix with the clear
martini fluid, she squeezed tightly, lifting the glass to my lips and still
holding me with one hand, brought the glass to my lips and said, "Drink of your
desire..."
Tipping the glass, I drank as our eyes met, my surrender clear,
swallowing the mixture of fluids as her eyes smiled back at me, she was gently
nodding. She took the glass from my lips, leaned in and kissed me softly,
licking the mixture from my lips, then sipping from the glass, her eyes having
become somewhat devilish, smiling softly.
She set the glass down and used a warm towel from her bag (at least
someone knew what was going to happen) to wipe the now wet mixture of me,
Erika's feet, and her hands clean.
No sooner had she finished than the waitress returned, almost as if a
silent cue had been given and placed yet another envelope on the table. As she
did I noticed the picture above the booth was now smiling directly looking at
me; where the face had been rather emotionless or sullen before, she was now
smiling, knowingly I thought.
As the waitress left, the girls started to get up, and I asked, quickly,
"Wait..."
Tatiana leaned in with a "Shhhhh..." placing her finger over my lips,
stopping me, she glanced down smiling and then pointed. My eyes followed and I
realized my zipper was still open, and I was in no position to get up and
protest their departure. She smiled and turned as I sat back in frustration,
recomposed myself, thought again about the experience, glanced at my drink,
smiled, sighed and then reached for the envelope.
Tearing it open, this time somewhat recklessly, all it said was:
"805"
I stared at the numbers for a few minutes, then knowing what they meant.
____________________________________________________________
After briefly composing myself, I left a $100 bill at the table for the
waitress, knowing she played some sort of role in all of this and wanting to let
on that I somehow knew and likewise thanked her. Somewhat self-conscious, I
tried to inconspicuously stroll back through the entire length of the bar, but
also knew that there were a pair of intense brown eyes from the artwork staring
smilingly at my back.
I continued walking past the reception desk, furtively looking for the
elevators and trying to carry an air of knowing where I was going but simply
looking for someone. I turned right as I approached the entrance and found a
small hallway, following a group of people and the elevators revealed themselves
again around a right turn. Placing my hand in my pocket as though I was
preparing to retrieve my room key, I stepped into the elevator and nonchalantly
pressed "8", stepping politely to the back, as my elevator companions were all
going to either 5 or 6.
The ride was interminable in that same way that watching a clock can be
painful and distracting at the same time. Slow. Finally, the doors opened on 8
and I stepped out trying to find the pattern of the room numbers. Walking past
an exposed internal stairway, the halls were dark, yet painted a light blue;
softly pleasant. I rounded the corner and found the room. Standing in the
doorway, knowing I was in full view of the little eye lens, I knocked softly,
listening for feet coming to the door. After about a minute or so, I knocked
again. Shortly after that, she opened the door, a soft smile and knowing intense
eyes. She was in a white silk robe standing barefoot and leaning gently against
the opened door, I stood motionless uncertain for a second or two and she
abruptly woke me from my hypnotic deer-in-the-headlights gaze with a simple
"So....?" and a soft gesture of an open hand, extended into the room.
I softly laughed, smiled bowed slightly and entered the room. There were
quite a few small tea-lite candles that lit the room, as I walked in looking
around. The room was painted a soft lavender, with most everything else clean
linen white with a texture of silk; something indescribably sensual about the
tactile sense I had without even touching. I mustered a gentle "Thank you" while
I continued looking around at the soft sensual and seductive room.
"Please have a seat," she said pointing to what looked like a very
comfortable chair. I sat, settling deep into the chair, my arms resting on the
arms that came up just under my shoulders, looking up as she approached standing
between my legs but not touching, requiring me to tilt my head back to look up.
Her arms were folded across her chest as a soft smile broke across her lips.
"Well, I heard you met Tatiana and Erica."
I shifted, smiling now blushing, glancing down demurely, barely able to
muster a "Umm, yeah, . . . ahh, well, yes."
She smiled even more, stepping back toward the bed turning as if to take
some pressure off and put me at ease, "Well it was very nice of you to
accommodate their interests," laughing softly, as she sat gently on the bed just
a few feet away, folding her leg lightly under her and siting somewhat sideways
on the edge of the bed, as if she were a young coed and I a visitor to her dorm
room. She studied me briefly, her fingers tracing the silk hem of the robe
contrasting against her almost olive skin.
Glancing up, she said, "You know what she meant then, when she said I
want your passion not your desire?" raising her eyebrows to me, her eyes like
intense pools of life, focused on me, seeking to connect deeply.
I watched back, sitting comfortable in the chair, feeling her eyes and
surrendering to them as she probed deeply into my soul. "Yes, I know exactly..."
I trailed off slightly knowing she saw the answer she needed in my eyes and soul
and that words were not necessary.
Satisfied with wherever she had taken that, she slowly started to untie
the sash of her robe, and changing the subject, stood and said, "You know, I was
just about to step into the bath, would you care to keep me company in there?"
She continued, slowly allowing the robe to just pour off her, white silk pooling
on the carpet as she disappeared into the bathroom.
I slowly followed, both uncertain and interested. As I entered the
spacious bathroom, there she was in a very elegant tub, filled with bubbles,
candles flickering casting moving shadows, a small stool sat next to the tub and
although she had her eyes closed, she extended a hand toward it gesturing me to
come sit.
I could feel in the room her energy relaxing as she lay in the tub, her
head back and hair over the side. I'm not sure what caused me to do this, but I
gently leaned forward and softly stroked and caressed the top of her head,
gently running my fingers through her hair, just watching, smelling the soft
feminine lavender scent, and observing her soft rhythmic breathing with a gentle
periodic soft sigh, all telling me that it was the right thing to do.
After a brief period, she shifted and her hand lifted up from out of the
bubbles holding a soft sponge. She moved the sponge toward me as if an
indication that I should take it. Following her lead, my hand moved off her head
to the sponge and she guided my hand, now holding the warm smooth wet sponge, to
her neck, where I gently swabbed across. She arched gently softly craning her
neck and I continued slowly, tenderly, as if I were painting across a very
delicate canvass or statue. Across, then down, gently across her shoulders, both
of her hands were now up out of the tub gently holding on to the side handles,
as if opening to give me permission. Tenderly, lovingly, I bathed her; the
tender soft strokes of the sponge moving guided by my hand, equal parts worship,
adoration and reverence. Feeling the gentle contours of her body beneath the
sponge as it moved down, across the soapsud-covered breasts, down smoothly along
the taut belly, slender hips, as her legs gently parted, across each thigh, her
legs extending reaching up out of the tub, so that I could focus attention on
each long slender leg, winding the long soft strokes of the sponge across her
perfect feet, a smile across her lips as her toes tensed extending, pointing as
if a ballerina on her toes.
She stretched and exhaled a long satisfied sigh, smiling and opening her
eyes for the first time, whispered a soft "Thank you." Tilting her head still
looking at me, jacket off, but still in my shirt and tie, water and bubbles
leaving their marks on me, sleeves rolled up, she sat up and looked at me and
said, "You must know, you are very different," pausing, nodding to herself
looking down, then back up at me, "yes, I don't think I've met anyone quite like
you."
Smiling softly and gently placing the sponge on the soap dish, I softly
said, "Thank you, Princess, I take that as quite a compliment." I stood and
found a large white thick cotton almost beach towel and unfolded it extending my
arms and stepping back, ". . .If you wish," my arms open in a way to signal that
she could step out and the towel would be wrapped around her. Stepping out of
the tub, covered in suds as though they were a form fitting garment, I averted
my eyes slightly as I gently wrapped the towel around her, she stepped back
softly into me allowing me to guide my arms around her, tilting her head against
my arm as if to grant permission, I gently wrapped the towel around her in a
soft warm hug. She lightly pulled my elbow closer as if to guide me to tighten
the hug softly, and we stood motionless for a brief period, both releasing the
other at the same time. Tender, meaningful, intimate.
I stood back as she moved back into the bedroom, sitting in a chair that
was next to and half-turned toward mine. I hadn't noticed the silence until she
picked up a remote and started a CD. Something new age, mystical, spiritual;
Windham Hill I was guessing. I sat next to her as she leaned back and sipped her
wine. Setting the glass down she lifted her feet and placed them across my
thigh, crossing them over the ankles, she half smiled, half smirked and said,
"You're not done yet..."
Her eyes glanced down at the table in between our chairs, mine moved to
follow, seeing the same or similar bottle of lotion or oil that Tatiana had, I
glanced up at her, her eyes were looking at me, then she glanced back to her
feet, then repeated the triangle more deliberately this time, her eyes moving
from the bottle, to me, then to her feet, a rhetorical look on her face, knowing
that I understood her meaning. I nodded and smiled, reaching for the lotion,
opening the bottle and squeezing a fairly substantial amount on my hands.
I watched her feet and also her face out of the corner of my eye as my
hands gently moved to her foot, lightly taking the top foot off the crossed
ankle and into both of my hands. Warm, slick and smooth, I gently squeezed,
working the lotion into the lovely elegant feminine foot. Her eyes closed as her
head gently leaned back, softly biting her lip as my hands gently but firmly
massaged, worshipped and adored the lovely feet. She softly exhaled an "Oh, my.
. .yes, your hands are so soft and smooth, strong. . ." not really completing a
sentence and becoming lost in her own pleasure and relaxation.
I watched her admiringly as my fingers and hands continued to work,
thinking to myself how interesting. First, painting her with the sponge, then
now, I'm sculpting her feet; she is my art, I surrender to her as creation.
Tracing the instep, squeezing, thumb pressing, fingers moving up, squeezing,
sliding slick between the toes, each perfect, equal attention, circles, lightly
tugging, a toes caress. Then moving to the other, repeating the whole process,
glancing up her long slender body every now and then, watching the response of
the rest of the body from my hands gently massaging the delicate feet. Although
she could be asleep, I know she's not as she gently tugs the end of the towel
up, exposing her calves and shins, nodding eyes still closed as if to give me
not only permission but direction that my hands should move up. Caressing the
smooth skin, the firm yet relaxed muscle tone of the calf, both hands caressing
the entire lower leg, one on the calf one on the shin, encompassing the hole as
they connected, slide down squeezing toward the ankle. Smooth, taut, gentle.
Then back up. There was a peace to the whole scene, orchestrated by the music,
the aromas, the oil, my hands and likely the time of night.
Then there was a knock on the door; we both tensed and half-sat up. She
gently lifted her legs off me, asking me to get the door. I rose and headed
toward the door, looking at my watch, it being after midnight, not knowing how
it got so late. Peeking through the viewfinder, I saw the two elegant lovelies,
Tatiana and Erica, so I opened the door, with probably look of questioning
embarrassment and bewilderment. They both just smiled and came in, as I held the
door open for them; I sighed, closing the door, feeling as though the peaceful
moment had past.
I fumbled for a few seconds attempting to lock the door, hearing the
feminine voice greetings behind me. As I finished and began to turn toward the
room again, a woman's hand gently grasped my shoulder, and the other hand
quickly placed a sweet-smelling handkerchief over my nose and mouth, pressing
even more tightly as I tried to pull back and away. The shock and surprise
caused me to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent lungs filling. The odd taste
and sensation, seeking oxygen, caused me to inhale again even more deeply,
having the intended effect of coursing the substance through my brain and
nervous system. I immediately passed out.
The two girls were apparently not only beautiful, but they also must
have been strong. I awoke with a slight headache, naked and rather artfully tied
in the chair I had been sitting in. Some type of Japanese rope bondage I was
guessing, looking at what I could see. It was very elegant and intricate.
The chair had been placed in the center of the room. I hadn't known that
it was something of a recliner, with the back pushed back, laying me out, a
portion of the bottom came up and supported each of my legs while at the same
time stretching them open and apart (with about enough room for a slender young
woman's hips to fit between them). With my head slightly pounding, I gently
tensed and shifted, testing the tightness of the bounds and my complete
inability to move. My hands were tied around the back of the chair, exposing me
completely, my head could move only slightly and my legs were completely secure.
Tatiana approached me with a glass of water, holding it to my lips, in her
lovely Russian accent said simply, "Drink, dear..." tilting the glass to my
lips, I started to drink, but she tilted faster than I could and water spilled
across my naked body, her smiling. As I swallowed, I realized there was a hint
of eucalyptus, which woke me more and filled my lungs, clearing them of the
drug.
Many of the candles had been extinguished and the room was now very
dark. I could make out the figures of the Princess in her robe and Erica now
mostly naked, with the princess adjusting something that looked like a strap-on
around Erica's waist and hips. They both started toward me, the princess moving
to my left and Erica approaching to my left a little more slowly. The Princess
gently stroked my hair, smiling into my eyes, "You are so good, looking so
vulnerable and helpless there..." her hand trailing down my exposed bare chest,
wet from the water. She smiled, her fingers absentmindedly circling a nipple.
Smiling, she said, "You have surrendered to me, haven't you. . . more deeply
than I could imagine."
I blinked back nodding slowly, not knowing what to say or expect. "Good
boy," she said. "What I'd like you to do, is suck for me, suck Erica's strap-on
and show me. . . show me that you'll do whatever I ask." Her hands had moved to
my face, gently caressing my jaw, coaxing it open, "and I'll show you how I
treasure your surrender." Her other hand guided Erica toward me, and the head
into my mouth.
Completely unable to move, my eyes moved back and forth from Erica to
the Princess. I felt my mouth filling, then Erica gently shifted her hips,
deeper. All of the sudden I realized, that this was not a strap-on, but was
instead real flesh. I felt it grow tighten and harden in my mouth. My eyes
widened and I struggled gently. The Princess simply stroked my hair, whispering
"shhhhhh....it's ok, remember, show me your passion" as the long thick shaft
slowly moved back and forth in my mouth. Long slow strokes, I began to taste a
tingling at the back of my throat from the pre-cum. My helpless eyes looked up
at Erica as she gently rested a hand on my head, slowly but relentlessly gently
pumping into my mouth. I could not help but still be completely attracted to
this gorgeous woman, even as a transgendered person.
At this point, Tatiana stepped between my legs as I felt her hands
softly trail up my naked thighs. My line of sight was blocked but if first felt
the hot oil cover me and tensed. The Princess smoothed the fluid across my belly
and Tatiana added more. It trailed across my pelvic bone and I could feel is
slowly dripping down between my legs. I heard her soft Russian laugh, then a
soft giggle as I felt her finger gently part my cheeks. There was a warm flow of
oil between the cheeks and my belly fluttered and my hips strained against the
restraints. A warm slick hand touched me as I whimpered and began to harden.
Erica had begun to work herself into a rather erratic rhythm. She was
whimpering and tensing herself and I could feel the head pressing against the
back of my throat, almost causing me to gag. There was a steady stream of
pre-cum as her fingers tightly gripped my hair holding me still. All other
actions stopped as she tensed and gave a little girl grunt as she softly
exploded and twitched into my mouth. My eyes focused helplessly on the Princess
as she just nodded whispering "good boy" as she began to massage my throat to
indicate that I should swallow.
Dripping from my lips as Erica softened in my mouth, Tatiana approached
pressing something against me between my cheeks. I tensed more fiercely and my
eyes widened as Erica pushed into my mouth to gag my muffled protests. The oil
was slick and warm, Tatiana's fingers had explored and now I felt the press of a
thick dull head. My legs and hips tensed as Erica looked down and told me,
"Don't worry, that is a strap-on, really." I felt Tatiana's hand on my hips, as
Erica reached down and gently stroked me. I struggled gently within the
restraints as Erica, now soft, slipped from my mouth, I gasped, but felt the
warm white fluid dripping down my chin and neck.
Panting, I couldn't scream, I felt the thrust. Tatiana entered me,
pushing, first the head past the rim, I whimpered softly. Then deeper, I arched,
exhaling a soft sharp gasp, holding still, then saying, "yes."
She was now gliding deeper, slick inside me. She started to catch a
rhythm and, to my surprise, I started to match it. For the first time, now being
on the other side of this, my hips gently rolled and responded, as much as they
could, being so tightly restrained. Erica continued to gently tease me with her
hand, and the Princess kept her hand flat across my chest, at the spot of my
heart, feeling it beating.
As I reached a certain point where Erica's hand became slippery with my
own fluids, and I was beginning to get vocal, the Princess said softly in my
ear, "Shhhhh...., not yet." Tatiana began to slow, but buried deep in me. The
Princess walked around in her robe, behind Tatiana and Erica's hand slowed to a
stop, but gentle firm grip.
The Princess released Tatiana's harness, leaving the implement inside
me, but allowing Tatiana to step away. She then went to the nightstand and
opened the bottom cupboard, removing something with wires that I could not see
and handing it to the Princess. Tatiana, moved to plug it into the wall socket
and the Princess approached me. Still in her robe, holding an odd thing that
looked like a combination of a dentist's drill and soldering iron, her slender
small hips pressed against me, pushing the toy deeper inside of me; I arched and
whimpered.
She leaned forward and kissed me, her eyes looking deep into mine and
she said, "I've been waiting for you for so long. I am now so happy that you are
finally here. What I am about to do will not make you mine, as that you
inexorably are, but instead will serve as a manifestation or affirmation of that
which you are." She kissed me again, slowly down my chest, a soft peck on the
side of my shaft, she then disappeared out of view.
The first I knew of what she was doing was when I heard the buzzing,
then quickly thereafter without even time to react, I felt the sharp pain. She
was tattooing me. She directed Tatiana to spread my legs open wider, I felt the
pain just below the scrotum, that small patch of flesh. She was marking me. The
pain was incredible and Tatiana every now and then moved the strap-on to give
the Princess position, which gave the sensation that the Princess was marking me
deeply beneath the skin as well.
I saw the crown of her head working, the sound and the smell, at some
point she gave Erica an instruction to continue stroking and Tatiana an
instruction to press and pull that which was inside me as they were both working
me with an intense orchestrated passion once again. The buzzing and pain became
focused and constant as they continued, bringing me to the brink. The Princess
turned it off, and slowly rose, moving around to my side smiling down at me,
caressing my face, nodding and saying "yes, dear, it's time."
I spewed fluid across my chest and belly. Erica's hand squeezed gently
coaxing more from me, I clenched tightly around Tatiana's toy and she cooed,
watching my contractions and twitching. I shuddered on the verge of collapsing
and the Princess smiled. "How wonderful, how I truly enjoy you." Her delicate
fingers moved down to gently touch her work, I tensed with pain from the
sensitive area, she smiled and said, "would you like to see what I've given
you?"
Helplessly, I nodded. She smiled and stepped back a half foot, turning
as she let her robe fall past her hips. In addition to exposing her beautiful
back, there was the symbol of infinity on her lower back as her hand came around
and pointed to it for me. She turned covering herself up again with her robe
smiling and said, "I placed a small matching symbol on you to symbolize that we
always will be connected." She kissed my cheek and turned to head into the
dressing room, smiling.
Tatiana slowly removed her toy from me, much to my painful pleasure, or
pleasurable pain, particularly with the sensitive area now. And Erica brought a
warm towel from the bath to clean each of us up gently and slowly. They started
to untie me and, as the restraints loosened, my muscles began to ache softly.
Once I was completely untied, the each gave me a kiss and left, saying good-bye
to the princess in her dressing room.
As they left I started to get up and the Princess returned, smiling and
dressed for bed. It was close to 4am. She sat and silently, happily watched me
dress, knowing that under all that, she had left her mark deep inside me.
Dressed and ready to go, she stood and said, "Please, a hug..." opening
her arms smiling. I stepped to her and felt the warmest dearest hug of my life,
such love radiating from this woman. I kissed her cheek and she looked up at me,
her eyes beaming. "Neither of us will ever be the same, you know."
I simply nodded, smiling, saying, "Yes, I know."
As I later made my way back to my hotel room, I promised myself that I
would someday write about the experience. I opened my room, which was the same
as I had left it though many things were now different, and I just laid down on
the bed fully dressed, exhausted and fell into the deepest sleep, not knowing
the border between waking and dreaming.
Fade to black
