I’m Yours

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We had been talking about moving in together. Ken had relocated to Sydney from London three months prior, after a long and undeniable online relationship that developed over two years. We never imagined that all this would happen and the impact it would have on our lives when we first met in chat, but here we were, living what we had only once dreamed.

I had invited him to come to dinner with me at one of my favourite restaurants. Ruby’s was only open at night, and it was purposely darkly lit and private. The waiters walked primarily by memory, as the lighting was so poor. The tables were positioned far enough apart so that for all intents and purposes, every gathering was isolated and alone.

Our waiter was an old family friend, Patrick. I had contacted him directly to make the booking, to be certain that we would have the best of everything. He greeted us at the front foyer, relieving Ken of my coat, which he had already helped me out of. “Ken; Laura, please follow me this way.” Patrick led us to a booth he had reserved for us; a plush burgundy velvet seat that curved, allowing us to simultaneously sit next to each other but also enabling us face each other.

Ken looked wonderfully striking and handsome, in a sharply tailored suit that accentuated his healthy and masculine physique. He wore his exotic scent that often lingered on my skin after we had been together. His face lit with smiles, and his light eyes spoke volumes that his words did not always reveal. I was excited but nervous as well, a feeling that sent electricity through me. We ordered some champagne cocktails and then fell into a playful and natural conversation around light topics. I loved the way Ken looked directly into my eyes when I spoke and sometimes I would catch a smile in them that made my heart melt.

As I told him about a colleague at work, he leaned in, wrapping his arm around my waist and whispered, ” So, I’m assuming you have nothing on under that dress, young lady,” the statement interrupting me midsentence.

I blushed, privately cursing myself for spending so much time and money on my lingerie. He laughed softly as he saw the reaction colour my cheeks and, in a breath-filled voice, he instructed me to go into the bathroom and return with my panties for him. He told me he didn’t care for the bra, just the panties. I was relieved for the gloom in the restaurant, as my face flushed hot. I scooted along the booth and as I made my way to the restroom, I avoided any eye contact, concentrating on my breathing, fighting its betrayal of the warming I felt growing down below.

Upon my return, Ken took the panties and without comment placed them in his jacket pocket. We ordered and were soon presented with entrées. We fell into an easy conversation enjoyed by two that shared a comfortable and deep friendship, humorous at times, serious at times, captivating the entire time.

Our main dishes seemed to arrive all too quickly. Ken had ordered a steak, presented beautifully with a delicate wine sauce. As I began to pick up my cutlery, his hand reached over to cover mine. His eyes were directly on mine, and held me to the spot, “not so fast, Laura.” With an unreadable expression and a demanding voice he said, “Lift your dress above your hips for me.”

My eyes widened. “Ken,” I replied timidly, and under my breath.

He raised his eyebrows in a confrontational manner, as if to ask, “Yes? Do have something to say to me?” I swallowed hard, and opened my mouth to reply, then thought better of it. I looked around nervously, as much to assess my audience as to find an escape.

“Our meals are getting cold. Please do as I ask.”

His tone was not that of a request, and I sensed some irritation growing in his voice.

I once again glanced out towards the rest of the restaurant, and began to wriggle my fitted dress progressively up. When I reached a point on my hips where the hemline struggled, I hesitated. Without giving me a chance to gently negotiate the fabric, Ken reached for the skirt, and in one sharp upward motion, he forced the fabric beyond this point. I felt and heard some stitches tear.

His expression remained unchanged, despite my obvious mix of embarrassment and anger. His glance locked on mine, tempting me to react. He reached across, taking hold of my serviette and laid it neatly on my lap, which I modestly held down to salvage some dignity.

“Okay, now eat my girl.”

I looked down at my plate and felt anything but appetite for it! I was flustered and ashamed. I made light of my meal, nibbling distractedly at this and that. I watched him soak the steak in the sauce and bring it to his mouth. It was then that I noticed that he was smiling. His expression had softened and he seemed pleased with me.

“This wine sauce is incredible! Here, try it.” He motioned that I should use my finger, which I dipped into the pool of sauce, and as I placed it into my mouth, he made a hissing sound, drawing his breath in.

“Leave your finger there and suck otele gelen escort on it, baby.”

While I sucked the tip of my finger, Ken reached over and gently guided my finger further into my mouth. He kept hold of my hand controlling it out, and then in, provocatively and suggestively. “Good girl,” he said, releasing me to continue with his meal. I continued to graze on mine, my face burning hot and flushed.

Patrick returned to ask if everything was satisfactory, and to refill our wine glasses. I dropped my hands instinctively to my lap, and Ken immediately reached down and gently took the hand closest to him. He brought my hand in his, to rest on top of the table. I understood this to be a command, and so reluctantly raised the other. We told Patrick how lovely everything was, and he smiled and left us once more. I could feel my heart beating in my throat – had Patrick noticed how red my face was? Did he see that I had my dress crumpled up at my waist?

“Laura, this sauce is good, but it needs something. Hmmm, here’s what I want you to do. And, I don’t want you to hesitate and then do it in your own sweet time. I want you to do it, and do it now.”

I caught my breath… noticing that every emotion he seemed to evoke in me, the tension, embarrassment, even my temper was laced by my arousal.

“Dip your finger deep into your cunt, making sure it is covered with your juice, and offer it to me…”

“Oh Ken, come on! I can’t do that!” my voice was hushed yet full of depth.

“I won’t ask you again!”

I rolled my eyes, incredulous that he would ask me to do something so ridiculous! I knew that I didn’t want to irritate him, or disappoint him, but there was no way that I was going to do this here! My eyes searched his, for some warmth that would give me a slither of appeal, but his glance was unmoving and I knew if I defied this demand, the evening would be over. He placed his cutlery down onto the plate and crossed his arms, a gesture of both impatience and of beginning to shutting down.

I shook my head, tears beginning to glaze my eyes, yet his remained cold and resolute. Was this a test, and would failure ruin everything? I looked out into the gloom of the restaurant and realised that if this night was to be salvaged, I had no option. I slipped my hand under the serviette, snaking my fingers through my wetness. In one quick swoop, Ken reached across and snapped the serviette from my lap, much too quickly for me to snap it back. He took hold of my thigh and pulled it away from the other so that he could better see my hand embedded between my thighs. His expression remained hard and without hint of reward for my obedience.

“Okay, now offer me your sex, Laura.” He once again crossed his arms.

“Ken, would you like a taste of my pussy?” my voice barely audible.

“No, Laura – call it what it is,” his body totally closed and with an air of indifference.

“Ken, would you like to taste my cunt?”

“Put your finger in the sauce and feed it to me. And Laura, open your legs please.”

I had such contrasting emotions soaring through me, disorientating me. Under deep embarrassment and shame, I felt a sharp tightening arousal deep in my pussy, and my sex seep down an already wet path. I wanted so much to press my legs together to prevent a telltale wet spot on the couch but I knew that this would only inflame Ken’s frustration with me.

I dipped my soiled finger into the sauce, and brought it to his lips. He leaned more into me now, but his arms remained crossed. He stopped short of my finger, making me stretch further, so that he could suck my finger into his mouth. He closed his eyes and I felt the vibration of his moan as his tongue glided over my finger, his mouth wetting and covering my finger with warmth. I gently pulled back on my finger, and he instinctively sucked it back in.

Under the table, I couldn’t resist pressing my exposed naked thighs tightly together to control the ache and burn felt deeply between them. Almost by reflex, Ken unfolded his arms, and reached brusquely between my thighs, opening my labia, and plunged a single finger into my wet entrance. His finger was directed and accurate, finding the spot that ignites a fire in me. He rubbed it roughly before abruptly exiting me, leaving me panting. He then pulled away from me.

“Pull your dress down Laura, we’re leaving.”

I watched Ken double-park the car in front of the restaurant. I raced across the pavement and jumped into the already warmed belly of his car. Once my door was closed, the sounds of the street became muted and absorbed.

“That really was a lovely dinner and evening, Ken. Thank you”

Without taking his eyes off the road he made a preoccupied noise, “Hmmm.” There was a long pause, long enough that I started to think he might be angry with me. I knew that I had not obeyed him instantly, but he had to know how hard it was for me to be so exposed in public. I had obeyed in mecidiyeköy escort the end, so how could this have ruined the evening?

“I want to show you something, before I take you home, okay?” My heart sank. He was taking me home and not to his hotel. Since he arrived in Sydney, he refused to spend much time at my home. Even as we talked about the logistics of moving in together, he insisted that we would purchase another property as he would not contemplate residing in mine.

Whatever he wanted to show me, the night would shortly be over thereafter. There was no sense in moping, so I let myself settle into the mellow effects of the wine and warmth of the car, and watched the rain drench the concrete city walls. Still within city limits, he slowed the car and came to a stop at the foot of one of the office buildings, and as by magic, the steel garage doors opened. Ken navigated the car down a steep ramp, leading to a private car park.

“Where are we Ken? What are we doing?”

“Well, I told you already. I want to show you something, and this is it,” he answered playfully.

“What do you mean, this is it?” What was going on?

“Wait… let me show you Laura.”

Ken got out of the car and walked over to open my door. Extending his arm he hugged me, pulling me against him. He kissed me deeply, his breath bathing my face as I felt his swollen arousal purposely pressed against the soft flesh of my abdomen. His kiss tapered off, and taking me by the hand, he guided me through the deserted car park to the lifts.

With the lift doors closed, I moved closer to embrace him, but he prevented me doing so, saying, “No baby, let me look at you.” He pressed the button for one of the floors and stood opposite me, openly looking at my figure. His arms were crossed and there was a soft smile on his lips. The warmth in his expression disentangled the knot in my stomach, which had formed and remained since the end of the meal.

The lift doors opened and Ken was the first to disembark. The corridor was dimly lit but enough to safely make our way to office 1745, which he opened with a key. He found the wall switch, and the light revealed a large empty office, with a few remnants of furniture left by a previous occupant.

“Well, what do you think?” he walked over to the large windows that revealed an expansive city view.

“Ken, this is incredible! What a view! What is this though? Why do you have the key?” I asked a bit breathless.

“I have to have a place to work Laura. I can’t keep working from my hotel. It’s unprofessional and I need more space; there’s a lack of separation of work and home and I need a secretary. So I have leased this space for 6 months, with options to extend.”

The office was truly spectacular, the views, and the expansive area. I walked over and stood beside Ken and gazed out of the window. The Hyatt Hotel was just opposite and fully lit. There were also adjacent office buildings with sporadically lit offices.

He moved to stand behind me and hugged me, stooping a little so that his arms wrapped around my waist. As he kissed the side of my neck he whispered, “I’m going to have you here, you know?” I groaned in response, his lips sensual and enticing on my sensitive flesh.

I lifted one of my hands to caress his face, and as I did, one of his hands glided up my body to cup my breast. I moaned and tried to turn to face him, but he held me tightly and in place. His erection once more pressed hard against me. He moved his hips to rub his manhood along my backside.

I was thankful for his strong hold for support when he began to bite my neck and shoulders urgently. A feeling of weakness in my legs overcame me. His hand then slipped into the neckline of my dress and slid into my bra. He pushed the bra and dress aside to obscenely expose my breast. I gasped and fought his grip in an attempt to shield myself from the window.

He held me tighter and in place and whispered, “Hold still baby. You are mine. This office is mine. I want to celebrate both, here and now.”

“But we can be seen, jeez Ken. The Hyatt is right there!” I placed my hand over to cover my exposed breast.

“And who do you know staying at the Hyatt? Who do you know out there, that is more important to you, than me?” He pulled away, and I immediately felt regret, the traces of his warmth cooling on my skin. I turned my back to the window, still covering my naked breast. As I watched him increase the distance between us, I wanted to beg him to come close again.

“Laura, I don’t understand you sometimes. You say that you are mine. Mine! And simply, you should know that I am yours. So if in fact you mean what you say, then why do you care what anyone else thinks about what WE do?”

“I don’t care, Ken!” I replied with conviction.

“Then show me Laura, by just doing what I ask of you. Do it for me.” His words lingered in the air, filling the entire space.

“Now then, take off your dress, standing right there, türkmen escort just as you are,” his voice softened yet carried authority of all the same.

I reached behind for the zip clasp, and brought it down slowly. As the zip traveled down and my dress loosened, I moved against the fabric to maintain it on my shoulders. I could feel his eyes watching me intently, making me very self-conscious. I sighed louder than intended, and let the dress fall from my shoulders to the floor. I quickly picked it up and held it in front of me.

Without a word, he stretched his arm and signaled me to give him the dress. I did so, and was left standing awkwardly, with just my bra and heels. “Your bra,” he said softly, with his arm still outstretched. I took it off, and handed him the last piece of my vanity. He turned and walked over to an old laminated desk, placing the dress and bra on top. Beside it sat an old cheap vinyl waiting room type chair, and a wooden box. He picked both up and brought them to where I was standing.

My face was flushed red, and my arm vainly over my breasts and other hand covering my groin area. I tried to ignore thoughts of the spectacle I was performing for anyone beyond the large windows.

Ken placed the chair just in front of me, and then the box on the seat. With his eyes locked on mine, he moved ever so close to me, and stood between the chair and I.

“I know you sometimes resist me Laura, and that you then to second guess and sometimes even doubt me. This has got to stop, and it will stop tonight.” I attempt to apologise for tonight, but he places his index finger on my lips, “Quiet, Laura. If I need you to talk, I will tell you.”

He then distractedly traced his finger down from my lips, chin, throat and stopped just above the arm that I used to cover my breasts. His eyes never left mine. If he was disappointed that I didn’t uncover myself, he didn’t show it. He slowly moved his finger down and over my arm and then started to circumvent me, circling around until he was behind me, and then the pressure of his finger disappeared.

I trembled softly, feeling a strong urge to turn and confront him, to monitor and maintain some control. I knew that I shouldn’t and I knew that this urge was a natural instinct that I must fight against. Despite my mind pleading that I turn to see what he was doing, I closed my eyes instead and let my arms fall to my sides, knowing their protection was futile anyway.

As if on cue, I felt him finally on my body, his large hand on my back, gently applying warm pressure to my cooled skin. “Lean forward onto the chair, baby. Hands on the back of chair, Laura.” I leaned forward, just as he asked, my hands on the aluminum rail.

I heard and felt him shift behind me and then once again, I lost him. In a distracted moment, I turned to look for him, and in that instant his hand slapped my buttock sharply. I cried from the surprise but seconds later, the burn on the skin became all too apparent. “Turn around again Laura, and I will use my belt.”

My head hung loosely between my outstretched arms, my mouth open, as I gasped for air. Through me surged chemicals fuelling primal responses for fight or flight, and they were intoxicating. My mind raced without reason or coherent thought, just instinct. The instinct to run; the instinct to fight; the instinct of consuming arousal.

“Spread your legs Laura,” and having done so, my exposed warm and slick tissues cooled and heightened my awareness of what was now openly visible to Ken from behind.

I could hear Ken’s footsteps beside me. I kept my head down, though I craved to see him. I saw his hands on the box upon the chair, as my face was directly above it. He opened the lid slowly, ensuring that it did not hit me. I looked down at the contents, seeing him take out a black satin blind-fold. I shook my head, trying to focus on the remaining contents of the box, but he all too quickly bound my eyes.

I heard Ken rummaging around in the box again. I lifted my head, and inhale his perfume. I could feel the warmth of his body on my cheek, and knew that he was so close. He must have noticed that I was searching for him, as he lifted my chin slightly and push his thumb into my mouth. It was not a gentle gesture, rather a firm penetration, and hoping to please him, I sucked on it suggestively. His thumb pushed in deeply, until it triggered the gagging reflex. He held it there and ordered me to relax. As my mind overcame the reflex he pulled his thumb back and then pushed it into my throat as far as he could. I convulsed again, only to have my buttock slapped hard. My muffled yelp sounded pathetic. Ken took his thumb out of my mouth, whilst rubbing the hot print of his hand on my bottom.

Ken then used both hands to squeeze my butt cheeks, and spread them apart. I felt him release one and he rubbed a cold lubricant along my crease. He plunged a finger into my anus and began to taunt me with long and full strokes. I moaned deeply and follow the rhythm with my hips. “Hmm, you like that don’t you?”

“Yes..” my voice was heavy and mostly part of a moan.

He then slapped my arse hard, again causing me to yelp. “Yes what, slut?” He left no time for me to answer him, before he hit me even harder, followed quickly by a hard fingering of my anus.

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