She felt his hand on the inside of her thigh, and it startled her so much that her muscles tightened, and her leg jerked out straight. "Relax, it is okay." She felt his hand move up to the back of her knee, and he lifted her leg up and toward the car door so that her foot was flat on the floor, heel against the front of the seat and her leg was against the door arm rest. She got chills as his hand moved along the underside of her thigh until the side of his hand bumped up against her panties, and his fingers were struggling between the seat and her thigh. Then she felt his fingertip push up into the hamstring muscle, and felt him slowly run his hand back up toward her knee, applying a lifting pressure that dug into the hollow of the muscle. He repeated that movement again so that his fingertips worked into the muscle and the palm of his hand pressed along the abductor. She mused to herself, "what a strange and appropriately inappropriate name for a muscle in such an intimate part of the body," as his hand moved back toward her knee again, fingers digging into her hamstring even deeper.
As his hand got to her knee, she felt it move away and then the back of his hand was pressing the inside of her other knee outward until her leg bumped up against the shifter. She felt a rush of embarrassment at the knowledge of how widely her knees were now spread, recalling how short her dress was, and how likely, or at least possible, it was that he was looking straight up her dress at her panties. She could feel his hand rubbing her knee, and then felt his hand and arm lying across her leg, and again heard the rustling of the packages on the passenger seat. Then there was quiet, although she could hear his deep heavy breathing, indicating his had was likely quite close in front of him. She found herself anticipating the likelihood of another kiss? Wishing? Hopefully? Hmmm.
But still it was quiet, and she could not imagine what he was doing, so close right in front of him, but not touching her, but for his arm brushing across her leg. And then she felt his hand pushing the hem of her dress up the outside of her right leg, tucking the loose material under her leg so that the hem was stretched taut across her lap. And then she felt the same movement on the outside of her left leg. Then, nothing but complete quiet, just the sound of his breathing, no touch. As far up as he pushed her dress, and the way he had spread her knees, she was certain that he had a very clear view of her panties now, and she worried how wet they must appear. She could feel the coolness and was sure that the light colored baby blue material was now several shades darker with her dampness.
.
Then, disrupting the quiet, there was a whooshing sound, something moving through the air, and then silence again. Then the sound again, closer, then silence again. She felt something cool and rough moving across the top of her thigh, rubbing in a circular motion. Then there was a smacking sound as something slapped down onto her skin, just above her knee. That was followed by another, and a pause, and then another, a little harder, and she began to feel a slight sting in the spot where it had landed three times, or was it four? Then there was another, and she realized what she had heard, and was now feeling, was the flat smooth surface of one of the wooden paint stir sticks. As he began a steady rhythm of slaps with the flat surface of the stirrer, he moved the point of contact inch by inch further along the top of her thigh until it was nearly all the way up her thigh. There was a pause, and then he moved the point of contact down the outside of her thigh, and he started to slap her even harder, each slap bringing a sting of its own. She couldn't help herself, she started to protest, and he stopped. And it was silent again.
She couldn't help but feel a little whimper in her breathing, which had quickened as well. She felt something pushing at her lips, and he said, "Open your mouth." She opened it a bit, and he said, "More." And she felt some kind of bulky cloth pushed into her mouth. "Bite down on this." As she did, she felt his fingers pulling back from the material and she bit down harder onto the cloth in her mouth. It has the warm, earthy taste and aroma of something like a wool scarf, and she realized it was the scarf she tossed on the seat along with a light jacket, just in case it was to get cooler in the evening. As she clenched her teeth on the scarf she saw his hand come up over her face, and she cringed, what large hands he had, she had never seen them before now. He reached up and pulled the blindfold back down over her eyes, and positioned it in place. Then it was quiet again, and she felt him rubbing the stir stick in that same circular motion against the inside of her upper thigh. An involuntary groan, accompanied by a "No." sound, choked up in her throat.
.
And then the slapping of the wooden stick against her inner thighs resumed. It was a steady and methodical pace, harder and harder each time as the target moved from the inside of her thigh down near her knee, upward to the more tender upper inner thigh and then over onto the top. As the intensity of the strokes increased, her breathing became shorter and shorter, until he would stop, and then there would just be the sound of her gasping at the air, accompanied by nothing but silence. Then he worked his way back down to the knee. Then he moved to the other leg and repeated the cycle; knee, up the inside of her thigh, as far as there was room to swat, then up onto the top of her thigh at the hem of her dress and then down the thigh again. Then back to the other leg. The pain was not overwhelming but was a constant stinging, and after each cycle he would stop and rub his hand back and forth up her inner thigh, bumping up against her at the far reaches of his stroking. Each time his fingers would bump up against her damp panties, he would mutter an appreciative, "Mm-hmmm," and then pause before starting again. She was alternating between the soothing feel of his hand, and then the sharp sting of the flat slaps of the paint stick, and then a few moments of nothing but a dull ache, before he repeated the treatment.
Just as she was expecting him to start again, she felt his hand on her forehead, and realized he was removing the elastic band. He pulled it up and over the top of her head, untangled it from her hair. He put his hand at the back of her neck and lifted her head into an upright position. Her neck and shoulders were tense from that cramped position, how did he know to rub her shoulder, and the base of her neck?
As she begins to settle down, her breathing becoming more steady and calm, she feels his hand curve around the back of her neck, pulling her head forward, until her lips meet his again. But this kiss is calm, soft, warm and deep, not hurried or urgent, tender but strong, almost like a thank you. And as she settled into and savored the kiss, she felt something cold and hard against the inside of her thigh. Still the kiss continued, distracting her from the presence against her thigh, but not completely.
.
She felt his hand, and something cold and hard in it, move further up between her thighs, and then there was something rubbing against the damp material of her panties, the dampness making resistance to the smooth movement of the object up and down. Then his fingers were slipping under the elastic of the leg band, pulling the material out, away, and over to one side. She gasped, now sure that what she had imagined impossible moments earlier was, in fact, true. She felt the hard plastic tip pressing against her, pushing the material of her panties to one side, while simultaneously slipping into her ever so slightly. She moaned and growled louder, sounds of both rejection and pleasure, confused by the feeling, but overwhelmed by the sensation.
As it slipped ever so slightly deeper, she heard him say, "We are going to exercise some muscles, show me some resistance." And his hand pressed it forward, inch by slow inch, rotating and twisting it slightly. "Are your muscles are strong enough to prevent this? Clench and push." Still she felt the pressure and inward movement.
"I am not sure I want to keep you out." she whispered.
"Not me, this thing, this invasive foreign object. It is difficult, even without your resistance." She felt herself shudder and start to shake, her legs stiffen, deep in her throat she growled again.
"Push against me!" And he was pushing in, twisting and twirling, and she could feel the lumpy ridges, she could not exert enough force to overcome his insistence.
"Stop please." And then she was having spasms again, and shaking, she was seeing red. She felt muscle contractions, and this time they did indeed succeed, she gasps, "Please, stop . . . rest." He relaxed the pressure, and let her breathing settle. She felt his hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek, his thumb wiping the moisture from the corner of her eye.
"Breathe slow, deep and steady breaths, relax," and he continued to rub the side of her face. Slowly she regained her balance, letting out slow, long, deep exhalations.
"Are you okay?" he asked, and she nodded her head, and smiled. She was calm again, her breathing settled. She so much wanted to look into this man's eyes, but she just let her head fall back against the head rest, and sighed.
As she settled back, she felt his gentle but firm push again, and she felt slight contractions, anticipating a renewed assault on her senses. Then he pushed her knees together and she felt something being wrapped around her thighs just above knees, holding her legs tightly together. And he pushed gently, deeper again, and her closed thighs held it in place. Again she felt shaky, she felt at the edge of more spasms, but then he relaxed the pressure, and removed his hand.
She felt something cold, hard and metallic against the back of her wrist. "Be still," he said. Then the sound of snip . . . and, snip, at the other wrist. "Be still, don't move your hands yet," he repeated. She sat there in the quiet, flexing her fingers, stretching them out, twisting her wrists, getting circulation back into her hands.
"Now? Can I move now?” she asked, but there was no answer, just quiet. Tentatively she pulled back her hands, nothing. Then she moved her hands to her face, and pushed the blindfold up onto her forehead, eyes squinting from the shock of long being deprived of light. She finally blinked, and slowly opened them, looked to her left, no one there.
She heard a noise behind her, looked up and saw movement in her rear view mirror, it was the large black sedan backing away from behind her car. Over on the passenger’s seat, she hears her text message chiming once again. She picking it up and read the message, "Go home. Take a long hot shower. Lie down for a nap. I will call you later."
trois et fait
As his hand got to her knee, she felt it move away and then the back of his hand was pressing the inside of her other knee outward until her leg bumped up against the shifter. She felt a rush of embarrassment at the knowledge of how widely her knees were now spread, recalling how short her dress was, and how likely, or at least possible, it was that he was looking straight up her dress at her panties. She could feel his hand rubbing her knee, and then felt his hand and arm lying across her leg, and again heard the rustling of the packages on the passenger seat. Then there was quiet, although she could hear his deep heavy breathing, indicating his had was likely quite close in front of him. She found herself anticipating the likelihood of another kiss? Wishing? Hopefully? Hmmm.
But still it was quiet, and she could not imagine what he was doing, so close right in front of him, but not touching her, but for his arm brushing across her leg. And then she felt his hand pushing the hem of her dress up the outside of her right leg, tucking the loose material under her leg so that the hem was stretched taut across her lap. And then she felt the same movement on the outside of her left leg. Then, nothing but complete quiet, just the sound of his breathing, no touch. As far up as he pushed her dress, and the way he had spread her knees, she was certain that he had a very clear view of her panties now, and she worried how wet they must appear. She could feel the coolness and was sure that the light colored baby blue material was now several shades darker with her dampness.
.
Then, disrupting the quiet, there was a whooshing sound, something moving through the air, and then silence again. Then the sound again, closer, then silence again. She felt something cool and rough moving across the top of her thigh, rubbing in a circular motion. Then there was a smacking sound as something slapped down onto her skin, just above her knee. That was followed by another, and a pause, and then another, a little harder, and she began to feel a slight sting in the spot where it had landed three times, or was it four? Then there was another, and she realized what she had heard, and was now feeling, was the flat smooth surface of one of the wooden paint stir sticks. As he began a steady rhythm of slaps with the flat surface of the stirrer, he moved the point of contact inch by inch further along the top of her thigh until it was nearly all the way up her thigh. There was a pause, and then he moved the point of contact down the outside of her thigh, and he started to slap her even harder, each slap bringing a sting of its own. She couldn't help herself, she started to protest, and he stopped. And it was silent again.
She couldn't help but feel a little whimper in her breathing, which had quickened as well. She felt something pushing at her lips, and he said, "Open your mouth." She opened it a bit, and he said, "More." And she felt some kind of bulky cloth pushed into her mouth. "Bite down on this." As she did, she felt his fingers pulling back from the material and she bit down harder onto the cloth in her mouth. It has the warm, earthy taste and aroma of something like a wool scarf, and she realized it was the scarf she tossed on the seat along with a light jacket, just in case it was to get cooler in the evening. As she clenched her teeth on the scarf she saw his hand come up over her face, and she cringed, what large hands he had, she had never seen them before now. He reached up and pulled the blindfold back down over her eyes, and positioned it in place. Then it was quiet again, and she felt him rubbing the stir stick in that same circular motion against the inside of her upper thigh. An involuntary groan, accompanied by a "No." sound, choked up in her throat.
.
And then the slapping of the wooden stick against her inner thighs resumed. It was a steady and methodical pace, harder and harder each time as the target moved from the inside of her thigh down near her knee, upward to the more tender upper inner thigh and then over onto the top. As the intensity of the strokes increased, her breathing became shorter and shorter, until he would stop, and then there would just be the sound of her gasping at the air, accompanied by nothing but silence. Then he worked his way back down to the knee. Then he moved to the other leg and repeated the cycle; knee, up the inside of her thigh, as far as there was room to swat, then up onto the top of her thigh at the hem of her dress and then down the thigh again. Then back to the other leg. The pain was not overwhelming but was a constant stinging, and after each cycle he would stop and rub his hand back and forth up her inner thigh, bumping up against her at the far reaches of his stroking. Each time his fingers would bump up against her damp panties, he would mutter an appreciative, "Mm-hmmm," and then pause before starting again. She was alternating between the soothing feel of his hand, and then the sharp sting of the flat slaps of the paint stick, and then a few moments of nothing but a dull ache, before he repeated the treatment.
Just as she was expecting him to start again, she felt his hand on her forehead, and realized he was removing the elastic band. He pulled it up and over the top of her head, untangled it from her hair. He put his hand at the back of her neck and lifted her head into an upright position. Her neck and shoulders were tense from that cramped position, how did he know to rub her shoulder, and the base of her neck?
As she begins to settle down, her breathing becoming more steady and calm, she feels his hand curve around the back of her neck, pulling her head forward, until her lips meet his again. But this kiss is calm, soft, warm and deep, not hurried or urgent, tender but strong, almost like a thank you. And as she settled into and savored the kiss, she felt something cold and hard against the inside of her thigh. Still the kiss continued, distracting her from the presence against her thigh, but not completely.
.
She felt his hand, and something cold and hard in it, move further up between her thighs, and then there was something rubbing against the damp material of her panties, the dampness making resistance to the smooth movement of the object up and down. Then his fingers were slipping under the elastic of the leg band, pulling the material out, away, and over to one side. She gasped, now sure that what she had imagined impossible moments earlier was, in fact, true. She felt the hard plastic tip pressing against her, pushing the material of her panties to one side, while simultaneously slipping into her ever so slightly. She moaned and growled louder, sounds of both rejection and pleasure, confused by the feeling, but overwhelmed by the sensation.
As it slipped ever so slightly deeper, she heard him say, "We are going to exercise some muscles, show me some resistance." And his hand pressed it forward, inch by slow inch, rotating and twisting it slightly. "Are your muscles are strong enough to prevent this? Clench and push." Still she felt the pressure and inward movement.
"I am not sure I want to keep you out." she whispered.
"Not me, this thing, this invasive foreign object. It is difficult, even without your resistance." She felt herself shudder and start to shake, her legs stiffen, deep in her throat she growled again.
"Push against me!" And he was pushing in, twisting and twirling, and she could feel the lumpy ridges, she could not exert enough force to overcome his insistence.
"Stop please." And then she was having spasms again, and shaking, she was seeing red. She felt muscle contractions, and this time they did indeed succeed, she gasps, "Please, stop . . . rest." He relaxed the pressure, and let her breathing settle. She felt his hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek, his thumb wiping the moisture from the corner of her eye.
"Breathe slow, deep and steady breaths, relax," and he continued to rub the side of her face. Slowly she regained her balance, letting out slow, long, deep exhalations.
"Are you okay?" he asked, and she nodded her head, and smiled. She was calm again, her breathing settled. She so much wanted to look into this man's eyes, but she just let her head fall back against the head rest, and sighed.
As she settled back, she felt his gentle but firm push again, and she felt slight contractions, anticipating a renewed assault on her senses. Then he pushed her knees together and she felt something being wrapped around her thighs just above knees, holding her legs tightly together. And he pushed gently, deeper again, and her closed thighs held it in place. Again she felt shaky, she felt at the edge of more spasms, but then he relaxed the pressure, and removed his hand.
She felt something cold, hard and metallic against the back of her wrist. "Be still," he said. Then the sound of snip . . . and, snip, at the other wrist. "Be still, don't move your hands yet," he repeated. She sat there in the quiet, flexing her fingers, stretching them out, twisting her wrists, getting circulation back into her hands.
"Now? Can I move now?” she asked, but there was no answer, just quiet. Tentatively she pulled back her hands, nothing. Then she moved her hands to her face, and pushed the blindfold up onto her forehead, eyes squinting from the shock of long being deprived of light. She finally blinked, and slowly opened them, looked to her left, no one there.
She heard a noise behind her, looked up and saw movement in her rear view mirror, it was the large black sedan backing away from behind her car. Over on the passenger’s seat, she hears her text message chiming once again. She picking it up and read the message, "Go home. Take a long hot shower. Lie down for a nap. I will call you later."
trois et fait
