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I entered the compound with Eimi in tow. She said nothing as she traipsed along in her dark violet, open-toed platform shoes. She looked all around her, from the fence encircling my estate, to the low buildings that surrounded the central house. From our vantage point, she could see the three small houses in the front yard, and the escarpment that demarked the front and rear of my property. The other three homes, the training grounds and the Oriental gardens remained hidden from view. The thick, well-kept lawns glowed in the light from the downward pointing halogen lamps. They flooded the lawn with bluish tinted radiance. The grass burned like emerald fire. She gazed with delight upon the statues that dotted the property. They were of figures from Korean, Japanese and Sumerian myth. Eimi dropped to her knees and picked up a chunk of gleaming quartz from one of the two channels that ran along the sides of the access road to the main house. The central house, a three level Victorian, dominated the landscape. Growing up, I had always admired those old-fashioned types of homes. My mother had often taken me with her on her cleaning runs. It would be fair to say that I had grown-up in mansions, although I never made it past the foyer. Now I was the Lord and Master of my own estate. Unfortunately, my parents did not live to enjoy my success. They had died during my foreign excursions.
“Very pretty,” she said, turning the rock over in her lithe, dexterous fingers. “You have a true eye for beauty, and for order.” She let the quartz drop to the driveway. Without thinking, I kicked it back into the drainage channel she had originally taken it from.
“A very strong sense of order,” she quipped. She bent over and unbuckled the dual straps that clung to her slender ankles. Her exquisite ass rose like a fiery, maroon moon. Its small, well rounded surface strained delightfully against the tight confines of her hip-hugger stretch pants. She stepped out of her unbuckled platforms then straightened, scooping up a shoe in each of her small hands. She immediately dropped four inches in height. She seemed even younger this way, even more the fey creature. Eimi stood just over five feet tall. Five foot two, perhaps. She skipped over the side drain, and landed on the plush lawn. Her dainty toes flexed as she kneaded the cool, trimmed grass between them, much as a cat would its favourite blanket prior to bedding down.
“I love grass. Feels so good against the skin.” She ran to the house. Her long hair streamed behind her. The shoes flailed wildly in her hands, held only by their ankle straps. The silver buttons sewn on the outer seams of her maroon pants twinkled brilliantly in the floodlights. She looked so happy here. So carefree. My heart ached when I looked at her. I resolved to remember her just as she looked at this moment, full of the boundless exuberance of a child. She knew what the bird in flight knew. Ultimate freedom. Savour it, my little dove. I would clip your wings soon enough.
I reached Eimi, who stood at the front entrance. She had cast her shoes to one side of the thick oak door. She now paced the breadth and width of the porch, constantly in motion, as if she feared to stop. I reached over and pulled her to me by the spaghetti straps of her ruby halter-top. She gasped in surprise as I lifted her up by her armpits. She rose on her tiptoes to reach me, balancing comically. I lowered my dreadlocked-covered head and pressed my mouth to hers. My strong tongue speared into her mouth repeatedly, partaking of the nectar that pooled therein. I humped her face with my tongue roughly, thinking only of my pleasure, not of hers.
I started to walk forwards. Eimi back-walked until her shoulders pressed tightly against the front door to the house. My hands roamed over her body, concentrating on her pert breasts and her high, firm ass. I kneaded those ass cheeks like a baker did his dough. She squirmed in her pleasure. Sighs of arousal slipped down my throat as I ravaged her mouth with mine. I plunged deeper, my tongue reaching as far back into her as I could. I expected her to gag, and to push me off of her. She did not. She accepted everything I did to her without complaint.
I broke our kiss, and looked at her abused face. Her bright eyes sparkled with an inner fire. At last. Her lips parted slightly, still glistening with the dew we had been sharing. She looked up at me in expectation. I was a six-foot four, two hundred and twenty pound black man, a solid mass of scar tissue and attitude. She didn’t seem fazed at all. She had almost been raped in an alley, and now had been carried off to the home of a complete stranger. It didn’t seem to bother her. What kind of screwed-up life had she been living? “We’re going in,” I said, as I reached for my keys. Man, I was going to fuck her silly when I got inside. I couldn’t wait to see her naked.
***
She made me wait to see her naked.
From the moment she entered my home, she made it mardin escort her own. She flitted through the rooms like a sylph sailing on the winds through my domain. I did not stop her. It only made sense that she become used to her surroundings. You see, I intended to keep her here. The idea had entered my thoughts during the long cab ride , and had cemented in my mind when I saw how happy she had looked on the lawn. Here, she could feel safe. It was not merely altruism that drove me. We still shared that eerie connection. I did not want to let her go until I decided exactly what it meant.
But what would I do if she did not want to stay?
“A beautiful home, Andrew. Please show me to the bathroom. I must get clean.”
I smiled at this. So Japanese, my little Eimi was. She smiled back at me, light flooding her face with happiness. The sun truly does rise in the East, I mused. Was she only responding to my smile, or pleased that she had pleased me? I preferred to think it was the latter. I eased her halter and bra straps down the slope of her satin shoulders until they clung to the sides of her arms, Bardot-style. This left me with a glorious expanse of golden, smooth skin. I trailed my large hands from her shoulders, up the sides of her neck. My thumbs caressed her sculpted chin and jaw. Her head tilted back, throwing her straight black hair into a gorgeous silken spread over her shoulders. In this position, her breasts pushed out, revealed by the low-cut ruby halter and her demi-bra. How I wanted to pull them out, and feast on those succulent globes. Instead, I decided to wait. I had plenty of time to play with.
“I have many bathrooms here, Eimi. I will take you to your very own.” I picked her up effortlessly, and carried her up the stairs to the second floor. She could have that one, I decided. This strictly Western floor had none of the Oriental or Middle Eastern styling that permeated the decor of the other two levels. I hoped she would like it here. I bore her to the bathroom and stepped inside. My cock raged against the black material of my slacks, almost shredding them to ribbons in its haste to escape its imprisonment.
“Easy, boy,” I thought to it. “Soon. Very soon.” I placed Eimi on her feet and touched the light sensor. “I do hope you enjoy it,” I said. Her expanding eyes told me that she would, indeed.
I had modelled it after the one at the Hotel Waldorf Madeleine, in Paris. Those fucks had denied me entrance a few years back. The rest of my unit had booked accommodations there without any grief. Of course, I was the only brother in the lot. So much for Equality, Brotherhood and Liberty. Fucking French hypocrites. I truly hoped that they enjoyed the little present I sent them. I heard that they only recently managed to scratch up enough capital to completely rebuild the destroyed eighth floor. I designed my lavatory based upon the video footage that my mercenary buddies gave me about their nights at the Waldorf. Man, the freaky shit that they got into with those French whores blew my mind. When I saw some of the intense things that you could do with those innocuous looking brass fixtures and fittings, I couldn’t wait to install some of them in my own home. Why, they even managed to…
But I digress. Sorry.
Eimi ran into the bathroom, squealing with delight. She clapped her petite hands together in unfeigned glee. “I may use it? Truly?”
“Of course.” I passed my hand around the room in an expansive gesture of magnanimity. “All you see is for your exclusive use. Fresh towels are here. Soaps, body washes and lotions are over here.” I quickly gave her the rundown of where I kept the necessities. “The Jacuzzi and sauna are through those doors behind you. However,” I paused dramatically, “the use of the facilities come with a price.” My squat, thick cock pulsed in agreement.
Eimi graced my twitching groin with a brief glance as she padded around the ivory, gold and marble bathtub. “Everything good in life has a price attached,” She said. “I didn’t expect this to be any different.”
“We understand each other, then. Good. That makes things easier.” I motioned her over to me. She complied, without delay. “Strip me.”
Her nimble hands picked at my belt buckle and deftly undid the catch. She concentrated solely on her task. Her eyes stayed glued to my waist. I grabbed a handful of raven silk as she popped my buckle.
“Yeah. Unzip my fly. Remove my slacks.” She did as I commanded. The cool, smooth skin of her hands played over the ripples of my muscular legs. Her slight touch traced the masses of scar tissue on them. “What have they done to you,” she asked. Her low pitched voice quivered. She sounded as if she was about to cry. Fuck! I didn’t want her sympathy. I just wanted her. This emotional display would kill my enjoyment if left unchecked. I roughly pulled her upwards by the roots of her hair. She gasped in pain as she rose to meet van escort me.
“My shirt next. Take it off.” She quickly unbuttoned my black shirt and peeled it off of me. I had to change hands, passing the captured mass of her hair from one palm to the other as she peeled off my Ermenegildo Zegna twill shirt. Eimi kept her eyes downcast, not daring to look me in the eyes. I released her hair but stayed ready to grab her again if she tried to bolt. She didn’t budge. I took off my undershirt and stood before her in all of my glory. “Look at me, Eimi.” I forced her chin up. Her face dropped into a sulky pout. A sliver of tongue moistened her aroused, puffy lips.
Eimi’s hands ran over my chest, gently probing the scars that crisscrossed my frame. She did not comment upon them. She just skimmed the tracks of my injuries as if committing them to memory. “You seem fascinated by those,” I said. “Don’t trouble yourself with them. They healed a long time ago.”
“They do not hurt you anymore,” she corrected. “I don’t think they ever healed.”
Who the fuck was this chick, anyway?
Her small round breasts stuck out against the sheer fabric of her fuck-me halter, its thinness incapable of concealing the turgid nipples. They made sharp points against the tight, thin material. Those nubbins instilled a lust in me that I had seldom felt. I read the glittering onyx kanji once again. ‘Fuckable Piece,’ eh? I would soon find out for myself.
I gripped the halter at the center and tugged hard. It ripped easily, splitting like ancient, rotted cloth. Her tits popped into view, two perfect, mitt-sized globes delightfully supported by the lavender demi- bra. Her burnished copper nipples stuck out proudly from her creamy breasts. The brassy areoles had a sheen to them, seemingly slick with olive oil. I bent my head to her breasts and suckled at one. My tongue washed around her areola and flicked at her sensitive nipple. The little pebble grew between my lips, almost to a half-inch. I playfully gripped the tender morsel between my teeth and pressed down upon it. Eimi gasped. I started to chew upon her tit, tugging the nipple in and out of my mouth as I chewed upon it. She seized a mass of my dreadlocks with both of her hands, shivering uncontrollably.
I moved to her other breast and repeated the treatment. The first spit-slick mound gleamed in the bathroom lights. My handiwork thrilled me.
As I straightened, I stuck an index finger between the slight mounds of her lips. I fucked that digit in and out of her exquisite mouth, the girl’s swirling tongue working around it in frenzied abandon. Man, I couldn’t wait to jam my little son in there and skull-fuck that face of hers.
The now-lubricated finger slipped down the crease of her belly, coming to rest at her navel. It was a deep, narrow gash. More a slit than a hole, really. A smile flicked across my thick lips. God had blessed her with two cunts. I gently stroked the area around her navel, and then stuck my index finger inside it. My finger worked in and out of this second cleft, soundly reaming her belly button.
This is a very sensitive spot for many women. There’s nothing pleasant about a man’s finger jamming inside of it. Eimi whimpered as I forced my digit into her, her ass shooting backwards as she sought to escape my probing finger. My other hand moved to her smooth butt and pressed it back into position. I gave her navel a solid jab with my index finger in retribution. She gasped loudly. I couldn’t help but notice that her nipples darkened in hue, and grew even longer. Ah. She got off on discomfort, perhaps even mild pain. Good. I had much more of this type of play planned for her.
“Stay still,” I whispered to her. My mouth neared her right ear. “Close your eyes, Eimi. Don’t move. And don’t resist me. Now, stand with your legs about two feet apart. Yes. That’s it.” I ran my hands down the inside of her thighs, stopping at her knees and then sliding up the outside of her legs, all the way past her waist. My hands continued upwards, gliding over her ribs as they made their way to her magnificent breasts. I mauled these, torturing her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. “Put your hands behind your back, with your fingers laced together. Yes. Like that. No matter what I do to you, you are to remain in this position. Do you understand?” I pinched down hard with both of my hands. Eimi hissed from behind clenched teeth.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded husky, inflamed with passion.
“Do not speak,” I said as I tapped a finger against her lips. She sucked it in without any prompting from me, working it in and out of her mouth frenziedly. “Do you understand?” Eimi, madly sucking upon my finger, nodded in the affirmative. Good girl. She learned quickly. I kissed her gently on each of her closed eyelids, and then took a couple of steps back. I wanted to admire her.
Eimi stood spread-legged with her hands clasped behind ankara escort her back. The posture made her small, round breasts poke obscenely forwards, high on her chest. The nipples speared upwards, threatening to touch the very ceiling. They groped heavenwards like a plant seeking the life-giving warmth of the sun. But I knew what her nipples really sought; the pleasure of my touch, the moist heat from my mouth. Her flat stomach trembled, breath tearing in and out of her lungs in a ragged fashion. She sounded like a bellows at the hands of an inexperienced, apprentice smith. The sounds of her arousal made my cock twitch in anticipation.
I quickly approached her and let my hands explore her exposed flesh. Her skin trembled under my fingertips. Her body began to glow with a thin film of perspiration. Her steaming skin seemed to effervesce under my gentle ministrations. I moved to stand behind her then began roughly massaging her breasts. How I loved those glorious mounds! Her hands remained clasped behind her back, approximately at my groin level. She rubbed them against my sac and balls, stimulating me. She kept her fingers laced together as I had earlier instructed.
Excellent.
I licked the sweat that ran down the runnel of her spine. She tasted like the nectar of a flower, with only the slightest trace of salt. My lips worked down her spinal column, tongue jabbing indiscriminately, like a serpent tasting the air. I felt her involuntary shudders from under my lips and tongue. So encouraged, I applied more pressure to her golden skin. I nibbled at her flesh like some kind of exotic fruit.
My face came to rest at the gentle swell of her hips, where they spread to form the curves of her ass. I stuck my tongue down the triangular hole formed by the rising globes of her ass and her super-tight hip-huggers. She moaned. I nipped at the top of an exposed ass cheek, hard enough to make her squeal.
“Silence,” I admonished her. I saw her head nod. I loved this feeling, the feeling of being in total control, of manipulating another human being like a marionette. What made it more exciting for me was the knowledge that it all could end at any time. I would not rape her. That was for the weak and pathetic, like those clowns in the alley. She could end our play at any time she wished. What she allowed to happen would dictate the flow of our game. This knowledge made each act of submission on her part much more special. Each act may well be the last that she permitted. Even knowing this, I was determined to push her as far as she would allow.
I continued to kiss and tongue the visible parts of her ass cheeks as my hands gripped her hips, forcing her tighter against me. The low-cut pants did not conceal her sharp hipbones. I could feel the creases of her legs that sloped towards her crotch. She must shave. The waist of her pants lay well below the line that her pubic hair would start from, yet, all I could feel was bare, smooth skin. She began to grind her hips, her ass swaying to some unheard rhythm. My hands crept forward, seeking the apex of her desire, the warmth of her goddess’s mound. I massaged her through the tight material of her pants. She suddenly stiffened. Her whole attitude changed. Her head was no longer thrown back. Instead, she leaned forward, as if looking to see what my invading fingers were doing to her privates.
“No,” I commanded. “Eyes closed, and head back.” I squeezed down roughly on her cloth-shrouded box. Breath rushed out of her lungs as if I had punched her in the gut. I reached up and yanked on a handful of her ebon hair. Her head snapped back. My other hand continued to rub against her vagina with increased roughness. She made odd noises as she sucked in air from behind clenched teeth. I continued to work at her snatch, waiting for her to complain. She did not. Satisfied, I returned my full concentration to the mauling of the exposed portions of her ass with my tongue and lips. I let my right hand gently caress her mound, my finger swirling in delicate, complex patterns with a touch light enough to leave dust undisturbed.
Warmth spread over my fingers. The crotch of her hip-huggers became sodden with her joy-juice. The rich aroma of heated woman filled my nostrils, burning fiery tracks through my overheated brain. “At last,” I growled. I placed my hands over her ankles and massaged them. They were slight, fragile things. I could encircle them in my meaty hands quite easily. I slid my hands upwards slowly, enjoying the feel of the hot, twitching woman beneath my palms. My hands stopped at the first pair of silver buttons stitched on the outside seams of her pants. I hooked my index fingers around them and flicked hard with my thumbs, as if they were bottle caps. The silver buttons clattered away, becoming lost in some far corner of the bathroom. Eimi flinched at the sound but remained quiet. My hands continued their trek upwards, stopping to perform their little trick at each pair of buttons. Swaths of perfectly tuned leg peeked through freshly-opened side seams. I began to pop those buttons with increased rapidity. The sounds of buttons became a constant cacophony of clanging metal on white marble tile as I continued my inexorable trek north. Eimi’s forced, ragged breath sounded loud in my ears.
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