"As My Lover Watches Me" (c) Copyright, "michael_1868" "1999"

As a single middle-aged businesswoman, my life is stressful and I long for  temporary escape. Although I am reasonably attractive for my age (ugh, I  hate that phrase), my social life has been in drought and my love life,  nonexistent. I can only blame myself; I am just too damned busy.

My primary retreat for sanity is a little fantasy involving pleasurable  thoughts, feelings and sensations that I also sometimes use for sexual  release. Tonight my fantasy involves the highly feminine ritual of preparing  myself for coyly seducing and having sex with a lover. A fantasy involving a  transformation from hard edged businesswoman to a sexy pleasure vessel  solely intended to satiate the sexual lust of a man, a very large man who  can serve my intense carnal longing.

For the last hour I have been attending to my toiletries cleansing my mouth  with brush and rinse, and then my bowel and depths of my womanhood with  enema and douche, preparing for however he might wish to engage his  pleasure. Having showered, scrubbed and shaved, my damp hair bound up in  towel, I lie soaking in my bath of hot oil scented water. I can sense his  appreciation of my labors and his rising masculine lust. He is evermore  needful of me as I of him.

Having patted, rubbed and toweled dry, I stand naked before my mirror  watching as he might be seeing me, my hands busy attending to drying and  combing my long dark hair. I can hear his throaty rumble of approval at a  little extra plumpness here and there in the body staring back at me, but  pleasingly so and in the right places making me a little rounder and  curvaceous. His hands long to touch and caress the body he sees as I  lightly dust with powder, briefly pausing now and again to strike an  alluring pose.

Still naked, I sit at my dressing table deftly plying the feminine art of  enhancing my facial features with a variety of makeup commodities. I feel  him near, watching me through the mirror as I apply accenting color around  my eyes. I see admiration in his eyes as he gazes at my artfully enhance  facial features. For good measure, I apply a little rouge to my nipples and  I sense his satisfaction.

Knowing the delight he takes in watching me dress, I take my time and with a 
slinky feline stretch I raise a short clingy slip over my head and allow it 
to gently slither down over me. Gently adjusting the silky fabric around my  breasts, I turn this way and that allowing him to admire the image in my  mirror. Raising the hem of my slip up over my hips, I step into a lacy  elastic garter belt and work it up cinching my waist. Neatly I arrange the  garment so the elastic ribbons attached to the garters are perfectly aligned  along my silken thighs. Straightening up, my garter tabs disappear below  the lowering hem of my clingy black slip. Gracefully moving to my dresser,  I open a special drawer and raise up a pair of delicate full fashion black  stockings, allowing them to unfold to full length for him to see.

Seated so that he can view me in profile, I carefully work the first silken  stocking up over my calf and smooth the top band around my thigh. I stand  up so that I can properly adjust and straighten the back seam. Caring not  that his rough hands and thrusting body will cause them ruin, I gently run  my hands up from my ankle to my thigh, smoothing and stretching the fine  material along my leg. Satisfied with its fit, I attach first the front and  then the back garter to secure it in place. Mindful of the arousing  interest in my lover watching, I slowly repeat sheathing my other leg in my  stocking.

Standing up, I step into a pair of high-heeled pumps. Stepping back to my  dressing table, I pick up and open a jar of a flavored jell. Running a  finger through its lubricating texture, I remove a generous portion.  Turning toward my lover watching in my mirror, I raise the hem of my slip to  my belly and spread the contents on my finger in and around the warm moist  gateway to my womanhood. Feeling his lust rise, I release the hem of my  slip allowing it to fall back into place and bring my finger to my mouth  sucking its coating between my red rouged lips while giving my image in the  mirror a naughty sensual look.

I leave my lover in anticipation as I walk through the house. I  particularly enjoy the swish of my clingy slip on my thighs and give and  take of the elastic garter ribbon on my flesh as I walk. I particularly  enjoy the massaging sensations along my legs from my tightly stretched 
stockings as I move. And then there is of course, the warm slippery feeling  between my legs at a place awaiting the ravishing lust of my lovers  attentions. I enjoy teasing my lover as I parade around the house, pausing  to rearrange a knick-knack here and there. I stop and bend slightly at the  waist, raise the hem of my slip and make an unnecessary adjustment at my  stocking top, knowing he watches and that I am driving him mad with desire.

I sit in a comfortable chair facing him and cross my legs knowing that I  reveal the whites of my thigh above the top band of my stocking. I relax  and lean back. Wetting a finger in my mouth I then trace it along the top  of my knee up over my thigh and trace the garter ribbon up toward my hip  ever puling the hem of my slip higher and revealing more of my white thighs.  Uncrossing my legs, I spread them slightly and work my hand and moistened  finger down between my legs and then close my eyes allowing his finger to  tease me as it works its way in and around my pleasure zone. Sensuous  pleasuring sensations prickle through and engulf me as I drift off to  another place my need yet unfulfilled. I drifted off into sleep and find  myself in a warm dark void and his voice comes to me saying,

“I have come to you in your dreams as you have entreated me my little tart.  I have come to serve my pleasures through yours alone, but beware, your  knowing anticipation of how this dream will end will not still the frantic  beating in your breast from the unexpected this night.

` Through some unknown means I find myself seated exposed except for my  black satiny chemise, stockings and shoes on a not quite comfortable perch.  Though free to move, I am restrained by my passion and desires, unable, no,  unwilling to remove myself to make good an escape from my current plight. As  though he can read my thoughts, his voice again comes to me saying, “Did you  say plight? Oh my little tart, this dream is of your imagining. You have  envisioned how you want, or should I say need, for this night to end, but  then, you have willingly given yourself to another to direct this night's  events toward satiating your naughty desires.

I find myself sitting on high chair on a darkened stage, I draw my leg up  and clasp my knees in an attempt to protect my modesty. There is no audience  here to this performance, there are no props, there is just my lover and  Master somewhere nearby and I alone in the blackness that surrounds us. I  can hear soft music of passion playing faintly somewhere; perhaps it plays  softly only in my mind. My Master’s voice again fills my mind, I cannot  fathom whether the voice is real or imagined. “While the soft light of the  nearby scented candles illuminates you, I, your Master, on the other hand,  so strong, so large, and oh so virile, am displayed in a bright spot of  light which mysteriously follows me as I choose to move this way and that.

As though by magic he, my Lord and Master, appears before me and it is true,  as he moves he is illuminated by some unseen source of light. My first  glimpse has indeed frightened me, and I momentarily regret the weakness in  my soul that brought me here to his command. At the same time, his great  size and the power that emits from his presence serves to fuel the fire of  my desire that I struggle to keep hidden, for I know that my own desires are  not important here, and that I am here to please my Master and not to please  myself. I also know that if I should experience any pleasure this night, it  will truly be a gift from my Lord Master, for he is the one whom I serve.

I soon feel as though I had always known him and I relax and sit quietly to  see what happens. He’s dressed in the manner of a Shakespearean Othello. His  form and features were familiar, as someone I might know but cannot place  for he is in theatric black face, with long black hair, chin beard and  moustache. He is a large, very large man in every way I might have  envisioned. His black boots reach over his knees. Black gloves cuffed well  beyond his wrists sheath his hands with tender lamb's skin as tight and  smooth and gentle as my own.

“So, you have guessed who I am. But still you lie awed in the presence of  the swordsman whom you have conjured up to fulfill your secret carnal  desires. Oh yes my sweet, you know well what is coming. For as you  anticipate, I am a skilled swordsman with both steel and flesh, and while  both are safely tucked away for now, have no doubts young, and may I say  beautiful lady, you may savor one or both before this dream is done.

I cannot tear my eyes from the erotic and masculine sight of My Master  before me. I long to touch the smooth satin of his blouse...to trace my  fingertips over the delicate pattern of his cloak...to simply be close  enough to smell the polished soft leather of your high boots. In my mind's  eye I can see myself laid out upon that beautiful cloak before you, waiting  to please you while surrounded by your luxurious garment and your warm  scent. My eyes are drawn to Master’s manhood, so elegantly outlined by his  codpiece It is, well, the largest cock I could ever possibly imagine. I feel  the dampness between my legs threatening to betray my desire...I cannot look  away. Master’s pants billow from his boot tops and back to his tightly  cinched waist. His black satin blouse is buttoned to the collar with  sparkling studs.

”No doubt my soft black and gold brocade jacket dazzles you, but my crowning  glory, at least that which you may now see, is my long black cape laced with  such brilliant colors and flowing design you are envious of it. Envy not  sweet, for my cape shall pale compared to the beauty your ecstasy shall soon 
reveal to you.

He then drew a blade of bright stinging steel and slowly advanced toward my  reclining figure. “Oh, I see that it is not my sword of steel that has your  attentions, but the gigantic bulge straining at the soft leather of my  codpiece upon which your large dark eyes so expectantly focus. Oh have no  fear my little naughty tart, for you shall soon have taste of one or both  that I expertly wield.

But even as my mind again strays to my own wants that I confuse with needs,  I see the bright flash of your sharp blade glinting in the candle light and  moving toward me. Immediately I draw a sharp breath and although my senses  are screaming to escape your advance, my dedication to you, My Master, and  my desire to please you demands that I stay. If you should choose to touch  me with the deadly blade that you carry, Your will shall be My Need.

It is true, Even as I trembled before this unexpected delight, I hungered  for what is surely to come and its anticipation made my heart throb as my  hot blood rushed downward deep into the womb of my womanhood. My  anticipation caused me to blush, your eyes to flutter shut and your body to  tremble at thoughts of what rapture may befall you this night. Your little  heart races onward within your breast causing your hot blood to course  through my delicate little parts.

As I awaited his first touch that I knew is capable of sending me onward  toward ecstasy, my lips parted in silent plea to be gentle. “Oh yes my  little sweet tart, it is a plea, but not for mercy, for you are a very  naughty lady whose needs beg for something else entirely. Oh yes my sweet  naughty little tart, you shall have it but in due time, due time yes indeed.

Your words lull me into an hypnotic trance as you remind me that my thoughts 
are naughty...that I am unworthy of even hoping for a taste of the pleasures  you might offer me, but still I cannot deny my longing. My hand travels  toward my wetness with a will of its own, until your frightening lunge  toward me with your weapon of my discipline extended toward my breast  reminds me sharply of my place, and of my lowly position. I quickly regain  control of my searching fingers and draw myself up to protect myself from  you imminent attack. I draw my breath slowly, deeply, relaxing to the sound  of your whispers and obeying the gift of your command to lie still. Your  Will is My Need, Master. But no, it is not to be. My Master lunged forward,  blade in hand arresting my hand’s movement, the sharp tip of my blade  suddenly only millimeters from the quivering flesh between my breasts. "Move  not" he commanded, “for I, not you shall be the source of your enrapture  this night. You must wait for what you have so desired.

But even as my mind again strays to my own wants that I confuse with needs,  I see the bright flash of your sharp blade glinting in the candle light and  moving toward me. Immediately I draw a sharp breath and although my senses  are screaming to escape your advance, my dedication to you, My Master, and  my desire to please you demands that I stay. If you should choose to touch  me with the deadly blade that you carry, Your will shall be My Need.

My hand falls away and I slowly uncurled from my protective position. I  slowly lay back on my perch daring not to displeasure him. He whispered  gently "Be still my sweet, be very, very still".

With a flash of his blade the ribbons binding up my long curled tresses are  cut and although I feel a sharp sensation pull at the roots of your being,  such is the degree of my Master’s skill at swords play that not one hair is  harmed on my head. Tiny pieces of ribbon float down as my unleashed hair  cascades down over my.

Although outwardly I do obey your command to lie still, inwardly I tremble  in terror as the skilled strokes of your sharp blade shred my adorning  garment. The first moments of astonishment at your grace and skill with such  a weapon are quickly replaced with a deeper sense of trust than I had even  dared to imagine when I is invited to enter into the realm of your command.  As the fabric of my chemise flutters away and I feel the soft whispered  breath of your blade as it moves so close to my skin, I again feel my  nipples harden under your stony stare. I dare again to look upon you, My  Lord and Master, and I am instantly captured by the sight of your engorged  cock rising to my favor before me. As you command me to take you into my  hands, I whisper my thanks at such an honor bestowed upon me, and I eagerly  reach to touch, to cradle your impressive manhood in my hands. To touch you  like this...to feel you respond to my most unworthy touch, I again feel  compelled to thank you, Master, for allowing me such an honor. And, oh, to  be permitted to taste of your flesh...to place welcoming kisses on your  throbbing cock and to caress it with my tongue, I surely cannot deserve such  pleasure. my hunger cries out to feel you fill my eager mouth...to feel you  press deeply into my throat so tight with desire, and choke me with your  magnificent member. As my tongue is greeted by the sweet drops of your fluid  gift, I move more eagerly with my mouth over you, savoring each stroke over  your silky hardness and searching for a deeper and more satisfying taste of  you.

As your warm gloved hand reaches for my bare breast, I dare not draw back  to your touch, but I draw a deep breath in an unconscious effort to offer  myself more fully to your caress. Your touch causes an immediate and  overpowering surge of longing at the center of my being...and when you  finally choose to guide your hand to my needy mound, I cannot help but raise  my hips from my perch in greeting. At the first welcome, sweet invasion of  your exploring finger, then the second finger, my own fingertips clench the  cushion upon which I lay, and I dare to wish for more.

Another finger invades me, and still another, until I can hear the sound  of your loving hand wading through the wetness of my desire...the scent of  my own juices reaches my nostrils as I draw a breath, and the sound of my  own heart pounding reaches my ears. Then the sounds of pleasure, the sweet  moans of a woman being fulfilled by a masterful lover, reach my ears, and it  takes but a moment for me to realize in my pleasure that those sounds escape  my own lips. Suddenly my entire being is focused on the need growing inside  me, the need for release and the need to give in to the orgasm building at  the movement of your large hand...

But you unclench your fist and leave me so abruptly I must bite my lower  lip to restrain myself from protesting your withdrawal. My legs tremble and  my fingertips unconsciously knead the cushion under me. Then, as you step  back and I again am able to view the beauty of your powerful cock, I draw my  knees up tightly to my chest and offer myself to you. As you lift me to your  body, as I feel the tip of your masterful cock touch my outer lips as a  blunt replica of the gleaming blade I experienced earlier, my needy body  anticipates your advance and opens fully to welcome my Master inside.

The fullness of your entry is startling, and at the same time I find I  want more. Pressing tightly against your manhood, I grind my wetness against  you as my first orgasm races through my body, tearing at the depth of my  belly and threatening to overpower my consciousness. I cry out against your  shoulder, my toes curling as every muscle in my body contracts rhythmically  in an attempt to draw you in deeper. Then, as the rhythm seeks to subside,  my Master does not release me, but drives even deeper than I would have ever   thought possible, and I find I am again riding the waves of yet another more  powerful physical explosion. This time my own pleasure is greatly  overshadowed by the sheer power of your own orgasm, and by the quenching  flood of your hot juices into my hungry womanhood. Still, my Master does not  release me, but surges onward forcing me into another, and yet another  orgasm...each more intense and demanding than the last, and each welcomed  and dreaded, for I fear I shall lose my sanity in the physical pleasure of  the experience. I lose my sense of space and time, and surely my sense of my  position in this dream world, and I cry out to you, my Master, and thank you  repeatedly for the gift you have delivered unto my body.

As I feel you lay my spent body gently upon the cushion of my perch, my  soul is aching to beg you to remain here with me...to cradle me in your  strength and to hold me while I recover from this most earth shattering  experience, but you fade from my body and from my view and I can but whimper  a lame protest at your abandonment. I whisper again that Your Will is My  Need, but as my bruised lips form the whispered words, my own arms encircle 
my body and I curl into a fetal position and drift into an exhausted and  satisfied slumber.

I slowly open my eyes not yet sure which world I am in. I am seated in my  living room. I feel exhausted yet exhilarated. I reach my had down between  my legs and I find that I am hot and so wet the moisture has more than  dampened the chair. I find I cannot resist and for the second time this  night, I pleasure myself until sleep once again claims me.