Sweet Surrender
Lynne den Hartog 2003
writeon@dutchhutch.com



The customs officer smiled at her, and she didn't know where to look.

She felt her face turning red and wished she could sink into the ground. This was the first time in thirty years that she had ever been stopped, and she hadn't even considered the possibility when she'd packed her bags. If she had she would never have included the items that now lay spread out on the desk in front of her. She watched in horror as the uniformed woman picked up the handcuffs and examined them more closely. A small black object began rolling slowly towards the edge of the table. Instinctively Julie grabbed hold of it. Her face turned an even deeper shade of puce as she realized that she was now standing in a crowded customs hall holding a vibrator in her hand. Hurriedly she dropped it again, but the damage had been done. The official's smile broadened as she asked, "Did you pack this bag yourself?"

Julie grimaced, her mind flashing back to her last clash with officialdom three decades earlier. Then she had been a vulnerable twenty year old, accepting gratefully when a muscular Welsh rugby player had offered to carry her bag. She'd never forgotten the look on the boy's face when he'd been asked that very same question by the humourless Civil Servant who was disdainfully holding up several items of lacy underwear between his finger and thumb. But then at least her embarrassment had been shared. Now she was its sole beneficiary.

And why had she packed her toys? She had never done it before on her infrequent trips back to England to visit relatives. Yet this time was different. This time it wasn't only family she was visiting. She was  meeting a man. A fellow writer whom up until now she had only known through his words on a computer screen. Their only bond a love of writing erotica and the fact that they had discovered that they came from the same home town. In fact his home was only a few streets away from where she had been born, and it seemed only logical that they should meet up next time she was in England. But there was something else they had found out about each other. A dangerous discovery that had thrust her into a maelstrom of confusion and doubt, threatening to demolish everything she had built up during the last thirty years. This
man, unlike her staid (boring?) husband shared her sexual fantasies.

"Well, everything seems to be in order." Julie stared at the woman in
front of her who was putting her belongings back in the bag. "Doing anything interesting whilst you're here?" she asked, as she replaced the vibrator into the back-pack. Julie noticed the twinkle in her eyes and was at a loss for words. Trust her to get the only Customs officer
in Britain with a sense of humour.

"I don't know yet," she replied. And realized how stupid it sounded. The woman's only reaction was a slight raising of the eyebrows and Julie felt more embarrassed than ever. Grabbing up her bags she almost ran out of the customs hall. But her answer had, at least, been honest. She really didn't know what she would be doing. Even after weeks of indecision she was no nearer to knowing her own mind. She still didn't know if she was meeting a friend or a prospective lover. Neither of them had discussed this as being anything other than a platonic meeting, yet the very fact that she had, at the last minute, packed the items that had just caused her so much humiliation, proved that the idea of an affair wasn't completely out of the question.

Her eyes travelled over the waiting crowd. She hadn't realized there would be so many people here. What if they missed each other? And then she saw him, and the strangest thing happened. Her stomach lurched, and for a moment she couldn't move. Although she had seen his photograph it had in no way prepared her for the feeling she was now experiencing at seeing him in the flesh for the first time. Something that had not survived the electronic highway was present here, filling the air around her with a charge like static electricity. The hum of voices around her dimmed, and faces blurred. For a split second she could see only him. And then the moment passed and normality slowly returned. Picking up her bag, she walked towards him, still confused by what had just happened. Surely it must be the effects of her long journey? She
was just tired and stressed out by her clash with Customs, she decided. Best to ignore it.

Yet that was easier said than done. When he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek her whole body began to tingle, and butterflies danced the samba in the pit of her stomach. What on earth was happening to her? She hadn't felt like this since she was a teenager. Somehow she managed to control her reaction, but her senses were a roller-coaster of emotions. As she followed him to his car she hoped that he couldn't read her mind.

The journey to her father's was a strange one. She had been dreading that they wouldn't be able to talk to one-another, but the conversation flowed, almost unnaturally, easily. It was as if they had known each other for years. Yet all the while she was aware of the sexual tension surrounding them. She wondered if he felt it too.

All too soon they arrived at her father's house. They parted in the car. She had been planning on inviting him in for a drink, but was suddenly afraid that her father would somehow sense the effect this man had on her. They arranged to meet the next day, though she was surprised at his choice of venue. The local park.

She didn't know how she got through the evening. It was almost impossible to hold a conversion with her father without mentioning John, as he was all she could think about. She hardly slept a wink that night, and when she told her father the next morning that she was going for a walk she had to avoid looking him in the eyes, as she was sure he would see the excitement in her gaze.

The crisp autumn leaves crunched underfoot. The sound transported her back to her adolescence, to the time when she had been fighting to find herself, balanced on the edge of childhood and adulthood, belonging to neither. To memories of long solitary early morning walks in these very woods, where the early morning sun had fought to pierce the mist laden sky. Here she had felt safe, sheltered by the gold brown canopy from all the uncertainties of the outside world. Here she was alone, but never lonely; solitary, but never an outcast. The wood had welcomed her into its heart, sharing its secrets with her. It had been her companion, opening all its mysteries to her imagination. Here she was a princess, walking in the grounds of her castle; or a serving wench escaping from a day's drudgery for a precious few moments of pleasure. This thought brought her back to the present with a jerk. Was she about to turn that particular dream into reality?

She risked a glance sideways at his face, wondering what he was
thinking. Why had he chosen here to meet? She knew that she had told him in her emails how much she loved it here, but it was an unusual meeting place. Yet it was so much better than a crowded pub or restaurant. The silence here, broken only by faint bird song and secret rustlings, somehow didn't demand the social chit-chat that such locations called for. Here she could be herself, away from prying eyes, in touch with her emotions. It was as if the last thirty years of her life had dissolved into the woodland mist. She felt young again, free from all her obligations, and ready to start on a new course to her life. For the first time she admitted to herself that she wanted this man to be her guide on that journey. Yet - did he feel the same way? Up until now he had given no sign that he did. Had she been the only one to feel the chemistry between them?

As if he had read her thoughts he took her hand, and lead her forwards. Her heart thudded at the touch of his fingers on hers. The gentle pressure confirming that this was no friendly gesture. Entwining her fingers in his she willingly let him take control. It seemed as if he had a goal in mind, but she had no idea what it could be. Walking beside him in contented silence she suddenly saw a sight that made her cry out in surprise. "Oh it's my tree!"

"Your tree?" he smiled. "You own a tree?"

"Well - not exactly own it! But when I was little it was my favourite climbing tree. I used to sit in the branches and imagine that everything around me existed just for me!" She blushed. "Even took a picnic with me! Silly isn't it? But I'd be there for hours sometimes, without even realizing it. It was like time stood still for me there."

Walking towards the tree she traced the grooves in its trunk with her fingertips. It was like caressing an old friend. Vaguely she was aware of John coming up behind her. His fingers closed around her shoulders, turning her around to face him. And then his lips were on hers. For a moment she froze. Although she had known, deep in her heart, that their relationship had gone far beyond the platonic in the short time since they had met, it was still a shock. But it was what she wanted, and slowly she opened her lips to his. She could feel the rough bark of the tree against her legs, and wondered what it was doing to her best nylon stockings, but she really didn't care.

Opening her coat John slipped it off her shoulders, and it fell to the ground in a pool of black. His hands slid down her sides. Suddenly he caught hold of her wrists and gently pressed her arms behind the tree. Knowing his desires she realized she was now his prisoner, bound to the tree with mental bonds. She shivered, but not in fear. A vague memory stirred deep in her subconscious. It was from her childhood. A game of Cowboy's and Indians. She'd been dressed as an Indian squaw and had been captured by the cowboys. And had ended up tied to this very tree! Now she could remember every detail. Even the face of the sandy haired boy who had produced the ropes and expertly bound her. She stared at John. His long hair glowed red in the rays of sun filtering through the trees. She gasped. Surely not? She opened her mouth to voice her suspicions but his lips were again on hers. Excitement rippled through her body as she felt him unbuttoning her blouse. Now was not the time to ask questions. Her blouse fell open leaving her half naked and vulnerable. For an instant she felt the urge to cover herself. After all, she no longer had teenager's breasts. Yet she saw only appreciation in his eyes and she relaxed. Then his mouth was on her, his tongue describing delicious circles around her erect nipples. She whimpered. His hand reached beneath her skirt and she felt his fingers exploring the damp material of her knickers. She parted her trembling legs to allow him easier access, but to her frustration the fingers were suddenly gone. He stepped away from her and smiled.

"Did you like that?" he asked.

"Bloody stupid question!" she thought, but luckily managed to keep quiet. She guessed he wasn't expecting her to reply. If he hadn't known the answer already he wasn't the man she knew him to be.

She watched as he reached into his back pocket and began drawing something out. What could it be? Her imagination formed images of handcuffs, blindfolds, or perhaps some kind of sex toy? But she was completely unprepared for what eventually emerged. It was a bar of chocolate. Her favourite. Dark chocolate with a sweet cream centre. She hadn't eaten it for years. She remembered she had told him about it in an email. How it was a good job for her figure that she couldn't buy it in Holland. She'd never expected him to remember.

She watched his fingers as he slowly peeled back the silver paper. "It's not exactly a picnic, but I think you like this, don't you?"

Confused, she nodded.

"Would you like a piece?"

Again she nodded.

"Or would you prefer this?" he smiled, and again his fingers traced a
pattern up her thigh, and pushing aside the elastic of her panties, he began to caress her. She tensed all her muscles as she felt the beginning of an orgasm building in her loins.

"No - I think the chocolate." Again he stopped and she could have cried out in frustration, as he broke off a segment and pressed it against her lips. Automatically she opened her mouth. But it seemed that she wasn't even to get that, as he popped it into his own mouth. And then his lips were on hers. She could taste the delicious mixture of chocolate and cream before he again moved away. Without thinking she reached out her hand to stop him. Too late she realized what she had done.

"Oh dear. It seems you don't want either."

"I'm really sorry, Sir," And then realized what she had just said. She had called him "Sir" without even thinking.

He smiled, as he replaced her arm behind the tree. "Well, perhaps I can forgive you this once then. It's good to hear you know who is in charge here." And he popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth, silencing her reply.

And then his hands began to explore her body again, but it seemed he wasn't planning on making this easy for her. Time after time, his fingers would bring her to the edge of climax and then stop, each time feeding her a square of chocolate instead.

Oh my God, she thought. Whoever said that chocolate was as good as sex didn't know what they were talking about. It's a damned disappointing substitute.

By then only one segment of the bar remained and she was as frustrated as hell. Was he never going to let her come? It seemed as if they had been there for hours. But this was a man who demanded patience, as he slowly pulled her away from the tree, and took her in his arms. He kissed her softly and whispered, "I believe in leaving my slave always wanting more." And he picked up her coat, draping it around her shoulders, and slipping the one remaining piece of chocolate into her pocket said, "Remember, if you want more, you have to ask."

It seemed as if he had placed the ball firmly in her court. After taking her for a meal he dropped her off at her father's and, expecting a goodbye kiss, she was disappointed when none came. Confused she asked a question with her eyes and his reply turned her cold.

" I want you to be really sure about what you want to happen next. You have got an awful lot more to lose than me. I know I want you, but I will not be responsible for breaking up a marriage of twenty five years. I can stay your friend, and we can pretend today never happened. No pressure, just a lasting friendship. But, if you want more, you need to think of the consequences. Can you live with being unfaithful? What will it do to your marriage? You need to think seriously about this. This choice is yours, not mine. But if you do choose to take this further, then I shall be the one in control from then on. Do you understand?"

Julie swallowed. "I think so." Her mind was spinning, and she knew she had to ask the next question. " Do you mean - if I want this then you will be my Master?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I mean. And it's not something I take lightly. So - you have to be sure of what you want. No playing games any more - but a real relationship."

She opened her mouth to reply but, placing his finger on her lips, John  said. "No. I want you to really think about this. You know where I live. When you've made your decision I'll expect you there."

Julie watched as he drove away. Her mind was in a turmoil. What was she going to do? If she listened to her heart then there was no question in her mind what she wanted. But she needed to think with her head. Could she handle it? She really didn't know.

Again she had a night with little sleep. One moment she had definitely decided it wasn't worth the risk, but then she would see John in her mind's eye and re-live the events of the previous day and she knew she couldn't resist him.

When she awoke the next morning she had finally made her decision. Yet even now - as she dressed in her most seductive clothes and applied her make-up with even more than usual care the doubt was still there. How would this affect her future? Could she keep these two parts of her life separate? She knew she would have to play it that way if she were to keep her sanity.

As she walked along the quiet streets the sound of her footsteps echoed hauntingly in her ears. They seemed to be forming a warning. Were her steps taking her into a situation that she could not control? Yet somehow she knew she had, deep down inside, made this decision the very first second she had seen John. Some deep power in him had called out to a part of her she could no longer deny, and ringing his door bell she stood with outstretched had, containing a small silver wrapped segment of chocolate and spoke the words, "May I have more please, Sir?"

Lying spread-eagled on the bed she looked into his gentle eyes as he slipped the blindfold over her head. She lay wide open and vulnerable, longing for his touch. But it did not come. She imagined him standing over her, examining every small detail of her exposed nakedness. The thought excited her.

Minutes passed. All she could hear was the ticking of the clock. Was he still in the room? She couldn't even hear him breathing. Frustration built up deep within her. Had he left her here, alone and wanting? And then she shivered as tender fingers traced a path across her stomach. Soft lips caressed her forehead and then brushed her mouth. He kissed her neck and she shuddered in pleasure.

His fingers tickled her sensitive inner thighs, and she realized with a thrill that he was tracing his name on her hot skin. Confirming her as his property. He repeated the movements on her tummy, her breasts, and then on her shaved pussy. She was now completely his. She wanted him to take her so badly she felt real physical pain, but suddenly his hands were gone. Wanting to cry out to him not to stop, she forced her lips closed. She was not a woman who easily begged. Then she heard the gentle rustle of clothing, and seconds later she felt his naked body against hers. She yearned to touch him, but her bonds denied her that privilege. Then his lips were on hers, his tongue exploring the depths of her mouth. She breathed in his scent. An aroma of fragrant tobacco and male hormones.

His fingers reached between her legs, discovering the moist warmth. She gasped as he slowly began to stroke her. Feeling her climax growing, her body stiffened, but he wasn't going to make it easy for her. Just as she thought she would reach the heights he stopped and she groaned, pushing her hips upwards to meet fingers that were no longer there. He laughed, and she bit back an oath. It wouldn't do to forget her position now. He might decide to punish her further.

Time passed as she lay in his arms. Grateful for the protection they gave her, but desiring much more. His lips encircled her nipple, his tongue flicking rapidly over the tip. By now her pussy was throbbing unbearably. If it hadn't been for the cuffs she know she would never have been strong enough to resist the temptation to touch herself. Yet still she strained against their inanimate captivity in a desperate attempt to relieve her unbearable frustration.

Again his fingers brought her so close to her boundaries that she was sure she would fall over the edge into the gaping chasm that yawned before her. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it would explode, her mouth was dry, and her head was spinning. This time she could no longer keep quiet. "Please Sir, please - don't stop."

A mistake.

"Oh - so you're begging, are you?" She could hear the amusement in his voice and was furious with herself. She never begged.

"So you want to come, do you?"

She nodded.

"Answer me properly, Julie."

Through gritted teeth she muttered, "Yes, Sir. I want to come."

"Now that didn't sound very polite. Again, please. And this time try to
lose the attitude."

It seemed she had no choice. If she was going to get what she wanted she'd have to show a little more humility. "Yes, Sir. Please Sir, I want to come." Somehow she managed to keep the disgruntlement out of her tone.

"So you want an orgasm?"

"Yes, Sir. I want an orgasm. Please, Sir."

"And who owns you, Julie?"

"You do, Sir."

"So who decides if you have an orgasm, Julie?"

"You do, Sir." She was glad of the blindfold. It hid the flash of rebellion that she knew was in her eyes.

"Hmm. I wonder if you really meant that."

Damn the man, she thought. Could he read her mind? And then hoped fervently that he couldn't.

"Well, if you had been my slave longer I have a feeling that you would
not have been climaxing today. But, as you are still learning, I will be lenient with you this once. But don't let it happen again. You have a generous Mentor, but I will not be disobeyed."

"Yes Sir - er - I mean no Sir!"

He chuckled. "So - which is it?"

"Er - no Sir. I won't disobey you."

"Good. And now I think you can have your reward." And his fingers
slowly began to rub her pussy. As the movements quickened she held her breath - not knowing if he'd stop again. But then he touched her clit and she felt a wave building deep inside her loins. It swept her into its wake, pulling her under, drowning her in its power. She felt him entering her, taking complete and utter ownership of her being. As he quickened inside her, she screamed out in joy as she was finally allowed to come.

Later, as she lay in his protective clasp, a shiver ran through her body. The complete meaning of what she had just done was finally clear to her, and she was afraid.