I know I haven't been posting all that much this month; my alter ego has been working on a novel for Nanowrimo. He's about 60% done, and when he finishes, he'll give me back the content control for our creative energies, and I'll post more stuff here. In the meantime, please bear with the lull. And enjoy days like today, where inspiration comes on hot and heavy.
I have had a wonderful experience lately. Someone I wrote a story for offered to write one for me. It has so far been a fantastic thing. So good that I wanted to write her another tale. Which is where that inspiration for today comes from.
The Costume Party
Lisa takes
a deep breath, or as deep as she can, when the doorbell rings. Moment of truth,
more or less. “Come on in,” she says. “It’s open.”
She hears
him come in and close the door behind him. “You ready to go?” he asks.
“I’m in
costume,” she says. “I wanted to know what you think of it.”
There’s a
pause. “Well?” he asks. “Come on out and show me.”
She takes a
tentative step, then another, glad the carpet still muffles the sounds. Another
deep breath. She glances at the mirror and checks her makeup, barely able to
look any lower and actually see the costume. What if he doesn’t like it? What
if he laughs? What if he just thinks she’s wearing it for the party?
She forces
a smile onto her face and pushes open the door. A few steps into the room, her
heels clicking against the wood floor, and he turns to see her.
He’s
dressed up, in a nice black suit with a white shirt and black tie. He has
sunglasses on; Reservoir Dogs. Technically, that fits the theme of the party,
and is simple enough that he could be seen in public like that.
His eyes
start low, drawn by the sound of her heels. She can practically feel his gaze
as it slides up the six inch heel, the thick platform at her toe, the tight
leather of the boot. She watches him as his gaze drifts up over the buckle at
her ankle, then up a few inches to the next buckle a few inches higher, then
the third strap and buckle, the fourth, the fifth, and then the long lines of
leather up and over her knee. He smiles at the last two sets of buckles and
then seems to trace the hexing pattern of her fishnets for the brief couple of
inches before it disappears into the leather pencil skirt.
He goes
past the belt, complete with the metal loops, the toys hooked into place, and
starts riding his view up her corset. The breath catches in her chest, which is
just as well; breathing in this thing isn’t easy.
“What do
you think?” she asks, wanting to wring her hands together but knowing that
would ruin the illusion.
“Wow,” he
says. He clears his throat. “That’s, um.” He smiles. “That’s a lot of leather.”
“Too much?”
He shakes
his head. “It’s one hell of a costume,” he says. “Is that a collar?”
Lisa smile
at him. He isn’t really asking; it’s pretty clear that the leather strap around
her neck is collar, and that the spikes sticking out around it are sharp and
look dangerous. “You like it?” she asks.
He glances
down at himself, possibly to see if his erection is obvious. Possibly just to
not look at her. “It doesn’t exactly go with my costume,” he says. “But yeah,
it’s okay. I guess.”
She smiles
at the sound of his voice, at the way he wipes sweat from his brow, at the way
he shifts his feet a little bit. “You guess?” she asks.
“Well, can
you pull it off?”
She frowns
and puts her hands on her hips. She taps a long, sharp fingernail against the
leather of her skirt. “You don’t think I’m pulling it off?”
“No,” he
says, verbally back peddling. “No, it’s not that. You look good. I mean you
look fantastic.” He takes a second to look her up and down again, his eyes
going from the tip of her boots all the way up to the tight ponytail over the
black mask covering half her face. “Really,” he swallows. “Amazing.”
“So then
why did you ask?”
“I meant,
can you play the character?” He rubs the back of his neck, pulls off his
sunglasses. “Part of the fun is actually playing the character for your
costume. Can you pull that off?”
She reaches
into the loop at her side and draws out a long riding crop. She swishes it
through the air a few times, then slaps it against her gloved palm. “I think I
can manage,” she says, putting on her best sadist smile.
He purses
his lips, considering. “I’m not so sure,” he says.
She adjusts
her stance, feet spread wide, angry look on her face. “You don’t think I could?”
He shrugs.
“I should
kick your ass for saying that.”
His face
breaks into a smile for just half a second before he manages to cover it up
with a cough. “Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not buying it.”
Lisa stands
up a bit straighter and looks down at him, even though she barely reaches his
height even with the huge heels. “I’m not asking you to buy it,” she says, her
voice so low it’s almost a growl. “I’m telling you that I can do it.”
His face
twitches, but he doesn’t respond.
She points
down at the floor in front of her. “I’ll show you,” she says. “Get on your
fucking knees.”
He holds
his hands up in mock surrender. “Ooh,” he says, “scary dominatrix is giving me
an order.”
She takes a
step towards him, and he doesn’t catch himself fast enough to stop from taking a
step backwards. She smiles, her lips curling with a mixture of impatience,
humor, and a tiny hint of disgust.
“Is that
all it is?” she asks, her voice now lush with tease. “Big scary dominatrix?”
He shrugs. “If
the shoe fits.”
She moves
her foot a little, and smiles as his eyes dart a little too fast down to the
movement. “It does fit,” she says. “You want to check?”
“What?”
“Get down
on your knees,” she says, half commanding and half curious. “Kneel in front of
me and feel for yourself whether or not they fit.”
He smiles,
his face turning a little red. “You serious?”
“Deadly,”
she says, her voice back to the low growl.
He laughs,
but it’s a forced laugh. Though his face remains impassive, Lisa is sure she
can see the relief in his eyes as he sinks to his knees in front of her. He
reaches forward and puts a tentative hand on her foot. It shakes a little right
before he touches the leather.
“These are
nice,” he says.
She taps
him on the head with the crop. “Silence,” she says.
“Sorry.”
She lifts
her foot a little, letting him caress the leather with his hands. Then she puts
her foot back down and slips the crop under his head, lifting his chin and
looking down at him with a sneer. “So do they fit?” she asks.
“Yes,” he
says, his voice a little weak.
Lisa goes
for broke. “Yes what?” she demands.
He
swallows. “Yes mistress,” he says.
She laughs
a little and takes a step back.
“I like the
sound of that,” she says. He gets up to his feet, surreptitiously adjusting his
pants as he does, then blushes when he realizes that she saw him do it.
He clears
his throat again. “Our costumes still don’t match,” he says.
“I got one
for you, if you want,” she says.
“Really?”
there’s that hint of eagerness in his voice again.
“I’ll give
it to you,” she says, “If you get back on your knees and ask me for it.”
He doesn’t
protest this time, just settles back onto his knees and looks up at her. “Please
let me have the other costume, mistress.”
She
considers, bites her lip a little bit. “Doesn’t sound sincere,” she says.
He clasps
his hands in front of him and assumes a begging posture. “Please oh please?” he
says.
She frowns
and slaps at his hands with the crop. “Now you’re just being disrespectful.”
“You going
to punish me?”
She laughs.
“There’s a bit too much eagerness in that question,” she says. “Are you sure we’re
just playing a part?”
He blushes
again, but doesn’t answer.
“Tell you
what,” she says, stepping towards him again. “I’ll forgive you and let you have
your costume.” He smiles and starts getting up. She slaps the crop down on his
shoulder and pushes him back to his knees. “If you prove that you’re really
sorry.”
“How do I
do that?”
She
wriggles her foot. “Kiss my boots,” she says. “Go on. They’re clean; I just
took them out of the box a little while ago.” It was about five hours ago,
actually; Lisa had been walking around in them all day, loving the feel of the
leather and the confidence that came with walking in them. “Just a peck on each
toe. Then I’ll know that you really feel bad.”
He doesn’t
argue, doesn’t resist even a little bit. He just bends down, his eyes darting
once to hers, his face locked in a forced mask suggesting that he isn’t taking
it seriously, and presses his lips quickly against her right toe.
He looks up
at her, and she smiles down at him, not even trying to hide how much she
enjoyed that. He has a brief moment where he seems to be unsure if she is
making fun of him or not. Then he leans back down and presses his lips against
her left foot, this time pressing much harder and lingering a little bit
against the leather, long enough for him to inhale the scent.
He doesn’t
stand up, just settles back on his knees. “So,” he says after the silence has
stretched out a little. “How about my costume?”
Lisa
reaches down to her belt and unhooks the collar resting there. She tosses it on
the floor in front of him.
“I can’t
wear that,” he says. “Everyone will laugh at me.”
She nods
and turns around, grabbing a bag from the nearby table. She rummages inside and
pulls out a small bundle of something black. She tosses it to his feet.
He picks it
up, spreading out the leather mask. He unsnaps the detachable blind fold,
unzips the mouth, then unzips the back of it. He slips it over his head and
zips it up, then buckles on the collar.
“Is that
the whole thing?” he asks, his face a mass of leather.
She smiles
at him. “Yes,” she says.
“So are we
ready to go?”
She frowns.
“You planning on wearing two costumes?”
He looks
down at his suit. “I can’t just go naked,” he says.
“That’s the
costume,” she insists. “You want to go as my slave, you wear the uniform I
choose.” She pulls a leash out of the bag, loops the handle around one of the
loops in her belt, then hooks the leash to his collar. “So take the rest of it
off.”
“I can’t go
to the party naked,” he says.
She shrugs.
He takes
off his jacked and starts unbuttoning his shirt, pulling the tie off and
tossing it aside. “There has to be more,” he says, looking at the bag.
“There is,”
she says.
He tosses
his shirt aside and starts undoing his pants. Without being told, after he
kicks off his shoes he slides his pants and boxers off without getting up from
his knees. He pulls off the socks and looks up at her, shivering a little,
though clearly not from the cold.
Her eyes
linger on his erection, and Lisa smiles.
“So where’s
the rest of it?” he asks, his voice much meeker than before.
She reaches
into the bag and pulls out four leather cuffs, each with a ring hanging off it.
She tosses them at him, then crumbles the bag and tosses it onto the table.
“That’s it,”
she says.
He puts the
cuffs on his ankles and on his wrists. He looks up at her. “I can’t,” he says. “I
can’t go in public like this.”
She shrugs.
“We could skip the party if you want.”
“Then,” he
swallows. “Then what would be the point?”
She smiles.
“Well,” she says, “We have the costumes on. Want to play the roles?”
“For, um.
For how long?”
She puts
her hands on her hips again. “How long do you want to play?”
She can’t
see his face, but his whole body flushes red.
Lisa laughs
at him. “Not just tonight, huh?” he shakes his head. “You want to keep playing?”
He nods, no longer really able to speak. “For how long? A day? A weekend?”
He swallows
and looks up at her, then looks away, unable to maintain eye contact. He
whispers something, all force long gone from his words.
She laughs
again, though without the mocking tone. “Did you just say what I think you
said?” she asks. She bends down as best the boots and corset will allow her,
spreading her legs wide enough for him to be able to see just how aroused she
is. “It’s okay,” she says. “Just say it again.” She reaches out and rubs his
leather face. “Say it one more time, just a little louder.”
He swallows
again and nods.
“How long
do you want to play?” she asks.
“Forever,”
he says, still barely loud enough to be heard.
She smiles
and leans forward, pressing her lips to his and kissing him hard. “I was really
hoping you’d say that,” she says. Then she reaches forward and zips his mouth
shut.
Lisa stands
and takes a few step away from him. The chain of the leash goes taught and
pulls him off balance, then down on all fours. She looks over her shoulder at
him with a wicked smile.
“Let’s get
started,” she says.
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