FRIDAY, MAY 13, 2011
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 6 (to be cont'd)
“What the hell….?” His voice still retained some softness from his sleep…
“Sshhhhh” was the Stranger’s reply…”Don’t try to free your hands!
Although these ropes are thin, they’re made of the strongest silk threads and I don’t want you to bruise your wrists and ankles…not until I shall decide differently”
“But what do you think you’re doing ? Who are you ? What do you want of me ?” the tone of his voice was still firm, his accent haughtily angry. His own helplessness made him mad. He, who was at all times in command of the most complex situations; he who just needed to give orders; he, who was imposing his will to high-level establishment people….that could not be; it must be a joke.
“Is this the way to repay my hospitality ?” he continued icily, avoiding to struggle in order to deny her the increased pleasure of his squirming. He gritted his teeth in a fit of well-hidden rage at seeing himself bound, at her mercy, without even knowing what she was aiming to. And to think he had thought for a moment to do the same to her, although he had then decided otherwise ...
She sat still silently on the edge of his bed, at the level of his waist, and, looking into his eyes, as he had done when he was caring for her earlier, she let her fingers trace the outline of his boxers on his belly. A confrontation was going on, the clash of two wills, a kind of deadly fight to see who would have the upper hand.
She never stopped smiling, even when her fingers slid inside the elastic band which appeared as a frontier below his belly-button ... And at that moment, he couldn’t avoid a strangled sound rising from his throat, almost a moan that sounded like a kind of surrender in the silence of the room ...
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