Your Fantasy, My Fantasy Part 1

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Part 1

After two years of marriage I was still getting to know Lucy. Our friends had said ours was a “whirlwind courtship” and they were right. We were introduced at a Fourth of July picnic and by Labor Day weekend we stood in front of a Justice of the Peace pledging to cherish, honor, and obey, “till death do us part.”

We are a mismatched pair if there ever was one. I’m tall—six feet four inches in my stocking feet—while Lucy stands only five foot two on her tip toes. I’m the laid back type—never getting too excited about anything. My wife never stops moving; she’s got enough energy for ten normal people. In high school she was a cheerleader and still retains that bouncy enthusiasm. Now she’s a second grade teacher. Her students love her, and I can understand why. She’s always coming up with fun and interesting things to do in class. Last Halloween she dressed up as a witch and delighted her kids by trying to turn the principal into a frog. At Christmas time she convinced me to rent a Santa suit and walk into her classroom on the day before their holiday vacation. They say that opposites attract, and that certainly seems to be true in our case. I’m still not sure what Lucy sees in me, but just being around her makes me happy.

When she’s not working, she exercises. Shortly after our wedding she announced she was taking up running. She said it would help her shed some unwanted pounds. Now, every day after school lets out, she runs for an hour. Before she started exercising, her figure was not exactly chubby, but you might have called her “well padded.” Since then, she’s lost nearly twenty pounds, slimming down to a petite, muscular 105 pounds. She also began growing her hair longer. When we married her dark brown locks barely brushed her shoulders. Now they reach to the middle of her back. When Lucy runs she ties her hair back in a neat ponytail, but other times she lets her natural waves flow freely.

Because we were together only two months before we married, we spent the first years of married life getting to know each other better. One of the things I learned about Lucy was that beneath her sunny exterior, there lurks a robust sex drive. During our lovemaking she encourages me to work hard—harder than any of my previous sex partners. Oftentimes she’s ready for more after I have I climaxed. Although she claims to be satisfied with my efforts, I suspect she’d like me to do more.

One Sunday afternoon we were hanging around the apartment. Lucy was preparing lessons for the coming week and I was watching a football game on TV. We had consumed a few beers. She was busy, but I was bored. I wanted to resolve one nagging doubt, so I began probing for some highly personal information.

“Lucy, there’s something I’d like to ask you,” I said, interrupting her schoolwork.

“What is it, Ted?” she answered, glancing up from her papers

“I was wondering, what’s the most exciting thing I could do for you?”

Lucy paused for a moment, glancing up at me through her reading glasses, and then replied, “What kind of a question is that?”

“I’m curious,” I tentatively offered, not really knowing how she would respond. “Is there something I could do sexually, something that would really turn you on?”

“Do you feel inadequate, Ted?” Lucy teased.

“No, nothing like that,” I explained. “It’s just that sometimes I get the feeling that you’re not completely satisfied.”

“You do just fine, Ted,” she assured me. “I think our sex life is great, don’t you?”

“Sure, Luce, I know. It’s great for me,” I agreed. “But sometimes I think it’s not always so great for you.”

“Ted, our lovemaking is wonderful. You are a terrific lover,” she replied. But something in her tone told me that she wasn’t being completely honest. It seemed that she was holding something back for fear of hurting my feelings.

“I may be wrong,” I continued, “but I wonder if there isn’t something more I could do for you.” I knew I was treading on dangerous ground. If my suspicions were wrong, Lucy might think I was dissatisfied with her performance in bed.

“What do you mean, Ted?” she inquired, putting down her glasses and looking intently in my direction.

“Like, do you have some secret fantasy? Is there something that you’d like to try—something that you’ve never had the nerve to share with me or anyone else?” I persisted. “What can I do to make your wildest dreams come true?”

“Ted, every day I’m with you, you make my dreams come true,” Lucy assured me, but her florid cheeks revealed there was something she was not sharing with me.

I forged ahead despite her protestations. “That’s sweet, Luce, but I think you know what I’m getting at. Most people have some kinky little desire, some deep secret they won’t reveal, not even to their closest friend. I’d like to know what yours is.”

“Yes, Ted, I get your drift,” she answered. “But I’m not sure I want to go there.”

“Why? Is it because you don’t trust me?” I demanded.

“No, that’s not it, Ted,” she pleaded. “It’s just that there are some things I don’t feel comfortable talking about—not with you, not with anyone.”

“Okay, hon, I don’t want to pressure you,” I said, realizing that I was not going to get any further information from her that night. “But someday I hope you’ll feel more comfortable talking about this with me.”

“Sure, Ted. You’ll be the first to know,” she answered, putting her glasses back on and diving back into her paperwork.

Four months later we were driving along a deserted stretch of highway late at night on our way home after a weekend spent visiting with my parents. Lucy had been sitting silently for a while when she turned to me and said, “Ted, remember that conversation we had last fall?”

“Which one, hon?” I asked, totally clueless about the conversation she referred to.

“You know, the night you asked me if I had any secret sexual desires, something you could do for me,” she continued.

“Oh, that conversation. Yes, of course I remember. You said there were some things you didn’t feel comfortable telling me. Why are your bringing it up now?” I inquired, hoping that at last she was ready to share her secret with me.

“Well, Ted, I’ve been thinking,” she paused.

“You mean you’re ready to tell me now?” I responded eagerly .

“Yes, I could be,” she answered tentatively.

“Go ahead, Luce,” I replied. “I’m eager to hear your dirty little secret.”

“You will, Ted, but first you must promise to behave,” she warned.

“Are you sure you really want me to behave myself?” I quipped.

“You know what I mean. I want you to hear me out without making any jokes. Just listen and don’t make fun,” she insisted. “Okay?” I realized that I had to tread carefully. She was ready to reveal her secret desire to me at last. If I said the wrong thing, she might clam up again.

“Sure, hon, I can do that. I’ll be good,” I promised.

“Okay, Ted.” She continued very deliberately, as if she had been preparing her remarks. “Ever since that night I’ve been thinking about what you said. You were right. There is one sexual fantasy I’ve been keeping from you. This is something that I’ve never shared with anyone else, my own dirty little secret.”

“Lucy, that’s great. I’m flattered that you trust me enough,” I assured her, hardly knowing what would come next.

“This isn’t easy for me, Ted, believe me,” she answered earnestly. “Ever since I was a teenager this one very specific fantasy has haunted me. I don’t know where it comes from, and I don’t think it’s ever going to go away.” She paused for a moment to summon her courage. Then, in a voice scarcely louder than a whisper, she continued. “It involves a big strong man. He’s not someone I know, a total stranger. One day he sneaks up behind me, grabs me, ties me up, and takes me away with him. I kick and try to scream, but it does no good, he’s just too powerful.”

“What does this guy do once he’s kidnapped you?” I asked breathlessly.

“He takes me away to his hideout—someplace far away. Someplace so remote there’s no possibility of escape,” she revealed.

“And what does he do to you there?” I persisted.

“He makes me his slave,” she admitted. “He forces me to do his bidding. I protest, but only for show. It’s very strange, like I want him to totally dominate me. He’s very firm with me, but also quite gentle, in his way.”

“And where does the sex come in?” I asked impatiently. “You do have sex with this guy, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but it takes a while,” she admitted sheepishly. “Every night he comes to my bed and asks if I will sleep with him and every night I tell him no. Then one night he refuses to take no for an answer. He binds my hands and feet and has his way with me.”

“Is this a fantasy about rape? Does he force himself on you?” I probed.

“Well, yes and no,” she responded. “He is forceful with me. He makes it clear that I have no choice in the matter. But in the end, I surrender to him willingly.”

“And you enjoy this fantasy?” I asked.

“I do. More than I should,” she sighed. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I do. It goes against all my feminist principles, but this scenario has lingered in my imagination for years. I even used it to pleasure myself before you arrived on the scene. You’re the first person I’ve ever shared it with.”

“Very interesting, Luce,” I replied eagerly. “Does this mean that you want me to be more forceful in our lovemaking? Is that what you want?”

“Oh Ted, I’m not sure,” she admitted. “You’re always very kind and gentle with me and I love you for it, but I guess there’s a part of me that wants you to overpower me.”

“Shall we plan to do that some night?” I inquired. “I could get some ropes, tie you to the bed, and then pretend to rape you.”

“No, Ted. I don’t think that would work,” she explained. “First, it would have to come as a surprise, not something we planned. Second, you’d have to take me away. I don’t think it would work in our bedroom. Third, it couldn’t be just a one-night stand. It would have to take place over several days for full effect.”

“Wow, it sounds like you’ve given this quite a bit of thought,” I observed.

“Yeah, I guess I have,” she admitted sheepishly. “Are you shocked?”

“No, not shocked exactly, but surprised certainly,” I told her. “I understand that everyone has their own kinky little secrets, but this story just doesn’t fit the wholesome cheerleader image you project. I doubt that your principal would be thrilled to hear what his prize second grade teacher dreams about.”

“And you’re not going to tell him,” she insisted, her temper flashing. “You must never breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“My lips are sealed,” I promised. “But I must ask you one more question.”

“Go ahead,” she said reluctantly.

“Is this something you’d like me to do to you?” I asked. “Would you be upset if one night, without any warning, I took you away and held you captive? Would you have me arrested?”

“No, Ted, I wouldn’t,” she assured me. “In fact, I think it might result in some really fantastic sex.” I couldn’t see her face in the dark, but I suspected she was blushing.

“Okay, Luce. That’s all I need to hear. I’ll start working on it,” I told her. “Someday soon—you won’t know when—you’re going to be abducted by a tall, powerful stranger. He may look a bit like me but won’t answer to my name. He’ll carry you away and make your dreams come true.”

“Oh, Ted. I feel so wicked. I can’t wait,” she exclaimed breathlessly.

“And Luce, there’s one more thing,” I added. “I think we should have a safety word.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, if I start playing rough and you decide that you don’t like what I’m doing, you need a word that will tell me to stop immediately, sort of an alarm,” I explained.

“Yes, I understand,” she responded. “That’s a good idea.”

“So let’s make our safety word, enough,” I suggested. “If I hear you say enough, I’ll halt whatever I’m doing.”

“Enough. That should be easy to remember,” she remarked.

The following day I began setting my plan in motion. I called my buddy Josh who owns a camp deep in the north woods. For eleven months of each year his cabin stands empty. Only during hunting season is it occupied. I’ve been a guest at Josh’s camp several times and realized it would be the perfect location to act out Lucy’s fantasy. It’s remote and isolated, no one would disturb us, and privacy was essential for the success of my plan. Although the cabin was rather spartan, I remembered that the master bedroom would be perfect for the adventure I had in mind.

I told Josh I wanted to use his cabin for a romantic getaway with Lucy and he readily agreed. “Any weekend you want, it’s yours as long as it’s not during hunting season,” he generously offered.

“Thanks Josh, you’re a real buddy,” I said. He gave me the key and detailed directions. I told him I’d be using it on the upcoming three-day Memorial Day weekend. Before I could put my plan into effect, however, I realized that I would have to do a little redecorating of the cabin. The following week I toured secondhand furniture stores until I located a double bed with four sturdy corner posts. I purchased the bed plus a new mattress and box spring and installed them in the cabin the following weekend. I explained to Lucy that I was helping Josh move some furniture, which wasn’t too far from the truth. I also purchased a set of luxurious cotton sheets. Since Lucy was going to be spending most of the weekend tied to the bed, I wanted her to be as comfortable as possible.

Next, I approached my neighbor Bill to see if I could borrow his van. It had dark tinted windows and a large cargo area. If I removed the back seat and installed a mattress on the floor, it would make an excellent getaway vehicle. He, too, agreed to assist in staging our “romantic weekend.” “Just let me know far enough in advance so I can find someone else to drive the kids to soccer practice,” he requested.

The final part of my preparation involved purchasing restraints to bind Lucy’s hands and feet. I went on-line and was amazed at the number of websites specializing in these erotic wares. Within a few minutes I located a veritable supermarket of sexual apparatus offering every type of kinky device imaginable. I found the silken cords I needed and a couple other gadgets that caught my eye. I charged the order to our credit card hoping that Lucy would not check the monthly statement too closely.

The Friday before Memorial Day I left work at two o’clock so I would arrive home ahead of Lucy. I packed a bag of personal items she might need, enough food to last several days, the restraints and other sex toys that had been delivered a week earlier to my office. I made sure the gas tank of Bill’s van was full. It waited in the driveway of his home next door to our apartment. I was confident that Lucy would suspect nothing out of the ordinary.

It was about quarter to four when I heard Lucy unlock the front door and bound up the stairs to our living room. I had pulled the shades so she wouldn’t see me standing in the shadows. She opened the door and before she had time to realize what was happening, I seized her from behind. I placed my right hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream and then grabbed her around the waist with my left. As I lifted her up off the floor she kicked her heels into my shins and tried to bite my hand. It was clear that she had no idea I was her assailant. I dragged her over to the couch and forced her face down on the cushions. She continued to struggle as I placed a gag and her mouth, fastened a pair of plastic handcuffs around her wrists, and looped a leather strap around her feet. Finally, I turned her over so she could see my face. When she realized it was me acting out her fantasy she finally stopped struggling. The look of terror on her face melted into a smile of recognition. I reached into my pocket and used a silk scarf to cover my bride’s eyes. At last I spoke to her. Using a bass voice that I hoped sounded strong and very masculine, I instructed her, “I have come to take you away. If you agree not to scream, I’ll remove the gag from your mouth.”

Lucy nodded her assent, and I untied the gag. Then she spoke in a voice the trembled with mock fear. She was playing along with her role in the fantasy, just as she had promised.

“Where are you taking me? What will you do with me?” she cried in mock panic.

“I cannot say where you will be taken. But from this day forward you will be my servant. Your treatment will depend on how well you obey my commands,” I explained. “Now you need to relax and wait till dark.” She nodded again. I lifted her off the couch and carried her to our bedroom.

“Kind sir, may I please use the bathroom?” Lucy meekly implored me. “I don’t think my bladder can last that long.”

“Of course,” I replied. I undid the ankle restraints and led her to the bathroom. I lowered her slacks and panties so she could pee. She sat on the toilet with her hands still bound behind her and her eyes still covered. When she finished, I pulled up her pants, led her back to our bedroom, and refastened the leather strap around her ankles. I placed her on the double bed. “I’ll be back for you in a couple of hours,” I said as I departed.

The one weak link in my plan was how to spirit my bound and blindfolded wife from the front door of our building to the waiting van. I didn’t want to try it in daylight for fear one of our neighbors would report me to the police. So I waited till dark. It was nearly nine o’clock when I returned to the bedroom. Lucy lay on her side sound asleep. I covered her with a blanket, gently lifted her off the bed, and carried her out of the apartment to Bill’s waiting van. Lucy wiggled and squirmed in my arms, but I managed to open the van’s wide side door and lowered her onto the mattress that covered the floor of the cargo area. I glanced up and down the street but saw no one watching. I hoped that no suspicious neighbors would report me to the local police.

I jumped into the driver’s seat and sped out of town amid the weekend interstate traffic heading north. I came close to panicking when I spotted a state police cruiser in the rearview mirror two cars behind me. After less than a mile, however, it sped up and soon disappeared from view.

After an hour and a half on the interstate I exited onto a county highway. Another thirty minutes brought us to the dirt road that marked the turnoff to Josh’s camp. The path was rutted and narrow, in places barely wide enough for the van to pass. Spring rains had created deep puddles that threatened to swallow the wheels. I drove slowly to avoid banging my handcuffed passenger, but from her groans I could tell that some of the bumps caused her pain.

It took twenty minutes to cover the four miles to the camp. I parked so the van’s headlights shone on the cabin’s entrance and used Josh’s key to unlock the door. The cabin smelled musty from a winter of disuse, but looked the same as it had two weeks earlier. I tried the lights and was relieved to find that the power was on. I plugged in the refrigerator and opened some windows to air the place out. I returned to the van for food supplies that I stowed in the kitchen cabinets. Then I make up the bed with new sheets and pillowcases. Only when everything was unloaded did I carry my captive into the cabin. “Before I remove your restraints,” I said in my sternest possible voice, “you must agree to abide by my rules.”

“What rules are those, sir?” Lucy meekly inquired.

“There are only three. You’ll find they are quite simple, really. First, you must recognize that you are my servant and must obey my orders without question,” I instructed her. “If you understand and agree, indicate by saying, ‘Yes, master.’”

Lucy answered in a subdued voice, “Yes, master.”

“Second, as my servant, my happiness must be your main concern,” I continued. “All of your thoughts, all of your actions must be directed toward achieving my satisfaction.”

“Yes, master, I understand,” she repeated.

“Third, you must dress as I tell you,” I added. “Sometimes I will prefer that you wear nothing at all.”

“Yes, I can do that, master,” she said a third time. It was clear that Lucy had fully entered into the spirit of the fantasy. She adopted the role of a humble servant girl without apparent difficulty.

“Good. After I release your hands and legs, I want you to remove all of your clothing,” I ordered.

“Yes, master,” she answered again.

I removed the handcuffs and undid the strap binding her feet. She rubbed her wrists and reached to take off her blindfold. I grasped her hand and returned it to her lap. “No, the blindfold must remain in place until I remove it,” I told her. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, master, I understand,” she said meekly.

“Now you must disrobe,” I ordered.

She stood and began unbuttoning her blouse. Soon she slipped her arms out and dropped it to the floor. Next, she stepped out of her sandals and undid the belt from her slacks. When they fell to the floor, she stood in front of me clad only in her bra and panties.

“Continue,” I commanded.

Lucy complied by slowly removing her two remaining articles of clothing. She stood completely naked in front of me. Her nipples stood out from her breasts in the cool night air. Her dark hair hung in waves halfway down her back. She modestly clasped her hands over her pubic area and waited for my next command. Never had she looked more enticing. I wanted to lift her into bed and begin making love right then and there, but that would have spoiled her fantasy.

Instead, I reached into my bag and pulled out the studded leather collar that arrived by express mail a week ago. When she felt the collar touch her neck Lucy instinctively reached her hands to her throat. “Lower your hands,” I barked sternly. As I fastened the device around her neck I explained, “You will wear this collar as a sign of your submission. It will remind you that I am your lord and master.”

“Yes, master, I understand,” she replied.

“Now you may remove the blindfold,” I instructed her. Lucy reached behind her head and slipped the scarf from her eyes. She glanced around the large main room of the cabin with wide eyes and asked softly, “Where are we, master?”

“We are at my private retreat, deep in the forest,” I explained. “There is no one around for many miles. It is useless for you to try to escape.

“Yes, master. I will not try to escape,” was her reply.

“Now it is time to eat. You will find a can of soup and some sliced meat on the counter. Please prepare a bowl of soup and a sandwich,” I ordered.

“Yes, master. I will do what you want,” she said as she turned and walked to the kitchen area.

I pulled out a chair and sat at the long pine table facing the kitchen area. I watched with pleasure as my naked wife heated a pan of soup on the stove and fixed a hearty sandwich of ham, cheese, and lettuce on sourdough bread. She set a place for me and served the meal.

Lucy waited obediently until I finished eating. “Did you find the food pleasing, master?” she asked.

“Yes, serving girl, it was most satisfactory,” I replied. “After you clear the dishes, you may fix some food for yourself.”

“Thank you, master,” was her humble reply.

Lucy ate quickly, then washed and dried the dishes without any instruction from me, just like she had been a servant all her life. When she finished putting away the food and dishes she returned to the easy chair where I sat. The night was growing chilly, and I had started a fire in the wood stove. She stood naked near the stove. I could see she was enjoying its warmth. “Does my master require anything else?” she inquired.

“Yes, serving girl. I need to know your name. How are you called?” I inquired, using my best approximation of her antiquated language.

She paused for a moment, then answered sweetly, “They call me Esmerelda, master.”

“A lovely name,” I observed. I wondered where this inspiration had come from. Probably from one of her romance novels, I thought, answering my own question.

“Esmerelda, in the cabinet next to the refrigerator you will find a bottle of wine. Open it and pour a large glass for me,” I ordered.

Lucy did as she was told and soon returned with a full glass of burgundy. “Sit here, Esmerelda,” I said, pointing to a place on the floor near my chair. She sat at my feet like a well-trained retriever and watched the fire while I drank the wine while stroking her hair.

After nearly half an hour of blissful silence I rose and announced, “Esmerelda, it’s time for bed.”

“Yes, master,” she replied.

I walked to the bedroom, and she followed three paces behind. We stood by the bed and she looked up at me expectantly. I saw the excitement dancing in her eyes. It appeared she was enjoying playing the servant as much as I liked being the master. After a second, she lowered her eyes, humbly bowed her head, and said, “Master, where is the bathroom? I wish to prepare for bed.” I handed Lucy a long white nightgown, a toothbrush, a towel, and a bar of soap. I pointed toward the bathroom door. When she emerged a few minutes later the nightgown covered her body, but I could still distinguish the outline of her firm breasts beneath the cloth. I was pleased to see that the collar remained fastened around her neck. “Master, I am ready for bed now. Please show me my room,” she requested.

“You will sleep here with me tonight, Esmerelda,” I informed her.

“Oh no, master. I cannot do that,” she protested.

“You are my servant. You must do as I say,” I insisted.

“I am your humble servant, master, but I cannot sleep with you,” she refused.

“Why? Do you not find me attractive?” I asked.

“You are quite handsome, sir. I mean no disrespect, but I cannot do what you wish,” she continued, playing her role with convincing sincerity.

“Why are you being so insubordinate, Esmerelda?” I berated her.

“Master, I do not wish to offend, but I must save myself for my husband,” she explained.

“Are you married, Esmerelda?” I demanded.

“No, master. But when I do marry, my husband will be the first man to sleep with me,” she said.

“That’s a noble sentiment, Esmerelda, but sometimes we cannot always have what we wish,” I observed. She bowed her head and said nothing more. “If you refuse to sleep with me, then you may sleep on the couch in the outer room,” I told her. “Tomorrow morning you will rise at dawn and carry out your duties.”

“As you wish, master,” she said as she turned and softly walked out of the room.

Despite the wine, it was a long time before I slept that night. I tossed and turned, thinking of my very desirable wife resting in the next room. This little fantasy was working better than I ever imagined. I was in a state of great arousal. I yearned to have sex with the vulnerable serving girl tonight, but knew Lucy wanted me to stick to the script. I would have to bide my time.

Early the next morning I was awakened by a gentle pressure on my shoulder. Lucy stood next to me, wearing her nightgown and collar. “Master, it is dawn. I need to know my duties for the day,” she humbly requested.

“First, remove your nightgown,” I ordered. “Then go to the bathroom and prepare my bath. Let me know when the water is ready.”

“Yes, master,” she said as she disrobed and obediently trotted toward the bathroom, her bare feet slapping on the wood floor.

I kept her busy most of the day, scrubbing floors, washing windows, stacking firewood. I gave her a bandana to tie back her hair and a t-shirt to wear while she worked outdoors, but indoors she remained naked. Throughout all her chores she seemed blissfully content, smiling and singing softly as she worked. Her only opportunity to rest came at mid-afternoon when I lay down to take a nap. She sat down next to the bed and, when I awoke, I found her asleep, curled in a ball on the floor.

She cooked a big dinner that evening, all my favorite foods—roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and a berry pie for dessert. When I was done, she cleared my plate and ate a modest portion for herself. I stretched out in front of the woodstove while Lucy/Esmerelda washed the dishes. “This is the life,” I thought. As she worked, I reviewed my next move. My biggest challenge was persuading her to go to bed with me without using force.

After finishing the dishes and sweeping the floor, Lucy stood before me. Her feet were dirty from going barefoot all day. Her face was smudged and her hair was matted from her exertions. “What else does my master desire?” she asked.

“I’d like you to sit down, Esmerelda,” I requested. She sat in her accustomed position on the floor next to my chair and looked up expectantly. “You’ve done a fine job today, my dear. Every task I’ve given you has been done to perfection,” I said in my most paternalistic tone. “I’ve had many servants over the years. You are the best by far.”

“Thank you, master. I appreciate your approval.” she said basking in my praise.

“Tomorrow will be another busy day. You need to get a good night’s rest. But before you retire you should take a warm bath, wash your hair, and put on the nightgown I set out for you,” I instructed her.

“Thank you, master. I’d like that. You are most kind,” she said with convincing gratitude.

“When you’re finished, come back and bid me good night before you go to bed,” I ordered.

“Yes, master,” she answered.

For the next half hour, the sounds of water running, shampoo splashing, and eventually a hair dryer blowing came from the bathroom. I imagined Lucy washing herself and preparing for bed. Just thinking about her naked body made my cock grow hard.

When she emerged from the bathroom Lucy wore the apparel I had selected for her. Instead of the chaste white gown she wore the previous night, she was dressed in a brief red nightie showing her cleavage and barely covering her butt. She still wore the collar around her neck. Her damp hair was carefully styled. It fell down around her shoulders in soft layers. I was incredibly turned on at the sight of this gorgeous woman standing silently before me.

“You look beautiful, Esmerelda,” I told her.

“Thank you, master. I am ready for bed. Is there anything else you need before I retire?” she asked.

“Yes, Esmerelda. I would like a good night kiss,” I informed her.

“Yes, master,” she replied, bending over and brushing her lips against my cheek. The scent of her herbal shampoo filled my nostrils. I yearned to reach out and grab her. How much longer would I be able to continue this act, I wondered?

“Will you sleep with me tonight, Esmerelda?” I begged.

“No, master, as I told you yesterday, I must wait ‘til my marriage night,” she replied firmly.

“And what if I were to marry you, Esmerelda?” I asked. “Then could I sleep with you?”

“You know that is not possible, master,” she insisted. “I am a lowly serving girl and you are a powerful lord. Marriages like that do not occur in our realm.” She was playing her part perfectly.

“But what if I did choose you to be my bride, would you marry me then?” I continued.

“No, master,” she relied. “You are very kind to me, but I am promised to young John in the village. He is the man I will marry.” I surmised this character may also have come from one of her novels.

“You know, Esmerelda, I could have young John arrested and sent to prison for a very long time,” I said in a threatening voice. “Then no one would want to marry you.”

“Master, I know you would not do that,” she answered. “You are admired as a wise and fair ruler. Your people praise you every day. You would not want to lose their respect.”

“You’re right, Esmerelda,” I continued, enjoying her flattery, “but I am determined to sleep with you. If not tonight, then some night soon.”

“I know, master,” she said, lowering her eyes, so I could not see what she was thinking.

“You will sleep on the couch again tonight, Esmerelda,” I informed her. “But if you change your mind you may join me in the bed.”

“For a serving girl like me the couch is perfectly adequate,” she replied. “Good night, master.” She padded over to the couch, unfolded the blanket, and curled up beneath it.

Sunday would be our last full day in the cabin. Monday we would drive back to the city in the holiday traffic. This was the day I would fulfill Lucy’s fantasy. We had not yet had sex in the manner she described months earlier. This would be my chance. The anticipation was killing me and I suspected Lucy felt the same way.

I invented more chores to pass the time until evening. Lucy polished the floors she had scrubbed the previous day, dusted every corner, and cleaned out all the cupboards. At home she grumbled about doing housework, but today Lucy performed every task without complaint, smiling and humming a merry tune as she toiled. By the time she stopped to prepare dinner the little cabin gleamed. I’m sure Josh would wonder why we spent the weekend cleaning his hunting lodge.

Lucy prepared another delicious meal of veal parmesan with a generous glass of Chianti. Once again, she waited until I was finished before she ate. When all her kitchen chores were done, I summoned Esmerelda to my side again. “Serving girl, prepare my bed,” I commanded.

“Yes, master.”

I followed her into the bedroom and watched as she turned down the covers and fluffed the pillows on the double bed. She stood at the foot of the bed, awaiting my next command. “Now, Esmerelda, remove your clothes,” I ordered.

“Yes, master.” She slowly removed each article of her clothing and carefully folded them before placing them on the chair next to the bed.

When she was completely naked except for her collar, I instructed her, “Now, Esmerelda, please get in the bed.”

Instead of complying with my command, she raised a questioning look. “Will you come to bed with me, master?”

“Yes, Esmerelda. I cannot wait any longer.”

“But I told you last night and the night before that I cannot sleep with you, master.”

“Esmerelda, I must have you.”

“No, master. I cannot.”

“You are very stubborn for one who is born to serve. Is there no way that I can get you to come to bed with me?

“There is only one way, master.”

“What is that?”

“By force.”

“Is that what you wish?”

“That is not for me to say, master.”

“I see.” I paused for a long moment and then casually asked, “Esmerelda, please go to the closet. On the upper shelf you will find a small box. Please bring it to me.”

“Yes, master.”

She returned with a carton full of silk cords and scarves. “Do you know what’s in this box, Esmerelda?”

“It appears to be some ropes, master, and some scarves.”

“That’s right. And do you know what I plan to do with them?”

“Will you bind my hands and feet?”

“That’s right, serving girl.”

“Why are you doing this, master?” she nervously asked.

“I will prepare you to be deflowered, Esmerelda. Today has been your last day as a virgin.”

“Oh no, master. Please don’t do this to me,” she protested.

“I have no choice. Esmerelda. Give me your right hand.” Reluctantly she extended her hand, and I looped one cord around her wrist. “Now give me your left hand.” She complied and I slipped a circle of rope around her other wrist. “Sit down and give me your right foot. Now your left.” When I had finished attaching the cords to her ankles, she had three-foot lengths of rope hanging from each limb. “Now stand up, serving girl.” After she rose, I turned her around and tied a scarf around her head, covering her eyes.

“Do you know what comes next, Esmerelda?”

“I am afraid to say, master,” she said as she cowered.

“Tell me, serving girl,” I barked in my most authoritative voice.

“You intend to tie me to the bed.”

“That’s right, Esmerelda. Then I shall have sex with you. Your time has come,” I announced, picking her up and throwing her on the mattress.

“No, master, no,” she cried in mock horror. I ignored her cries and straddled her waist. She pounded her fists against my chest and did not pull her punches. She continued crying and pleading for mercy as I tied each arm to a bedpost. I slipped off her body and grabbed one ankle. She kicked and writhed against my efforts, but in the end, she was no match for my strength. I secured each leg to a bedpost. When I finished, she lay spread-eagled across the bed. There was just enough slack in the ropes so she could move her arms and legs, but not enough to allow her to sit up or turn. She continued whimpering against my anticipated assault, sobbing, and begging for mercy, although she could not see where I stood. I turned and began walking out of the room. Lucy must have heard my steps because she called out, “Master, where are you going? What will you do to me?”

“Esmerelda, you must wait till I am ready for you. I will give you time to say your prayers. Then I shall come for you.” She said nothing more, and I walked out, slamming the door. I wanted to give Lucy plenty of time to contemplate my next move. I hoped that lying there tied up and powerless, thinking about the ordeal to come would only enhance her pleasure. I sat down in the easy chair and began reading a novel. I must have dozed off because when I woke it was completely dark outside.

When I re-entered the bedroom, I discovered that Lucy had not slept. She seemed alert and called, “Master, is that you?” I made no answer. Instead, I lit three fragrant candles and began removing my clothes. Again she asked, “Master, is that you?” I stood at the foot of the bed, silently admiring my helpless wife’s naked body. She certainly knew what was in store for her because she cried out with mock alarm, “No, master. You must not do this to me.”

I said nothing as I crawled into the bed beside her. I began probing her vagina with my fingers, gently inserting and withdrawing them. Lucy continued writhing, but I could tell she was enjoying me fondling her private parts. “No, master. Don’t do that,” she continued to complain. Despite her words of protest, I detected a welcoming undertone in her pleas, as if she hoped to encourage my advances at the same time she was objecting to them.

Before long, her cries became moans. “Oh, master,” she sighed. “Master, no man has ever touched me there before.” I noticed that instead of fighting against me, she arched her back and pressed her clit against my hand to increase the pleasure she felt. I continued massaging her private parts which further intensified her moaning. “Oh, master, master,” she softly called. Finally, when I decided that she was ready, I withdrew my fingers from her damp vagina and lowered my body on top of hers. “No master,” she cried in mock anguish, “don’t do this to your faithful servant girl.”

Inserting my penis into her vagina was tricky as she continued twisting, but on the third try I was successful. I pressed my cock deep inside her. “Oh master,” she groaned. I continued my efforts and with each thrust her moans increased in fervor. “Master, master,” she repeated. Only now it was no longer a protest, it was more like a chant. Her groans became more frequent and more feverish. Finally, after ten minutes of intense exertion she reached orgasm, collapsing in a paroxysm of joy when it passed. “Thank you, master,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Lucy fell asleep soon after I withdrew. I released the cords from her wrists and ankles and covered her sweaty body with a light blanket to ward off the chilly night.

It was after midnight when I returned to the bedroom. Lucy slept soundly. Quietly, I removed her covering and whispered in her ear. “Turn over, Esmerelda,” I coaxed, gently pushing on her shoulder. “What is it, master?” she asked sleepily. “Turn over on your stomach,” I answered. “Of course, master,” she groaned as she rolled over. Before she fully comprehended what I planned next, I reattached the restraints to her limbs. Now she realized that she was in store for more sex. She tested the ropes and found she still was my captive. She twisted her head in my direction and asked, “Master, what are you doing?”

“Be quiet, Esmerelda, you will soon find out.”

I walked to the dresser and returned with a tube of lotion. I squeezed a generous amount of lubricant on my fingers and began massaging the crack between her butt cheeks. When she was well greased I took my index finger and began circling her asshole. Slowly, I penetrated her hole. “Master, what are you doing?” she repeated. “Hush, Esmerelda,” I answered as I continued exploring her anus with my finger. Lucy and I had never tried anal sex although a couple of times she had hinted that she might be interested in allowing me “to enter by the back door.” I guessed this was an experience she would savor, especially under these circumstances.

At first her hole was tightly constricted, but as I continued the massage her muscles relaxed a bit. Soon I was able to insert both my index and middle fingers. As I probed more deeply I felt Lucy ardently responding. Before long, she began moving her buttocks in rhythm with my thrusts, encouraging me to continue. “Oh, master, oh, master,” she repeated over and over. Her impassioned reaction hardened my erection. When I sensed she was ready for my final assault, I withdrew my fingers.

Before I ravished her I gave Lucy one last chance to say no. “Have you had enough, serving girl?” I whispered in her ear. I reminded her of our safety word to give her one final opportunity to prevent my rear entry. She only needed to utter one word to stop me.

I waited but heard no reply. To make sure there was no mistake I repeated the question. “Have you had enough, Esmerelda?” I demanded.

“No, master,” was her breathless reply.

Slowly, I drew my body above her tight round buns, and began probing with my cock. I located her anus, but at first it didn’t seem possible I would fit inside that narrow channel. I persisted with steadily increasing pressure. Lucy’s moans increased in volume and for a moment I feared that I was hurting her, but when I paused, she cried, “Master, don’t stop now.” I resumed my efforts and soon was rewarded with a gradual entry into her warm inner chamber. Slowly, I invaded farther into virgin territory, partially withdrawing, then thrusting deeper inside. Lucy’s response was intense and ecstatic. “Master, master, master,” she chanted with her head buried in the mattress. Bombarded by so much stimulation, it was difficult to avoid cumming instantly. I tried concentrating on distant thoughts, but to no avail. I came with a sudden explosion and Lucy’s prone body trembled with excitement. I held her tightly for a minute, then slid off her exhausted form. Lucy turned her head and smiled at me in the dim light. “Thank you, master,” she said. “Now I am truly your servant forever.”

I undid the ropes that bound her limbs and we curled our sweaty bodies together. I nuzzled her bare shoulder and she rubbed her buttocks against my flaccid penis. It wasn’t long before we drifted off to sleep. Before I dropped off, however, I congratulated myself on a plan well executed. It had succeeded beyond my fondest expectations.

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