Archive-name: Bondage/darla.txt

Archive-author:

Archive-title: Darla





It hadn't gone well, Darla thought, as she leafed through an old magazine. She

shifted position, took her shoes off, and curled her feet up comfortably

beneath her on the couch. Across the room, Michael was still typing away.

They'd been working together quite well on the book, and then he'd had one of

his sudden fits of inspiration and had shooed her away, irritably, because he

didn't want her "looking over his shoulder."  As if he hadn't looked over mine

enough, she thought. And leaned on it at the same time. I wish we could get an

office with two desks, two typewriters, and a brick wall between them! With a

sigh, she picked up another magazine and slid farther down into the cushions

that covered Michael's couch.



She'd just begun reading a fascinating article on archaeological discoveries at

Tell-el-Amarna when Michael spoke. "Look, it's getting late, and I have a lot

of things to do in the morning. Time for you to go home."



Darla closed her eyes for a moment. All right, she thought, if that's the way

you want it... She reached down, slipped on her shoes again, tossed the

magazine on the table and got up to go. Her portfolio and purse and all her

papers had been left on the table by the door, and she turned that way,

unwilling to look at Michael. Sometimes, she thought, I wish you hadn't talked

me into this so-called collaboration. I wish you hadn't insisted that we both

work here at your place. I wish you hadn't...



He came into her field of vision, surprising her out of her train of thought.

He stood there in the light reflected from the desk, shirt gone, tenuous smile

on his face. If you really wanted me to leave, she thought, why did you take

off your shirt? A smile replaced the sullen expression on her face.



"Gee, Michael, I've seen that half of you before. Why don't you take the rest

of it off?"



He looked down at himself as if to say, who, me?  "Ladies first," he said. "Or

is it, you show me yours and then I'll show you mine?" His tone of voice was

light, slightly sarcastic. "I'm just getting ready for bed here."



Hmmm, thought Darla, I bet he thinks that'll get rid of me. By all rights, it

should, but I'm tired of doing everything his way. "All right," she said

softly, and without another word, she quickly unsnapped her jeans, unzipped

them, let them drop to the floor and stepped out of them. "Like this?"



Dead silence in the room for a moment. Then Michael said, "Now wait a minute,

put those back on. That's not what I meant, and you know it."



"No, Michael, I don't know it. I just did as you asked. We're not playing this

game by your rules any more. You started it, and this time you're going to have

to finish it."



Surprised at her own sudden courage, she slipped out of the large, loose

overshirt she wore, and dropped that to the floor as well. Clad only in a light

pink tank-top and matching panties, she stepped out of her shoes and walked

closer to him. He retreated. Her eyes were fixed on his. She smiled. Moving

close to him, she lightly brushed her fingertips through the soft hair on his

chest. He gasped, and held her hand still in his own. She reached up with her

other hand, and now held his hand in a warm embrace.



"Come on, Michael," she said, pulling him in the direction of his bedroom. For

 a moment, he resisted.

"No," he said, "we can't do this.  Let's stop it now before things get out of

 hand."

"They're already well in hand, Michael, and you come with me now."

"No," he said.

"Yes," she said, and pulled him along by the hand. He tried to pull away from

 her, but not with any real strength, and then he followed.



She led him into the bedroom, over to the bed, then turned. "Lie down here,

Michael, and I'll help you take the rest of those clothes off."



"I've been dressing and undressing myself for a few weeks now, you know," he

replied, sarcastically.



"All right then, you do it. I have some things to do here."



She turned and walked away from him, opening the doors to his closet. She

didn't look back at him. After a moment, soft sounds indicated that he was

undressing. She found his tie rack at the back of the closet and looked it

over. Hmm, which ones look the softest, the most worn? Which ones will cost

least for me to have sent to the cleaners, she wondered with a smile. I'm glad

he has to wear suits to work -- this is a nice large collection. Sorting

through the colorful array, she selected four that looked a bit frayed around

the edges. Holding the ties in her hand, she folded the closet doors shut.



Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off his socks. He was still

wearing a pair of light blue cotton bikini briefs. It was obvious that the

situation was beginning to excite him. She went to the light-dimmer on the wall

and reduced the illumination in the room to a soft glow.



"Lie down, Michael."

"No."



She walked over to him, ties dangling from her hand, and put the other on his

shoulder. Her nipples had hardened under the thin tank top, and she stood with

legs slightly apart. She looked directly into his eyes.



"Yes," she said.



Silently, he lay back across the bed, his feet still on the floor.



"No, Michael, lie properly on the bed for me."



He shifted position, bringing his feet up on the bed. She sat down beside him

and took his left hand in hers. She brought it up to her mouth and traced the

fingertips with her tongue. He shivered slightly. She gently opened his hand

and kissed the palm. Then, she took one of the ties and tied it gently but

firmly around his wrist. He watched her, but made no move. Kissing his palm

again, then biting him very softly on the soft mound of flesh beneath his

thumb, she laid his hand down on the bed and tied the other end of the tie to

the bedpost. Then, she took both hands and caressed his arm, softly, all the

way down to his shoulder, past it, over his nipple and down his side. He

wiggled and gasped, but made no other sound. She got up, taking the rest of the

ties with her, and walked around the end of the bed to the other side. His eyes

followed her outline in the dimly lit bedroom. She sat down beside him on the

other side, and traced his cheek lightly with her hand, then brushed his hair

back, allowing her fingers to slip down and circle his ear, very gently. He

turned his head to the side, trapping her hand between his ear and his

shoulder. She smiled. Picking up his right hand, she traced the lines on the

palm with a gentle finger, then her tongue. She took each of his fingers in

turn into her mouth and sucked on them gently. She looked down at him, saw the

very light film of sweat on his chest, and smiled. Then, she tied the tie

gently around his wrist, put his hand on the bed, and tied the other end to the

bedpost. Then, again, she took both hands and caressed his arm, all the way

down, over the shoulder, onto his chest, circling his nipple with gentle but

insistent fingertips. He wriggled, pulling against the ties, but they held him

in a firm grip of their own. Her hands continued down his chest, over his

belly, making the skin flutter, down his sides, down his right leg. Making

circles with her fingertips, she shifted her position on the bed, caressed his

leg, down to his ankle, then onto his foot. Being careful not to tickle him,

she massaged the foot. Then, she took another tie, tied it firmly around his

ankle, stood up, pulled his leg out a bit, and tied the tie to the footboard.



Then she got up, moved back around to the other side of the bed, and looked

down at him. This time, she remained standing, running the backs of her

fingernails slowly, gently, down his leg, beginning at the thigh, reaching the

ankle in slow degrees. She picked up his foot and quickly tied it to the bed.

Her own breathing was coming more rapidly now.



"My goodness, Michael, you didn't get completely undressed. I wonder what we'll

have to do about that?" She looked at the large bulge under the briefs and

smiled.



Darla looked at Michael on the bed for a long moment. Her eyes were closed

slightly, and her breath was coming more quickly than before. Michael shifted

on the bed, testing the strength of his bonds, and found himself held fast.

Darla watched him with a smile. And then, suddenly, she turned and walked out

of the room.



"Hey! What IS this??" Michael shouted. "Is this what you wanted? Leave me here

 like this?  C'mon!"

"Just be patient, Michael," came her voice from another room. "I know that's

 not one of your virtues, but this time you really have no choice. I'm not

 leaving."



He could hear the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing. He tried to pull

his hands loose, but the harder he pulled, the tighter the knot got. He was

still struggling when she reappeared.



"You don't trust me much, do you, Michael? I told you I wasn't leaving. Now

 quit doing that before you cut off the circulation to your hand."



She set the pile of things she'd been carrying on the floor. Then, deftly, she

readjusted the tie on his left arm where his hand was beginning to turn purple.



"You're going to enjoy this, I promise you, so don't fight it."



He lay back on the bed, panting, and looked at her. Even in the dim light, her

own excitement was obvious. She bent down and picked up two large, slightly

worn bath towels from the floor. Sitting down, she laid the folded towels on

the bed beside him.



"Turn away from me for a moment and let me slip this under you."



He turned as far onto his side as the bonds would allow, and she spread the

towels beneath him, smoothing them out. Her warm hand brushed against his back,

as if to smooth away the tension there as well.



"All right, now roll back this way."



She walked around the bed, pulled the towels out beneath him and smoothed them

across the bed. There was now a layer of warm, soft terrycloth beneath him from

his neck almost to his knees. Puzzled, he watched her as she walked back to the

other side of the bed.



She picked up a small, heavy ceramic bowl from the floor and set it on the

bedside table. And then, standing beside the bed, she began, very slowly, to

caress herself. Her hands ran, teasingly, from her collarbone over her breasts,

circling from the outside toward the center. Her eyes were nearly closed. Her

back arched slightly and her shoulders moved from side to side as her fingers

moved inwards. She held first one nipple, then the other, and pulled them

slightly outwards against the fabric of the tank top. Then her hands continued

their slow, languourous travel, making their way downwards. Her fingers slid

inside the waistband of her panties. Her eyes opened slightly and she watched

him with a smile as she wiggled her hips, very slightly, and slid her hands

farther under the fabric, but then, instead of continuing to the center, she

slid her hands against her sides, stepped back a bit, and slowly, slowly pushed

the panties down. As she worked the panties down, farther and farther, she

stepped back a bit more from the bed so that he could see her. He strained

against the ties as he lifted his head to watch.



She wiggled her hips and the panties slid the rest of the way to the floor.

Quickly, she bent over and picked them up, rubbing the fabric between her

hands.



"My goodness, I wonder why these are so damp?

Do you want to feel it,

Michael?"  -- bringing the soft fabric up against his cheek as he turned his

head away. "No? Ah well, no loss. Now, we need to do something about you, don't

we?" And with that, she dropped the panties to the floor.



Her hand traced a path up his left leg, caressing him, gradually working

upwards. When she reached the elastic on the leg of his briefs, she slid two

gentle fingertips underneath it, tracing the path of the elastic across his

leg, feeling the coarser hair beneath, teasing him, coming close to where his

bulge began, but never quite touching it. He turned slightly towards her and

made a soft sound. Her fingers slid a bit farther beneath the fabric, then

withdrew. She drew the backs of her fingernails across his belly, very gently,

and watched the skin flutter and his back arch involuntarily at her touch.

Again and again, till he was writhing on the bed.



"Stop it!"  he gasped.

"All right," she said, and moved back away from the bed, walking around to the

foot of it, never taking her eyes off him. She climbed up on the bed, to kneel

between his legs. Watching him, again, she began to caress herself, her hands

following the same path, but lingering longer on her breasts, pulling the

nipples out again and again. Then her hands moved downwards, up under the tank

top, and she drew it up and over her head and tossed it to the floor. The soft

light revealed a light film of sweat.



Then she leaned forward a bit and reached up toward where his left hand was

tied. With both hands, she caressed his arm, slowly working her way downwards,

using fingertips and fingernails in gentle concert. She traced her way down

over his collarbone, his nipple (circling until he writhed again) and again

over his belly, making him twist under her hands. This time, she approached the

waistband of his briefs and slid her fingers beneath, sliding them down ever so

slightly, releasing him a bit. Breathing faster but still smiling, she ran a

gentle fingertip around the ridge on his cock, only once. His back arched again

and he pressed against her hand, his body wanting more.



But her hands moved upwards to his other hand and arm, and again, she repeated

the slow downward massage. By the time she reached his cock, he was gasping.



"Oh God, please..."

"Please what, Michael?  What would you like?"

"what...  oh...  in your mouth, please..."

"Ah, but I can't do that while you have those on. You should have gotten

 undressed, you know? What shall I do now?"



Her fingertips pushed the waistband down a bit more, teasing him by tracing a

path through his hair.



Darla knelt on the bed and considered the situation. Then, lightly, she began

to trace the outlines of Michael's cock through the fabric of his briefs.

Around, down, up, back, her hands made a path over the light blue material, but

they did not again touch bare skin. He began to move his hips in rythym with

her fingers, wiggling whenever she moved upwards in an attempt to pull her

hands where he wanted them to be. Her fingers moved down between his legs,

teasingly, slipping inside the elastic now and again to caress him.



She bent closer to him, watching his reaction. Her mouth opened slightly, she

bent her head down by her hands. He moved his hips upward, seeking her mouth.

Shaking her head, then, she brushed her hair over his stomach, lightly over the

head of his cock, and then straightened up. He flopped back on the bed in

disappointment and looked at her.



"Bitch," he said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, Michael, all that and more."



She looked down at him through hooded eyes. And then, slowly, she put her index

finger in her mouth and sucked on it, moving it in and out of her mouth. Then

two fingers. He pulled against the ties that bound his hands. They held him

fast. Angry now, he struggled, trying to break free, but she made no move, kept

sucking her fingers and watching him. At last, exhausted, he gave up. She took

two wet fingers out of her mouth and traced them around the head of his cock.



"Is that what you want? Is it?"  No answer.

"I'll give you what you want, Michael, but you have to give me what I want,

 too."



Her fingers moved faster, feeling how slippery his skin had become, spreading

the fluids around in wider circles.



"Yes," he said, pressing up against her hand.  "Yes."

"Good," she said.



Moving one leg over his, then the other, she slipped off the bed to stand

beside it. Her hands slipped down inside the briefs, sliding them down. She

reached around him; he arched his back to help her pull them down.



"Now, Michael, you have to do as I tell you, or I'll leave you here like this

 and go home. Understood?"

"Yes..."



Her fingers trailed down his left leg, making circles with the backs of her

fingernails. He lifted his head to watch her. She untied the tie from the foot

of the bed, and he wiggled his foot, unsure of what she wanted him to do. She

reached up to slide the briefs down to knee level and he bent his knee,

allowing her to stretch the fabric over his knee and then down and off his leg.

He put his foot flat on the bed, knee still bent, and she ran her hand down the

back of his leg slowly, circling, still standing beside the bed, finally

reaching beneath him, probing, making him curl his leg up against his chest to

give her easier access. She pressed the leg back down again gently, withdrew

her hand, and re-tied the tie.



"Now, Michael, we both get what we want."



She reached into the ceramic bowl on the bedside table and brought her hands

back out, shiny with oil. She rubbed her hands together, then caressed her

breasts again, and again, sliding the oil over her skin until she shone softly

in the dim light. More oil, and her hands moved downwards. More oil, and she

reached to caress him as well. Her hands moved over his chest, his shoulders,

down over his stomach. Dipping her hands into the oil again, she placed them on

his chest and climbed back up to kneel between his legs. She moved both hands

down, tracing a circle on his stomach, moving down between his legs. Then her

hands slid gently upwards again, upwards, but this time, she shifted her

position so she was leaning close to him. The higher her hands reached, the

closer she came, until by the time her hands reached nearly to his wrists, her

nipples were brushing against him. Oiled skin against oiled skin, she slid

down, the pressure light but the contact unbroken, until his cock was between

her breasts. She shifted from side to side, rubbing him in gentle circles. His

back arched, and she allowed him to press more firmly against her for a moment.



Then she began to slide her hands gently upwards along his skin again, raised

herself up a bit. Panting, he looked at her, trying to guess what she would do

next. She smiled. Then she sat up, straddling his legs, and wiggled her hips

until he could feel her, warm, wet, soft cunt brushing against him. She reached

down to hold his cock against her and began moving her hips slowly, rocking

back and forth. He pushed up against her, moving in rhythm, hoping that soon,

she would slide him inside her, pulling against the ties on his arms as he kept

pace with her motions.



As his breathing began coming in ragged gasps, she realized how very aroused he

was, and stopped her motion.



"No, Michael, not yet.  I'm not ready yet.  Wait for me."



She sat back a little bit, settling down against his thighs, and began to

caress her breasts with both hands. Her fingers made rapid circles on the

lightly oiled skin, moving inwards to the nipples, pulling them out, rolling

them between her fingers, releasing them, circling outwards again. Soon, one

hand moved down her stomach, circling, brushing through her short, curly pubic

hair, sliding in between her lips. In the darkened room, tied on the bed as he

was, Michael could not really see her hand, but he could tell by the motion of

her body that she was moving it faster, sliding it down between the lips,

caressing herself as far back as she could reach. She moaned softly and brought

the hand forward again, teasing herself, circling, never quite touching the

center of her desire.



He watched as her hands moved in rhythm, one up, one down, and she began to

rock back and forth, panting, making small soft sounds of desire.



Suddenly, she wrapped both arms around herself.



"Michael, are you ready?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Yes," she echoed, and moved forward a bit.



She reached to caress his cock with both hands, feeling how wet it was, sliding

her fingers over it to spread the lubrication around, the wetness from her

hands adding to his. And then she rose on her knees, moved forward, holding him

with both hands, and slowly, slowly, brought him into position and settled down

against him just a bit. He slid inside her, just a little, the slick warm skin

sliding easily. They both gasped as he slid inside.



She kept her hands in place as she settled farther down, slowly, slowly

allowing him to slide farther inside. He pushed up against her, but she was

tight with desire and he could not make himself slide in any faster. Deeper and

deeper, until finally, he was all the way inside her. She stopped for a moment,

and he could feel her muscles tighten against him still more.



And then she began to move. Slowly at first, she began to rock her hips,

sitting up but leaning slightly forward, rising up so that he slid almost all

the way out, sliding him back within her again. The lubrication increased and

they moved faster against each other. Her hands went back to her breasts,

pulling the nipples out in rhythm with her hips. Faster and faster she rocked,

up and down, back and forth, her hands in constant motion. She seemed to want

to draw him deeper and deeper inside her. And then her breathing changed... the

rhythm changed...  he could feel the ripples inside her as her climax rocked

her again and again. It was too much for him. He pushed up against her, again

and again, making her move with him, faster and faster. She went with him,

willingly, reaching down to hold him against her as his body twisted in climax

as well.



And then, she relaxed against him, nestling against his chest, straightening

her legs out so that she lay on top of him. They were panting, making soft

sounds. He was still inside her, but growing softer, sliding out. She chuckled,

and tightened up all her muscles, trying to squeeze him farther out. He pushed

up against her, but weakly, and finally slid out, feeling the wetness between

them.



"Did you get what you wanted?"  he asked.

"Yes," she said, and reached up to untie his hand.



--