BDSM
27 Jul 2018


He sat there quietly, watching. He enjoyed watching, letting the silence and her own thoughts do the work for him. The view of course was magnificent, he had always admired the sculpted flow of her hips and backside since the first drink in the hotel. But he liked the silence himself, it was a space he rarely had in his everyday life. The noise of meetings, calls, deadlines was a constant distraction, always pulling on his attention and time.

Here, now, there was nothing but the low rhythm of her breathing and the mechanical notes from the clock on the wall. He had selected that clock precisely because of the noisy mechanism, it was a perfect reminder of the passing of time. The tick tock was muffled by the lines of books on the wall and the heavy wooden shelves but in the quite of the room it sounded loud in his ears. He knew it would sound much louder in hers.

He shifted slightly to adjust his position and get more comfortable, his body needing to be freed from sitting in one position for so long. He thought of her and admired her ability to endure the position he had told her to take.

Bent across the desk, legs spread as wide as she could within the constraints of her knickers around her knees, arse held high, legs perched on those black heels that she could barely walk in. He’d enjoyed that moment when he’d told her to turn round, bend over and pull down her underwear. He hadn’t seen her face but he knew there would have been a flash of anger at the way he had delivered the command.

And then to ask over and over for her to adjust her skirt across her hips until it was just as he wanted it. Her need to restrain her sharp response to him was palpable. He could almost taste her desire to resist and fight back and the fact she held back and complied turned him on all the more.

After she had finally settled to his liking, he left her there, pitched across the desk, where she had been quietly standing for some time now. It was a perfect height to tilt her hips and present herself to him from his chair across the room.

Again the desk was a specific choice, driven not just to give him somewhere comfortable to work and write, but also as a grand background to the scene in front of him now. The dark, heavy wood was a pleasant frame to her dusky skin, or at least the skin he could see.

The sliver of hips, thigh and arse was enough to let him admire what he would soon enjoy, but a strong reminder to her deviancy and her exposure. The mix of still being clothed but venerable made her shame all the stronger, her reaction more intense. The fact she was a strong woman, constantly defiant and challenging him, made this mix all the more effective.

He changed attention away from his thoughts and watched her again. Letting his mind go blank, mindful only of her body and the subtle movements as she stood there. Since that initial interaction when he had her arrange herself as he wanted, they hadn’t spoken. She had been left with her thoughts. The aches in holding that position must be starting to bite right now, she was holding still but he knew it would be hurting, she was having to resist the need to move and get comfortable.

While he couldn’t see that struggle, he knew it was going on, her mind working to overcome the pain and her desire to both please him and retain her pride. Physical pain needed strength and determination to resist but the body had a way of coping with that, to dull the pain overtime.

It was the other struggle, with her thoughts, not her body, was what he enjoyed watching and contemplate. That was what made him want her, made him hungry for her. Her physical submission was exciting but the mind was a different matter, much more powerful.

He could see she was turned on, the glitter glow from her cunt was clear even from here. He knew if he walked up behind her now, he would feel her heat even before he put a hand between her legs. He would find slick thighs and wet, heavy folds. While he had controlled her to this point, that she wanted this, physically reacted to it, he knew the real power to create that reaction was within her, it wasn’t his at all.

He could physically restrain her, he could have forced her over the desk, ripped her knickers down and pulled her skirt aside. He could have fucked her there and then, taken anything he wanted. She was strong, she would have fought back but he would have overcome her physically. That would have been enjoyable, it was always a rush to take her that way. Her struggles a dark aphrodisiac which part of his mind always questioned, always considered what it meant about him.

But that was a short lived animalistic response. It was the intellectual mind fuck that was his real addiction. That was his true need, to know she was overcoming her own inner fight to submit to him, that was a far greater power to have.

And his power was everything, her ultimate turn in.

So he sat there, quietly watching; watching that power struggle, a fight he would never observe directly, the turmoil he had created inside that beautiful mind. Someone so full of life, so busy and constantly on the move, to have her stand still and consider her own being, that was their challenge.

He knew he had made it harder, mixing in the shame and the desire, the impact of the challenge of her own pride at being exposed to him. And he knew that patience was not a virtue that she had learnt yet. She was not a patient woman in her every day life, she knew what she wanted and would move everything to get it. Always chasing the next experience, the next thing to own.

But that wouldn’t work with him. In fact it worked to his advantage.

He wasn’t there to make it easy, to pander to her. He had carefully design this in a way he knew would create the most conflict. It was after all his pleasure he was concerned with, she was his instrument and play thing. Her needs secondary to his own.

And so he sits there, quiet, observing and wondering if she really understood just how much of his own patience he was testing right now.


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