0 comments/ 52670 views/ 4 favorites The Box By: Selene Consciousness returned slowly, seeping back into my senses as the effects of the drug began to wear off. For a long time I lay there in the darkness, half-aware, marshalling my forces, as yet ignorant of my situation. I was alive, and sensation reminded me cruelly of this as I became more and more aware of my physical envelope. Returning consciousness was reborn in me on a rising tide of pain. Lying there unmoving I could feel occasional sharp stabbing pains in my anus; a lingering dull ache in my cunt; acute tenderness in my breasts and nipples; a general sensitising of the flesh over my entire body, as if it had been sandpapered... I tried to come to terms with these sensations, wondering why I should feel these things. Many long minutes passed before I opened my eyes. When I did, panic rose immediately to choke and destroy me. I opened my eyes on total blackness. I closed them again, thinking my body was betraying me. I sucked a deep breath into my lungs. The air was close and warm - it felt stale and used up, as if there was little virtue in it. Then, tentatively, I opened my eyes again. Utter blackness prevailed. My heart thudded wildly in my chest - it felt as though it was trying to break out of my body. Adrenalin surged through my veins and all at once I was fully alert. Immediately it became clear that my situation was much worse than a simple matter of total darkness. Although I still felt an extreme lassitude throughout my body, my panic had sent me thrashing in denial against the darkness I perceived and to my horror I found walls where I had expected empty air. Sweat broke out through every pore in my skin and I felt a queasy coil of sickness in my stomach and bile rising within my throat. Somehow I was immured not just in total blackness but within a small space, how small I could not yet determine, but it felt horribly like a coffin... With a supreme effort I attempted to still the panic within me, to quieten my wildly thudding heart, to lessen the gulps of air my lungs were attempting to suck inside of themselves. Not only had I become aware of the fact that I was confined in a coffin-shaped box but I now realised that my feet were bound at the ankles and my wrists too were secured in front of me. In some ways this realisation came as a relief. It had been my nightmare from earliest times, not helped by my reading Poe's 'Premature Burial' at an impressionable age, that some terrible mistake might one day be made and I would be buried alive. But even through my panic, the voice of reason told me that no-one binds the wrists and ankles of someone they believe to be a corpse. This did not mean that I was not, in fact, buried alive; but at least it meant I was not believed to be dead... Small comfort, perhaps, but the possibility remained that those who had confined me here would eventually let me go - so there was hope, at least. Gradually I became calmer, willing myself to breathe shallowly and softly. I wanted to find out as much as I could about the conditions of my confinement. I had only to point my toes to find the end of the box. Slight turning and wriggling of my body made me aware of the walls to right and left of me. I inched myself upwards on my back and felt the other end of the box press against my head. Raising my bound wrists, I felt the lid of the box a mere six inches or so above my face. Summoning up all my strength, even while I knew the effort would be useless, I pushed with every ounce of force I could muster against the lid of the box. Using my knees as well as my arms I heaved and pushed and strove against my prison but of course all my efforts were in vain. Defeated, and newly exhausted, feeling weak as a baby, I relaxed again and once more set about examining my new home. The surfaces were covered with rough fabric, not the quilted satin favoured by undertakers. This was more in the nature of hessian, itchy against my sore skin. My sensitised fingers felt the open weave of the fabric, the fibres seeming huge against the soft pads of my flesh. Unable to see, my senses concentrated themselves in those areas in which I was still aware - touch being the main one. All the time I had been awake I had been aware only of sensory data emanating from my own self. Now I strained to hear, listening for the slightest sound which could tell me whether I was simply locked in a box or whether I was indeed buried... Channelling all my energies into listening, I could hear nothing that gave any indication of a living world outside my prison. The harder I listened, the more I could hear, but all that I heard was the quickened double thud of my heart in my chest, the breaths entering and leaving my lungs. I listened and listened until I could swear I heard the passage of the blood through my veins but of sounds from without the box there were none. Once more I relaxed. Now I tried to remember... How had I come here and what had happened to me, what had been done to me and why? Look back all I could and there was nothing but a foggy blur, a missing episode, elusive, unknowable. What was the last thing that I could remember... leaving the bar at the hotel I was staying at for the conference because I wasn't feeling very well. I'm not a drinker, but two gin and tonics don't usually have much of an effect on me. And that's all I'd had, I knew, yet I had started to feel unsteady on my feet as if already drunk. I'd headed out from the bar towards the lift... and try as I might I couldn't remember if I'd ever even got into the lift, let alone made it back to my room. Perhaps someone had taken advantage of my state - but more and more likely, it seemed to me, was that in fact I had been the victim of a deliberate drugging - someone must have got to my drinks before I did. I'd been in a group of other delegates, none of whom had made much of an impression on me as yet - it was the first evening meet-and-greet before the conference proper was due to get underway the next day - today? yesterday? I had no way of knowing... How long had I been kept drugged and what use had been made of my body while I was unconscious? What, if anything, had the organisers and other delegates made of my failure to turn up at the first session... As to use, with returning consciousness that was becoming increasingly clear. I gently moved my bound hands over my breasts and abdomen. I could feel raised welts criss-crossing my flesh - possibly not as terrible to look at as they felt, but to the touch alone my body felt as though it was covered in a methodically-raised gridwork of whiplashes, a pattern that became more detailed and complex over my breasts and thighs. My nipples were excruciatingly tender to the touch and I realised now the full significance of the pain in my anus and cunt. Clearly my body had been well and truly used and abused, whether by one man or by many I had no way of telling. Throughout the experience I had either been unconscious or so deeply under the influence of whatever drug had been fed me that I retained no memory of the actual events. The hope I had felt earlier began to ebb away again. How could the perpetrators of these acts ever let me go? Perhaps the box in which they'd locked me was coffin-shaped with intent. I'd regained consciousness but I could not escape. I doubted that there was any point in trying to attract attention to myself but it would be stupid beyond belief not to try. I moistened my dry lips and tried to find my voice. Quaveringly at first, but then increasingly strongly, I began to call for help. My voice grew in volume and I began once more to struggle within my confines, thumping my body against the walls of the box. I shouted and screamed and kicked and hit, over and over, until sweating with effort and shaky with weakness, I once again gave up the struggle. Lying there panting in the foetid darkness, once again I listened, desperate for a response, any sort of response, any liberation from the hell of the box, even if it meant pain and renewed assault. But nothing and no-one responded. Silence reigned supreme. I was alone in the dark, utterly abandoned, forgotten or ignored, and there was nothing whatsoever I could do about it. I gave in to despair. Worse things happened to innocent people every day all over the world. Why should I expect my life to be better than theirs... Into my well-ordered life Chaos had come and destroyed me indifferently. My sufferings were real and enormous to me but they amounted to nothing in the sum of human misery. I was merely one more creature, a thing of flesh and blood, whose life could be snuffed out like a candle and the world would not stop turning for a single second. Tears of self-pity leaked from the corners of my eyes, dripping down into my ears, unheeded, unnoticed, unseen. I didn't even realise that I was moaning aloud, I shut down my senses and my mind and retreated into nothingness. I would not think, I would not feel, I would cease to strive against the futility of my lot. Perhaps I slept again... I don't know. There was no way of measuring time apart from by my increasing thirst and the pangs of hunger. There was a taste of salt in my mouth and after recovering from my episode of abject self-pity my over-riding need was for water. My mind tortured me with visions of waterfalls, fountains sparkling in the sun, blue glass bottles full of mineral water, ropes of water twisting out of taps, lakes of the stuff lying placidly under summer skies... Thirst was now my major enemy - I knew thirst would kill me long before starvation did. How long had I been in here and how long ago had I last had something to drink? The sweat had dried on my body or I would have scooped it off and sucked it from my fingers. My throat was parched, I felt that deep dryness one sometimes feels after sleeping open-mouthed, a dryness that seems to reach right inside you. Nothing but water could save me now. They must come and release me soon, either that or they intended me to die. If the latter, I hoped I could simply drift off to sleep once more and not wake up. I no longer cared so much about life - just that my death should not be too agonisingly prolonged. I'd always been a coward and it began to seem to me that death would come as a welcome release. A release from the pain, from my raging thirst, from the fear of what might or might not happen, from the unknown. If the thirst didn't get me soon, the lack of air would. Evidently the box was not hermetically sealed, but the amount of air that was exchanged was insufficient to sustain life indefinitely. My head throbbed already, my body protesting at the lack of oxygen. Add to the visions of fountains the sensations of wide open spaces, miles of air and blue horizons. My mind was beginning to wander, but now, rather than torture, I felt it as a pleasant escape from the grim realities of my situation. I realised, as if given a gift of revelation, that it didn't matter any more. I'd been worrying about nothing really. The key to escape was there all the time, safely locked inside my mind. Vast landscapes stretched before me, enticing, beautiful. Should I head up, towards the mountains, the clear air and the dashing, dancing streams, or down, towards the lush green valleys and the pellucid blue of the lake? Wherever I ventured, the earth was sweet and I was free to travel within it. Everything I wanted and needed was spread before my feet. The walls receded, the ties melted away, I filled my lungs with the scented air and stooped to drink my fill from the stream at my feet. I looked up into the face of the sun. I was at peace. The Box Master had called and said he would be coming over to see me. I was thrilled with the thought! He reminded me of a box he had set on a shelf in my closet several weeks ago, and said it was time for me to open it. Instructions would be in the box, and I was to prepare accordingly. I tried to persuade him to stay on the phone and visit for a minute, but he said this was not a night for talk, and that he would be there exactly at 8:00. Then he was gone. I wasted no time going for the box. My curiosity had been killing me since he left it there and had forbidden me to touch it. It was wrapped in plain white paper, which I carefully removed. When I opened the box there was a CD player, a set of headphones, an unlabeled CD and a blindfold. In the bottom of the box, just as he promised, I found my Master’s instructions. Pet, I want you to shower, then shave and perfume your pussy just the way I like it. While the perfume burns, remember my fires toward you pet. When I get there I want you naked except for the headphones and My blindfold. I want you on your knees, your ass in the air, and your cunt spread and waiting for me. Place your face to the floor and think of me. I hope you enjoy the music I picked out for you pet. Assume your position, and start the CD five minutes from the time I told you I would arrive. I wont be late. MASTER I had done as Master asked, and was in position, listening to the music for what seemed like forever. The erotic, haunting melody he had picked seemed to carry me away. It was hard staying focused on thoughts of him. I'm sure if I had, I would have sensed his presence in the room when he came in. But I didn't know he was there until he unexpectedly excited me with his touch. He stroked gently down my back, and I arched into his hand, smiling and purring in response. My Master was here. As suddenly as his touch was there, it was gone. I tried to sense where he was. I listened for noise above the music, but there where no clues. I had "lost" him when he'd removed his hand. I lay with my face to the floor, full of anticipation and suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable. Daringly, I call out "Master?" My call was met with a sudden, firm smack on my ass. I gasped in surprise, and had to remind myself to resume position, after jumping in recoil. The swat was followed by many more. His hand moved over my ass, heating it under his touch. I winced, and wiggled. My hands clawed into the carpet as I pressed my chest deeper into the floor, I had to tell myself again and again to endure for my Masters pleasure. But as the heat turned to fire, and the winces turned to cries, it became harder and harder to keep that thought foremost in my mind. I had placed my hand over my mouth, attempting to contain my own voice. I tried to bravely endure, but I couldn't any longer. I cried out, "Mercy, Master! Please...mercy!" He stopped. I feared he was displeased and would leave me alone in the darkness with nothing but the music. I immediately knew I was wrong though when his hand touched me. This time gently, caressing the marks of his passion. His touch was soothing to the fire he’d set to my bottom. His lips touched me for the first time that night, as he whispered kisses over his red canvas. I could only murmur out again and again my love for him. His hand moved down to my sex, and he found me wet. He slid his fingers through the lips of my cunt, and then liberally smeared my juices across my backside. The air blew on the wet, hot skin and excited me. When he returned his fingers to explore me, I could not help but to meet his hand squirming with desire and invitation. His kisses moved slowly up my back, as two fingers slid deep into my cunt. Another slid into my ass, and He began masterfully exploring all my secret places. The places he had claimed as his. My hips moved wantonly as his fingers pumped in and out of me. I felt his hands wrapping in my hair, pulling my head sharply back, pinning me there to the floor. His weight draped over my body, and his kisses turned primitive. He sucked and bit in a frenzy over my neck and shoulders. The music moved through me, as he fucked me with out mercy. I had begged for mercy only moments before, but I sought none now. I wanted it, and he knew it. My moanings, the juices running down my legs, and my hips moving whorishly, all betrayed my needs. He pulled his hands from inside me, and I felt him reaching for his pants to free his cock. I wildly cried out "Yes Master. Fuck me!” He pulled me up to my elbows by my hair. Then he moved himself around me, and mounted me from behind. Releasing my hair, he reached around me to roughly take my breast in his hand, pulling me to him, shoving his cock deep into me with one hard thrust. I rocked and groaned with his grindings. I screamed out his name as I came again. I had no idea how many times that had been, but I never wanted it to stop. As his cock moved deep and hard in my cunt, his fingers moved down my back in fiery trails. He reached down to grab handfuls of my ass, kneading me with his nails in the strength of his passion. When he slowly pulled out of me, I move with him, not wanting him to leave. I pushed my cunt hungrily after his dick as he left me gasping, dripping and begging, "Please, Master! Please don't stop!" He released my ass, and I was alone in the darkness, crying out for his cock, begging him to fuck me. He answered my pleas with his head rubbing over me, teasing me. My legs opened wider and my ass tilted higher as an involuntary reaction to my hungers. I wanted him. I needed him. Open and begging before him, he decisively slid his wet cock up to kiss my tight hot hole. He pressed gently for a moment, but then bore down, his cock invading my ass in one steady stroke. I screamed out as waves of intensity washed over me. He knew my pain, and remained still inside of me, as I lowered my head to the floor, catching up with the sensations. Within moments I found myself relaxing and grinding back against him with renewed desires. Gripping my hips he began moving me back and forth onto him. My voice was reduced to the moans of a she-bitch lost in passion, greedily accepting his cock. His strokes became faster as he took what he wanted, slamming his dick deep up my ass again and again. I knew he was going to cum. I wanted his seed. I craved that hot mark of my Master’s ownership deep inside of me. My mouth found words again and I cried out "Yes! Yes!” as I felt him begin to explode inside of me. I came with him as his cum filled my ass, and his cock wildly fucked me. I cried out his name, milking his cock of every drop. Waves of passion filled us with ecstasy. As we crested, I slowed my movements to match his. My breathing was heavy as I felt him relax behind me. I could have stayed right there forever: reveling in the release of passion, savoring our satisfaction, holding onto his closeness. When he pulled from me I made pouting noises of protest. He stopped the music, which had become such a part of me during the night. Wrapping me in a blanket, he laid me down on the floor. He lifted my face, and kissed it before placing a pillow under my head. I lay there, exhausted, but warmed in the comfort of my Master’s seed dripping from my body. Then I heard the only sound of his voice I was given that night. Leaning close he kissed me, and whispered, "I love you pet." I could hear him changing the CD, and then he pressed play. A soft, sweet melody enveloped me while the peace of his words settled into every part of my being. I knew he left as I lay there drifting off to sleep, whispering softly “I love you Master." The Box The box arrived on a Tuesday morning. It was wrapped in inconspicuous brown paper, and her address was printed with black marker in a grade-schooler-ish handwriting. Had she not recognized the return address, she might have been quick to assume that this was a prank, or perhaps a dangerous delivery - after all, these were troubled times, were they not?! - but she DID recognize this particular delivery. It was from her lover. Her Master. Sir. Just a couple of nights ago, he had foretold of this package's arrival, so she blushed hotly as she spirited it into her house. Upon removing the outer paper, a note fell into her lap. She smiled when she saw her name written in his own manly handwriting on the parchment paper, the contents of the letter sealed from her gaze with sealing wax. 'Not many men in this day and age even know what sealing wax IS,' she thought, 'let alone know how to use it!' She was constantly amazed at his worldliness, even though he boasted of being from a small town. She knew his refinement came from his job as a well-traveled oil executive which took him, literally, all over the world. Where his knowledge of how to take control of her mind, her body, her spirit came from, she wasn't sure - but she knew she couldn't live without it! With each play session, it was as if he stepped more and more into her skin. At first, his absences were just a part of the foreplay... they were still very connected even while he was away, and that was satisfying to her; but this latest separation had shown her exactly how much his physical presence was beginning to mean to her. The arrival of this box signaled the end of that separation, and so, trembling, she broke the seal and read: "My dearest, beautiful Little Girl, All month as I have been traveling the world, you have serviced me well over the telephone and over the computer. Now is the time that your service shall be rewarded: I have been collecting these lovely toys as a chronicle of my trip as well as for our use together the next time my eyes look upon you. Open the box. Inside you will find a lovely leather collar for that gorgeous neck of yours, aged leather wrist and ankle cuffs w/ restraints, and a handmade leather paddle all of which were made in Italy; black silk undergarments (I hope I remembered your size) from my trip into Thailand; a lovely emu feather duster and a soft llama wool mitt from my dip into Australia; the finest massage oil and herbal tea that will enhance our mood - blended especially for us by a talented Chinese herbalist; a handmade translucent gold silk robe sewn especially for you in India, as well as some lovely candles and soft music from different areas that I have visited. I expect you to have the "toys" placed near our bed ~ as I use each of them on you, I will tell you how I acquired them Light the candles and have the music playing softly in anticipation of my return. I will be at your door in three days. I want you waiting for me in the robe and undergarments ONLY. Dab some of that wonderful perfume on your temples, behind your ears, on your breasts, behind your knees. You are not to cum for these three days, but I will be checking in nightly so that you may service me with some of your lovely hot, wanton voice. You may NOT touch yourself during our phone play, my love, because if you do, I know you will cum and I want you on the edge of insanity by the time I get there. I WILL check you thoroughly to make sure you have prepared as I have instructed ~ for it is I who wants the pleasure of pushing you into the abyss. ~~Sir~~" She took the note and held it to her nose, breathing deeply. His scent still lingered: sandalwood, musk, a hint of citrus. Her nipples hardened as if something animalistic deep within her was awakened by merely coming in contact with his scent. She felt herself get wet, and it was all she could do to keep her hand from straying between her legs. Her eyes went back to the note: "...for it is I who wants the pleasure of pushing you into the abyss..." and she groaned as her hand fell silently onto the cushion. If she touched herself, he would know. The smell of leather began to permeate the room... mingled with jasmine, lavender, and other exotic fragrances. She placed the box on the floor at her feet and reached in. The cool softness of the silk garments met her fingertips first... she pulled each of them slowly from the box and blushed as she thought of their silkiness against her bare skin, knowing that they left very little for the imagination. She realized that in wearing them, she would have to overcome her own body image issues, and she hoped that she could comply... and hoped even more that he wouldn't be disappointed in what he saw. Reaching back inside, she ran her hand against the leather cuffs and they spoke to her of him: strong, soft, cool to begin with but warming with contact, gently binding... the metaphors kept pouring through her head like water from a broken urn. She gently lifted the bindings from the box, the buckles clinking together in a melodious rhapsody. The four leather cuffs were trimmed in some sort of very soft fur linings, and the leather collar was hand woven into the most intricate pattern, the tiny brass buckles and the small ring where a leash would snap onto it was the only indication that it was a collar and not a piece of jewelry. She laid these pieces across her lap, and reached back into the box and slowly lifted the leather paddle into her right hand. Swinging it gently, she brought it against her left had with a resounding "SLAP"... her whole being tingled at the thought of how that would feel against her bare ass. Quickly, she sat it aside and reach in once again to lift another treasure from its confines. This time a different smell hit her nose. Green tea, herbs... distinctive yet indistinguishable at the same time. She realized this must be the tea that he spoke of that was blended to "enhance our moods". A small tag written in Chinese was attached. 'Must be the instructions' she thought as a faint smile passed across her lips and she quickly sat the container on the coffee table. She'd take that to the kitchen shortly. A beautiful hand-blown flask that held a jasmine scented oil was retrieved from the box, then another which held a lavender oil. She found the tapes: music from India, Japan, Ireland... 'my God,' she thought, 'where all has he been?!' The ring of the telephone jolted her back from her reverie. Sitting the flasks on the table she ran to pick up the phone. She made it by the third ring, his voice greeted her, "I wondered if you were there." She blushed hotly, "Yes, I am here. I got the box..." "M-hmmmm" he said, "I knew you would. Today is day one. Remember what I told you in the letter... no touching. Now, what do you think of my choices?" She sighed audibly and spoke almost in a whisper, as if afraid the neighbors might hear her, "What made you think of all this? It's so... so... uh... so NAUGHTY" "Precisely, my dear Little Girl," he said quietly, "wait until you hear their stories! Wait until I use them on you... oh the music your voice and body will make!" Her knees threatened to buckle under her, "ooohhhhhhhhhhh..." she whispered into the phone, "please, sir... just hearing your voice... I need t-t-t-ooo..." He boomed, "DON'T YOU TOUCH YOURSELF! Just listen to me... listen to me breath... listen to me touch my cockkkkkmmmm... ohhhhhhhh... I'm thinking of your hand, my dearest... so warm... talk to me..." She collected her thoughts, clearing her throat and, in her best phone sex voice, said, "oooohhhh, yessss... your cock is so hard in my hand... I want to taste you... feel my lips glide over the head... " She heard his breath quickening... his hand began to make the slapping noise that indicated she was on the right track. "Baby... you taste so good to me... feel my mouth running up and down the length of you... taking your balls one at a time into my hot mouth... " He groaned at the thought, and she knew by the tone in his voice that he had already worked himself up somewhat before calling her. It only took a few minutes of her hot talk before she heard his voice begin to get huskier, his breathing more raspy. She knew then he was close. "I want you to cum for me, Sir... cum all over your Little Girl... anoint me with your jui..." His strangled cry cut her off. He loved it when she would submit to being covered in his offering... to gratefully kneel before him streaked with his cum.. "OOOOOHHHHH GODDDDDD!" he shouted. His breathing grated in his lungs. He needed that release... and he knew hearing him cum that hard would make her crazy with desire. He was right. "Are you okay, sir?" she innocently asked, her voice dripping with lust, knowing full well that he was more than okay. "Oh, yesssss... I'm wonderful. And I'm late. I have to go. I will call you tomorrow." And just like that, he was gone. The abruptness of his departure was not all that unusual, but on this occasion, it left her with a dull emptiness inside her. She didn't know yet what to make of that feeling. Silently, she dressed for a regular day at the office, but her mind would rarely be on work. The next three days were a whirl of activities, all carefully planned by her to keep her mind occupied on things other than what pulsed within her loins. The dull ache that began with his abrupt phone call was quickly escalating into a full-scale bonfire within her; with each phone call his voice fanned the flames higher and higher. "Oh how I cannot wait to hear your groan with each swat of the paddle..." he would whisper. "I cannot wait to feel your delicately strong hands rubbing that oil onto me... slipping and sliding..." The dampness of her panties was indication as to how he was able to get into her head and bring her to the brink: teasing, cajoling her to touch herself without saying the actual words. Yet, at the end of each call, he suddenly turned off the charm and just WENT as if he had something to say that caught in his throat, and this kept her slightly off-balance. She didn't know exactly what to expect when Friday rolled around and he would be standing at her door. The mystery of it all scared her a little: she was very much one to like things to be laid out neatly, predictably. But their relationship had been anything but predictable. At the end of the day on Friday, she raced down to the parking garage, slamming her car into gear and leaving a skid mark several feet long. She zipped in and out of waiting traffic, impatiently navigating through the snarl to get home and get things ready before he arrived. She knew his bidding: she was to have everything in the bedroom (except the tea... he would tend to that), was to be showered and dressed in the lingerie that he'd sent, with the collar about her neck. She was to meet him at the door when he arrived. Her heart was racing faster than her car... it had been a long time since she felt his strong arms around her, and there was something she wanted to say to him. Something she had been holding back up until now. Finally, after an eternity on the highway, she pulled into her drive and jettisoned her body out of the driver's seat in a dead run for the front door. Because he hadn't bothered to give her an arrival time, she was almost in a panicked state to get things in order before he got there. Once inside, she took note of whether everything he had sent was in its proper place. She then went to the stereo and put in one of the tapes he'd sent... she wasn't sure where the music was from, but it seemed to have an almost instantaneously calming effect on her. Slowly, she undressed and stepped into the shower, turning the warm water on herself. As she absentmindedly soaped her body, she found her mind drifting back to their conversations... going over and over in her mind what he had said, how he had said it, and what it all could mean. A loud rap at the bathroom door startled her. "Are you in there?" It was HIS voice! He was EARLY! She quickly rinsed off the soap and wrapped towels around her body and her hair, then stepped out to open the bathroom door. He filled the doorway with his frame, his hands on his hips, eyes turned into a bemused scowl. "YOU, Little Girl, are NOT prepared in the way I told you to present yourself to me, are you?!?" She looked at his shoes, when everything in her wanted to look into his eyes. "No, sir, I am not" she said, in an almost frightened whisper. "Then you shall be punished, but first... " and he swept her into his arms and pulled her close, pushing the towels from her body and letting her wet hair fall free. His right arm cradled her against him; his left hand went into her damp hair, pulling her face close to his, her mouth to his mouth. "God, I've missed you..." he murmured against her mouth as he possessed it with his own... his tongue immediately invading. She gripped his biceps with her hands, squeezing them and pulling him closer... wanting to sink completely into his flesh and become a part of him. The kiss held none of the hesitation that his phone calls had held. This kiss was full of desire and... dare she feel it?... love. The kiss was broken and she planted her face into his chest and breathed deeply. His scent filled her nose, her head, and her very soul. His hands came up to cradle her face, and he tipped it up so that she was looking into his eyes. "Please finish what you started, and come to the bedroom when you are ready..." "Yessir," she replied and he released her, turning toward the kitchen. She closed the bathroom door and leaned against it heavily, the after effects of the kiss suddenly turning her legs into molten lava. She took a deep breath to compose herself, and stood to finish her preparation. He smiled when he heard the hairdryer click on. He had paid enough attention to her over the course of this relationship to know about how much time he had before she emerged from that bathroom and he would once again be driven to distraction by her innocent charm and beauty. He had come into the kitchen to prepare the tea that Mr. Huang had blended for them. Two small china cups, brought inside his overnight bag, would hold the special elixir... a little honey... warm water... ahhhh. Perfect. He placed the cups on the bed tray and carried it quickly into the bedroom. His back to the door, he began to get undressed and as he reached to pull his pants over his feet... "ahemmmm -hhhmmmmmm..." He snapped upright, standing in his boxers, dress socks and one shoe, but didn't turn to face her. She giggled softly, "May I watch, sir?" His body softened, and he bent over to continue taking off the other shoe, bracing himself on her bedpost, as she quietly eased up behind him and ran her hand over his silk-clad ass. "Mmmmmmm" she murmured, feeling the muscles in his ass and thighs ripple under her hand. Now minus his shoes and socks, he rose and stepped away from her admiring touch, turning to face her for the first time since she'd entered the room. A smile passed across her face when she saw the tented front of his boxers, but an even bigger smile arose when she heard the breath leave him as he looked at her clad in the silk and lace and collar. "I knew it" he finally breathed. He walked over and fingered the front of the robe, which hung open to reveal the barely-there lace bra and panties. "You like?" she asked, suddenly aware of herself and feeling rather...exposed and self-conscious. "Oh, yessssss... I like. I like a lot!" his breathing became a bit ragged, and the tent in his silk boxers began to reveal a dark wet spot. "I knew when I saw these that you'd look fantastic in them. I want to surround you with beautiful things that make you feel as sexy as I think you are... but first... drink this..." He held the small china cup up to her lips, the bittersweet liquid warmed her as she sipped. "I met an herbalist in China," he continued," and he said that this tea would help us be better lovers... " He looked at her, and saw a storm of emotions rolling in. He realized what his words sounded like so he quickly added, "not that what we've done up to this point hasn't been wonderful... oh, it has! But if this will push us further, I'd like to explore that with you... " He sipped his tea... and continued, "the tingle that you are feeling now, that's what I feel every time I think of you." She felt the flush of the herbs, and she reached for his arm, afraid that she was about to fall. He caught her with his other arm, and brushed the robe off of her shoulder, kissing the bare flesh hungrily. She hung limply in his grasp, and he brushed the robe off of the other shoulder, exposing the rest of her to his gaze. He lowered his head into the hollow of her neck, breathing of her: the smell of soap, and shampoo, and tea... a heady mingling that was driving his desire higher. Weakly, she pushed at his shoulders, "I need to talk to y..." but he cut off her request by clamping his warm mouth to hers, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss. He slid his mouth from hers, down to her throat, and again she spoke: "please, sir... may I speak?" This time he heard her, and pivoted on his heels to sit her on the side of the bed. He stood, with her hand still in his. "Yes, please do," he said, almost afraid of what he might hear. She looked at the floor, for if she looked into his face, she feared she wouldn't be able to continue. "All this week, you have been a little more abrupt, a little less open and warm... I was wondering... have I done something wrong?" Relief rolled over him like a comforting blanket. "No! You have done nothing wrong. I have just been doing a lot of thinking... and, well, as I tell you about these gifts I sent to you, I think you will begin to understand. So far, I want to wrap you in finery so that you will feel as beautiful as you are to me, and I have given you a glimpse into how you make me tingle inside just thinking of you... next... we will talk about this oil..." He gestured to the bedside table. On it sat a small ceramic ramekin filled with warm water, the jasmine oil flask sat inside it. The flickering light of the candles in the room danced against the multicolored handblown glass, throwing a carnival shower of light on the wall nearby. "Mr. Huang, the herbalist, blended these oils for us." he began, "The lavender oil is for days when one or both of us are having trouble sleeping. He told me that there are special extracts, as well as the lavender, that will help to relax our bodies and minds as it is massaged into our skin. The jasmine oil has extracts in it that will heighten our skin's sensitivity to touch. He said this will push our bodies further into the sexual moments that you and I share." He noticed that her breathing became a little more rapid as she imagined all of her senses being heightened into the moment. The tea was already working well... now she was imagining how the massage oil's properties would push even more of her sensuous buttons. He smiled a faint smile when he saw her nipple visibly harden within the confines of the brassiere, so he continued, "You have submitted to me well over the past month, and although I owe you some discipline for not presenting yourself to me properly tonight, I want to finish with the stories of the gifts first... " He turned and began to move from bedpost to bedpost around the bed, flipping the cuffs onto the mattress from where he had secured them and left them dangling. She watched him in the soft glow of the candlelight, his abs rippling and the strength in his arms making her insides warm. She felt herself flush and suddenly was aware of the wetness in the crotch of the panties. Oh, how she wanted him! The Box "Stand up, Little Girl" he commanded in a soft voice. She readily complied, and he moved to where she stood, standing in front of her but not touching her. She was clad now only in the bra and panties, the golden robe a heap on the floor. Her nipples stood at attention, her skin flushed from the effects of the herbal tea. She still wore the collar around her neck, its gold fittings glinting in the light. Without his touch or his voice, she became increasingly uneasy standing there, his eyes on her, burning into her very flesh. She began in curl up, to raise her arms to cover herself, and just as she moved, he reached out and touched her. "Don't." he said, and her arms relaxed. "It's okay. Just let me look at you..." and he moved to her, reaching behind and unclasping the bra, pushing it from her shoulders and allowing her heavy breasts to spring free of their confines. She watched his face, looking for signs of disapproval, but she found none. She heard him sigh audibly, and saw once again the front of his boxers began to rise. He knelt in front of her, grabbing the top of the panties and pulling them from her ample frame, and then taking each of her calves into his hands one-at-a-time, he helped her step free of them. He remained on his knees, and leaned forward, kissing her tummy. She wished he could see what was going on inside her: how she wanted to step away... to dive under the covers... to hide. She wished he understood that standing there was almost her ultimate act of submission: to allow him to see her naked and so vulnerable. One cruel word at this moment could devastate her, this she knew for she had experienced it. But those words never came. All that was in this room was acceptance. He stood and gently kissed her. Then looking into her eyes said, "The collar worn around your neck, that lovely neck of yours, is a symbol of your choice to submit to me, to allow me to be your Dom. It is delicate and strong, like our bond is, and like you are. Every time you put that collar around your neck, you will be making a choice to submit your body and soul to me. I know this, and I respect it. I know you've been in bad places before, and true submission is something you crave, but have been afraid of. I will always try to be worthy of your trust, both in our sexual play and in the real world. I will take care of you, and I will allow you the freedom to be as open with me as you choose. And I can promise you, you will have the power to stop whatever is happening if you are not finding pleasure in it, and the power to ask for more if you so desire." With a devilish grin he added, "It will be MY choice whether I GIVE you more or make you wait!" She blushed and smiled, almost overwhelmed with the thought that went into the simple adornment. He turned her to face the bed, "Now, since you have the collar on, Little Girl, you will submit to me. Get on the bed, face up, spreadeagle... and look only at the ceiling." Her insides trembled as she did as he told her. She lay in the middle of the bed, feeling his warm hands touch first her right wrist... the softness of the cuff curling around her wrist and being cinched down tightly, but not so tightly that they were uncomfortable. Then the right ankle, his hands briefly wandering up her calf and inner thigh just high enough to make her squirm before moving to the next leg. Finally her left wrist was bound, and she felt his weight on the end of the bed. "These bindings represent our commitment to this relationship. They are soft on the inside, strong on the outside. While at times they might feel confining, they give us freedom to explore..." and with that he took the feather duster and ran it up the inside of her right thigh. Her breath caught in her throat. "... new ways of pleasuring each other. They are not exclusive to you or me... we are equally bound together. However, I will gain more pleasure in seeing you somewhat helpless in this bed, and you will certainly gain pleasure in being so!" With that, he leaned forward, allowing his breath to warm her clit and pussy so slightly. She groaned in protest, but did not look down to see what he had in store for her next. "Sir?" she said, finally finding her voice, "may I look at you? May I watch what you are about to do to me?" He took a minute to respond, pondering his choices. "No, you may not. You lie there and anticipate what may be happening next. Listen to the music, to the sounds in the room. Listen to your breathing. Listen to what your body tells you." She felt his weight leave the bed, and saw his shadow pass in the flickering light. She heard the clink of glass, and the next sensation was of his hands, warmed by the oil, sliding sensuously up her legs to her tummy. His hands roved her body, slickened by the oil so the movement was firm, yet yielding. She felt her muscles relax under his touch, felt her skin begin to tingle and feel warm. He sat back and blew softly on her skin and it became alive like she'd never experienced before. "AHHHHhhhhhhhhh..." she gasped, as he chuckled. "I guess Mr. Huang was right about this stuff... let's try..." and his voice dropped off. She strained to hear what was coming next. He took the feather duster into his hand and ran it lightly over her left breast. Her nipple hardened immediately to the stimulation, and he couldn't resist bending to gently bite at the tip of it. "Oh, my god..." she moaned, for at the same time, he ran the tips of his fingers lightly up her inner thigh. Such delicious torture... he could see that her pussy lips were beginning to swell, her clit throbbed in anticipation of being touched. He had no intention of going there yet, however... he wanted to push her into oblivion. The duster was next run across her pelvis, just above her pussy, tickling the hair there and making her arch with frustration. "Please, sir... I beg of you. I've waited so long..." her piteous pleas were music to his ears. But he did not want to give her relief. Not yet. He found the llama skin mitt and put it on, then leaned over her body, over her face, so that she could see him. "How do you feel, Little Girl?" Small beads of sweat were forming on her brow, but she was smiling, "My arms ache a little, but other than that, I'm dying to make love with you!" He took the mitt and ran it down her left arm, down to her left breast, where he gently rubbed the nipple with the soft fur. He leaned to kiss her... a soft, lingering kiss which she tried her best to make deeper and more passionate. Not an easy thing to do with your hands and legs bound, so he was able to pull back, leaving her panting. "You want more?" he asked, knowing full well what her answer would be, "Hmmmmmm?" He ran the mitt up her left inner thigh, stopping just short of the epicenter of her desire. She was whimpering now, "please... please... Sir! Just touch me! Make me cum..." He got up off the bed abruptly and stripped off his boxers then reached to unclasp her wrists, lifting her up unto a sitting position and massaging her shoulders gently. He stood and went to the foot of the bed, unclasping her ankles, and when he was sure she got her bearings sufficiently, he pulled her to stand. He knew he had her body humming with adrenaline, and now it was time to refocus her energies so that he could push them again in a few moments. He sat down on the edge of the bed and said, "KNEEL!" pointing between his knees. She knew what he wanted, and she knew how to give it to him. "Yessir" she said as she knelt at his feet, "how may I serve you?" He took her head into his hands and guided it to his cock and said, "Suck me." She took his cock gently into her hands and kissed the inside of his thighs softly. Using her tongue, she wetly licked a path up his thighs, then blew a soft breeze onto the wetness, watching the goose bumps rise on his legs and listening to him suck in his breath. She used her teeth carefully to nip at his flesh, alternating between nips and sucks, until she reached his cock. It was so warm and hard, and she loved the feel of it in her mouth. How it pulsed with every beat of his heart. He groaned and guided her head as it rose and fell in his lap. He looked down over her beautiful back and shoulders, running his finger over the tattoo on her right one, trying to distract himself from cumming too soon. Her mouth was amazing... just the right pressure, moisture, warmth... and that tea was definitely giving him a deeper pleasure. Suddenly, the moment was upon him, without warning, and he croaked, "GODDDDD... baby... I... I...I'm CCUUUUMMMINNGGGGG... " arching up against her hand as she pulled her mouth away and stroked his exploding cock, allowing his cum to spray over her face and hair. As he finished, she gently licked the glans, tasting him. She had missed that so much! She looked up at him and instead of seeing relief on his face, she saw annoyance. "I hadn't intended for you to make me cum, Little Girl," he said, "so you must now be punished. Hand me the paddle." Rising from the floor, she walked to where the paddle was lying. Her hand trembled as she retrieved it, and returning to her submissive position at his feet, she handed it up to him. "Let me tell you first about this paddle, Little Girl. This paddle represents the pain in our lives. Stand, please." She stood and he continued, pulling her over his lap, "While we both will experience pain.." SMACK! The paddle came in contact with her bare ass, and she cried out. He rubbed the red mark, continuing "... I will be there to soothe the hurt..." SMACK! Another swat, another cry, another gentle rub. "And while I will administer discipline... " SMACK! (rub) "... it will be done so lovingly.." S MACK (rub) (whimper) "... and I would never knowingly hurt you..." SMACK! (rub) "... or humiliate you..." SMACK! SMACK! (rub) "...unless it would turn you on!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He dropped the paddle and admired his handiwork. "MY! Your ass is a beautiful red, and the motion of your body against me has me hard again..." He slid his fingers between her legs, feeling her wetness soaking his hand. "I see that my little discipline method has... inflamed you, Little Girl... " He slipped a finger inside her, feeling the rapid pulse of her heart and the slick heat of her interior. He lifted her off his knees and guided her to lie back on the bed, her legs hanging over the side. He pushed her knees wide open, and he dove into her, finally drinking the nectar he so longed for. Feeling his mouth finally come in contact with her pussy, she literally screamed his name and gripped his hair in her hands. He slipped his hands under her, grabbing her red, sore ass, and squeezed... the pain mixed with the pleasure she was feeling to drive her over the edge. Orgasm after orgasm swept over her, coming so rapidly that she was sure her heart would explode in her chest. He rose from between her legs, his face glistening with her juices, and pulled her to the floor. He flipped her over so that her torso rested on the bed, her knees on the floor, and she was presented for perfect entry, her red ass available for his amusement. "Should I give you my cock, Little Girl? You have already cum..." She was practically wailing when she said, "Oh PLEASE, Sir! I have not cum enough! I need to feel you, I need for you to be a part of me! PLEASE! PLEASE!! Do not tease me further... I will do whatever you ask... but PLEASE take me noooooooowwohhhhhhhhhhh..." The last word became a gutteral groan as he pushed his cock into her body. She gripped him in a wet velvet sheath, his cock slicing slowly into her depths. Her inner walls clung to him as he leaned over her, whispering hotly, "You didn't touch yourself while I was away, did you?! You are so tight... so warm..." He kissed her shoulders, her back. He carefully reached and retrieved the paddle. SMACK! Her pussy clutched him deliciously when he swatted her ass. SMACK! She couldn't help but draw away a bit, and this added to the friction he was experiencing. SMACK! SMACK! He rubbed her sore ass, listening to her moan and groan beneath him as she orgasmed yet again. He reached around her, finding her clit, and began to rub her... feeling her get wetter and wetter, tighter and tighter. He knew he was close, too, so he pulled out of her. He wanted to face her when he came this time... he wanted to make love to her. His departure from her body elicited a protesting groan from her. Did he want her to beg further? What else could she give to him? He whispered, "Get up in the middle of the bed for me..." She moved, but halfheartedly. It was feeling so good... did he have to tie her up to enjoy her? Her mind was not in the moment anymore, she was 35 steps ahead and making assumptions. He knew her, and knew that she was probably over thinking right about now. He had to get her body re-engaged, so as she positioned herself, he quickly was upon her, pushing her knees aside and pressing himself once again into her depths. His roughness startled her... frightened her... and she began to fight against him. Realizing that she was startled and scared, he cradled her, holding himself deeply inside her. "SSSHHHhhhh..." he murmured, "its okay. Stay with me... feel me... " He kissed the hollow of her neck wetly. He moved his cock inside her imperceptibly at first, then with increasingly longer strokes until he felt her skin begin to flush against him. She moaned and arched into him again, feeling this pelvis rock against her clit, pushing her to the edge. He nibbled at her breasts, suckling her nipples, and purred against her skin, "Cum for me, my love. Squeeze my cock... " He felt her rock against him, her legs coming up around his hips to pull him in further. He knew she was close so he took his hand and brushed the hair from her forehead, holding on to the top of her head and looking deeply into her eyes. Tears were forming in her eyes as she arched up against him, her mouth opening to form an "o" but no sound came. The muscles in her neck stood out, and he held his cock still, feeling her pussy walls constrict around him tighter than he'd ever felt before. She began a series of thrusts against him, as if trying to pull her own orgasm through her body, and these ripples and hip rolls pushed him over the edge. Softly, he groaned into her ear, and let her pull his cum from him as well, rising to watch her face contort again as another small rumble passed through her body. When it was over and his cock stopped twitching, there was no strength left in his body. He collapsed onto her, burying his face in her neck. "God, how I love you... " he whispered and nuzzled closer. It was then that he felt the wetness against his cheek. He slid from her, off of her, and pulled her body against his, wrapping one arm around her and tipping her face up so he could look at her. She was crying. She looked into his eyes, "I have never felt like this before. So bound to someone yet so free... " Her voice trailed off into a slight whimper. He smiled at her and said, "I wanted to tell you what you mean to me for so long. I just didn't know how, until I began to collect the gifts. I have been so many places and loved so many people. But you... ahhh... you are different, and this was my way of showing you just HOW different and special you are to me. You, my love, are my soulmate, and together, we will find love and passion beyond our wildest dreams. Even if I have to leave you, I will never leave you. Nor will you ever leave me. For we are here..." he took his finger and gently stroked her clit "... and we are here..." he stroked her forehead "... but most of all, we are here," he touched her on her chest where her heart would be, and continued, "I know you've had doubts. I had doubts, too, until this trip. I've made arrangements to take fewer trips, and when I do have to go, I will do everything in my power to take you with me. You are my strength, my muse, my passion, my best friend. Even in the days when we feel that love and passion have separated us, I will always find my way back to you" The tears were running down her face in a steady stream now. He wiped them gently, and she caught him by the wrist, bringing his hand to her lips. It took her a moment, but she finally found her words and spoke, "I am yours for as long as you choose. I give myself wholly and freely to you, and I will do whatever will make you happy. I trust that you will not hurt me and that you will take care of me. I will love you and make love to you with everything I am." a pause "Oh, and sir?" he looked into her eyes and saw amusement as she continued "... my ass hurts. Would you please kiss it better?" He laughed, "Gladly!" Turning her over he placed his mouth against the redness of her buttocks and began to kiss her. Hearing her sighs, he knew this was going to be a long, passionate night indeed, and he smiled. The Box It is 5.24pm Friday evening when I pull into the driveway. Plenty of time, knowing that I have to be undressed and ready at the door at 5.30pm precisely. It been a quiet week. He'd being down in the basement most of it, leaving me to my own devices. I always know that this means I'm in for a particularly rough weekend. I've lived this way for over 10 years. Outwardly, people think we are a regular married couple. My master and I are married, having lived in the neighbourhood all our married life. I hold down a regular job but at night, as 5.30pm comes, I am his, totally and completely. I have friends who I see on occasion, only at his approval but usually at a cost but they are unaware of my real life. I relieve myself in the corner of the yard, not knowing when I'll get another chance. I move to the front door, remove my clothes and wait for the clock to hit 5.30pm. The door opens and I walk up to the table just inside the door where my instructions are always kept. 1. Put hair in ponytail. 2. Put on jump suit. 3. Put on shoes. I will be there in four minutes to lace it up and place the hood on so BE READY. I quickly put my hair up and step into the suit. The legs fit like a glove with an open area around my pussy and arse. The arms also fit snugly. There are holes in the front for my breasts which I manage to get through. I then put on the 6" high heel shoes and lace them up. I'm standing at full attention when he walks in. He doesn't address me, just walks behind me, pushes me against the wall and starts to pull on the laces. "Breathe in and hold it," he says in a sharp tone and I do just that. He quickly laces, places his foot in my back making sure that it is very tight. "OK you can breathe again," and as I try I realise I can't very well. The suit is very tightly strapped only allowing very short breathes to be taken. Thankfully, with the holes in the front of the suit for my breasts makes it just a little easy. He places my head through what I realise to be a hood, pulls it down over my eyes and buckles it tightly around my throat. This restricts my breathing just a bit more but I know not to panic. I know he loves me and will protect me. He grabs my hand I start to walk. I'm use to the height of the shoes having worn them for many years, are of course use to being in the dark and know the layout of the house very well. Instead of taking me down to the basement, he stops me in the middle of the lounge room. He backs me into something what appears to be a tight box, barely enough room for me to fit. He takes my arms and puts them through holes. "Feet apart," he orders and I do it, realising there is less than a metre between the box sides. He then slips lubricated dildos in my arse and pussy. He knows which height it needs for the right contact, painful but not too painful. He then places something else between my legs but I don't know what. He pulls my breasts and the next I hear the box door shut, with my breasts through which are obviously holes in the front of the box. He fits a tight section about my throat and ties rope to my hair and attaches it to the wall. I can't move my head at all and I just stand there concentrating on my breathing which is now very restricted. I hear something roll across the floor and stop by the box. Then footsteps and then I feel his cock in my mouth. I start to lick and suck and he strikes my face. "Were you told to do that?" I do not to answer. He lunges forward placing his cock at the back of my throat and pisses straight it in. He stops every 30 seconds so I can get a breath, as much as I can, and starts again. Obviously he hasn't pissed all day by the amount of his release. Finally he stops, removes himself and I hear the steps being rolled away again. The next thing I feel is something at my nose. I start to protest, knowing what he is doing, and he shoves a ballgag into my mouth. "Well you brought this on yourself. You were home late twice last week and although I said I wouldn't do this again, you have to be punished". He then starts to push a tube into my nose and down my throat. He has done this before and it hurts like hell. He'd promised he'd never do it again but I know that I deserve it. Once the tube is set in place I feel liquid start to flow. "This is the first of four litres of water my little slut. You will get all four litres and then have to hold it for 90 minutes. Anything you leak into the bucket will be transferred to your arse where it will remain for the rest of the weekend." The water quickly flows into me, the suit feeling tighter and tighter by the second. The flow stops and the dildos filling me starting to work their way in and out. "These will run five minutes on and five minutes off. You'll know when the 90 minutes is getting close by counting, if you can concentrate on it. Now, put your arms out straight and open your hands." I do this and he places something in my hands and I immediately recognise them to be eggs. "Now if you drop an egg, I get to give you another litre of water". The second time the dildos start I release a small amount of water, I hope it isn't much. I think I'll be better prepared next time. I try to concentrate on my breathing, the dildo in my pussy pushing on my bladder as it moves in and out. They stop again and I realise I'm panting. I can feel my bladder filling up, being pressed on by the restrictive suit I am in. The dildos start again and this time I manage not to release any water. My arms start to tire and when the dildos start up for the fourth time, the egg in my right hand slips and hits the floor. He moves to me and water again begins to flow into my throat. It stops and I feel another egg being placed into my hand. "One hour mark, doing well my little slut, let's see if this will help". I feel the first clamp on my nipple. It's hard but my experienced nipples are use to it. Then he clamps the second. Weights are very slowly added, pulling my nipples hard, forcing me to lean forward a bit further, pushing the dildo in my pussy harder into my bladder. This also forces my head back further making it just a bit more harder to breathe. The pain in my bladder is already bad and with 30 minutes to go I start to cry. "There there my pet, he says as he strokes my head." The dildos start to vibrate again and I involuntarily piss. I try to stop but it takes a while and I have no idea how much I've let out. My bladder is aching, my arse and pussy are sore, my nipples feel like they are being ripped off and I fight to try and keep my arms straight. I hear the stairs being rolled over, my gag is removed and his rock hard penis is placed in my mouth. "You look so fucking hot slut, suck me and do a good job". I start to suck, best I can as he thrusts himself in and out of my throat. Just as he starts to cum, the dildos kick in, he drops two more weights onto my nipples, my knees buckle forcing the dildos painfully in my arse and pussy and I drop both eggs. As I pass out I realise I'm pissing. I come to and I'm out of the suit, lying naked face down on the bed. "About time, I thought I was going to have to do this with you out to it". I look around and see my arse is tubed and the bucket sitting beside the bed. "You did well my pet, you only release one and a half litres. Oh well time to fill you up," and with that he starts flowing the water into my arse. "All finished," he announces and he removes the tube and pushes a hard boiled egg in my arse. "Stand up," he orders. I get to my feet a bit shakily and he leads me over to the blanket box. He opens the lid and motions for me to get inside. It is very tight but I've slept here before so I get into the best position. "Now not a word from you!. You ride those cramps like a good girl and no noise or you'll be sent to work every day next week with an enema". With that he drops the lid and it all goes dark. The Box The drive up the hill was long in coming after a long day of work. The dark night exposed only by the bright lights of the white luxury car. Soon it was parked in a small one car garage and with the door closed the busy hectic world was left behind. A few moments pass as the driver gathers up her tools. A cell phone, fabric samples and a small briefcase are all she takes from the car. The short trip to the house is the longest but the most rewarding, at the door she is greeted by two small energetic dogs. They bark and dance around her feet, this brings a smile to her beautiful face. After feeding and walking her dogs and the house begins to quite down it is only then that she notices the brown shipping box on the counter. As she walks over to it she sees the yellow post-it sticker on it. After reading it a slow smile appears on her lips. The box was sent by her lover via the post office and put on the counter by her dog sitter. Her hands were shaking as she opened the box. Her lover was known for sending her "things" right before a romantic weekend. As she looked through the box a hot wave ran through her body. Seeing the different garments and items in the box it was immediately clear of some of the things her lover had in mind. The box was sprinkled with rose pedals and inside it was a note from her love. The note was quite exact in its directions and its intent. She was to go through the box and remove the clothing and other items and examine them. She did the first item on the note. She stripped naked. Then pulling out the next items she put on a pair of white crotch less panties. The panties felt good, they covered little and pushed her lips out through the hole in them. She could barely stand as the wetness filled her with heat. Then she slipped on a pair of tall white heels. The next item on the to do list was far more daring than she was use to. Her hands were shaking as she pulled the leather collar out of the box. It was a simple collar with only a chrome ring in the front. The black fur lining felt hot against her soft white skin. She had to pause. Standing there in the kitchen almost naked her knees buckling , she was only able to stand by leaning up against the counter. With her head bent forward and her breath shallow without realizing it her hand went to her dripping wet pussy when she spread her lips and touched her throbbing clit she let out a moan and a gasp all at once. It took several moments to recover, when she did she went back to the box. She hesitated to reach into the box to see what else there was. The next items almost made her cum right there on the spot. A pair of nipple clamps with small feathers on the end of each. And as the note told her, she put them on. Then once more she went into the box and there was more. Slowly and quivering she withdrew a long slim flesh colored dildo. It was very lifelike. It felt good in her hands. She couldn't wait to push it in and out of her now burning cunt. But there was still more on the list for her to do. She was to walk to her bedroom lay down with her legs spread as wide as she could get them. As she lay there she wet the dildo by sucking on the tip. The last item on the list was for her to call her lover on his cell phone all the while sliding the dildo in and out of her cunt. His phone rang in her ear, she waited for him to answer. She started to grow disappointed when the feeling of not being alone over came her. She looked to the door and there stood her lover. He must have let himself into her house early that day. He was nude and had a hard on. She was speechless. He slowly walked towards her, his cock swinging from side to side. Laying there still pumping the dildo in and out of herself her hips bucking back and forth, her mouth open wide looking for anything to be put in it. Her lover gave her a kiss thrusting his tongue in deep into her. When their lips parted he had a hold of the ring on her collar holding her head off the bed he smiled and softly said "I have only just begun to turn you on". To be continued... The Box Life had been pretty good for me. My mother, Aunt Constance and I lived in a quite country town in a big old house. My father had deserted us when I was very young, so young that I don't remember him being around, but he had provided well for us, so it was a happy, comfortable upbringing, although a little boring at times. There was some occasional tension between my mother and Constance. Basically Constance was a widower but a renowned man eater, and her occasional flings with men around town angered my mother who, since being dumped by my father, wanted nothing to do with men and wanted me to grow up under the strictest moral code. Constance's indiscretions upset my mother, not only because of the poor example they set me, but because in a small town like ours, everybody got to know about it, and this did not look good for a leader in the Church and President of the PTA. This was the reason I was forbidden to go into Aunt Constance's half of the house. Mother was fearful I would see something inappropriate. Not only did Constance sometimes bring men home, but she was also liked sexy lingerie and was rumored to have a substantial collection. Mother used to scold her for drying it on the clothes line. "Why don't you put up a neon sign!" she used to scream when she saw it on the line. I had to promise never to go in there and never ever look in her cupboards. "There are things in there that can do a young man no good at all" she used to say, "You'll get the wrong idea about normal women." I had no desire to ever go in there. Basically Aunt Constance scared me and I had intention of upsetting her. That was of course until my final year of school. At 18 I was suddenly horny all the time and very frustrated at the lack of opportunities. There were girls at my school, but they were big boned country girls with legs like tree stumps and shoulders like front row forwards. They were nice enough, but they didn't do anything for me, not like the girls on the cover of Playboy, which I used to always sneak a peek at when we visited the newsagent. They were so sexy! Lean and smooth with slender legs, tight asses and big yet firm breasts. I used to masturbate every night just thinking about them. Then it happened. A life changing moment. Insignificant at the time, but monumentally significant in the grand scheme of things. As I put a load of washing in the machine one afternoon, I noticed something in the bottom of the tub. It was a pair of Aunt Constance's stockings. They were damp but clean, obviously left behind from a previous load. I hung them out to dry with my clothes when my load had finished and thought little about them, although to softness did appeal to me. I set about studying. Aunt Constance was at work and my mother had taken on extra charity work now that I was "grown up" and in my final year. After several hours work, yes, I was a good hard working student, my mind started to wander and I found myself thinking about sex. I remembered the pair of sexy, black stockings on the line and had the urge to try them on. I collected my washing, well the dry items anyway, and nonchalantly took the stockings as well, imagining that the whole world was watching me. It wasn't of course, but I was glad to get back inside and quickly glance around before locking the door. I sorted my washing and put it away. My mother had trained me to be very neat and methodical, and I was hoping that my desire to try on the stockings would fade over time. It didn't. I was desperate to put them on. I raced upstairs and locked my door. Then I tore off my clothes and fumbled with the stockings. They were just about impossible to put on, until I remembered the way you pull on long socks. I rolled each leg up into a ring, then slipped them over my toes and began unrolling them up my legs. They felt magnificent. I had a few hairs on my legs but the stockings made them feel really smooth and soft and silky. I really enjoyed running my hands up and down my legs. They felt and looked really good. I told myself that this was because it was the closest I'd ever come to the real thing. I nearly convinced myself that if I had a sexy girlfriend I'd be stroking her stockinged legs instead of my own. Deep down though I knew there was more to it. I just really dug wearing stockings, but I managed to believe that I was perfectly normal, horny male. "I bet lots of guys do this." I thought to myself. I wore them around the house for as long as I dared. I posed in the various mirrors throughout the house, but I actually preferred catching glimpses of myself as I walked past the mirrors rather than standing and posing. I got to see myself in a more natural way, and it was a little unsettling just how natural I looked. Then paranoia set in and I tore them off, returning them to the washing machine with another batch of dirty laundry. When the cycle finished I hung everything out. At least if Aunt Constance asked how they got to be out there I could give her an honest answer. They were in the bottom of the machine so I hung them out with my laundry. I couldn't lie to Aunt Constance, she seemed to know how I thought, even more so than my mother. I returned to my studies with my pulse racing and my hands trembling slightly. I was still excited about what I had just done and I had to concentrate really hard to push my urge to explore Aunt Constance's' room for more exciting lingerie to try on. Thank God for Calculus. I managed to put in four hours solid and nail the Calculus chapter before my mother returned home. It's funny how things change, previously I longed for her to go out so that I could be alone – now I was keen to have home because I knew with her around I wouldn't be able to act upon my secret urges. The year dragged on. Mother's social and community work kept her very busy, Aunt Constance continued to work full time and play the field in her spare time, and I was flat out with the finals fast approaching. This gave me much more time alone in the house to study and much more time to experiment with dressing up. It became my secret obsession. I loved it! I loved the way it made me look and feel. It must sound weird but I really fancied myself as a girl, and I often thought that if somehow I could get all the girls in my year at school to doll themselves up and parade before me, I would probably choose myself. Now I'm not that much of a big head, it's just that the girls at my school were so unsophisticated. They could dress well, they could dress pretty, but looking sexy seemed to be beyond them. I found an old chest in the basement full of clothes. They must have been Aunt Constance's when she was a young woman. Now I had a wardrobe of my own! I was so excited. Not only did it have a good selection of stockings, bras and panties, but several dresses as well. Some were really slutty little numbers, my favourite was a black strapless cocktail dress. They fitted me well and I would dress up as a girl as soon and the others left home until about an hour before they were due to return. Once dressed, I would study or do the chores as I normally would do as a boy. Occasionally I had visitors, or some of my mates would drop in for help with their math, with caused me to scramble into the nearest bathroom and tear of my outfit, jump under the shower, then sprint to the door. Dressing up as a girl was now my favourite hobby. I began taking more risks. I would dress up as soon as the house was empty, and stay dressed until the last minute, then frantically change back to being a boy. I also became more bold in my excursions into Aunt Constance's side of the house. I would try on all her sexy underwear, and she had lots of them! I was almost giddy with excitement as I found a new item I hadn't tried on before, and would race it into my own room and try it on, making sure I returned to precisely the same place in her walk in wardrobe. I was fairly certain that my dressing up was a secret, because I was so careful about putting things back where I had found them, but needless to say I was taking more and more chances. Sometimes the anxiety about being caught and the associated consequences kept me awake at night, and distracted me from my study. It took a great deal of commitment from me to actually give up dressing up for the duration of the final exams. The urge to dress was almost overwhelming at times, but I promised myself that when the exams were over I could do as I pleased. It was just the motivation I needed to get my head down and really study hard. When the exams were over, I was confident I had done really well, and readied myself for an onslaught on dressing up and really letting my hair down. To my delight, both my mother and aunt were to go away for a week to visit relatives before Christmas. Normally I would accompany them, but as a reward for working so hard all year, I was allowed to stay at home by myself. Naturally I was read the riot act and was given list of tasks to complete as long as my arm, but I knew it meant living for a whole week as the girl I loved to be! The second they left the driveway I was into Aunt Constance bedroom and searching for something 'new'. To my surprise I found an old camphor wood box at the back of the wardrobe I had not seen before. It had a strange, ancient, musty smell to it and I was intrigued by it's presence in the wardrobe. Even more intriguing was the heavy duty padlock that held it shut. Try as I might I could not pick the lock, nor would it budge as I wistfully tried to force it open. I returned the box to its place in the cupboard, disappointed and still curious, I vowed to try it again in the morning. The very next morning I did just that. However when I pulled out the box, to my surprise, the lock was open! I immediately went into panic mode, and frantically searched the house. I was convinced that Aunt Constance must have secretly stayed behind and was playing tricks on me. But after thoroughly searching the house, I knew I was alone. I figured the WD40 I'd spayed onto the lock had worked its magic overnight. It was creepy, and it troubled me that the lock was opened, but something about that box just made my hair stand on end. I had to see what was inside. I raced back into Aunt Constance's room and opened up the box. Inside, wrapped in layers of tissue paper was a pair of plain white women's panties. My disappointment was somewhat diminished when I touched them. They had a curious silky yet rubbery feel to them. They sort of clung to my fingers when I touched them, a bit like the bathing cap my mother used, clingy and yet smooth as silk. The other surprising thing about them was the weight. They weighed practically nothing and they felt like they should weigh more than they did. I decided I could no longer resist putting them on. I dropped my shorts and pulled the strange white panties up my legs. My cock was wildly erect and I had to force it down between my legs so I could pull the delicate material over it. They felt simply fantastic on. The material was cold and yet warming at the same time. The material seemed to hold my skin as if it were a sensual pair of soft hands. It was about the most excited I had ever felt, they just felt sooooo good! I wandered around the house in a trance afterwards. I left my shorts on Aunt Constance's floor and her wardrobe wide open, I picked at some fruit for breakfast, sort of tidied up the place, but basically I was just wandering around. Eventually I decided to go back and tidy up Aunt Constance's room, take the panties off, and get my shit together. When I tried to hook my fingers under the top of the panties to pull them off, I noticed that I could not. Where the thin elastic should have been there was a red, 1 cm wide indentation. It ran all the way around my waist. It was very similar to the line that develops if your underwear is too tight, and it hurt in a similar way. I tried to pull the panties away from around my crotch but the edges had merged into my skin creating the same red indentation as they had around my waist. I could still feel my cock and balls nestled snugly inside the fabric, and that gave me some comfort, but I started to panic. I cleaned up Aunt Constance's room as best I could, and headed for the kitchen. I selected the sharpest knife from the drawer and attempted to pinch out the panty material where it covered my pubic bush. I found I could not. It was like I was pinching my own flesh. Then I detected just a slight crease in the panties between my legs, where they were pushed out due to the presence of my balls. I grabbed the thin material and pulled it out as far as I could, then delicately as my trembling hands would allow, pushed the point of the knife in. I hoped to be able to pierce the thin material, and then tear it apart with my fingers, but the second the knife went in I howled with pain. The panties seemed to contract and the pressure this created on my balls, bladder and hips was more than I could bear. I collapsed to the floor in agony and lay there as the pain slowly subsided. My next bright idea was a shower. Maybe it was just the heat of my body on the rubbery material that had caused them to sort of melt onto me, I reasoned. The shower did nothing. I tried it really cold, then really hot. Then I tried rubbing mentholated spirits on them. That did nothing either, so I tried mineral turpentine - Aunt Constance swore by it for stubborn stains. Again it did not work. For the moment, I reasoned.the panties were going to stay on. I relaxed a little, the panties still felt really good on, and I figured that they would eventually come off, somehow! I must have fallen asleep on the lounge. It was a wonderfully restful, erotic slumber, much like the dozy, peaceful sleep you have after a really good wank. However when I did actually get up the following morning, I felt dizzy and nauseas. As soon as I stood up, I had to race to the bathroom and vomit. Another shower had me feeling somewhat better, but the urgent need to shit sent me into another blind panic. I rushed to the toilet and sat down. I expecting to feel my faeces squelching between my buttocks and the panties, but, to my amazement, I passed a stool without any difficulty. My finger quickly explored the spot where my asshole once had been only to feel a largish dimple. Further probing caused my finger to be coated with shit. The panties had formed an asshole! I squatted over a small mirror for further inspection. There was no doubt about it. The panties had now assimilated my buttocks and anus. If it weren't for the red marks that ran around my waist and around the tops of my legs, from this angle, there was no trace of the panties. Then I noticed something peculiar in my pubic region. Sticking through the material of the panties where my pubic bush once had been, were several light brown and very fine hairs. I pulled one gently. It hurt like one of my own hairs, SHIT!, it was one of my hairs. The panties were no longer something that was stuck to me, they were now part of me. I felt my cock and balls underneath the material to re-assure myself. Relief! I could still feel my two testicles tucked snugly between my legs, and my cock, although somewhat smaller than normal, which I attributed to its confinement, still lay where it should. I always had "dressed to the left" as Aunt Constance would say. Not entire happy with my situation, I dressed and completed my daily chores. About midday I was almost overcome with fatigue. I stumbled to my bed and crashed out... I awoke the following morning, at about 10am. I felt weird. I still suffered from nausea, my nipples were red and swollen, my head was light, and I had broken out in a rash of tiny red pimples all over my body. I felt for my manhood underneath the alien material for re-assurance. I didn't get any. My testes seemed to have gotten smaller and longer, changing from oval shaped balls to long, flat, vertical mounds. My cock felt as though it was disappearing into my body. It could still feel it, but it seemed like only the head remained. It was sensitive to touch, but not in a pleasant way. And my pubic bush! It had grown overnight to a neat little triangular shaped thatch of fine, golden brown hair. It felt so soft to touch. I could have played with it for longer but I needed to urinate. I fully expected pissing to be a similar experience to shitting the previous day. I assumed the panties would allow my urine to pass through it in someway. Perhaps my cock would reappear when this happened. After all, I needed a cock to piss, right? Wrong. I managed to urinate alright, although it was a gushy sort of event, unlike the needle like stream I usually managed. Like yesterday, I felt a dimple in the panties where the piss had come out. Closer inspection revealed what I had anticipated. I now had two holes, one small one for pissing, which appeared at the front in between the two mounds that were my testicles, and one larger one for shitting. I showered and massaged my sore, swollen and reddened nipples. I'd suffered this before when I'd surfed using a foam surfboard. As for the rash, it was painless, but a bit of a worry. I contemplated my next move, but was interrupted by the door bell. I threw on a bath robe and raced to the front door, hoping to get rid of whoever it was very quickly. I froze in horror. It was Aunt Constance. She took one look at me and went pale, her horrified look matched mine. "Oh my God you've been in my room, you've, you've, and you've found The BOX!" she stammered. I started to deny it but she just shrugged and angrily dialed a number with her mobile phone. "It's me," she said bluntly, cutting off the pleasantries the other party was initiating. "He's got into the box, it looks like it's started." Aunt Constance looked me up and down as the hysterical voice on the other end of the line, which I now recognized as my mother, screeched and carried on. "No, looks like assimilation has well and truly started..." she said into the phone in response to my mother's frantic questions. She motioned me to open my robe, which, given my predicament and state of shock, I did without thinking. "Oh God no!" she said, "Breast development has commenced and he has lost all male genitalia, I'd say at least 48 hours..." her voice trailed off and for a change my mother was silent. Aunt Constance took charge. "You'll have to come home immediately, and work on a good story whilst your on the plane, God knows how we will explain this one! I'll break it to him," she paused and looked my in the eye briefly before continuing, "That's if he doesn't already know...and please try and keep it together? Bye." She hung up, pushed me gently inside and said sternly, "We need to talk." "The box has been in our family for over 150 years. Your great, great grandfather brought it back from Siam. Fortunately for him, he died of dysentery before he ever got to open it." Aunt Constance paced the floor and sipped from the huge balloon of brandy she had poured herself. I sat meekly on the lounge, not knowing what this was all about, but knowing it was bad, real bad. "Your great grandfather was the first to experiment with it. Your grandfather found the empty box in the study when the family returned from a holiday, and no sign of great grandfather. Your great grandfather had stayed at home by himself. You can imagine the rumours and gossip that abounded when the body of a naked woman was found hanging in the barn. No one knew who the mystery woman was, nor where great grandfather had got to. The police eventually decided it was "foul play" but had very little to go on. Of course it was your great grand mother who figured out that the woman in the barn was really her husband. A wife gets to know the marks and blemishes on a husband of thirty years. She burnt the box one day, only to find it back in the old cupboard, it's contents intact, the following morning. The Box Your grandfather, my father, was next. Like you, he couldn't resist poking about in the cupboard and trying the mysterious panties on for size. He was lucky at first, because guilt caused him to take them off quickly. He told me about this before he ran away. He used to like dressing up in women's clothing, a family trait I'm afraid. Each time he would wear the strange but exciting panties a little longer. About three hours he claimed to be the limit. After which, you never get them off! He noticed himself changing. He decided he couldn't face his wife and family, but didn't want to commit suicide, so he deserted the family. I never saw him again. Long after I got married, and found that married life lacked a little excitement, I too started to dress up. Making a long story short, I too tried on the panties. Much like you I expect, I found they felt really good on, so much so that I left them on. Then I realized that I could not take them off. Very quickly I became a woman. Unlike my father, I stood by my wife and son; I had vowed I would always be here." Aunt Constance stared at me silently. "So that means that..." I mumbled, my brain refusing to draw the obvious conclusion. "Yes dear, I'm your father." Aunt Constance added gently. Tears welled in my eyes, my heart felt like it was going to explode, and I started to shake uncontrollably. "So I'm going to turn into a woman?" I screamed. "Already are, I'm sorry to say." She replied. I broke down and started howling. She came to my aid with a small shot of brandy and a white pill. I gulped the brandy and pill down, fought to get them down, and then sat up on the lounge. I rudely refused her offer to comfort me, it was just too weird. Very soon I felt the calming, soothing, deadening effect of the drug. I had so many things I had to get right in my head. Aunt Constance promised me she would be completely honest. "Why didn't you just dump the box?" I asked. "We tried everything to get rid of it, even moved house. It always shows up in the man of the house's cupboard." She answered in a resigned manner. "What's this rash"? "You body is under going huge hormonal changes, it's a fairly common reaction." "But I can still feel my testes and penis!" "Your penis is rapidly becoming a clitoris, and you will have noticed the elongation of the testes, they are turning into labia. In a matter of days you will have a vagina." "And my nipples?" "They are about to blossom into breasts." "Oh my God, then what?" "In about 4 weeks time, you will become completely female in a physical sense, with a full female body, female hair, female emotions, and of course, a female menstrual cycle." It was dawning on me. My life was over. Everything was to change. What about university? If I did well in my exams I would be offered a place at University, but I wouldn't be able to go! What about my friends? What about those sexy girls I dreamed of dating? Then I remembered what she had just said. "Completely female in a physical sense." "What did you mean by in a physical sense?" I asked angrily. AC looked uncomfortable, sat down and drew a big breath. "Well you see dear, your brain has been male for 18 years. You are genetically a male. The curse has given you a female body, and in time, you will naturally think and act like a natural born female, but in the short term, you have a male brain. You will think and act like a male." "So what's short term?" "Well for me it took about six months to be able to function in every day life as a female, mind you, I had to keep it from your mother and our family, and I didn't know what the hell was going on. You have the advantage of being fully informed from the start, and to have someone who has been through it to help you. I guess it was 2 years before I..." We stared at each other across the room. AC was a strong person, who didn't get embarrassed easily, but I could tell this was difficult for her to say. "Before I was comfortable enough as a woman to be able to be intimate with a man. Still, even now I still remember my youth as a male, why do you think I always knew what you were up to, more so than your mother?" I did wonder how AC was always on to my schemes, I guess I knew why now. But what was that she had said, "intimate with a man", how gross! I might look like a girl, but no man would ever touch me. "Don't worry my dear, when the time comes, you will have desires and urges that only a woman came have for a man. It will be perfectly natural and very, very beautiful." AC was reading my mind again. My nipples ached, my genital area itched, and my face turned blood red with embarrassment. My life had just been turned upside down. The Box It started out as a room. Cindy stood in the center of the room. A tight, leather cuff encircled each wrist. A tight, leather shackle encircled each ankle. The chains dangled from the ceiling and the floor. Holding her arms up, widespread, over her head. Holding her legs far apart. Cindy wasn't sure what else was in the room. Constantly, she heard Linda's voice. Commanding her to sleep. Commanding her to obey. Commanding her to watch the lights. The pretty, flashing lights. They sparkled. Glittered. Flashing colors. Bright red and blue sparks, before a golden background. Flashing, flashing, flashing. Sleep. Obey. Bright green sparks and yellow, before a deep, crimson red. Sleep. Obey. Sleep. Obey. The young blonde hung from the arm chains, her weight supported by them. Her mouth slackly open. Breathing so slowly. Slowly. Her sun-bronzed hips swayed with arousal. Slowly to the left. Gently to the right. Feeling her wet pussy lips slip and slide over one another. Feeling them pucker open when her hips thrust forward. Sleep. Obey. Sleep. Obey. Cindy listened to Linda's voice. Listened to her Mistress' voice. The twin of her own voice -- if she could remember. If Cindy could remember HOW to speak, any more. All she could do was listen to Mistress' voice. Sleep... Obey... Watch the flashing colored lights, and sway her hips. Pussy so wet and dripping. Watching the lights, projected on the walls, on the ceiling, on the floor. Everywhere she looked. Flashing, flashing, flashing. Sleep... Obey... Later, Cindy found herself in smaller and smaller enclosures. For a while, it was the bathroom. Chained in the shower. Linda liked that. She watched her slave react to the recorded voice. Sleep... Obey... Watched Cindy gaze mindlessly into the waterproof TV camera in the shower wall. Watched the tall, slender, tanned body swaying back and forth. Sometimes rising up out of trance just enough to try impaling her hairless cunt on the shower handles. Then Linda would trail her fingers through Cindy's long hair, tugging gently on it, dragging her head back just a tiny bit. That always forced Cindy down into a deeper level of trance. Sleep... Obey... The box in the dining room was originally of wood. Not simple pine, but fine-grained walnut, a cabinetmaker's work of art. Enclosing Cindy in darkness. Confining her in a kneeling position for hours at a time. Her only stimuli, the flashing, sparkling lights in the grilled opening at the front of the box. And Linda's voice on the speakers, repeating, repeating, repeating. Sleep... Obey... And the toys. Sometimes, Linda would open a little door in the box, perhaps the one at the back, and through it she would push a long, thick dildo into Cindy's dripping cunt. In... out... in... out... Twist. One full turn around. Then again in... out... in... out... Then Linda withdrew the dildo. And closed the box. Once again locked inside, Cindy watched the flashing lights, listened to the repeating hypnotic voice. And pressed her hips back, trying to impale herself on a dildo that was no longer there. Sleep... Obey... Linda opened another door at the back of the box. This one a little higher. She dribbled warm oil into the crack of Cindy's round bottom. Letting it trickle down the cleft of her ass. Sometimes, Linda followed this with a butt plug -- or a long, tapered dildo -- spreading Cindy's anus open. Slowly, irresistibly. Farther in... and farther... and bigger... Till Cindy's hips began to buck. Till her knees and ankles spread wide, within the confines of the box, and her ass pushed against the back, trying to get more. And Linda removed the dildo. Closed the door. Sleep... Obey... Sleep... Obey... Linda decided she wanted to see everything. Money was no object. Cindy and Linda, poor little rich girls, now in their twenties, had all the money they could ever need from Daddy's estate. Linda could afford to equip the Mediterranean beach house with any comfort they wanted, anything she needed to subjugate Cindy to deeper and deeper levels of mindless servitude. Contorting Cindy's body into any configuration, programming her mind in any way Linda found interesting, entertaining, stimulating. The clear, Lucite box rested on a little platform, about three feet off the floor, attached to a short pole in the middle of the dining room. The centerpiece of attention, spot lights illuminating it from the ceiling. It was tiny, for what it contained. Three feet long, two feet wide, a foot and a half tall. And what it contained... was Cindy. Curled up with her arms at her sides, her legs tucked underneath, feet together, toes pointed down. Compressed within the box. Like a big question mark, squashed down a bit, with her toes just above where the dot would have been, directly over the pole. So suggestible now, Cindy needed only a small, spinning crystal before her eyes. She watched the crystal, as it reflected the beams from the spotlights in the ceiling. So pretty. Blue and red and green flashing into her eyes. Tiny speaker buds in her ears received a wireless signal, and continually repeated Linda's voice, at a subliminal level. Commanding her to sleep... Commanding her to obey... A click in the back of the box, the swiveling of a plastic door on its hinges, the gentle sound of plastic scraping against plastic -- and Cindy felt cool air between her legs, around her pussy. Linda reached in and rolled the spiked wheel over Cindy's clit, digging the little points into the moist, tender flesh. Sleep... Obey... Cindy was now completely unable to move her limbs, but her hips pressed backward, and her dripping vulva opened like a flower to the stimulus. Sleep... Obey... Her eyes hardly seemed to blink. Watching the crystal. Watching the flashes of color. Watching the red, the blue, the green. Linda withdrew the wheel and closed the door. She set aside the toy and opened another door on the underside of the box. Cindy's plump, hard nipples protruded underneath. Linda lifted the two clamps and quickly clipped one on each nipple -- first the right, then the left. Red and white wires led down from each nipple to an oblong, black box, with buttons and a little dial. Linda twisted the dial to midrange, then pressed the button. The shocks to Cindy's nipples caused her to grunt, wordlessly, and twitch inside the Lucite box. Linda released the button, twisted the knob to full range, and pressed the button again. Cindy squealed and jerked inside the plastic box, and her eyes went wide -- still staring at the crystal. Sleep... Obey... Sleep... Obey... Oh, sometimes Linda let Cindy out of the box. After throwing a few latches, she could open the entire top and side, and ease Cindy out. Slowly... careful not to strain Cindy's stiffened limbs, careful not to let her lose her balance and fall. It took a half hour to get Cindy out. And almost an hour to get her back in, positioning each limb so carefully, gradually squeezing her into place, mindful not to let Cindy's smooth skin get pinched when a panel was swiveled closed. Sometimes Linda took her out for a shower, or a little walk along the beach. Cindy never seemed to notice. Her mind remained deep in trance. Sleep... Obey... Her body always on the edge of orgasm. Linda enjoyed keeping her slave in the box, for days at a time. She could even feed Cindy without removing her, one tiny bite at a time, and then a brush of Linda's finger against the slave's clit... then another bite... * * * * * Linda heard the doorbell and picked up the remote control from the coffee table, switching the TV to show the security camera view outside the locked gate. "Helloooo..." a voice sang. "Is anybody home?" A voice Linda hadn't heard in a couple of years, but a familiar one. "Anita!" she replied through the intercom. "How are you? Let me buzz the gate open." Linda pressed another button and the mechanical hum and clack carried through the microphone. While her old friend swung the gate open to enter, Linda set down the remote, made a few quick arrangements to the decor, and opened the front door. Anita was only halfway up the long, wooden stairway that led up to the house, so Linda started walking down the steps to meet her. "How are you, darling?" said Anita, as they stood on a weathered stair and hugged, kissing the air near each other's cheeks. "It seems like forever since I saw you last!" "Come on in," replied Linda. "I'll put on a pot of tea and we can catch up!" * * * * * Anita took another bite of the chocolate biscotto, set it down, and ran her hand over the elaborate lace tablecloth. "This is really beautiful work," she said. "It was my grandmother's," Linda explained, holding up the teapot. Anita nodded, and Linda refilled her cup. "You seem to have kept a lot of the old things," Anita continued, then waving her hand at the big screen TV and other electronics around the house, "while going totally twenty-first century techno on everything else." "A creature of contrasts, that's me," Linda laughed. Anita took a sip of her tea and looked up at Linda, pausing for a moment. "What about Cindy? I thought you two both lived here?" "Oh, we DO." Linda picked up her tea cup for another sip. "Cindy's out for a couple of days." "Too bad I missed her," Anita replied, swirling her cup in a gentle circle. She watched the tea leaves settle at the bottom. "Nobody sees you two much, any more." "We're down at the beach almost every other day..." Linda began, then paused. "Oh, you mean of the OLD crowd..." "Ouch!" Anita said. "You make me sound like an antique!" She set her cup down. "You and Cindy used to be such party animals." She laughed. "RUTTING little party animals!" "We're two little homebodies these days," Linda said, setting her cup down. "We miss you," Anita said. "I miss you. Both of you." She leaned forward, folding her arms, elbows carefully just at the edge of the table. "I really wish I could have caught you together." "Maybe another time," Linda said, folding her hands. They looked at each other for a moment, not moving. "Well," Anita said, "I guess I'd better get going. Big party tonight, and I need time to get ready." She stood, setting the folded linen napkin next to the cup and saucer. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to come? I can bring a guest." "Ohhhhh," Linda demurred, also standing, "can't make it tonight. I wish I could have..." "Right," said Anita. "I'm really sorry I missed Cindy." "I'll tell her you dropped by..." Linda accompanied Anita as she walked toward the door. The woman seemed in a hurry to leave. "No need to see me out," Anita said. "I can find my way down all those stairs." She reached toward Linda and gave her a brief hug, then pulled back. "Are you okay?" Linda asked. "I'm fine -- I just need to rush off." Anita shrugged and smiled. "Even Cinderella's fairy godmother needed TIME to work a few miracles, before the ball!" "Another time, then," Linda said. "Another time. 'Bye!" Anita gave a little wave and started down the stairs. Linda watched her from the doorway, then went to retrieve the remote control. She returned to the front of the house just as Anita reached the bottom step. She buzzed open the gate and gave Anita a final wave as she walked through and pulled the gate shut. Then Linda stepped back into the house and pushed the front door closed. She wondered why Anita had really come to visit. Especially that mention of "Cinderella." That's what Anita used to call them -- Cinderella and Linderella. Of course, they had both stopped waiting for Prince Charming years ago! * * * * Linda took the teacups and saucers to the kitchen. Then she lifted the big, floral centerpiece from the dining table and put it on the buffet shelf where it usually sat. Finally, she removed the lace table cloth and padded cover, and carefully set them aside in the corner -- revealing the Lucite "table" that encapsulated Cindy. "Miss me, honey?" Linda said. She opened a cabinet and pulled out the big, black dildo again. She flipped a latch, swiveled the panel open, and gazed at Cindy's wet pussy, dribbling juices almost constantly. She slowly pushed the dildo between Cindy's labia... Deeper... Deeper... All the way to the base, then Linda slowly began to draw it out... "So, Cindy IS here, after all!" Linda jerked upright, releasing her hold on the dildo, and turned to face the intruder. "I walked back inside before I shut the gate," Anita explained. "You really should be more careful about security, since you seem to value it so very highly!" She smiled. Linda saw that she was holding a gun. "Now, what are you doing with my little Cindy?" She waved the gun sideways, and Linda stepped backward, toward the living room, holding her hands up. "That's right, back off nice and slow." Anita looked at the thick, black dildo, partially embedded in Cindy's cunt, and grabbed the base. "Mmmm... THAT'S the Cindy I remember. Always having such fun with her toys." She slid the dildo out, admiring the slick, shiny coating of Cindy's juices. Cindy moaned with pleasure, feeling the shaft slide out of her body. "Ohhhh, yeah!" Anita said, pushing the dildo back in. Cindy pushed her ass back, trying to open herself even more, though she couldn't budge an inch. Linda backed further into the living room, next to the couch and the coffee table, hands still high in the air. "Hold it right there," Anita commanded. "I don't want you calling the police or anything. Just stand there, and stay still." She pulled the dildo out again, watching Cindy's ass flex inside the clear plastic box. Again, she pushed the shaft inward, filling Cindy's pussy and making her moan again. "How long have you kept her like this?" she asked. "You dirty bitch! No wonder nobody ever sees the two of you, with her locked up like this, and you playing your little games!" She slid the dildo out, and Cindy squealed, her hips wiggling inside the tight enclosure. "Please... stop..." Linda began. "I want you to tell me how to unlock this thing, and let her out of here!" Linda demanded. She pushed the thick, black phallus in again. Cindy jerked and grunted. "It's not locked," Linda replied. "Not locked?" Linda stroked the dildo out again. Cindy began to moan, her voice almost sounding like she was singing. "She likes being in there. It was her choice!" Anita pushed the dildo into Cindy's wet slit again. Fifth time. Cindy's trigger. She had been conditioned to orgasm on the fifth consecutive stroke. And Linda had been teasing her for days! Two strokes, and stop. Four strokes, and then rolling the spiked wheel over Cindy's clit. Always on the edge, never quite there, never quite that final slide of rubber inside aching flesh! And now, within seconds, Anita had thrust the rubber cock inside her, one, two, three, four... and FIVE! Inside the box, Cindy shook and moaned, making the Lucite enclosure wobble, squealing in ecstasy, squashing her ass cheeks back against the walls of the box, trying to impale herself deeper on the thick rubber dildo. Anita stared at the box, the gun lowered, forgotten -- distracted for a moment -- as she watched Cindy cum and cum and cum, thrashing around inside, moaning and squealing, crying with release. And in that moment, Linda grabbed the remote off the table and pressed a button. "Put that down!" Anita commanded, swinging the gun back upward. Linda set the remote back on the coffee table. "Come over here," Anita waved the gun toward the box, where Cindy's spasms were lessening, her cries of ecstasy becoming quieter. "Open this up and let her out." Linda walked over to the box, mindful every moment of the gun pointed at her. She undid the latches at the side of the box, and at the ends. Then she pulled the side downward on its hinges, and swiveled the top upward. The box resembled a small, transparent grand piano, its top lifted for maximum volume. Linda started to pull on Cindy's arms, feeling her muscles still twitching, shivering. Anita continued to hold the gun, but her eyes were fluttering. She was finding it very hard to keep them open. Very hard to think what she next wanted to demand. What order she wanted to give Linda. She wanted to sit down. She wanted to lie down. Eyes wanted to close. She just wanted to do what she was told, and not think. Just sit down. Close her eyes. Go to sleep. Of course Anita didn't know -- couldn't know -- about the subliminal sounds, playing through speakers set in every room in the house. "Sleep... Obey..." Just under the threshold of conscious hearing. Their timing was staggered, one room to the next, so they seemed to echo. "Sleep (sleep, sleep, sleep)... Obey (obey, obey, obey)..." Linda's first try at programming Cindy, twenty-four hours a day. Until she set up the wireless ear buds. Even though it was her own voice, Linda was feeling sleepy, too. But she knew what was happening. After all, she was the one who had pressed the button on the remote. The remote that seemed so far away. "Sleep (sleep... sleep... sleeeeeeep)... Obey (ohhhhhhhbey... obey... obeeeeeyyyy...)" Anita's gun still pointed at her, Linda gently eased Cindy out of the box, while Anita quietly sat down on the floor, legs crossed. She was trying so hard to keep her eyes open. The gun drifted to one side, and her eyes gradually closed. She shook her head, forcing them open, pointing the gun again. Trying to remember which woman was Cinda, and which one was Lindy, they looked so much alike. Anita blinked slowly, smiling at her mistake, almost giggling. The gun drifted lower... lower... So heavy. So hard to hold it up high. So very high. Better to hold it lower. That was easier. Even lower. So hard to lift her gun, and point her eyes. Waiting for someone to tell her what to do. Anita's eyes closed. The gun dropped out of her hand, and her jaw fell open, exposing her pink tongue. She seemed to wave back and forth, in rhythm with a barely-heard song. "Sleep-eep-eep... Obey-ey-ey-ey..." Linda guided Cindy into a standing position and tapped her forehead, then the right cheek, then the left cheek, and finally kissed her lips... so gently, so affectionately. Cindy opened her eyes, smiled, and said, "Hello, gorgeous!" * * * * Anita awoke to find herself on the floor, in a kneeling position, her legs spread wide. It would have been incorrect to describe her as naked, even though all her clothes had been removed. Each leg was bound separately -- shiny, silver duct tape wrapped around and around from her knee up to her crotch, holding the lower leg tightly against the upper leg. All she COULD do was kneel. Her arms were bound behind her, elbows straight, both arms wrapped from wrist to shoulder with more and more yards of duct tape. The posture thrust her bare breasts forward, as if offering them to be squeezed and sucked. Another strip of tape covered her mouth. Immobilized, helpless, silent, Anita opened her eyes and looked up at the two identical women sitting on the couch, clothed in light summer dresses, both sipping tea. The woman on the left had her dress hiked up to her waist, showing off her smooth, tanned legs, and the fact that she wasn't wearing any panties. The woman on the right had stretched one leg out across the couch, her foot firmly placed against the other woman's hairless pussy. Her toes flexed and curled, teasing the ring that had been pierced through the exposed clit. Flipping it up... and down... up... and down... The woman on the left was making the tiniest rocking motion with her hips, her eyes drifting closed with every wiggle of the toes between her legs. Anita knew them well. She recognized the tiny differences between the twins. She knew the woman on the left was Cindy, the one on the right was Linda. "I haven't seen you in sooooo long," Cindy said. Anita's body jerked with her surprise to hear Cindy speak. She was so certain Linda had brainwashed her somehow. Of course, she was right about that fact -- but not the reason behind it. The Box "You seemed to be under the impression that Cindy needed to be rescued," Linda began. Cindy giggled, and spread her legs wider, pushing her pussy onto Linda's toes, getting them wet with her juices. "Of course, I needed to make sure you didn't hurt anybody." Linda reached down beside her and lifted Anita's gun. She shifted it to her other hand, pointing it up at the ceiling. She reached down again, and held up the clip, now carefully separated from the gun. "Nasty things," Linda said, wiggling the two shiny metal objects. "The effects of a split-second decision can be so... permanent!" She set the gun and clip down on the table. Cindy started to make little grunting noises, pumping onto Linda's toes. Linda withdrew her leg, causing Cindy to say, "Awwwww..." Linda stared into Cindy's eyes and tilted her head, nodding, in a way her twin instantly understood. Cindy pressed her legs together and resumed rocking, more quietly now. Linda turned back to Anita and leaned forward, her elbows on her sun-browned knees. "Cindy and I have an arrangement. I am her mistress, and she is my slave." "Only until the end of the year," Cindy exclaimed. "Then we switch." Linda smiled a secret smile, then continued. "You interrupted our fun. Cindy was soooo disappointed. You need to make it up to her! And I realized that we need to make it crystal clear to you... that Cindy's desire to remain here is genuine." Linda shifted forward, moving closer to the tape-bound woman. "So we were thinking... it might be amusing, if Cindy had someone else to control for a while." She reached out, lifting up Anita's chin. "What do you think, 'Nita? Would you like to stay for a week, as Cindy's sex slave?" "A fortnight!" Cindy exclaimed. Linda glared briefly at her with disapproval. "Awwww, c'mon, Lin!" "Two weeks, then," Linda offered, looking back into Anita's eyes. "Unless you're not interested... or busy... You seem to be all tied up." She grinned, lopsidedly. "You wanted to see Cindy again. So what do you say? Wanna play, for two weeks?" Anita looked up at Linda, her least favorite twin. There always seems to be one that's a leader, and the other twin follows. Linda impressed her as being tricky somehow, always something up her sleeve. The wicked stepmother to Cindy's Cinderella. But it WAS a chance to spend time with Cindy again. Sexy, slutty Cindy. She looked up at Cindy, then Linda, and nodded her head. "Oh, goody!" Cindy cried, standing up and clapping her hands like a little girl. She opened a drawer in the end table and pulled out something. A leash, with a dog collar. Cindy strode forward and crouched in front of Anita. She deftly looped the collar around her neck, buckled it in place, and stood up, holding the leash. "Now, 'Nita girl, time to start your training!" Cindy giggled. "Follow me!" Anita couldn't think how to move, even to crawl after Cindy, with her legs bound up and her arms tied behind her. "Ohhhh," said Linda, "you can move! All you need to do is lean forward... and walk on your knees." Her eyes took on a wicked look. "And if you lose your balance..." she looked up at her twin, "well, it's up to Cindy. Whether to let you try to stand on your knees again, or make you crawl like that on your belly!" She leaned closer to Anita's ear and whispered, "Take my advice... DON'T lose your balance!" Cindy jerked the leash, almost forcing Anita to fall over before she had moved. "C'mon, 'Nita slave! I want to lock you up someplace nice and tight!" "She's untrained," Linda cautioned, as Anita struggled to her knees, wobbling. "She won't fit in the box." She grinned. "Not right away, anyhow!" Cindy watched her new slave swing her left knee a few inches forward, the carpet abrading the delicate skin of her leg. Then she wobbled again, swinging the right knee forward, a little higher. It landed on the floor with a thump that hurt, and jarred Anita's body all the way to her head. "That's okay," Cindy replied. "I'm sure she'll fit in the shower stall." She looked up at Linda, the wickedness in her eyes a reflection of her twin's. "Turn on the remote, and you can watch on the TV." Anita swung her left knee forward, tears forming in her eyes from the effort, the pain, the humiliation. What HAD she gotten herself into? She could feel the leash tugging on her neck, threatening to pull her too far forward, threatening to make her fall. Cindy stopped tugging, then crouched down in front of Anita, changing her hold on the leash, grasping it just a few inches from the bound woman's face. She spoke softly... but there was an edge in her voice that made Anita feel like she might lose control of her bladder. "If you're REALLY good... I might ask Linda to let you stay longer... Maybe a month..." Anita felt Cindy's fingers caressing between her legs, one long, slim digit stroking gently along the cleft of her pussy, up to her clit, and stopping there, possessively, unmoving but pressing gently against the fleshy button. She gazed up into Cindy's eyes, and found herself moaning through the tape. Cindy smiled, stood up, and tugged gently on the leash. Walking slowly toward the bathroom, hips swaying, the summer dress swishing back and forth. Listening to the thump... thump... of her slave's knees behind her. Her very own slave's sore, aching knees. They were going to have such fun! The Box, A Gift Of Love Susan and Michael get naked for the last time. A soldier and a fireman experience the real Nude Day celebration. I dedicate this story to Barb, my friend. I gave her the idea for this story and she told me to run with it. Since high school graduation, Susan and Michael's favorite holiday was Nude Day. Unlike others who celebrated the naked holiday with a crowd of other naked people, this couple always celebrated that day alone and behind closed doors, albeit even if it was only closed car doors in the beginning of their long relationship. At first, Nude Day was their excuse to get naked and to explore one another's bodies. Young and filled with as much puppy love as they were with hormones, she was a pretty, brown haired, brown eyed girl and he was as blonde and blue eyed as he was country. "Let me see your tit." "No, Michael." "C'mon, lemme see it. Show it to me. I wanna see your tit." "I'm not going to whip out my tit right here in the car to show you," she said looking around in the dark. Except for crickets and a distant coyote, there was nothing and no one outside their parked car. "C'mon, it's Nude Day. People are supposed to be neked. Besides, we're alone. There's no one else here but us." "Yeah, well, I'm not people. I'm a lady and—" "I double dare you to show me your tit. It is Nude Day after all. It's not much of a holiday if we don't get neked." "You can feel my breast through my clothes," she said giving him free access to her breasts by lowering her arms and pushing back her shoulders. "I've already done that. I want to see one. I'm never seen a tit," he said staring at her tits before regaining eye contact with her. "Fine," she said folding her arms over her breasts. "If you don't want to feel my breasts, then that's your loss." "Now, hold on. I didn't say I didn't want to feel your breast. I just said that I'd like to see one, is all." He looked at her sitting there in his passenger seat all stiff, as if she was sitting in church waiting for the preacher to finish his sermon, so that she could leave her pew to pee. "If you show me your tits, I'll show you my cock." "Eww! I don't want to see your cock, Michael, at least, not until after we're married," she said looking down at his lap before looking up at him. "Married? I'm too young to get hitched. Besides, I never want to get married," he said looking at her with a smug smile. "I wanna be a one of those bachelors that they have in those Playboy magazines. "Then, why would I show a man that I'm not marrying my tit?" She pulled away from him. "I'm a one man kind of girl and these tits are not for you to see. Take me home, please." "C'mon, Susan, can't you take a joke? If I was going to marry anyone, I'd marry you. You know that, Sweetie Pie," he said with a kiss, a cuddle, and a feel of her breast through her blouse and bra. "You know I'm crazy about you. You know I luv you." "Okay, you can see just the one," she said pushing his grabby hand away and unbuttoning her blouse and easing her left breast from out of the bottom of her bra. "Wow! It's awesome. Can I touch? Can I feel it?" "Calm down, Michael. You can feel it, but you can't suck my nipple," she said with a sly smile. "The last guy who sucked my nipples made my nipples—" "What? Someone sucked your nipples? Who?" "I see you're not the only one who can't take a joke. I was just kidding, Michael. No one has ever sucked my nipples. No one but you now has ever seen my tit, not even my brothers," she said opening her blouse wide to expose her breast to him. I love how it feels. It's so soft, yet firm. It's perfect," he said practically lying across the car seat while feeling her breast and fingering her nipple. "Let me see the other one." "Gees, I give you an inch and you want more. No, Michael, I'm not going to get naked in the car. You're lucky I'm showing you one of my tits." "Please." "Easy with the nipple, Michael, it's not a pull toy." "Touch me, Susan. Feel my cock while I feel your tit," he said while kissing her and feeling both her breasts after struggling to finally remove the other one from her bra. "Unzip me." "No, Michael." "C'mon, take it out. I want to show you my cock." "I don't want to see your cock, Michael." "C'mon, you've never seen a cock before and—" "I've seen a cock before, Michael." "You have? Whose?" He looked at her and smiled. "Are you teasing me again to make me jealous?" "I've seen my brothers' cocks plenty of times. They are always walking around half naked. They both have as much sense as they don't have modesty. They leave the bathroom door wide open when they're peeing." "Dang! Please Susan." "Okay, I'll take it out, but I'm not going to blow you, Michael." "No, I just want to show you it. I just want to feel your hand on it. Except for my Mom, no one has ever seen or touched my cock." "Eww! Your Mom, Michael?" "When I was a baby and she changed my diaper or gave me a bath. What do you think I am, one of those perverts?" "I'm just poking fun at you, Michael." "Go ahead and take it out," he said while watching her kneading his cock through his clothes. She unzipped him, reached her little hand inside his pants and fondled his growing erection before pulling it out of his underwear and out of his pants. "It's big, Michael," she said feeling the weight of it in her hand while exploring the length of it with her fingers. "It's hard," she said wrapping her fingers around it. "It looks like it has an army helmet on it," she said with a laugh. "I love how your hand feels on my cock, Susan," he said while kissing her and feeling her other breast that he finally managed to remove from her bra. "Move your hand back and forth, like this, as if you're getting ready to roll the dice." "I'm not going to give you a hand job, Michael. No way. That's gross. That's disgusting. I'm not that kind of girl." "C'mon, Susan, please? You already have it out and in your dang hand. It's a wasted if you don't do something with it." And that's how it went with each body part, until they had gained a dimly lit familiarity of one another's bodies by the dashboard lights of his parked car. After dating and after going steady for a while, it started off as giggling innuendos, suggestive teasing, and then as a joke before it became a forbidden dare that morphed into a sacred tradition. Both virgins, he had now seen bits and pieces of a woman's body, Susan's body, but he had never seen and explored the body of a naked woman before and she had never touched a man and explored a man's body in the way that she touched him that day. A modest couple with Christian values, a love for God, and a fear of the Devil, they grew up from a stable upbringing that gave them a more solid foundation than those lost souls who frequented bars and nightclubs just for one night of random sex. Instead, even back then, they were greedy and even at their young ages, immaturity aside, they knew exactly what they wanted and what they wanted was more. "So, what do you want out of life, Michael? Do you want to travel? Do you want to go away to college? What are you going to do now that you've graduated high school?" "I'm going to live right here, just like my Daddy did after his Daddy gave him a piece of land and his Daddy did the same before him. What about you?" "I want to get married," she said. "Once I find the right guy," she said with a stroke of his cock and a giggle. "I think you found him," he said looking down at his cock in her hand. "What about kids? How many kids do you want?" "At least three, just like my Mamma," she said fingering his cock, as if fingering a piece of cookie dough before rolling it out to make oatmeal cookies. Now, that his cock was in her hand, now that she was accustomed to the feel of it, she seldom let go of it and every time they parked, she was the one who pulled it out of his pants, as soon as he started kissing her and feeling her tits. "Yeah, three's a good number. Any more than that and it gets difficult to support them like the Wilson's and the Taylor's. Their kids look poor with all those hand me down clothes they wear. I've never seen any of them wearin' anything new." Witnessing the happy lives that both their parents had and the love they shared for one another while bringing up their broods of children, they wanted what their parents had. They wanted a serious relationship, but without the head games. Without having to wait around wondering if the other was going to call, under the arbitrary rules of dating protocol, they wanted a relationship where they could call one another on the phone and agree to have fun, even on the spur of the moment without feeling clingy and needy. They wanted someone to share a laugh, to celebrate a success, to tell a secret, or to just hold when they needed a shoulder for support with a hug to help get them through their day. They wanted a friend before they became their lover. They wanted a commitment, where they agreed to not see anyone else, but without the resentment and the cheating. A lightning strike to meet their one in a million soul mate, they wanted to experience that head over heels, wide-eyed, holding hands, hugging, and long, wet kissing kind of love with that one special someone, where they talked about everything and laughed over nothing. They wanted that one person who consumed their thoughts when they were with them and that they missed when they weren't there. They wanted it all and looking back on their lives, they got what they so wanted. Nude Day for those who were exhibitionists and for those who were voyeurs meant that they could expose themselves in a public display of nudity without fear of humiliation and voyeur naked bodies without fear of arrest. For Susan and Michael, it meant something else entirely. More of a personal holiday, it ran deeper than that. They didn't have the desire to run along the beach, or frolic through the woods naked, or stand in the midst of hundreds of others in a field or a park, while celebrating a national day of nudity. Not voyeurs or exhibitionists, their bodies were only for them to see and for no one else to touch. Nude Day was a celebration of their bodies during their day of intimacy. It was their one day that they used to experience the sexual pleasure and experiment with the sensual eroticism of one another's bodies without guilt, shame or judgment. As if her body was his and his body was hers to use for a day, for each to do whatever one so deemed; it was a day of erotic fantasy and pure sexual pleasure for both. It was on this day that one would accommodate the other in all their sexual wants, physical needs, and emotional desires, whatever that may be. National Nude Day meant more to them than most other couples. It was the day they were married. Now, twenty-seven years later, this one day had morphed into a combined commemoration of a Nude Day celebration and a wedding anniversary. Only, just as this was their special day, this was their solemn secret. No one needed to know that they celebrated their wedding anniversary by getting naked and giving each what the other wanted. Their family wouldn't understand and their friends, couples who don't share the close bond of an intimate love relationship that they share, would laugh at them while secretly harboring their feelings of envy. What they did on that one day behind closed doors was between two consenting adults, a couple, a husband and a wife, who were married to one another, and it was none of anyone's business. "Happy Anniversary, Susan." "Happy Nude Day, Michael." "I've already taken the box out of the closet." "Oh, goodie, I can't wait to begin," said Susan giving her husband a kiss and a grope of his already growing cock. After taking a relaxing bath together that was filled with laughter and teasing, and having erotic fun drying one another off, while kissing and touching, it was a romantic time for them. With fragrant candles creating the ambiance and soft music setting the mood, wrapped in a soft blanket, they sat on the couch facing the fireplace naked, while sipping Champagne and munching on shrimp and fresh fruit. It didn't take the bubbles very long to get her in the mood to start kissing and touching him. It didn't take him long to give her what she needed and wanted. With vibrator in hand and dildo at the ready, he gave her the sexual pleasure she so desired with his experienced fingers and talented tongue. "I still love kissing you, Susan, while feeling your tits, just like we used to do at Rocky Hill Point when we were teenagers," he said while playing with her pussy and maintaining just enough pressure on her clit to make her simmer without bringing her to a boil too soon. "And I've always loved holding your cock and slowly stroking it while we kiss and kiss. This is so romantic, Michael. I hope this day never ends," she said leaning down to briefly take him in her mouth to tease him with what more was to come later. She put an oversized, fluffy bath towel on the rug in front of the fireplace and they cuddled before making love. She gave all of her body to him, as her special gift. He was into anal and she did that for him without reluctance or resistance but with desire and love. Without complaint, she embraced his need to explore that part of her body because that is what he wanted and so desired and she was gratified that she could make him happy and sexually satisfied in that special way. "Put plenty of lube in there, Michael," she said after assuming the position, on her hands and knees with head down and her ass pointed up higher. "Yeah, that's good. It feels so cold when you first apply it, but it warms up fast," she said with a wiggle and a giggle. "Fuck me, Michael. I want to feel your cock inside of me." Gently, he inserted himself and slowly humped her while holding on to her hips. Slowly, his cock slid deeper and deeper in her ass, until she had taken the length of him. "I love feeling your tits while fucking you up the ass, Susan. I love fucking you up the ass. You're so tight and it feels so good when I have my cock buried deep inside you." She wanted him to blindfold her, tie her up, and relax her with a massage of fragrant lotions and perfumes, before teasing her with feathers, fresh fruits, sweets, and ice. A sensation of smells, tastes, and touches, she wanted the surprise of not knowing if his touch was going to tickle or be cold, or if rewarding her with something edible or fragrant. Not knowing from which direction or when it would come, it was just as exciting not to see to resist the feather or the ice, before he satisfied her taste with a piece of fresh fruit or sweet chocolate to eat and perfumes to smell or lotions to feel. Being blindfolded and restrained while her lover lovingly explored her body was one of her favorite wishes. "That feels good, Michael. That new crème smells like peaches. I like it. I love how it feels on my body. You're giving me goose bumps. With wearing the blindfold, I never know where you'll touch me next and that excites me more not knowing. Oh, Michael, if you continue playing with my clit like that while sucking my nipples, you'll make me cum." "Isn't that the idea, Susan," he said teasing her clit with a vibrator before teasing her more with a dildo? He wanted her to finish him off with her special blowjob, one that culminated in him cumming in her mouth before cumming on her face and all over her tits. She had become masterful at sucking his cock. Touching him, teasing him, stroking him, and making him laugh while slowly making him excited, all prearranged to make the exhilarating moment last longer. She lingered with the oral pleasure of foreplay before turning it into heated sex. "Oh, my God, Susan, you are incredible. The way that you suck my cock and hold me at the point of cumming and then release just enough pressure not to make me cum before repeating the process over and again is like nothing I've ever experienced. You are an amazing cocksucker." "Thank you, Michael, I think," she briefly removed his cock from her mouth to say with a giggle and a laugh. Never rushed or resented, adept at playing with him with her hand and lips and teasing him with her tongue, while keeping him hard in her mouth, she heightened his experience before swallowing his cum. They both made sure that he saved some for a second ejaculation, enough for him to explode across her face and breasts. It thrilled her to know that she could still excite him enough to cum twice and his cum bath on her naked body paid tribute to her sexual effort to satisfy him. "Oh, Michael, you exploded like a volcano. I've never seen you cum so much. It's everywhere. There are gobs of it in my hair. I feel like Cameron Diaz in, There's Something About Mary," she said laughing. "You gave me quite the cum bath." Sometimes, he'd dress in her clothes and she'd apply his makeup and fix his hair. Other times, she'd dress in his clothes and they'd role play pretending to pick one another up at a bar or other public place. It was kinky. It was sexy. It was forbidden. It was funny fun. "Let's pretend we're at the library this time and you're the new librarian. You sit here and pretend you are reading a book," she said putting on a short skirt over her white panty. "Sounds good so far," he said watching her button a white blouse over her C cup breasts. "I'll sit over here reading a book, while oblivious to everyone and everything around me and not realizing that I'm giving you a show of my panty." "Oh, kinky, I like it. I love up skirts. They're so exciting." Susan sat on the far side of the room with her knees spread just enough to give him a white view. Every now and then, she'd move her knees in and out while turning a page in her book. "Then, you approach me and—" "No, don't tell me. I have an idea," he said with a smile. "Excuse me Miss." "Yes," she said looking up at him. "May I help you?" "I'm embarrassed to tell you, Miss, but I don't think you realize that you're flashing your panties to everyone at the library." "Oh, thank you for telling me. I'm so embarrassed," she said closing her knees and pulling down her skirt before crossing her legs. Playing the part, she looked up at him while biting her lip. "Could you really see my panty?" "I'm sorry to say, Miss, that whoever was sitting across from you had quite the view between your legs, quite the view. From where I was sitting, I could even see your camel toe." "I was so engrossed in my book, a romance novel and I had no idea that I was causing you some distress," she said staring at the bulge in his pants. "Don't be," he said looking down where she was looking. "I must admit that I enjoyed the view of your bright white panties." "Thank you," she said still staring at his bulge. "May I give you some relief," she said unzipping his fly, sticking her hand inside and pulling out his cock. She stroked him while looking up at him. "Miss, what are you doing? Someone might see my cock." "Not if I stick it in my mouth," she said with a sly smile. "May I blow you?" "Damn, Susan, that was hot. That was fun," he said pulling away. "If we continue that game, I'll cum in a minute." "Whew, yeah, that was hot," she said releasing his cock from her hot hand and getting up from the chair. "We should try that in the library, but in a different town," he said tucking his cock in his pants. "We'd be arrested," she said with a laugh. "Let's play the teacher and the student now," he said. "Okay, but you play the teacher this time," she said. "And I'm sitting in the front row with my short skirt hiked up while flashing you my panties." Sometimes, they both wore leather and sometimes they both wore lace. Sometimes, she'd discipline him and other times, he'd spank her. The Box, A Gift Of Love "Susan, I've been home from work for an hour. Why isn't supper ready? I'm hungry." "Sorry, Hon, I was caught up in watching soap operas all day. I figured we'd call out for Chinese take—" "You've been watching soap operas instead of readying my supper? He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to his chair. "I'll show you." "Let me go. You're hurting my arm." "You're arm won't be the only part of your body hurting," he said pulling her down on top of him and bending her over his knees. Then in one quick pull he lifted her short skirt and pulled down her panty. 'Slap, slap, slap, slap.' "Ow, Michael, that really fucking hurt." "Are you sassing me, woman?" 'Slap, slap, slap, slap.' By the time he was done paddling her ass, she was hot with desire for him. It didn't matter what they did; it was all for fun, experimenting with this and trying out that was their way to give one another the pleasure they so wanted and so deserved. No one was to know what they did to keep the flames of their passion lit, but with all that they did; they managed to continually keep the flames burning brightly for 27 happy and sexually satisfied years of their marriage. They were always hot for one another. What they did on this one day of the year lasted a month of Sundays. The feel good feelings of love and togetherness and erotic sexuality and intimate sensuality carried forward to make the mornings tingle and the evenings erotic with renewed passionate desire for one another. Armed with the sexual information they learned on their special day, their personal peccadilloes allowed them to make that part of their sexual routine new and exciting, until next year when they tried something else. Their time together, especially this one day was their special time to reflect on their love with erotic sensuality and steamy sexuality. This one special day meant more to them than all the other days and nights spent together. It was their lasting memory that they looked forward to and promised to celebrate every year. They didn't just get physically naked on Nude Day. Sharing their most forbidden thoughts, they shed their intimate secrets with their inhibitions by baring their souls to one another. Sometimes whispering what they wanted, every time they giggled with excited anticipation at the thoughts of getting it. As if what one said to the other was their sub-conscious thoughts, much like a Mafia Don granting the wish of his guest upon his daughter's wedding day, whatever they said on this one day was sacred and just between them. "I want you to rape me and force me to blow you." "Seriously? You want me to rape you?" "Yeah, I've been having this reoccurring dream, a fantasy, that you break in the house, grab me, tear off my clothes, and have your way with me while I'm resisting you." "Okay, that sounds like fun. This is something I don't remember ever trying with you, but I'm game." "And Michael?" "Yes, Susan." "I want you to hit me." "Really? "Yeah, but not too hard, I want you to slap me hard enough to make me want you." "I have to slap you for you to want me?" "You know what I mean." Where do you want me to slap you?" "I want you to slap me across the face." "Okay." "Just let me get changed into some old clothes that I don't care if you rip to shreds." "I'll wait outside pretending to be peeping on you getting changed." "Oh, great idea," she said running in her room to ready the show. Michael watched her changing her clothes from outside through the bedroom window before going around the front and barging through the front door. Dressed in a housedress, bra, and panty, Susan turned and looked toward the front door. "Who's there?" Michael grabbed her and with one hand over her mouth and another hand around her waist, he reached up and felt the fullness of her breast through her clothes. Susan struggled, but he was too strong for her. Finally she pulled away and ran for the phone, but he beat her to it, picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. In one quick rip, he tore open her housedress exposing her bra and panty. Then, with the scissors she had left on the dresser for this intended purpose, he cut away her undergarments. She was naked. Pure, unadulterated pillow talk that continually tested the boundaries of their sexuality, it was of no consequence if they were in a heated discussion later, neither could use what one told the other on this one precious day against them in an argument to make them feel bad or dirty or perverted. Doing so would violate and ruin the secret covenant of pleasure that they vowed to have from this day forward, on this one special day, for better or for worse. It was a way for them to cleanse their thoughts without fear of being thought less of or admonished for having those most secret of thoughts and unfulfilled sexual desires. Eliminating the need of psychotherapy, marriage counseling and/or mood enhancing drugs, Nude Day proved to be a very healthy day for this devoted couple. It was a day that carried itself over to other days in the course of the year, and it was their way for them to clear the air sexually without their thoughts becoming suppressed fetishes or deviant behavior to be played out with another man or woman later, behind the back of one or the other in an extramarital affair. Cheating would ruin all the intimacy, eroticism, sexuality, and trust that they accomplished as a couple in their happy marriage. They freely gave of themselves so that there was no reason to ever go outside of the marriage to get what they needed or wanted. This one day so connected them that they never drifted apart. Whatever it was one needed or wanted, the other freely and happily provided. Isn't that why we marry some one special person because we want him or her to be our whole world? There were no secrets between Susan and Michael just love and pleasure. What they willingly did for one another, few couples test the boundaries of erotic sexuality and dare do. Too embarrassed to admit to their secret desires and too ashamed to share their most private of fantasies, too many couples are alone in their thoughts, wants, and needs. Too many couples do not trust their partner enough to lay themselves open for their unadulterated inspection and to volunteer their sexual suggestions for fear of their partner's rejection. Yet, if they don't expose their deep rooted sexual thoughts, what hope will they have that it will lead to an unprecedented and exciting explosiveness of eroticism, eroticism that would evolve in the sexual expressiveness of physical actions for the enjoyment of both. For this married couple, no desire was too perverted or perverse. No thought was too outrageous or impossible to grant. Whatever one wanted the other received without a question that would make them feel ashamed or destroy the mood by having a questioning conversation before or after that would change their mind and ruin the experience. Susan was lucky. She met the love of her life early, while still in high school. She never thought she could be as happy when Michael asked her to the Prom, but she was when he proposed to her two years later. With their life already set, they weren't worried about college. Now that they found one another, they never wanted to be apart. Growing up in a small, rural town, they'd follow in their parents' footsteps and build their house on the ten acre plot of land that his folks gave them as a wedding gift. The labor to build was cheap. Their family and friends all helped them to build their house and it was done before the cold of the winter hardened the ground. That was how it was done back then with neighbor helping neighbor, friend helping friend, and family never turning their back on family. Sue and Mike couldn't imagine living anywhere else. This is where their family lived. This is where their friends were. This is where their life is now. This is their home with their roots growing wide and deep. The easy part was building the house. The hard part was earning enough money to finish the interior and to furnish and decorate it. Grateful for the hand-me-downs given to them by relatives and friends, furniture and appliances cost much more than the cheap labor they received to build their house. They just had to buy the food and drink to feed and quench the thirst of their family and friends. A modern version of a log cabin with an oversized attached garage and a barn like loft above, they cut what lumber they needed long ago to allow the lumber to dry from the trees they cleared from their land in anticipation of building their house. With heavy equipment rented to dig out the foundation and move and put the logs in place, so much like pegs on a Lincoln log toy, their work was made easier than their ancestors who homesteaded this land back in the 1860's with a team of mules, block and tackle, and plow horses. What took them months to do back then, took them days to do today. Yeah, their families have been here a while and now with their house built, Michael and Susan would be here a while, too, as they expected their children would be here a while, also. Already owning their home and their ten acres of land without having to be indebted to the bank and with Michael and Susan working along side his Mom and Dad and her Mom and Dad at the factory, things couldn't be more perfect. Only, there was one problem. Michael's couldn't give Susan the one thing she dreamt about, a child. His sperm wasn't active enough to impregnate her. To compound matters, as the star quarterback on the high school football team, The Eagles, he had forgotten to wear his cup one fateful day. The low hit dislodged, ruptured, and so damaged his testicle that it had to be removed. Now, with slow swimming sperm and one testicle, his chances of impregnating his wife were slim to nil. Michael had always dreamt about having a son to throw a football with around the backyard. He had visions of teaching him to fish and to drive, and giving him advice during his high school football games. Unable to afford the medical procedure of in vitro fertilization that was not covered by insurance to impregnate his wife, he felt incomplete and empty not being able to reproduce and it hurt to watch all the other dads with their children at the fair. His brother had three daughters and his family name would end with the death of them. Susan had always dreamt about having a girl to play dress up with dolls and to help her furnish the dollhouse she had when she was a little girl and that is squirreled away in back of the closet. Wanting to take her to church every Sunday, get dressed on Easter, take her trick or treating on Halloween, and experience her wide-eyed excitement on Christmas morning, she felt incomplete and empty in not being able to give him a child. She wanted to be pregnant; she needed to give birth to feel like a woman. They talked about adopting a child, but they never did. The wages they made working at the factory barely provided them with the necessities they needed to survive, food, gas, healthcare, and utilities, once cheap, were now expensive. There was never any money left over for extras and adoption cost more than they could afford. Maybe later, they could afford to adopt a child, but for now they were still newlyweds and were contently happy to start a new chapter of their lives alone together. If there was one spike to drive a hole in their relationship, not being able to have children could have been the split that would have separated them. Only, whatever they experienced as a couple, good or bad, added to their love instead of diminishing it. They were just happy to be together and there was no need to borrow trouble by thinking about things that couldn't be and things they couldn't change. The important thing is that while others were still looking for Mr. Right and finding Mr. Wrong, they had found one another early and right in their own backyard. There was a reason for everything and in God's plan, if they were not meant to have children, then so be it. Besides, they were preoccupied with love and sex and still so very young that they didn't miss not having children, just yet. They were barely adults themselves. They had their horses, Molly and Runner, and their dogs, a Coonhound named Buster and a Border collie named Irene, and the boss of the clan, a tough little cat named Cyclone, who acted as if she owned the house. Whenever the dogs ventured too close, Cyclone would go into a cyclonic frenzy of paws, claws, and hissing. So long as she stayed away from their food while they ate, the dogs knew enough to treat her as their pack leader, even protecting her from other dogs. When the economy soured and worsened and the factory slowed, overtime was cut and then the second shift was laid off. Still hanging on at the factory, but to make ends meet and to fulfill his patriotic duty to his country, as his Dad and Granddad did before him, Michael joined the Army Reserves. The extra money was good. He'd only have to give up one weekend a month and two weeks in the summer. It felt like going to camp and the time spent away from Susan invigorated their love affair upon his return. They loved one another so very much. Michael with his shooting skills, his ability to follow instruction and take orders, and his easy country manner made him a natural leader and he quickly made sergeant. With his healthcare paid for by the United States military and his PX card used to buy cheap food and other necessities and niceties of life at the commissary, things were looking up for Susan and Michael, that is, until, at 47-years-old, they shipped him off to Iraq. ***** Willie Johnson and his wife Marlene had been going through a bad patch. Married fourteen years, neither one could see making it through one more year together as man and wife. Willie was a fireman, loved his job, but didn't love his wife. He didn't hate her, it was just that things were so turned and twisted around that he didn't know how to untangle the mess to get it straight and make it smooth again. The flame that once fired their love and the lust for one another that sparked the romance and heated their desire died with the death of their only child in an automobile accident. Busy talking on the cell phone while driving and not paying attention to the road; he blamed Marlene not only for the accident but also for not having the child properly restrained in a seatbelt. "He's dead, Marlene. Little Willie is dead. You killed our son." "I'm sorry, Willie, but we can't continue as a couple unless you find it in your heart to forgive me." That was seven long, tumultuous years ago and although they tried, they gave up trying to have another child. As usual, assigned to rescue, he was the first responder to the accident. After the rest of the squad responded, his firefighter brothers pulled him away from the scene when they recognized his car. They stabilized Marlene, but there was nothing they could do for his son. They tried to revive him. They tried to bring him back. They tried making a miracle for their beloved brother, but his son, William, Jr., God rest his soul, may he rest in peace, was gone. He died at the scene of the accident. Marlene clerked at the law firm and she admitted that she loved her job more than her husband. It's not that she hated her husband, it was just that things were so turned and twisted around that she didn't know how to untangle the mess to get it straight and make it smooth again either. They had just grown apart, mostly from their inability to communicate. She still hadn't gotten over the guilt she felt for her responsibility for the tragic accident and he still hadn't forgiven her for the death of his son. They needed to talk for her to lose the guilt she felt and for him to lose the resentment that he felt towards her. Both spent their days hiding away from one another with work. Willie spent his time at the firehouse and Marlene made excuses to go in early and to stay late working overtime. When at home together, she watched television downstairs and he watched television upstairs. Other than going food shopping, not even taking the same vacation week off, they seldom did anything together as a couple. They spent their time, as if doing time and not living as husband and wife, but more as brother and sister. It wasn't bad most days. With their feelings for one another detached and nearly severed, seldom saying more than a few words to one another, they never argued. With the magic of love long gone and the spark of sex no longer there, they spent their time going through the motions of life being married. Their life was status quo and both had the attitude of why rock the boat and if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Yet, their boat was sinking and their marriage and their lives were not only broken it was shattered and in pieces. Neither of them was happy. There were some days that the frustration of not having a happy marriage with a satisfying sexual relationship filled them both with emptiness and despair. Whether it was job, material things, hobbies, sports, family or friends, nothing could replace their unhappiness with happiness. While watching television shows and movies that showed happy couples, they both verbalized to friends and family that they'd be happier apart. They went through life numb, as if they were the ones who had died instead of their son. They weren't living, they were slowly dying. Not only couldn't one help the other exist after their tragic loss to repair their marriage but also they couldn't even forgive the other for the pain and suffering that they had put one another through. They didn't celebrate Nude Day. Hell, they didn't even celebrate their anniversary. Both days were just another day of stick in the mud, going through the motions of drudgery and misery for them. Willie's thoughts were consumed with other women and having an affair. He was ready. Horny, he had already been online corresponding to some women who lived the next town over. Only, he feared being caught, losing the house to her, and making his life worse for the sake of having some empty sex with a person that he didn't care about. Willie had his affair and Marlene caught him. Actually, she didn't catch him in the act; she knew that he was having an affair by his sudden good mood and distant behavior. He confessed and she forgave him hoping that by forgiving him his sin, he'd forgive her hers, but it apparently didn't work that way with Willie. Her accident that killed his son was much bigger than him having an affair. Marlene already had her eyes on a cute lawyer who worked at her firm. Flirting with a conversation filled with innuendos, they regularly lunched together a couple times a week and she was just waiting for him to make his move, but their relationship was stalled. Not wanting to jeopardize his job, especially in this bad economy, by having an extramarital affair with a co-worker, her intended lover was reluctant. He was married. ***** Susan first became unsettled when she hadn't received a letter from her husband in more than a week. That wasn't like him. She never went more than a couple days without receiving his letter. Then, she dreamt that he was dead and he was. Already armed with her womanly intuition and a foreboding feeling, it wasn't as shocking when she saw the car approaching her property from the distant road, before turning and driving up her long driveway. No one came to her place but friends and family and the occasional door-to-door salesman or Holy Roller. She knew every car. She knew the Army was here to give her the bad news and they were and she was already numb to it. She didn't want to hear it. The Box, A Gift Of Love She invited them inside, a Major and a Sergeant. The Major was a Chaplain and he asked her if she wanted to pray and she did. They told her how Michael died, but she stopped listening beyond the words that he was dead. As his widow, they gave her papers to sign to claim his life insurance and she signed them without reading them. It wasn't money she wanted or the benefits she'd receive as his widow, she wanted Michael. She wanted her husband. A roadside bomb blew up his Humvee, one of the few vehicles that had not yet been refitted with armor plating. They gave her his medals and they told her that he was a hero. They helped her through the funeral service and the closed coffin funeral with the American flag draped across his casket. They gave her the flag and then they left and, but for her family and friends, she was alone and lonely without him. They had been together and so very close for so long, that a big part of her died with the death of him. He was her friend, her husband, and her lover. She didn't think of him as a soldier or as a hero. Now, she just thought of him as dead. Snatched away from her in the prime of their lives, she didn't even have a child to remind her of him. All she had left were photos of their good times and their box of sexual toys and costumes that they excitedly used every anniversary on Nude Day. Even though the box was packed away in the closet, it loomed as big as their house and it haunted her. It was a box she could no longer open and couldn't even stand to look at without imagining his body being blown to bits. She was desperate to have the box out of her house. There were other families who lost a love one, whether it was in Iraq or Afghanistan, an accident at the factory or an accident on the road, after a while those who cared about her stopped coming to see her once she assured them all that she was okay and needed and wanted to be alone to grieve. They all had their own problems and were going through their own hardships, especially with this sour economy. They all had their own lives to live and, as their relative or friend, she could no longer be there for them, when she couldn't even help herself. Only, she wasn't okay. Susan lied when she told them that she wanted time alone to grieve. She died with the death of her husband. She loved Michael so much that she didn't want to live. She couldn't continue living life without him. If there is a God in Heaven, he'd understand her loss and maybe would forgive her for what she was about to do. Along with her last will and testament, she secured the box of all her sexual toys and costumes that she and Michael had acquired over the years and so enjoyed. Along with a letter To Whom It May Concern, she had them delivered to her attorney with the stipulation that they not be opened until her death. Then, Susan sat for one last time on her couch on her anniversary on Nude Day in front of her fireplace naked while sipping Champagne and eating fresh fruit and munching on shrimp. They said the fire that consumed her home and took her life was accidental and a tragedy for a woman who had already suffered the loss of her husband. After Susan was buried, her attorney opened the box that was delivered to him. He called Marlene in to witness the contents of the box that was to be given to the first responder. At first they thought it was funny that someone who lived so far out in the sticks would have so many sexual toys and costumes that it could fill an entire big box. While pulling out some of the items, they shared a good laugh over the contents of the box while imagining all the various uses of some of the sexual items, the leather, the lace, the handcuffs, the whips, the dildos and vibrators, and the lotions and crèmes. Then, he read the letter aloud. To Whom This May Concern, You may view this box of sexual toys and sexual costumes as perverse, but I can assure you that it is not. My beloved husband and I shared and enjoyed all that is contained in this box throughout our happy 27-year marriage. Now, that he is gone and I am gone by you viewing the contents of this box and reading this letter, I no longer have any use for any of these items. It is my last wish that you give this box to the person who was first on the scene of my house fire. I figure that someone who responds to such tragedy daily needs a release, a counterbalance of sexual pleasure and wanton desire to the pain and suffering that he or she has witnessed in his of her chosen line of work every day. I'd like for him or for her to share the contents of this box with their special someone and if he or she cannot, then I implore him or her to give this gift to a couple who will cherish this treasure as much as did my husband and I have over our happy times together. We only opened this box one day a year, Nude Day, our wedding anniversary, and gave one another whatever pleasure was requested with no questions asked. The contents of this box were used to unlock our deepest desires and sexual secrets. Nothing we did was done to make the other feel embarrassed or ashamed and never did we use whatever we did as a couple on this day against the other when having an argument. Doing so would violate and ruin the secret covenant of pleasure that we vowed to have from this day forward, on this one special day, for better or for worse. I dare say whatever we did on our one special day, our anniversary on Nude Day, carried over to many other days and were sexual things that we implemented as part of our daily intimate times together. Call it magical if you'd like, but this box was magical for us and for our marriage. When other couples go without sex for weeks, months, and years even, we had intimate moments daily. We openly and without reservation agreed to give one what the other needed and wanted rather than for one or the other to harbor secret desires and to feel the need to play them out with another person outside of our marriage. We gave of ourselves with love and I give this gift of love to you for you to share with someone who will use it in the way that we have enjoyed it. Marlene left work early that day. She couldn't work. She couldn't stop thinking about how happy and how much in love Susan and Michael must have been. She was so sad. She couldn't stop crying. Something that was so funny when her boss opened the box was suddenly so tragically touching and unselfishly loving after he read the letter aloud. Filled with self-pity and remorse, she was jealous and wished she had a special someone who was as devoted in her life as Susan had. She did once with Willie, but that was so long ago, before the tragic death of their son. She wished that she could share all of her thoughts with her husband without fear of ridicule, without being made to feel stupid, or to be made to feel that there was something wrong with her to feel those feelings and to think those thoughts and to want and need what it was she was thinking, be it sexual or otherwise. For Susan to give this gift to another couple, upon her death, was beyond what she could express. Willie met her at the door and she fell in his arms crying. "What's wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?" "I'm sorry that our son is dead. It was all my fault and I wish I could bring him back, but I can't. I'm so sorry. I love you, Willie. I truly do and I don't want us to live like this any more, so far apart." "It's okay, Marlene. I forgive you. Really, I do. We'll get over this. It's just a bad patch. With the help of God, we can work together to make a better life for ourselves. I love you." And then they kissed. Suddenly, instantly, the kiss transformed itself from their usual peck on the lips into a long, wet, passionate kiss. They hadn't kissed like that in such a very long time. It was a time when they were happy. It was a time when they were both filled with love and desire for one another. It was a time when their son was still alive. Then, she told him the story of the couple who loved one another so much that there was nothing that they could say or do on their one special day, their anniversary, that fell on Nude Day, and that would never diminish their love. She told him about the box and all that was inside. She told him about the adventurous, guiltless, and pleasurable sex they must have had. Then, when she turned to look over his shoulder, there was the same box sitting on their couch and in front of their fireplace already opened. "That's the box! How'd that get here? Willie, why do you have that box?" "I was the first responder," he said to his wife. "The box was delivered to me." He took his wife's hand in his and smiled. "The way that I see it is, this could truly be a gift, our gift or I can give away it to another couple." Willie and Marlene celebrated their anniversary, as if it fell on Nude Day. They vowed to continue the tradition of Susan and Michael's gift, as if it was their own, and promised to add to this box and deliver it to another couple upon the death of one or the other. Cherish the one you love, as if it is your last dance.