Persephone in Winter - Chapter 2/11 - Sex Stories

Persephone in Winter - Chapter 2/11

Chapter 2 The house was one of many hidden behind dense hedges and wide iron gates along the endless avenue. Finding it was painfully slow. The camera's cold, glass eye found them, internal elements shifting with precision, then stared unblinking at them through the windshield for what seemed like hours. At first they sat in silence in the waiting car - her heart racing with forbidden surrender to another, his with apprehension, and finally terror. She was delicious in the cool evening light. He had never seen her so radiant - the creamy white skin of her neck gracefully arched over a tempting hint of heaving breast revealed at the border of the modest neckline. The dress was delivered earlier that day, a plain black box with a single red rose attached. Steven was curious but quiet upon its arrival. She placed it on the bed unopened, smiled, and put her arms around his waist. "He always dresses me. Oh, it's not what you think. No garter belts or lingerie, none of that. He puts me in the most tasteful clothes, something different each time. Very chic. Very expensive. Afterwards he takes them from me and destroys them." "He thinks that little of you?" She smiled, resting her head on his chest against a bounding heart. "No - he thinks that much of me. Each time, I'm what he wants me to be. Each time is special. And after, it's gone forever. Me, the place, the time, the dress - it's his creation, unspoiled, and forever unshared by anyone." Her words still echoed in his head as ...

... they waited in the dark car. The dress fit her like a glove, a black, velvet glove. He marveled at how the fabric could be so thin, and yet so opaque. It moved as though it was a part of her, revealing fleeting lines of breast, hip, and thigh with the slightest motion of her body. Down the front, a single row of soft, tiny, black buttons, an inch apart, ran from neckline to ankle. He had watched her button each one, an agonizingly slow process. She had taken her time, smiling up at him after every two or three, as if to say, "Imagine how long it will take him to get to me, to open me up, to peel me like a piece of wet, juicy fruit." The heavy gates swung inward on smooth, silent hinges. He hesitated, his foot hovering above the pedal, now uncertain whether he could guide the car through the entrance, then along the densely wooded drive that would take her to him. She sensed his reluctance and turned to him. He fought for breath as she leaned closer, her trembling body draped in exquisite ebony. The fine, delicate swirl of her ear bore sparkling clusters of emeralds that flirted with the light between perfectly placed strands of hair. She took his hand. Her smile was weak but genuine. "Now that we're here, I can't ask you for this. I can't bring myself to utter the words, to sound so selfish, or to hurt you." Her eyes were liquid and wide with sympathy. But was there a fleeting hint of excitement in the flicker of her dark lashes? "I can only tell you that it's happened, that ...