index


Message-ID: <55559asstr$1176041405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Night Writer <night_writer99@hotmail.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} Persephone in Winter - Chapter 2 (Wife, cheat?, MDom, Fsub) Night Writer
Lines: 199
Date: Sun, 08 Apr 2007 10:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


                        Persephone in Winter
                            by Night Writer


                              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 it's something I can't
escape. Something in me needs this, something so powerful I feel I'll
self-destruct if I don't see it through. I don't understand it. I
can't answer your questions. But I can love you. Is that enough?"

He flinched when she squeezed his hand lightly, then took the wheel and
drove through the open gates without a word. She turned away without
apology, looking straight ahead as he drove on. The tear he waited for
never came. He knew the road ahead was the only way to keep her.

The gates vanished into darkness behind them as the car crept along a
broad curve, lit only by muted lamps hugging the driveway at regular
intervals. He heard her small sigh as she settled back into the seat,
her eyes now staring miles into the night. Guessing her thoughts
tortured him as he peered ahead into the blackness. Was she already
with him? Did she know his plan? Was she eager to escape his costume
for the night, to be naked and used in a game of their making? Or was
it the anticipation of the unknown - something that would push her far
past boundaries not yet crossed?

The house rose like a glowing fortress, awash in the blue-white of
countless lights spread over the sprawling grounds. The hulking
Georgian manor, spacious entry court, and winding drive were carved out
of the surrounding dense vegetation that contained the light within it,
keeping the property in near-daylight long after sunset. A wide portico
supporting six massive ionic columns dropped to the level of the
circular driveway through a series of gleaming white marble steps that
sparkled under the intense light. He stopped the car in front of them,
peering into the rows of tall, arched windows lining the front of the
massive two-story structure. Taking his hand again, she looked as
though she belonged there - elegant, beautiful, a precious gift to
be enjoyed, treasured, possessed.

"Wait for me?"

"I'd rather not. I - I don't think I can..."

"No, my love. I'm not asking. He is."

"But, he never said anything about having to watch you with him. I
couldn't take that. Isn't this enough?"

"He doesn't want you watch us. In fact, he won't allow it. I'm his
and his alone when we're together. But you must show that you're
willing to share me, to give me to him whenever he wants. Bringing me
here to him, and later returning me to our bed is the only gesture he
demands. You have to give me willingly. It's sex, not love. I love
you. I always will. Please show him you'll wait."

She was out of the car before he could answer, making her way up the
rows of steps. As she turned just briefly to glance back at him, he
noticed the flush across her face, and her hardened nipples straining
against the delicate fabric.

She rang the bell at the door. He watched her as she waited patiently,
hands at her sides, the slim curves of her body on display in the
finest detail under the intense light. Even so, the black dress clung
to her body in ways that would have made her unrecognizable to him from
the back, had she not just left her place beside him minutes ago.

The door opened. She took a step forward. His arms encircled her, one
at the waist, the other moving up her back until his fingers dug into
chestnut curls, pulling her closer. She lifted her chin and opened her
mouth to him. He covered it with his, suddenly pleased that her
response was so eager, that she would so savagely invade his mouth
while her husband watched. His hand moved lower, palm now gliding over
the hard flesh of her ass, naked under the wisp of black cloth. She
moved close against him, her legs closing around the muscle of his
thigh. Her hips tilted into him, then again, and again, as the kiss
became more frenzied.

Steven watched them from the car, the kiss, his caresses, her thighs
clutching the stranger's leg, hips grinding against him in heat. And
when he thought he could watch no longer, they stopped. Two large
hands appeared on her shoulders. He was speaking to her. She was
nodding, slowly, mechanically. His hands disappeared again, retreating
down the front of her dress, busy, doing what? From the back it was
difficult to tell. His hands reappeared on her shoulders, this time
pulling the dark material to the sides, then down, over her arms, until
her bare back glistened in the floodlights. Elyse stood before him,
naked to the waist, her hands now busy below his belt, her actions also
hidden from her husband's sight.

She knelt, now on her knees below him, her hands still busy, still
hidden from her husband by waves of shining hair. Her small fingers
closed around his cock, smoothly running the length of it as the tip
grew wet before her eyes. She closed her lips around it, the ball of
flesh hard and warm against her tongue. She welcomed the familiar
taste of him, and let him know with eager but careful teasing, sucking
and licking just as he had taught her. But this time it was different.
She was wet, and loved the feel of him in her mouth as she had on each
occasion, but now she felt her husband's eyes upon her. Would he allow
her this one passion? Was he strong enough to accept her physical need
for another and be party to it as well? She loved Steven desperately.
He nourished her soul. But Simon fed her cunt, and her mind refused to
consider having to choose, should it come to that.

Steven watched them from the car, stomach tied in knots, glancing away
each time doubt began to overcome him. Although he saw nothing but his
wife on her knees in front of him, her flexing back naked in the night
air, agonizing images filled his head - her lips sucking greedily at
the stranger's cock, her hands busy, milking, coaxing the semen from
his body into her waiting mouth. He fought the temptation to escape,
to turn the key and drive away. But he knew her well enough by now to
recognize the genuineness of her love for him and her need for this
stranger's hold on her.

At that distance, it was difficult to make out the man's features. The
skin of deep bronze against the crisp white shirt, shining jet-black
hair pulled back, bound into a short tail, all suggested a man of Latin
descent.  And the voice on the phone; he thought he detected a slight
accent beneath the intimidating, articulate voice.  His display of
total control as Elyse knelt before him, her naked breasts offered to
him as Steven imagined her caressing a stranger's cock with her lips
and tongue, all against the backdrop of the brilliantly lit mansion
presented a surreal and painfully erotic scene that mesmerized him. As
much as he needed to look away, he found he could not.

After a minute, maybe two, the man reached for her, pulling her gently
to her feet. His hands appeared again, this time lifting the dress
back over her shoulders, methodically fastening the open buttons, one
by one. The demonstration was brief but effective. Elyse understood
the intent all too well, but wondered whether the show of power was
excessive, considering the emotions her husband must already be
juggling. She also knew that power was everything to Simon, power and
control. He would insist on an offering, a sacrifice, from her husband
from the start. To witness her submission from behind, with few
details, forcing Steven to imagine her mouth on Simon's cock, to ask
himself if her nipples hardened when she touched her lover, to agonize
over what Simon saw as he looked down over her bare shoulders and firm,
young breasts - all this was what he would demand. Simon took her
hand, and as the mansion swallowed them she warmed inside, knowing she
had not heard the engine rev or the car speed away into the night.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+