Wine and Submission

The end of a long slow day seemed like a time for a drink, so he was at a chair by the widow of the bar, sipping a glass of the only white wine they had, a Chardonnay, according to the label with an embossed gold antelope, or gazelle, or something similar. He was not much of wine expert; he just liked the fresh cold taste of it, and guessed at Australian, some sort of un-oaked mild wine.

He sipped and looked out at the line of foreign taxis on the boulevard, and the slow gray glint of the sea beyond the wall. It was his second day this time in this city, 8,000 miles from home, but his first stay in this apartment hotel that mostly had long term guests who needed a city place. He had spent the morning and a boring lunch at a site visit, looking over a factory to be renovated. The few others in the bar were busy with phones and email, so he was surprised to look up and sense a woman standing nearby, also looking out the window.

She glanced at him, he filled the social pause with some remark about the sea and its strong calm waves, and then turned back to fill his glass from the full bottle the waiter had left him. She seemed to be watching the traffic, and he noticed her large sunglasses, and her swept back hair. He took a sip of the cold wine, and she turned and saw his gaze on her. He was surprised enough to step out of his usual silence in his travels alone.

"Would you care for some wine, while you wait for your car? They brought me more than I asked for, I was trying to tell them just a glass but we had a language problem." He felt foolish now; he wasn't even sure she spoke English.

"Yes, ok, but why do you think I have a car coming?" She turned away from the glass, and took a step back.

"In this city no drives themselves, without a car and driver the parking is impossible, and it looks like you are going out" he said. She settled on the sofa next to his chair, still looking out the window, and he poured a glass for her. He could barely see her eyes in the tinted brown glasses, but he noticed that her clothes seemed fashionable and expensive, but not in any really obvious way. She was a bit older than he was, it looked, and he saw the fine lines in the makeup around her lips and her eyes. Her tweed skirt looked like silk, with a slim shape and almost knee length, and the light jacket she wore buttoned hinted at the swell of her breasts, and a very subtle cleavage.

The wine seemed to break the ice, and he was surprised that they talked and found real conversation. She knew art, and he found they had seen a few of the same things, knew a few people and places in common, and had an easy flow from one topic to another. More wine was poured, both of them got brighter and more talkative, and he was enjoying the unusual pleasure of meeting someone on his travels; often he could go from one business event and one plane to another for days or weeks, without having had anything like a friendly conversation.

As the talked, the other thing that surprised him was his sense of longing, for this woman in a very specific way. She was attractive enough, in a general way, and his eyes went from her face, to her smooth hair, to her clothing and her legs, her heels and her jewelry, but it was not the same feeling he got from just seeing and wanting a pretty girl, or a striking woman.

It was nothing overt in their conversation, or her behavior, or that she did anything at all, it was just a wave of feeling, that without knowing her he wanted to be with her, and for her, in a way that made him catch his breath. It was a strong undercurrent of feeling, as they talked and sipped the Chardonnay, and it made him feel foolish to be feeling aroused by nothing.

She was still talking, about new books and art exhibits in Germany, as she poured more wine and leaned toward the table. Her eyes were on his as she reached for the glass she was holding, stirred it with one long finger, and then surprised him by holding the finger to his lips. Without even a conscious thought, he leaned toward her and tasted the wine on her skin as he lightly sucked her fingertip. Her eyes narrowed, and she pulled it back. He started to say something, but his face flushed and he felt ridiculous, what was he thinking? She looked out the window, and she was standing up as he thought about the taste of her skin, a warm sweetness under the tartness of the wine.

She looked at him steadily as she gathered her purse. "There is a thought there that you need to finish. Come with me now." She had turned and without waiting headed across the oriental rugs and marble floor to the entrance as he blinked, and made his sudden decision.

He was a quiet, thoughtful planner but he felt this longing so strongly that he picked up his coat and briefcase to follow her, without giving in to the questions in his mind. When he got to the door, a gray car had pulled up and the uniformed driver was holding her door. He went around the car, and the driver in his starched white coat and formal gold trimmed hat held the door for him to slide in next to her.

The foreign streets were heavy with traffic as their car pushed into the flow, and he felt the longing even more strongly. Something in her manner, nothing she had said or done, made him unaccountably want to be hers, and his mind was full of the feeling of giving himself up to a natural force, not taking. She was watching the passing city, not him, but she seemed very aware of the feeling he was dealing with.

They were not far from his hotel neighborhood when the car swung into a drive, and a doorman came out to open the lobby doors. They were in the gated drive of a classic older apartment block, and she led the way across the rust colored marble floor to the elevator. At the third floor, there were only a few apartment doors off the hall, and the old-fashioned large brass key rattled as she unlooked the tall doors and stepped aside.

He had not said anything since they entered the car, it seemed wrong to break the moment with mundane nervous chatter. She took his coat and his bag, to lay them on an embroidered chair in the entry, and then closed the door and stepped into the room. The apartment was an old one, in the style of this city, with high ceilings and antique plaster trim. The floor was marble and modern light wood, and he could see her taste in furniture and art.

When she turned to him her eyes were wider and she looked at him sharply. "Show me now, show me this feeling I think you have-but without the meaningless words, be serious and let me see it in your eyes."

He paused, and decided to stop thinking and operate on his feelings. He sank to his knees on the hard stone floor, keeping his eyes on hers as he unbuttoned his dress shirt and slipped it off.

She did not react, but nodded and kept her eyes on his, and he tried to let his gaze show his need and his desire. He unbuckled his belt as he knelt, and without planning pulled it from the loops and doubled it over, reaching out to hold it to her. She accepted it, without comment, keeping it doubled, and kept watching him.

Kneeling shirtless, he felt the tension, and saw her waiting for him to understand. He realized what he had to do and rose to slip off his trousers, underwear and socks, in one quick movement. He went back to his knees, naked now, and bent forward to put his forehead on the cold marble, seeing only the toes of her black heels. He bent further forward, to put his chest to the cold floor, keeping his rear end high. He crawled forward a bit, until he felt the wood floor under him and his face was close to her feet as she stood silent.

He held this position, willing his mind to express his longing for her, while a small corner of his mind took in his situation. He had put his feelings far out on a limb, naked here with a total stranger, looking ridiculous and obvious; there would be no way to joke or ease out of this. As he thought this, he also realized how true it was that he simply longed for her, and had from the first glance, and had no way to explain that.

He could only hold still, as he sensed her moving around him, out of his view, her heels tapping slowly on the floor. He felt her behind him, and then the pointed toe of her shoe between his knees, tapping them wider apart, which he realized would better show his balls and hard cock, hanging between his legs. The folded belt he had given her lightly touched his ass, moving slowly across, just letting him feel the smooth leather.

"I thought I saw this quality in you, the need to give up something, in the way you looked at me, and put aside your own life for a while here. Real need can be an interesting thing to see, if you are serious. Are you?"

The doubled up belt whipped the air and slapped his skin hard, leaving sharp stinging pain and a red mark. He kept his head down, ass up, and stretched his hands flat out on the floor as she slapped again and again, much harder.

"Stay, for a moment." He heard her steps tap further way, and kept his position with his face to the floor, and waited.

2

When the woman came back, it was with a loop of silken rope, like the tieback from antique curtains, which she dropped next to his wrist on the floor. He held still as she slipped the loop over his hand and tightened it, then took his other wrist and pulled them both up behind his back, bound together. His forehead was still on the floor. She pushed his hip with her shoe, tipping him onto his back with his hands under him. He was naked and exposed, on her floor, and saw that she had remained dressed as before, no fantasy outfit of leather or black.

She held another loop of thin cord, which she dropped down over his hard cock, until it looped around his balls and the base of this cock. She wound it slowly, around his shaft, and then looped it again below the swollen head of it. She held the rope up, tugging his cock, until he had to arch his back and lift his hips trying to strain upward.

"Are you trying to look up my skirt? No- just focus on showing me what you need, and what you long for, and beg with your eyes, no words; and no release, either." She held the cord up, keeping the tension, and he felt the tug as he lifted his hips, pushing his bound cock up, over and over. His eyes were wide open, and he tried to make them full of need and want, realizing that what he wanted was to offer his submission as a gift, to express his need for her control. He was happy to be able to offer her something. Her face was serious, as he thrust into the air with the cord chafing around his shaft, unable to do more.

She watched his efforts, not saying any more, and then tugged slightly so that he to slide slowly across the floor. She tied the lead to the handle of a closet door in the living room, keeping enough tension on his bound cock to make him arch his back. He was focusing on that when she looped a heavy silk tie around one ankle, then the other, and tied them to two legs of the large modern sofa. He was naked and bound, his cock leashed and his legs spread wide, in her stylish, cool modern living room. She was looking down, studying him, and holding his folded belt in her hand. She watched his face as she began to unbutton her tailored silk jacket, showing just the curve of her breast and the point of her hard nipple in a thin silk top under it. His eyes were begging, as he helplessly bucked against his bonds.

When she slid the jacket off, he could only react by widening his eyes, and showing his need. She leaned forward, and slapped his inner thighs with the belt, hard, several times, keeping her eyes on his as she made his skin sting, and saw him flinch against the ropes that held him.

She stood, and unzipped the side of her tweed skirt, letting it slide down as she stepped out. He saw that she wore thigh high stockings, with her tall heels, and expensive lace panties. She stepped closer to where he lay, and he could sense her heat and her own arousal now. Her silk top hung down to her hips, and she ran her hand over her own breasts as she watched. "So, now we will see about this longing of yours, to serve a superior woman as you should- but not necessarily on your terms."

She moved to the side, and slid the panties down and off, exposing her trimmed mound. She was tall, but not young, and not slender as a model. Her thighs were strong and toned, and her hips were wider than a younger woman. She moved over him to sink down with her flesh to his lips, squatting over him in her heels.

His head went back, his tongue stretched out, and he was licking her as he ached for more. She tasted new, and musky, a mixture of sweat and arousal, as his tongue swept her and circled. She held him there, and as his tongue worked he learned the feeling of her, her folds and ridges and her taste. He was excited, and wanted to move on, but she pressed him back and shifted his body to remind him he was still bound and had nowhere to go. His tongue worked harder, and he felt her tense, but kept licking, swirling his tongue and sucking on the hard ridge of her.

She shuddered again, and her ankles pressed the sides of his head, before she stood and moved away. She was out of his vision, as heard her heels tap on the wooden floor. He was left as he was, tied and spread out, with her juices drying on his lips and his face. He heard a door close, and the distant sound of the shower.

When she returned, she was wrapped in a long soft robe, with her wet hair brushed back and a drink in her hand. He was embarrassed now, lying naked and used on the floor. Her face looked older,with the makeup gone, and she looked over the rim of her glass as she sipped. He saw the older tone of the skin along her jaw line, but also realized that he still had the longing for her. She fished a bit of ice from her drink, and flicked it onto his chest, where it slid off and melted with a wet trail down his skin.

"You do have potential, you know, if you can hold these thoughts. For me it's about your interest in giving, not about what else you get from this. I know you are thinking of your needs now, and what comes next, but I want you to think more about giving, and offering." She dimmed one of the lamps, and left him tied on the floor as she went into the other room.