For Safe Eeping

(Author's warning: This story explores the psychological suspense of arousal. If you're looking for only juice and motion, resume your search elsewhere.)

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"It's been a wonderful week, Susan."

Susan smiled at her lover. She loved that whispery tone. It told her that the glow of fulfillment still warmed him.

"But I have to leave for two days."

What?

She felt too sated to panic. But worry crept under the warmth.

"You can stay here. Just wait for me to return."

The luxury of this pleasure resort would not be hard to endure, even if she was alone. But then she thought of something.

"Rod? I don't think I've ever seen anyone else here by themselves."

"That's because the singles stay in a different wing."

That explained where the extra men had come from last night. As part of their ongoing explorations, Rod had invited others to join their evening activities. Night before last, it had been another couple. Last night, Rod had announced that two men would be joining them. He had required that they remain anonymous. So she had never gotten their names nor knew where they were staying.

"Susan, before I go, I must stress our agreement. I do hope you understand my concerns."

"Of course."

"I know I've invited others to join us these past two nights, but you did note the limits I set. No other man is allowed entry into places reserved for me alone."

Susan smiled and nodded. Rod took such good care of her.

"I've arranged for your bags to be moved. Just have them packed by 3 PM. Oh, and I have something special for you." He rolled out of her arms and stood up. Her eyes roamed over his nakedness, but then the large box caught her attention.

"A present?" she murmured.

He lifted the lid and raised a long dress from the box. But it was old-fashioned. Not just out of style, but really old-fashioned, like 100 or 200 years old-fashioned!

"That's - um - different," she stammered.

"Put it on, please. Now."

She slithered across the bed and stood in front of him.

"This is specially designed. I want you to wear it both days while I'm gone. Wear it - and nothing else."

"Both days?"

"Yes, please."

"Well, I'll try not to spill too much on it during the first dinner."

He didn't respond to her joke. She wondered what could be so serious about a dress that looked more like a costume.

Rod held the dress open for her, and she slipped into it like a coat.

"See here? These laces on the front hold the dress together. You lace the first one at your waist, and it holds the skirt together. See how the folds overlap?"

She had to grant that it was a clever design.

"But someone who knows," and here he thrust his hand through the concealed slit, "can get just what he wants."

Susan squealed as his hand reached between her legs. His fingers lingered just long enough to evoke a moan from her.

"Do up the rest of the laces. See how well it fits."

She threaded and tightened the laces. Because she could adjust each lace as she went up, her breasts were supported perfectly to push out the top of the scoop neck.

"Very nice." Rod smiled his approval. "Please, remember. Do not unloose those ties for anyone. No one, you hear me?"

Susan laughed. "No, my love. These laces will still be just like this when you return." She ruffled his hair. "Such delights are all for you."

He looked so severe that Susan felt a flicker of fear. But he only said, "I hope so, dear. I hope so."

And with that, he began his preparations. * * *

Where the bellhop led them was damp. Bare concrete floors and walls gave only chill to the air. Susan peered ahead, ready for a glimpse of another building. A building where luxury reigned again.

But the bellhop stopped before a heavy wooden door. Susan couldn't help but think of a dungeon. Indeed, when the bellhop waved a signal down the hall, a uniformed man walked towards them, a huge ring of large keys clanking with each step.

The guard opened the door. Rod gestured for her to enter. Susan stared.

A small cell. A small, empty CELL! Susan turned her stare to her lover.

"Just for safe-keeping, my dear. You can only imagine what goes on around here."

She had discovered amazing exploits in the few days she'd been here already. Rod must know what he was talking about. But wasn't this extreme?

Rod took her arm and firmly pulled her inside.

"These two will take care of you now. I've asked them to." His tone broached no argument. He turned to leave.

"Oh. And please. Do not unloose those laces."

Then Susan was staring at his back.

"Right here, now, Missy," the guard said. While Susan stood, still stunned by Rod's departure, he raised her hand and enclosed the wrist in a metal band. Swiftly, he did the same to her other hand. Before she knew it, clasps were around her ankles as well. The weight pulled at her, and she scowled.

Chains! Chains, connected to the shackles. Chains then connected to the wall. Experimentally, she moved her arms. The chains clattered, and she could move about four feet from the wall. It might have been enough, except that the door was eight feet away.

The guard locked the door after he left, his keys clunking with each movement. Susan wondered where the bellhop took her bags. * * *

The hours passed slowly. She tired of standing, and tried sitting. But the floor was hard and cold. She stood again.

Just as she was arranging herself on the floor for sleeping, the door squealed on its hinges. A waiter delivered a carafe of water, placing it in the middle of the cell. When he had left, she stretched the chains to their limits and just reached the sparkling container. Eagerly, she downed half the carafe.

She laid her head on her arms as best she could and dozed for a few minutes. But too many aches and pains awakened her. She drank the rest of the water, and fell asleep sitting up against the back wall.

No one came to talk to her. Rarely did anyone even pass the door. She squinted at the small, glassless window in the door. Four iron bars crossed it. But never a visitor.

She would be safe in here, all right. No one would touch her, if none would even speak to her.

She ran a dry tongue over sticky teeth. She wished for her toothbrush. But as the hours ground by in interminable increments, she longed for the water, without brush or paste.

No window to the world gave her clues as to how long she waited. No more drink, and no food, appeared to mark the passage of mealtimes.

She was standing when the lock clanked once again. The same waiter stepped into the cell. This time, his tray held both crackers and water. She had eyes only for the items on the tray. She never noticed the man.

But the man did not step to the middle of the cell. The tray was out of her reach. When she realized this, she scanned his face.

He stared at the bodice of her gown. She shook her head, confused, and looked down. Nothing there. She raised her head again.

She stepped towards him, her hands outstretched to receive the tray.

He made no move in return.

Susan yanked the chains to the end of their length, grabbing for the tray of sustenance.

The waiter did not move. Nor did he speak. He simply stared at the breasts that pushed up to the top of her dress.

"Please, sir. Please, step closer."

The man raised his eyes, once, and then looked back at her breasts.

"What? What is it?"

With that, he shrugged, and left the cell.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooo!" * * *

However many hours later it was when the waiter returned, tears stained Susan's face. She stood as soon as she heard the keys. She went directly to the end of the length of chain. He stepped just inside the door and stopped.

Her voice cracked, "Just walk over here. You see, I can't go any further. It's ok, just step up closer."

Again, he stared at the bodice of her dress. She looked down, she looked at him. Over and over, her dehydrated brain slow to think.

With a sudden thought, she raised her hands. She touched the top lace.

The waiter took one step towards her.

She felt her lip crack as she smiled. She pulled at the lace. The waiter stepped closer. She pulled at the lace again, he stepped again. Finally, she pulled the lace from its eye. And the waiter placed the tray in the middle of the floor.

Susan bent to the carafe and greedily drank. The waiter left the cell. * * *

The aches were constant after her sleep. If she slept at night or during the day, she couldn't tell. The merest sound of someone at the door, however, was enough to rouse her.

This waiter was taller. But he carried a tray, that was all that mattered.

He, too, stood at the doorway, thoroughly out of her reach. Her head sagged, she covered her face with her hands. She heard in her mind, "Do not unloose those laces for anyone!"

Susan pulled with all her strength, but the chains prevented her from reaching the silver tray. This servant viewed her struggle dispassionately, staring only at the bodice of her gown.

Susan's lips quivered. Slowly, she raised her hands. As she touched the second lace, he stepped towards her. As she stopped, he stopped. She pulled the lace, he stepped. As the second lace slid from its eye, her breasts spilled from the dress entirely.

Ignoring her uncovered state, she reached for the carafe of water. The waiter pulled it from her.

Her face crumpled, her mouth hung slack. The waiter stared at her bare breasts.

She shook her head. No, no, she couldn't undo any more laces. Wasn't this enough of a view for him?

He looked at her, then the laces. When she made no move, he shrugged and turned away.

"No! Here!"

She rapidly worked the third lace through its eye. The waiter smiled the barest bit as her breasts hung loose from their moorings. He stepped closer. Susan yanked at the chains, but he had judged the distance well. She couldn't reach. And he stared at the two remaining laces.

She chewed her lower lip. She eyed the water, rippling in the clear carafe. She reached for the fourth set of laces.

The waiter's grin spread as this fourth set came loose. He held the tray right at her hands. She swooped in to grab the carafe. He swept the tray out of her reach. All she got was a cracker.

She stuffed the cracker in her mouth, only realizing her error as she tried to swallow. Without some water, without some moisture, the cracker wouldn't even go down.

Dry crumbs clung to her mouth as she tried to chew. Tears leaked as she gazed at the carafe of water.

She hung her head in defeat. And reached for the last of the laces. He came close, holding the tray for her as she drank. She clung to the cool soothing of the glass. He touched the edge of the tray to her nipples. She shivered - both with cold and with the stirrings created.

He moved the tray, ever so slightly. Up and down, over her erect nipples. She finished the water, letting not a drop spill. The she clutched the dress together, her hand trying to be five pairs of laces.

The waiter stepped even closer, nearly touching her. She stepped back. But not without reaching for a cracker. He swooped the tray from her grasp. She turned her head away, and the servant backed away to the door. But the rest of the crackers beckoned to her. As they receded from her sight, a small cry escaped her lips.

The waiter returned, holding the tray at the level of her mouth. She licked her lips in anticipation.

But he stepped to the side, and tread on a metal plate set into the floor. His weight triggered a mechanism. The chains began to retract. Grindingly slow, one link at a time, she was dragged back against the wall.

The chains pulled her arms outstretched, and her feet apart, and her dress hung open. She whimpered in fear as the servant laid the tray on the floor and neared her body. From chin to toes - her nakedness lay exposed.

The servant reached fingertips to touch her nipples. Nipples stiff with fear, and supremely sensitive to touch. As he brushed his fingers across their raised tips, tingles raced down her center.

No, no, she thought, reprimanding her rebellious body. This is all for her LOVER. She shouldn't feel anything from this stranger's touch.

He leaned over her, and placed his lips on her neck. She moaned to the sensation. It was as if this man has plundered all her secrets, all her most vulnerable places.

One hand kneaded at her breast, his lips continuing to nibble at her neck, and his other hand slid down her belly. It slid over her most private area, and into her wetness. Her body came aflame.

Sliding his tongue down her breast, to take one nipple in his mouth, the servant's hand between her legs plunged deep within her. Ripples of desire flooded her. More, more, more! Frantically, she fucked his hand. His thumb extended. Each plunge hit her clit as well.

Her back arched against the cold of the stone wall, her head thrown backwards, a prisoner of her passions. A small scream ripped from her throat, as spasms gripped her body.

Sweat trickled down her skin, and her panting subsided. The servant leaned close to her ear. Gently, he licked it - just once. Then the heavy door squealed on its hinges. Both servant and prisoner turned to look.

There stood her lover. He glowered. She shriveled under his gaze.

"I see you have a taste for others."

She shook her head.

"Then others will have you."

He stepped aside from the door. Behind him stood a line of men in dark, tailored suits. A line of which she couldn't see the end.

He beckoned the first of them to enter.

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