THE WHITE ROOM
THE WHITE ROOM
The room was white, so so white. So white it almost seared her eyes. Oh my god thought, Roz, it’s amazing. The floor had been painted white and white shutters had been affixed over the windows. The bedroom was now like an optical illusion where the brain had to work hard to perceive corners and depth.
In what she assumed were the corners stood banks of lit candles; ten or fifteen in each batch and ranging in height from around eight to twenty four inches.
She had known the room, but not like this; all the furniture had been removed save for the king-sized bed, which now seemed the focal point of the room. At the foot of the bed, near the window, stood a high table, draped in a white cloth, festooned with fruit. The arrangement was ritualistic like items displayed on an altar. There were glasses arranged in pairs; crystal champagne flutes, water glasses and shot glasses. She could see bowls of plump red strawberries, gleaming, green sliced kiwi fruit, brilliant, blood red cherries and some blue fruit that she did not recognise. Their colours were made more vibrant and alive by being framed in the white room. She wondered for a moment if her own red hair looked more fiery than usual in this setting.
Next to the table sat a stool or a box also draped in white cloth. Aha, the booze, thought Roz. I wonder what he has in planned for me this time.
‘Martin you have excelled yourself’, she gasped to the man at her side. ‘You must have spent weeks on this. Thank you so much’. She turned to him, cupped his face in her hands and kissed him long and hard on the lips. ‘I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me’.
Martin smiled and held her close. He sniffed her hair. ‘Did you follow the instructions I sent you?’
She stood back a pace, threw a mock salute and said in a cod-German accent, ’Ja, Mein Fuhrer’. Then changing to Mae West, sexy vamp mode, ’D'ya wanna check?’
‘All in good time’ replied Martin. ’All in good time’. He took her hand and guided her into a slow pirouette, appraising her as she turned.
Roz was wearing the white silk robe that Martin had had couriered to her office the previous day. Also, in the package where her ‘instructions for attendance’. The robe was, like the room, white and so perfectly made that it was hard to detect a seam. It was collarless and covered her to her naked feet. She had closed it with the silk sash supplied, but she still felt almost naked and turned-on each time the gown brushed against her skin as she moved. The sleeves where flared from the shoulder which made her feel like Guinevere or some other knight’s lady in the days of chivalry. The robe was cut away in a V down to the base of her spine, where you the cleft of her buttocks could just be glimpsed. The front was comparatively modest only being cut to her navel with most of breast in view. She felt wonderfully immodest.
Martin wore the same white gown but in a male version with less cleavage and more back. He was of medium height and lean with keen, intelligent eyes and shoulder length hair. The gown complemented his pale complexion totally. He took his time and appraised the effect of her burnished copper hair cascading over the white robe. ‘Flame-haired’ ceased to be a cliché. Roz always complained that she was getting old and that her long lean dancers figure was starting to sag. Martin could find see no evidence of that as he surveyed her.
‘Not bad, not bad at all. I mean ‘wow!’ You look great’.
‘Why thank you, Sir’ said Roz, blushing just a little under her scrutineer’s gaze. ‘You chose well for me.’
‘It fits well in all the right places’, said Martin with a mischievous grin, ‘and you have so many right places’. He brought her closer, and softly kissed her between her breasts. He paused for a heart beat and then commenced to slowly trace the outline of her left breast with his tongue. When his progress became impeded by the gown he gave his attention to its companion.
Roz shuddered with pleasure. She had followed the instructions to the letter; even if they made her feel like a human sacrifice. The letter had given her a time and place ‘for attendance’, his words. The letter also gave lengthy instructions on how to prepare for the ritual of ‘attendance’. She was to cleanse herself thoroughly using un-perfumed products no more than one hour before her arrival. There was even a list of suggestions as to what to get and where to get it. Also, suggestions had been made as to the kind of music, if any, she should listen to while performing her ablutions [Marvin Gaye -‘Let’s Get it On’, Enigma - 'MCMXC AD', Virginia Rodrigues - 'Nos' Terry Reid - 'River', side two only, …] It had all been planned in minute detail to bring about a certain mindset.
A taxi would arrive for her promptly at 7.30pm and she was not to speak to the driver other than to confirm his name, ‘Gerald’. She was to wear her antique fur coat over her silk gown. No underwear, earrings or make-up were allowed.
She had obeyed to the letter and was anxiously anticipating whatever he had in store for her.
‘I’m forgetting my manners. Please sit. Would you like a drink, something to eat?'
Roz curled up on the bed. ‘Drink please, my Lord’.
‘Stop that Roz, he chided. That’s not what this about.’
‘Sorry darling, but I feel like I’m your lady tonight therefore you must be my Lord’.
‘OK, my turn to apologise. I shall fetch my lady some refreshment and then we will begin.’
Roz had no idea of what was about to begin and that was all part of the fun. Martin had planned the evening and she was his guest – or guinea pig.
From the cool box he withdrew a bottle of wine which he handled with great reverence. He poured them a glass each and returned to the bed. Roz new what it was before she took the champagne glass from him. It was a Meursault, a white burgundy. He had often told her that it was his favourite wine and that he placed it well above champagne as a wine for special occasions. This evening obviously meant a lot to him.
She took a sip of wine and felt it ‘sing’ through her body, its fruity, tangy bouquet blending with the smell of the fruits and the burning candles in the room to produce something wonderfully sensuous.
‘Oh Christ’, cried Roz. ‘That is so wonderful. I’m yours do what you want with me’.
Martin laughed. ‘I had planned to do just that, but first…’
‘But first I need to explain.’ At which point he removed from his billowing sleeve a length of white cloth.
‘OK, wassat?’ Roz was quizzical but not perturbed.
‘Your blindfold, my Lady’.
‘Your blindfold. Ground rules for your attendance tonight are this blindfold and your acquiescence. If you agree, once the blindfold is on there will be no more verbal communication between us until one of us calls a halt to the proceedings. Your trigger word is ‘Anvil’. If you use this word I will cease whatever I am doing. Is that OK, do you understand?’
‘I understand but I’m a teensy bit nervous. Why did I have to wash with unperfumed soap and leave off my make up and stuff?’
‘So that the only thing that you brought into this room was yourself’ said Martin, matter-of-factly. ‘I want any scent or taste to be you. I want to make a map of your body in my senses and to do that I needed you to come as you are. Does that make any sense?’
She laughed. ‘As much as you ever do…seriously, I feel honoured. OK, you got me. Where do we start?’
‘We started as soon as you accepted the invitation, actually. But to continue. Would you like anything to eat? Fruit, perhaps?’
She giggled and almost spilled her wine. ‘Nope, I’m good. Lead on, Sir Knight.’
He extended his hand and she gave him her glass. He bowed and kissed her hand lightly, placed both glasses in the corner near the candles and switched off the electric light. The room became a mass of flickering shadows and Roz felt as if the aroma of the fruits and the wine had intensified. She made a crazy mental linkage; Martin turned the light down and turned the fruit up!
He returned and took her hand, helping her to rise from the bed. When she was standing he drew her to him and encircled her waist with his arms and held her tightly for a moment, then let his hands rest on her silk clad buttocks. He kissed her full on the lips. She responded by snaking her tongue into his mouth to find his. They played like this for what seemed like ages until Roz broke away.
‘Mart, you must have a hell of lot of self control, well a lot more than me ‘cos I’m good, ready and wet for you now. Whatever you’re planning you’d best do right away because I don’t think I can be patient and ladylike for too long if you keep this up’.
She looked down and realised that Martin may have been mentally patient but physically he was standing up and ready to roost.
She laughed ‘My Lord what ails you? Some form of rigor, or just the Devil requiring his place in Hell?’
Martin cracked a smile, all pretence gone. ‘My Lady, ‘tis best we commence. I have developed a sense of urgency’.
Roz came closer and took a firm grip of Martin’s ‘urgency’. She kissed him again. ‘You better get started before you pass out. There can’t be any blood getting to your brain, not with this thing grabbing it all.’
‘If you would be kind enough as to unhand me, Madam, I’ll then be able to think straight.’
Roz let go.
‘Once the blindfold is on, no more verbal communication. If you want me to stop the word is ‘Anvil’, do you understand?
‘Turn around’. Roz turned and Martin covered her eyes with the white silk blindfold.
He kissed her shoulders – she leant into him, pushing back into him and making him harder and, more urgent. He slowly travelled from her exposed shoulder to her ear using his tongue to mark the route. She purred and reached behind her to try and take hold of his angry cock. Martin stepped back out of reach.
Roz huffed but did not speak. She heard the swishing of fabric as Martin moved and next felt her sash being undone. The sash was freed; he slid the garment off her shoulders and let it fall to her feet. She sighed as it caressed her for the last time. She heard him gasp as she finally she stood naked and sightless before him. The sound of his excitement increased her own sense of anticipation. She reached out for him but he was again out of reach. He took her hand. She guessed, hoped he was guiding her to the bed. Yes, she thought, as her hand was directed downward; bed!
She made her way to the middle of the bed and arranged herself on her back with her knees bent and her legs open. She was hoping that he would see how wet she was and how much she wanted him.
She felt his weight on the bed beside her. Gently his hands brought her knees together and turned her on her side and then guided her to lie on her front. Martin placed her arms by her side; she felt as if she was on a massage table.
She felt his weight leave the bed and the swish of fabric. He’s naked. She smiled. Whose a lucky girl, she thought. Floorboards creak. He’s on the floor. Floorboards creak. Pressure on the side of the bed. He’s got up again. So glad the room is warm. Snick! Smell of almonds. Sound of hands rubbed together. Weight on the bed. Oh, my god!! That’s so good!
Martin had warmed the almond oil in his hands before he began the massage. He started at the base of her spine where the gown had finished and worked up her back in long firm, but not too firm strokes.
He was kneeling astride her; she knew because the pressure of the strokes seemed even and also because his semi-tumescent member rested between her buttocks.
He continued the long slow strokes until he had finished her back; feeling for knotted muscles, listening and trying to understand every groan, moan and sigh; noting the areas that seemed to give her most pleasure; varying his hand pressure and pace of his progress and noting how her breathing changed or how her body moved. Stopping only to rearrange himself as Roz writhed and bucked trying to encourage him to enter her; to take advantage of her warm welcome.
He kissed the point at which her butt cheeks joined and then ran his tongue slowly the length of her spine. Roz undulated beneath him and sighed as Martin’s agile tongue flitted across her back.
Roz had started off by feeling impatient, now she was loving it. A couple of times, when Martin slowed his pace and lingered in a certain area, she thought she was about to come and then his hands moved on again.
Martin massaged her neck gently occasionally stopping to lick or kiss any spot he found of particular interest. Roz had a strange sense of déjà vu; she had dreamt once of having four men to minister to her every need, to be her toys. The climax of the dream was when she had all her slaves secured to beds or tables and she took her pleasure from each of them as she required. She had never mentioned it to Martin.
Martin lovingly massaged her arms, hands and fingers. For Roz the finger massage felt peculiar but she liked the idea of being pampered.
Roz now realised that she could work out where Martin was quite easily. Not only by where the initial pressure came from but because she could hear him breathing and smell the almond oil as he refreshed his hands and, more importantly, she could smell him. A hot musky smell, the smell of sex with Martin. She had never noticed it before but now it was so clear. She could reach for him and almost always find what she wanted; his cock, his arse or his genitals. She played with his balls, explored his anus or stroked his dick until he pulled away or until she tried to pull him close enough to take him inside her mouth.
Martin was very heavily aroused and he toyed with the idea of just letting go and fucking like crazy for the next hour or so until they had spent their strength or were too sore to carry on but, he was almost finished this her back, if he could keep out of hand or mouth reach for long enough he knew he could do this.
When he came to her legs he started by working each toe individually, then feet, ankles and calves. As he got closer to her sex her breathing became deeper, she shuddered as his strokes moved within inches of her fanny or gently grazed the lip of her vagina. Martin saw how wet she was; the glistening wetness between her legs. He visualised himself easing slowly inside Roz; into the wet and the warm; feeling her muscles grip and hold him. Martin shuddered – Roz laughed a laugh that turned into a sigh. She had guessed what he was looking at and what he was thinking.
She raised her butt off the bed as best she could to give Martin a better look. Let’s see who cracks first, she thought. Right now she felt incredibly powerful. Martin was giving her the massage of a lifetime and was so sexed up she could smell how much he wanted to fuck her. All she needed now was Haagen-Dazs and she’d be in heaven. When Martin cracked he was going to give him a shag of legendary proportions. It would take days for him to lose the smile.
Martin commenced to massage her butt; spreading and lifting the cheeks, kneading them, listening to every moan of surprise, pain or delight. She pushed her arse in the air begging him to enter her. He kissed both cheek and gently nipped them. She yelped and then giggled. He slapped her butt with a flat hand. ‘Ohhh’, pleasure, shock and surprise. She thrust her arse in the air again. Slap! ‘Ohhh’. Her butt came up again; she wiggled in his direction. If Roz’s arse could talk it would have said something like, nyah, nyah, nyah, can’t hurt me like in some old kids game.
His oiled finger slid easily into her arse to the first knuckle.
‘Martin!’ She exclaimed. ‘What…’
‘Shush’, he purred. ‘Relax’.
At first her muscles gripped his finger tightly, much more tightly than he had expected. Then she relaxed and moved against his proffered finger. Her breath was shallow and fast and from time to time and eased slowly back toward him, swallowing his finger to the second knuckle. Martin turned his finger left and then right through 90O and slowly withdrew it; she shuddered.
Roz proffered her butt again, this time Martin stroked her and kissed each buttock lovingly and she subsided, purring, into the mattress.
He directed her to turn over and as she did so he could hear her breathing change, it became even faster and more shallow - expectation.
‘Are you, OK?’
‘Mmm, mmm’, She replied nodding her head. ‘Yes, oh yes’.
He propped her back up with pillows and left the bed. She could hear him walk toward the table and was tempted to see what he was doing. He walked to the corner and retrieved a wineglass.
He knelt on the bed and kissed her. As she eagerly accepted his mouth he let the now warm Meursault trickle into her mouth. She gurgled in surprise and then swallowed. Then she swatted him playfully on the thigh for having surprised her.
Next, she smelt strawberries and felt the soft slow passage of something rough, but not hard, across her right breast. She caught her breath as it circumnavigated her nipple; a nipple that was now rigidly at attention. She found Martin’s face and kissed it; eyes, nose mouth, ears bathing him in kisses. He turned his attention to her left breast, the fruit gently grazed her skin, just enough to get every nerve ending present to scream ‘fire’.
She reached down and found that Martin was hard again, she stroked him and cupped his balls as she kissed him; she could hear how his breathing pattern changed – sometimes his breath seemed to catch as if he had forgotten how to breathe at all. She bit his shoulder, he nibbled her ear lobe, she raked his back with her polish-free nails and felt his back arch as he gasped for breath. He pressed her firmly back against the pillows and kissed her again. This time it was a strawberry kiss; he had bitten off the top of the fruit and delivered it to her mouth. With the remainder of the fruit he continued to paint her breasts.
Roz took Martin’s hand and guided it to her mouth; she took the fruit into her mouth and bent forward to kiss him, returning the fruit to his keeping.
He stood and walked toward the window. She could hear him fussing at the table for a while and then he returned, placed something on the floor and went back to the window. A hiss of cloth, a chink of glass on glass and then he came back and sat by her side on the bed. He raised her head and brought the glass to her lips. Roz took a sip and was amazed. The liquid was slightly chilled; a fragrance of flowers and rice, an explosion on the tongue. No, a sigh of surprise; exhalation. Sake – the taste heightened by the loss of visual input. Roz had drunk Sake with Martin on many occasions but it had never tasted like this. She could sense its passage through her body and felt amazingly awake and alive.
Martin took her hand and guided it into the bowl he had retrieved from the floor. No surprise here! Roz could smell the sweet kiwi fruit and salivated at the thought. He allowed her fingers to droop into the bowl and investigate the sliced fruit. He took a piece and wafted it below her nose. She tilted her head back and savoured its scent and then extended her tongue as if to accept the sacrament at confession. He carefully placed the fruit on her tongue and she slowly chewed; she was aware of the ‘wafer’ giving up its juice and being broken down into a pulp that could be easily swallowed. It took seconds but it seemed like hours, such was the intensity of the moment.
Roz picked a plump piece of kiwi from the bowl and proffered it to Martin. He wolfed it down and, for good measure, slowly and sensuously licked her fingers clean.
‘Hungry boy, huh?’
She reached for the bowl and found it beneath her fingers. Reaching in, she withdrew a hand-full of fruit and crushed it in her fist. She directed the juice as it dripped from her hand; across her breasts, slowly building into a rivulet that ran its course down her body, pooling for a while in her navel and then travelling on to her livid pubic hair.
She opened her hand and showed Martin her work then she lovingly spread the pulp across her breasts, abdomen, stomach and groin.
Roz offered her hand to Martin. ‘Still hungry?’
He took her hand and licked it clean. She could feel his panting, hot breath as he cleaned her hand; the back, the front, her fingers and in between each finger.
He lay her down and kissed her roughly. Roz cuffed him playfully. ’Eat first, play later, little boy!’
Martin returned his attention to the fruit; he licked the pulp from her right breast and then the left, giving special attention to Roz’s erect nipples and when she sighed loudly or undulated under his tongue he slowed and gave the area more attention.
Martin knelt on the bed next to her and kissed her breasts, gently cupping them each in turn. His tongue probed beneath them for errant fruit pulp and then continued its progress toward her abdomen. He gently sucked and kissed away all the fruit from her navel and continued down toward her pubis. As he explored further and further into her cropped copper hair Roz’s sighs and moans increased; her body was a wave rolling against his tongue. She took hold of his head with both hands. Gently but firmly she directed him down.
Martin knelt between her legs. He could see that some of the kiwi had made it this far, he could also see that Roz was glistening wet and ready for him. He devoured the last of the fruit in view and then started on Roz.
At the first touch she came. ‘Oh god. Oh god, oh god!!’
Martin could see her stomach rise and fall and could hear her pant for breath. He lay down and investigated her fanny with his tongue, she bucked and sighed,’ ahhh, yes!’ Martin tried to synchronise his probing to the pulse of Roz’s muscle spasms which seemed to be getting stronger and more focussed.
Roz pulled hard at Martin’s hair tugging him upward. Martin came to his knees, lubricated two fingers in his mouth and inserted them into Roz’s hot cunt. He licked the fingers of his other hand and, locating her clitoris, gently drew back its pink hood to find her trigger red and angry. Roz moved under the stimulus from his fingers tensing and relaxing her cunt muscles welcoming the intruding fingers, wanting them to stay – just a little bit longer, please?
As Martin’s fingers found her clit Roz exploded. ‘Fuck me. Fuck me now, Martin, or never ever touch me again. Do you hear? Fuck me now!’
He slowly withdrew his fingers and moved his body up the bed to cover her body with his. As instructed, he replaced his fingers with his hard cock. She came violently as he entered her.’ Unghh’
She brought her knees up and then knotted her legs around his back. ‘Fuck me you bastard, fuck hard!’ Martin hammered into her and Roz continued her exhortations with each thrust. This was all new to Martin but he enjoyed the feeling of Roz wanting and enjoying him.
Roz threw her arms around him as if she could decorate herself with him as easily as she did the kiwi fruit. She raked his back and exhorted him, ‘Fuck me, you bastard, fuck me harder!’
Martin groaned a wordless guttural tone and came. He came like he had never experienced it before, an orgasm that felt as if it had been dragged up from his soul.
‘No, no, don’t stop’, shrieked Roz. ‘So close, don’t stop.’
Slap! Roz brought the flat of her hand down on Martin’s back. Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Roz rained blows into Martin. ‘Don’t stop, don’t stop’, but she could already feel his cock start to lose its length and girth.
She slumped into the bed with Martin’s weight upon her but his vigorous member was already receding. ‘Oh, god Mart, I was so close to a real whopper. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.’
‘Don’t worry, love,’ murmured Martin. I haven’t massaged your front yet.’ Smirk.
They lay still as if locked in time until Roz broke the silence.
‘Mart. Sorry I need a wee’.
‘Yeah, sure.’ Replied Martin, withdrawing fully and rolling off Roz onto the bed.
Roz got up, put on her silk robe and headed for the toilet.
------ 00000 ------
Martin awoke from a wonderful dream. It was dark in the room and he felt seriously horny. Where was Roz?
Martin realised, as his senses returned that he was blindfolded. His body took a quick census: he was blindfolded and lying down; his arms were secured together above his head and his legs were tied separately but also securely. He had an erection and someone, hopefully Roz, was stroking it.
‘Welcome back, big boy, good kip?’
‘Well, yeah but what’s going on?’
‘Marty my love. We need to talk. You see, I spent ages blindfolded and letting you do what you wanted to do. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but we really have to do something about your manners.’ Her hand ceased its movement. ‘I can live, maybe, with missing the biggest fucking orgasm known to the universe but I will not tolerate you falling asleep when I walk out of the room and you know I am gagging, absolutely gagging for sex.’
‘I’m sorry, honey’. Martin cooed, gently testing his bonds and finding them secure.
‘I’m sure you are, I’m sure you are…’ said Roz, cutting him short. ’Your penance will begin right away. Your road to redemption can be through pleasure or pain, the choice I yours.’
‘I. I don’t understand’, stammered Martin.
‘OK, let me show you.’
Roz removed Martin’s blindfold and, as his eyes became accustomed to the light, he saw that she was naked and still wearing her blindfold but had cut eye holes in it. In the candle light he caught the sense of her as a ridiculously sexy, flame-haired avenging Angel. Twisting and looking down at his leg he could see that he was secured by length of silk from the matching gowns.
‘Pleasure’ Roz begin. ‘For example…’ She picked up the almond oil and dripped a couple of drops into her hand. Slowly she rubbed her hands and warmed the liquid then applied both hand to Martin’s waning erection.
She pulled back the foreskin and gently massaged the head of his growing cock. Martin sighed in approval. Roz hoisted herself over and slowly down onto his inflamed member and rode him; grinding back and forth, tossing her hair, laughing, beating his chest with her clenched fists. He could feel her cunt muscles clench and unclench; he felt as if he could come at any second. He arched his back to thrust into her.
Then she stopped.
She dismounted. ‘Then there is pain…’ Roz walked to the corner and picked up one of the smaller candles. She walked back to Martin and sat in the edge of the bed. She held the candle above his chest and slowly tilted it so that Martin could see the molten wax gathering at the lip.
‘No, no, please’ implored Martin.
‘Pleasure or pain?’ Roz asked accentuating each word with a blob of molten wax. First the left nipple, then the right, then in the middle.
He couldn’t help it. His muscles spasmed with each fall of wax. He came. An off-white pool of viscous fluid accumulated in Martin’s navel.
‘I see you’ve made your choice’, smirked Roz, dipping her fingers in the warm goo inkwell of his navel. She anointed his face as if making the sign of the cross at confession and presented her fingers to his mouth. He hesitated and then licked them clean. She inserted her fingers into herself and repeated the process again. Martin obediently cleaned her fingers.
‘We are going to play a new game now, Martin, do you understand? You will not leave this room until you have satisfied me completely. Do you understand?’
‘Yes’, Martin said quietly.
SLAP! Her free hand struck him hard.
‘I said, do you understand?!’
‘Yes’, this time louder.
‘All of it, now…You know what I want!’
Martin fought back a tear. ‘Yes, Mistress’.