Thursday, 13 March 2008

An Officer and a Gentleman...

It was a fancy dress party with the theme of uniforms. She had stolen a friend's fluorescent yellow work jacket and hard hat and was purporting to be a construction worker. It was much too big but, underneath, was something far more interesting.

She watched him as he entered the room. He was dressed completely in white. The uniform of a US naval officer. From the way he wore the clothes, it became apparent that this was not just a costume but a way of life. He moved so comfortably in them and was totally unselfconscious, even with the cap on.

He stood by the bar and waited to order a beer, which gave her the opportunity to study him more closely. There were badges and medal ribbons on his left breast. Lots of them. He was tall but not a giant and filled the uniform to perfection, with regulation close-cropped hair.

Suddenly he caught her staring. Flicking her eyes away, she blushed, but she had not been quick enough. She tried to look surreptitiously in his direction but he was waiting for her. He rested his dark gaze upon her, smiled and raised his bottle in salute but she ignored him and pretended to be waving to someone further along the bar.

Before long the guys in the group started dancing, then the girls dragged each other out onto the floor to join them and, since they had all consumed a large quantity of alcohol, things started to get heated. Frolicking, hugging, touching, caressing, stroking. Girls on girls, girls on boys. Her helmet, perched precariously on the top of her head eventually went crashing to the floor. Crouching in the melee of bodies, she bent to retrieve it and found her entire field of vision blocked by a pair of highly polished white shoes beneath Persil-white trousers.

His hand was under the crook of her arm gripping the sleeve of the big jacket as he helped her back to her feet. Standing there so protectively, so dazzlingly white in the mass of writhing bodies, it was as if the world stood still.

Which was when he did it. Every woman's most cherished romantic dream. She could almost hear them singing 'Up Where We Belong'. His arms went under her legs and he picked her up as if she was a feather and walked off with her. It was the whole thing. The white suit, the hat, the alpha male strut. The Richard Gere moment.

The man in white carried the yellow blob up the stairs and out of the basement club, through the lobby, past the hotel's reception to the lifts. Neither of them said anything, they didn't even look at each other. Without putting her down, he selected the floor and let the elevator take them away from the bustle of reality.

He used the card to open the door and deposited her on the bed. Despite the total darkness, the reflective strips of her jacket retained the light of the corridor and shone back at him, marking her position. He clicked on the bedside light and, in the silence of the fantasy, placed her hardhat on the table, removed the bright yellow coat and lay her back so that her feet were resting on the pillow. He couldn't help but smile as he removed the incongruous Dr. Martens boots, big and clumpy on the end of those slender legs.

And then he just stood there looking down at her. She was wearing lacy-topped thigh high stockings with her favourite red and black basque and his mind drank the image in. His fingers moved gently over her body, registering the different textures - the cool skin of her arms, over the swell of her breasts to the silky fabric and rough lace of her clothing, the smooth mesh of the stockings, the warmth of the flesh of her thighs. Her eyes closed, mouth opening in pleasure at the caress... then the shock of cold metal as the cuffs closed around her wrists.

Her eyelids snapped open with the prospect of impending danger. She had allowed him to seduce her and now she was trapped. Her legs were still free and she kicked out at him but he was expecting it and it only meant that his hands holding her wrists gripped that much tighter. He jumped onto the bed, his knees pushing down into her thighs, holding them there, pressing harder when she tried to resist and harder still when she complained that it hurt. Securing the cuffs, he moved to her ankles, roughly spreading them, fingers digging into her calves and shins as he secured them to the struts of the headboard.

She sat there, immobilised, watching the emotions play out across his face - should he return to gentle seduction with the promise of bringing her slowly to the peak of excitement over a very gradual climb or should he shift immediately to a position of total control, roughly turning her over to take her in the manner he'd planned all along.

He enjoyed the contrast of the two scenarios but, more than anything, he loved to hurt her before making it up to her with an orgasm to die for.

His English bitch.

He knew what she wanted. Knew her body like the back of his hand. But he had been away a long time. Could he wait much longer? Should he just rush in or should he trade on the accumulating lust of promise after delay?

Reaching into the bedside drawer, he withdrew the implement of her future gratification. Pulling at the lace coverings, he exposed her breasts as it sprang into life. Soft bristles slowly connecting with her stiff nipples as she stared up at him.

'Tell me about your medals,' she whispered. 'There is nothing more horny than being at the mercy of a dominant alpha male whilst he tells you about his heroics. Pointing to each piece of ribbon as he slowly divests himself of his uniform.'

He laughed softly at the request. His fingers stroking the curve of her cheek before placing the toothbrush into her cuffed hands and directing its attention between her legs.

'Would you like to hear about the ones from Iraq first?'

And with her nod of assent, he removed his belt, his voice soft and low in her ear, describing slowly how the first few ribboned rows were earned: the fear, the danger, the horror and the heroism. The hum of the toothbrush in the background, his hand under her head, gripping her hair as she took herself to the summit and then back down again.

Before she had time to recover, he pulled her up bodily by her shoulders so that she was pressed against the wall behind the bedhead. Administering six of the best with the belt, delighting in her shocked squeals as parts of her body rebounded with a double impact. Grinning as he noticed that the toothbrush had barely moved from its cosy position between her legs and watching the ripples of another climax run through her from the assault.

Driving his hand between her buttocks, he penetrated her, two fingers in that drenched pussy and one up her arse, relishing the screams as she pushed back against him so he could feel the orgasm clenching the muscles around his hand.

His cock felt thick and hard wedged between her back and his belly as he held her. Throbbing against the thin fabric of his trousers. Desperate to be let out.

But still his fingers continued to ride her wet cunt, pushing the toothbrush to one side and massaging her clit, taking it between two of them, vibrating and pinching to the accompaniment of her excited sobs. His thumb slid easily in and out of her butt and she could feel another wave of ecstasy shocking her body. Convulsions of pleasure rendered her almost beyond the ability to make a sound.

He slowly moved his hands from her, running them down her thigh, caressing it, his lips close behind, licking, gently sucking at her flesh. His fingers reached the shackle on her right ankle and set it free. Gently he lifted the loosened leg, placing her foot on the headboard. She began to realize his intentions, replaced the toothbrush in its familiar groove and the moans began anew.

She heard him unzip and felt hot skin throb against her bare bottom. Suddenly his body was tight against hers and then he lowered himself, his right knee pressed under her thigh. With a violent thrust he lifted her with his hard cock, slamming it into her, shocking her with the force, causing her to gasp... and then beg.

He waited for her pleas to reach a sufficient level of entreaty before he renewed his movements.

Fully engorged, thick, filling and ploughing her furrow, blasting off the balls of his feet, each thrust harder, straining her remaining tethered ankle, the pain shooting up her leg.

His left hand grabbed her hair, yanked it back and his lips were on her ear as he began to fuck her with an animal rhythm.

'Take it, take all of it my English Bitch....'

She felt him come for what seemed like hours, shooting into her, blasting through her, his hands squeezing her nipples as she joined him, shrieking triumphantly.

When the tremors finally subsided, she collapsed limply against him, allowing him to lower her carefully until she was resting across the mattress, her hands still cuffed and one ankle maintaining her connection to the bed.

He zipped up his pants and stroked his hand across her naked shoulders before he whispered:

'I'm going downstairs. I have a feeling you'll still be here when I'm ready for you again.'


Anonymous said...

(Answering, the post, below [on the Question of Women we guys have a thing for:]
I've always had a thing for Debra Winger..[and, Holly Hunter, too!])

Really loved this story;
cuffs & sex, in, or out of Uniform,
is always a good thing.

You ended it just right.


Vi said...

hhhmmm.. you've just described my fantasy if Chief ever returns to me!

Fat Controller said...

Oh my goodness!! That was beautifully written. I expect to be voting for this!!

2 Dollar Productions said...

I guess the uniform does work a certain kind of magic. Great post.

Joanna Cake said...

Will - Thank you :) Although I hardly think either Debra Winger or Holly Hunter would have men going 'ewwww'

Vi - Glad to be of literary service

FC - Thank you. I hope the other voters agree with you. I really enjoyed writing it.

2$ - Im not sure there are many things that have the same aphrodysiac quality as a smart uniform with lots of braid.

Anonymous said...

Medals... very sexy indeed.

Phil said...

LOL, what a story. Well written Cake.

George said...

Awesome ... your story telling is pretty well perfect.

Ronjazz said...

What a wonderfully erotic, well-constructed story, Cake! I'm so impressed! Gorgeous!

Anonymous said...

WOW. What more can you say to that? Thank you. The only downside is I have sometime before I can take this delicious arousal out on my own. Great post!


Joanna Cake said...

Marianne - there were lots, he is very brave :)

Phil/George/Ron - Thank you x

Naughty Girl - Hello and glad you enjoyed.

nitebyrd said...

Absolutely delicious!

Anonymous said...

Brilliant! More!

Anonymous said...

~~Oh no!
Now you have me re-thinking not only your Question...but, my answer!(LOL!)...

(closer reading is definitely in order)

{"Doris Day is a fox."

~~Will. I said that in 1998!)


ez cheese said...

Whoa, you have just renewed my obsession with English women full on. Thanks for making my afternoon less boring (and significantly hotter)