The Gift (a bit of fiction for a Wanton Wednesday)

"What is it?" She asked, a note of apprehension in her voice.

"It's a mask."

"I can see that but what is it? It's ugly. It's frightening."

They were huddled together over a catalogue he had brought home from the leather store. In it, were items catering to nearly every fetish imaginable; boots, pants, skirts and jackets; briefs, bras, corsets, garters and stockings; whips, paddles, riding crops and switches; masks and gags; hand cuffs and restraints; and a variety of dildos, clamps, rings, chains and assorted other toys the uses of which could only be guessed at. Each turn of the page was like opening a Pandora's box of dark, erotic fantasy, of pleasures both sinister and wonderful.

She felt a queer, delicious thrill coursing through her, as she looked at the pictures with him, wondering about the strange toys and their uses, the people in the pictures and the thought that he and she could be just like them. She could sense in him the same excitement, that same naughty thrill which made her heart race faster. It was like musk, seeping from his pores to linger and mix with the scent of his skin before filling her nostrils and quickening her pulse. She knew for a brief moment they were sharing the same hidden desire, unashamed by it, encouraged by their mutual attraction to something so forbidden.



"It's frightening. You wouldn't wear something like that, would you?"

"No", He answered. "I don't think I'm into these full face things."

"They're ugly."

"Yes."

"But I like the one you've given me."

"Do you? I thought you might."

"Yes."

She fingered the thin strip of leather with the stitched eyeholes and Velcro fasteners. She held it up to her face so she might peer through the twin openings, uncertain if she should really try it on. Would she feel silly?

"Go ahead, try it on."

"Should I?"

"Well, see if you like it."

Yes, she should. It was after all, a gift. His gift to her. Not just a simple piece of leather, or an unusual article of clothing, it was also a gift of intimacy. It was an act of sharing. He was offering his trust by allowing her to see this part of him. It was an invitation for her to explore with him those secret shadows within their own souls, places they might have been reluctant to admit existed even to themselves. Yes, she should try this gift on before accepting it to see if she could be comfortable wearing it.

She stood up and crossed the room approaching a mirror, a timid smile played delicately across her pretty face as she raised the mask up and fastened it behind her head. She adjusted it to fit a little more snugly. Her green eyes, stared back at her blinking from the reflected image in the mirror. She felt as though she were watching someone else, and as if someone else inside the mirror was watching her too. If identity were a dress it would lie crumpled at her feet waiting for her to step away from it to become anonymous. This was an anonymity she might easily grow to like. Liberating, exhilarating, she could be anyone she wanted.

"How do I look?"

"It looks good, but I think you should wear your hair over the strap."

"Like this?" She asked, making the adjustment.

"Yes."

She turned her head from side to side admiring the contrast of the black leather strap disappearing into her thick, auburn tresses. Her fingers brushed against the leather, pushing back a few stray strands of hair, rearranging her appearance. The results pleased her.

"I like it. I think I'll enjoy this gift. Do you like it?"

"Yes, of course."

She turned to him and rested her hand gently on his neck, wishing she were wearing the long leather gloves from the catalogue as well.

"You could take a picture of me like this. I think maybe you should."

"Really?"

Her hand dropped down to the front of his shirt and easily slipped the top couple of buttons loose. She could feel the warmth of his skin as her fingers became entangled in the dark, matted hairs on his chest. She undid a few more buttons then reached under his shirt and began rolling one of his small, dark nipples between her thumb and forefinger. She could feel his nipple stiffen and squeezed it harder, wondering how it would feel to press her tongue against it and nip at it with her teeth.

Would he flinch? She hoped so. She wanted to feel the whole muscle twitch beneath her mouth so she could kiss him, lick him, and suck him in once more just to lay on another lusty bite and make him twitch again. She pulled back his shirt to reveal the dark, rigid nipple that had risen up from a sea of pale gooseflesh. She traced its outline with her fingernail.

"Maybe you should get that camera." She said, breaking her own reverie, adding tersely, as she warmed to her role, "But you better be quick!"

As he left she picked up the riding crop, which had been a companion gift to the mask and flexed it, testing its give, feeling its sting as she slapped its square leather end against her palm. The sharp, staccato cracking sound it produced pleased her, sending shy, nervous thrills of excitement throughout her slender frame. Intrigued, she smacked her palm over and over again adjusting each of her strokes until she could consistently get the sound she desired without losing any of the sting.

Her palm was warm and red when he returned to the room and he stood before her holding the camera expectantly. She smiled at him, amused by his boyish eagerness; she felt her whole body tingle as though it were awash with anticipated pleasure.

"First, I need inspiring", she said. "You'll have to take those off."

She gestured with the riding crop at his faded blue jeans. The corners of her mouth curled up in a small hungry smile and she purred when she spoke. "But make a show of it."

He hooked one thumb behind the top button and pulled the waistband down as he brought his other hand up his crotch, slowly tracing the length of his zipper. When he reached the tab of his fly he grasped it and unhooked the button so his pants would pull open as he worked the stiff zipper down. He parted the faded denim slowly revealing long, white boxers with navy stripes. Gradually he worked his jeans down over his crotch, then down his tanned muscular thighs and past his knees until he could step out of them to stand before her inspecting gaze.

At a wave of the riding crop he peeled his socks off and let them drop by his feet. She gestured again expecting him to remove his shirt and he grabbed it with both hands at the bottom so he could pull it up over his head, lingering as he lifted it up past his chest. It too, took a place amongst the heap of clothing before him. Again he stood offering himself for her approval as she flexed the riding crop in her hands. For several moments her eyes, from behind the mask, searched his frame from head to foot before motioning again with the riding crop. This time she used its flat end, carefully drawing the front opening on his boxers apart. She slid the end inside touching him lightly as though seeking to tickle and tease him, she twisted and turned the riding crop making it dance gently over his cock and balls until it became tangled with his pubes.

She smiled and then tugged sharply, pulling some hairs and making him flinch. She lifted the end that had pressed against him up to her mouth and parted her lips slightly around it.

"I think you should lose those and then we can begin with some pictures."

The boxer shorts took their place on the pile of clothing and, naked, he took up the camera and prepared to shoot whatever, and however she might wish. For a few moments they stood frozen. They were not so much subject and artist she realized but performer and audience. She felt entirely in control. She began by undoing a couple of buttons on her blouse and then, with a wave of the riding crop, she began to strike poses as he silently snapped pictures. Lust, menace, vulnerability, innocence, sluttishness, choking prudishness, youthful eagerness and guarded withdrawal were what she offered his lens as she watched him carefully, waiting.

Warmth spread from between her legs through her midriff as she admired his body in motion. His strong legs with their light, downy, blond fur contrasting with the thick, dark wreath which surrounded the fluid, shaking, jerking, bobbing thickness between his legs. The taut, curved lines of his buttocks flexing and responding to his movements around the floor as he chased after her for more and more pictures. The lens itself was drinking in all she could bare of herself; it was insatiable, taking all she gave, stoking her own cruel desires with its unquenchable thirst. She hungered for release but the camera lens was vacant and unseeing.

Finally, however, he drew in closer and she knew this was the moment she had been waiting patiently for. He had moved within reach of her to get his picture and as he turned to retreat he exposed his tight, round buttocks to her. Instantly she was reminded of those times when he would be lying on top of her, her hands squeezing his firm, hard ass, urging him to plunge deeper, and she could remember digging her fingers into him, her nails like claws leaving her mark upon him as he thrust away between her legs. The thought sent thrills rushing through her body and she fell upon him with a fury, her hair wild, teeth bared, nails flying, bringing the riding crop down quickly again and again in a series of sharp, stinging blows upon his ass.

He dropped to his hands and knees and she swung her leg over him so she could straddle him as she continued her assault on his firm, round buttocks. In her enthusiasm she had let go of the riding crop but kept up using both her hands, alternating between pinching, scratching, squeezing, smacking, and punching his well-muscled bottom. She moved her hips back and forth, grinding her dampened crotch against his back. Though she hadn’t seen it, she somehow expected him to be sporting a painfully swollen erection and the thought of that spurred her on. Her head swam with a delicious sense of delirium, her breath coming in ragged gasps, for a brief moment she worried she might be hurting him but over the sound of her blows she thought she heard him grunting, groaning and… begging for more?

Oddly, that was the moment when she looked up and caught a glimpse of the two them in the mirror. Again it was as though she were viewing two strangers, and yet at the same time, it felt as though it was someone else who was watching her. She felt a strange sense of release as though she was free to do whatever she wished. Right then she knew they were going to enjoy this new gift.

And quite often, too, she hoped.

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