Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: Darla (FM, femdom)
Date: 14 Sep 1995 23:13:43 GMT

				Darla

	It hadn't gone well, Darla thought, as she leafed through an
old magazine. She shifted position, took her shoes off, and curled her
feet up comfortably beneath her on the couch. Across the room, Michael
was still typing away. They'd been working together quite well on the
book, and then he'd had one of his sudden fits of inspiration and had
shooed her away, irritably, because he didn't want her "looking over
his shoulder." As if he hadn't looked over mine enough, she thought.
And leaned on it at the same time. I wish we could get an office with
two desks, two typewriters, and a brick wall between them! With a
sigh, she picked up another magazine and slid farther down into the
cushions that covered Michael's couch.

	She'd just begun reading a fascinating article on
archaeological discoveries at Tell-el-Amarna when Michael spoke. "Look,
it's getting late, and I have a lot of things to do in the morning.
Time for you to go home."

	Darla closed her eyes for a moment. All right, she thought, if
that's the way you want it... She reached down, slipped on her shoes
again, tossed the magazine on the table and got up to go. Her
portfolio and purse and all her papers had been left on the table by
the door, and she turned that way, unwilling to look at Michael.
Sometimes, she thought, I wish you hadn't talked me into this so-
called collaboration. I wish you hadn't insisted that we both work
here at your place. I wish you hadn't...

	He came into her field of vision, surprising her out of her
train of thought. He stood there in the light reflected from the desk,
shirt gone, tenuous smile on his face. If you really wanted me to
leave, she thought, why did you take off your shirt? A smile replaced
the sullen expression on her face.

	"Gee, Michael, I've seen that half of you before. Why don't
you take the rest of it off?"

	He looked down at himself as if to say, who, me? "Ladies
first," he said. "Or is it, you show me yours and then I'll show you
mine?" His tone of voice was light, slightly sarcastic. "I'm just
getting ready for bed here."

	Hmmm, thought Darla, I bet he thinks that'll get rid of me. By
all rights, it should, but I'm tired of doing everything his way. "All
right," she said softly, and without another word, she quickly
unsnapped her jeans, unzipped them, let them drop to the floor and
stepped out of them. "Like this?"

	Dead silence in the room for a moment. Then Michael said, "Now
wait a minute, put those back on. That's not what I meant, and you
know it."

	"No, Michael, I don't know it. I just did as you asked. We're
not playing this game by your rules any more. You started it, and this
time you're going to have to finish it."

	Surprised at her own sudden courage, she slipped out of the
large, loose overshirt she wore, and dropped that to the floor as
well. Clad only in a light pink tank-top and matching panties, she
stepped out of her shoes and walked closer to him. He retreated. Her
eyes were fixed on his. She smiled. Moving close to him, she lightly
brushed her fingertips through the soft hair on his chest. He gasped,
and held her hand still in his own. She reached up with her other
hand, and now held his hand in a warm embrace.

	"Come on, Michael," she said, pulling him in the direction of
his bedroom. For a moment, he resisted. "No," he said, "we can't do
this. Let's stop it now before things get out of hand." "They're
already well in hand, Michael, and you come with me now." "No," he
said. "Yes," she said, and pulled him along by the hand. He tried to
pull away from her, but not with any real strength, and then he
followed.

	She led him into the bedroom, over to the bed, then turned.
"Lie down here, Michael, and I'll help you take the rest of those
clothes off."

	"I've been dressing and undressing myself for a few weeks now,
you know," he replied, sarcastically.

	"All right then, you do it. I have some things to do here."

	She turned and walked away from him, opening the doors to his
closet. She didn't look back at him. After a moment, soft sounds
indicated that he was undressing. She found his tie rack at the back
of the closet and looked it over. Hmm, which ones look the softest,
the most worn? Which ones will cost least for me to have sent to the
cleaners, she wondered with a smile. I'm glad he has to wear suits to
work - this is a nice large collection. Sorting through the colorful
array, she selected four that looked a bit frayed around the edges.
Holding the ties in her hand, she folded the closet doors shut.

	Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off his
socks. He was still wearing a pair of light blue cotton bikini briefs.
It was obvious that the situation was beginning to excite him. She
went to the light-dimmer on the wall and reduced the illumination in
the room to a soft glow.

	"Lie down, Michael."

	"No."

	She walked over to him, ties dangling from her hand, and put
the other on his shoulder. Her nipples had hardened under the thin
tank top, and she stood with legs slightly apart. She looked directly
into his eyes.

	"Yes," she said.

	Silently, he lay back across the bed, his feet still on the
floor.

	"No, Michael, lie properly on the bed for me."

	He shifted position, bringing his feet up on the bed. She sat
down beside him and took his left hand in hers. She brought it up to
her mouth and traced the fingertips with her tongue. He shivered
slightly. She gently opened his hand and kissed the palm. Then, she
took one of the ties and tied it gently but firmly around his wrist.
He watched her, but made no move. Kissing his palm again, then biting
him very softly on the soft mound of flesh beneath his thumb, she laid
his hand down on the bed and tied the other end of the tie to the
bedpost. Then, she took both hands and caressed his arm, softly, all
the way down to his shoulder, past it, over his nipple and down his
side. He wiggled and gasped, but made no other sound. She got up,
taking the rest of the ties with her, and walked around the end of the
bed to the other side. His eyes followed her outline in the dimly lit
bedroom. She sat down beside him on the other side, and traced his
cheek lightly with her hand, then brushed his hair back, allowing her
fingers to slip down and circle his ear, very gently. He turned his
head to the side, trapping her hand between his ear and his shoulder.
She smiled. Picking up his right hand, she traced the lines on the
palm with a gentle finger, then her tongue. She took each of his
fingers in turn into her mouth and sucked on them gently. She looked
down at him, saw the very light film of sweat on his chest, and
smiled. Then, she tied the tie gently around his wrist, put his hand
on the bed, and tied the other end to the bedpost. Then, again, she
took both hands and caressed his arm, all the way down, over the
shoulder, onto his chest, circling his nipple with gentle but
insistent fingertips. He wriggled, pulling against the ties, but they
held him in a firm grip of their own. Her hands continued down his
chest, over his belly, making the skin flutter, down his sides, down
his right leg. Making circles with her fingertips, she shifted her
position on the bed, caressed his leg, down to his ankle, then onto
his foot. Being careful not to tickle him, she massaged the foot.
Then, she took another tie, tied it firmly around his ankle, stood up,
pulled his leg out a bit, and tied the tie to the footboard.

	Then she got up, moved back around to the other side of the
bed, and looked down at him. This time, she remained standing, running
the backs of her fingernails slowly, gently, down his leg, beginning
at the thigh, reaching the ankle in slow degrees. She picked up his
foot and quickly tied it to the bed. Her own breathing was coming more
rapidly now.

	"My goodness, Michael, you didn't get completely undressed. I
wonder what we'll have to do about that?" She looked at the large
bulge under the briefs and smiled.

	Darla looked at Michael on the bed for a long moment. Her eyes
were closed slightly, and her breath was coming more quickly than
before. Michael shifted on the bed, testing the strength of his bonds,
and found himself held fast. Darla watched him with a smile. And then,
suddenly, she turned and walked out of the room.

	"Hey! What IS this??" Michael shouted. "Is this what you
wanted? Leave me here like this? C'mon!" "Just be patient, Michael,"
came her voice from another room. "I know that's not one of your
virtues, but this time you really have no choice. I'm not leaving."

	He could hear the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing.
He tried to pull his hands loose, but the harder he pulled, the
tighter the knot got. He was still struggling when she reappeared.

	"You don't trust me much, do you, Michael? I told you I wasn't
leaving. Now quit doing that before you cut off the circulation to
your hand."

	She set the pile of things she'd been carrying on the floor.
Then, deftly, she readjusted the tie on his left arm where his hand
was beginning to turn purple.

	"You're going to enjoy this, I promise you, so don't fight
it."

	He lay back on the bed, panting, and looked at her. Even in
the dim light, her own excitement was obvious. She bent down and
picked up two large, slightly worn bath towels from the floor. Sitting
down, she laid the folded towels on the bed beside him.

	"Turn away from me for a moment and let me slip this under
you."

	He turned as far onto his side as the bonds would allow, and
she spread the towels beneath him, smoothing them out. Her warm hand
brushed against his back, as if to smooth away the tension there as
well.

	"All right, now roll back this way."

	She walked around the bed, pulled the towels out beneath him
and smoothed them across the bed. There was now a layer of warm, soft
terrycloth beneath him from his neck almost to his knees. Puzzled, he
watched her as she walked back to the other side of the bed.

	She picked up a small, heavy ceramic bowl from the floor and
set it on the bedside table. And then, standing beside the bed, she
began, very slowly, to caress herself. Her hands ran, teasingly, from
her collarbone over her breasts, circling from the outside toward the
center. Her eyes were nearly closed. Her back arched slightly and her
shoulders moved from side to side as her fingers moved inwards. She
held first one nipple, then the other, and pulled them slightly
outwards against the fabric of the tank top. Then her hands continued
their slow, langourous travel, making their way downwards. Her fingers
slid inside the waistband of her panties. Her eyes opened slightly and
she watched him with a smile as she wiggled her hips, very slightly,
and slid her hands farther under the fabric, but then, instead of
continuing to the center, she slid her hands against her sides,
stepped back a bit, and slowly, slowly pushed the panties down. As she
worked the panties down, farther and farther, she stepped back a bit
more from the bed so that he could see her. He strained against the
ties as he lifted his head to watch.

	She wiggled her hips and the panties slid the rest of the way
to the floor. Quickly, she bent over and picked them up, rubbing the
fabric between her hands.

	"My goodness, I wonder why these are so damp? Do you want to
feel it, Michael?" - bringing the soft fabric up against his cheek as
he turned his head away. "No? Ah well, no loss. Now, we need to do
something about you, don't we?" And with that, she dropped the panties
to the floor.

	Her hand traced a path up his left leg, caressing him,
gradually working upwards. When she reached the elastic on the leg of
his briefs, she slid two gentle fingertips underneath it, tracing the
path of the elastic across his leg, feeling the coarser hair beneath,
teasing him, coming close to where his bulge began, but never quite
touching it. He turned slightly towards her and made a soft sound. Her
fingers slid a bit farther beneath the fabric, then withdrew. She drew
the backs of her fingernails across his belly, very gently, and
watched the skin flutter and his back arch involuntarily at her touch.
Again and again, till he was writhing on the bed.

	"Stop it!" he gasped. "All right," she said, and moved back
away from the bed, walking around to the foot of it, never taking her
eyes off him. She climbed up on the bed, to kneel between his legs.
Watching him, again, she began to caress herself, her hands following
the same path, but lingering longer on her breasts, pulling the
nipples out again and again. Then her hands moved downwards, up under
the tank top, and she drew it up and over her head and tossed it to
the floor. The soft light revealed a light film of sweat.

	Then she leaned forward a bit and reached up toward where his
left hand was tied. With both hands, she caressed his arm, slowly
working her way downwards, using fingertips and fingernails in gentle
concert. She traced her way down over his collarbone, his nipple
(circling until he writhed again) and again over his belly, making him
twist under her hands. This time, she approached the waistband of his
briefs and slid her fingers beneath, sliding them down ever so
slightly, releasing him a bit. Breathing faster but still smiling, she
ran a gentle fingertip around the ridge on his cock, only once. His
back arched again and he pressed against her hand, his body wanting
more.

	But her hands moved upwards to his other hand and arm, and
again, she repeated the slow downward massage. By the time she reached
his cock, he was gasping.

	"Oh God, please... " "Please what, Michael? What would you
like?" "what... oh... in your mouth, please... " "Ah, but I can't do
that while you have those on. You should have gotten undressed, you
know? What shall I do now?"

	Her fingertips pushed the waistband down a bit more, teasing
him by tracing a path through his hair.

	Darla knelt on the bed and considered the situation. Then,
lightly, she began to trace the outlines of Michael's cock through the
fabric of his briefs. Around, down, up, back, her hands made a path
over the light blue material, but they did not again touch bare skin.
He began to move his hips in rhythm with her fingers, wiggling
whenever she moved upwards in an attempt to pull her hands where he
wanted them to be. Her fingers moved down between his legs, teasingly,
slipping inside the elastic now and again to caress him.

	She bent closer to him, watching his reaction. Her mouth
opened slightly, she bent her head down by her hands. He moved his
hips upward, seeking her mouth. Shaking her head, then, she brushed
her hair over his stomach, lightly over the head of his cock, and then
straightened up. He flopped back on the bed in disappointment and
looked at her.

	"Bitch," he said through clenched teeth. "Yes, Michael, all
that and more."

	She looked down at him through hooded eyes. And then, slowly,
she put her index finger in her mouth and sucked on it, moving it in
and out of her mouth. Then two fingers. He pulled against the ties
that bound his hands. They held him fast. Angry now, he struggled,
trying to break free, but she made no move, kept sucking her fingers
and watching him. At last, exhausted, he gave up. She took two wet
fingers out of her mouth and traced them around the head of his cock.

	"Is that what you want? Is it?" No answer. "I'll give you
what you want, Michael, but you have to give me what I want, too."

	Her fingers moved faster, feeling how slippery his skin had
become, spreading the fluids around in wider circles.

	"Yes," he said, pressing up against her hand. "Yes." "Good,"
she said.

	Moving one leg over his, then the other, she slipped off the
bed to stand beside it. Her hands slipped down inside the briefs,
sliding them down. She reached around him; he arched his back to help
her pull them down.

	"Now, Michael, you have to do as I tell you, or I'll leave you
here like this and go home. Understood?" "Yes... "

	Her fingers trailed down his left leg, making circles with the
backs of her fingernails. He lifted his head to watch her. She untied
the tie from the foot of the bed, and he wiggled his foot, unsure of
what she wanted him to do. She reached up to slide the briefs down to
knee level and he bent his knee, allowing her to stretch the fabric
over his knee and then down and off his leg. He put his foot flat on
the bed, knee still bent, and she ran her hand down the back of his
leg slowly, circling, still standing beside the bed, finally reaching
beneath him, probing, making him curl his leg up against his chest to
give her easier access. She pressed the leg back down again gently,
withdrew her hand, and re-tied the tie.

	"Now, Michael, we both get what we want."

	She reached into the ceramic bowl on the bedside table and
brought her hands back out, shiny with oil. She rubbed her hands
together, then caressed her breasts again, and again, sliding the oil
over her skin until she shone softly in the dim light. More oil, and
her hands moved downwards. More oil, and she reached to caress him as
well. Her hands moved over his chest, his shoulders, down over his
stomach. Dipping her hands into the oil again, she placed them on his
chest and climbed back up to kneel between his legs. She moved both
hands down, tracing a circle on his stomach, moving down between his
legs. Then her hands slid gently upwards again, upwards, but this
time, she shifted her position so she was leaning close to him. The
higher her hands reached, the closer she came, until by the time her
hands reached nearly to his wrists, her nipples were brushing against
him. Oiled skin against oiled skin, she slid down, the pressure light
but the contact unbroken, until his cock was between her breasts. She
shifted from side to side, rubbing him in gentle circles. His back
arched, and she allowed him to press more firmly against her for a
moment.

	Then she began to slide her hands gently upwards along his
skin again, raised herself up a bit. Panting, he looked at her, trying
to guess what she would do next. She smiled. Then she sat up,
straddling his legs, and wiggled her hips until he could feel her,
warm, wet, soft cunt brushing against him. She reached down to hold
his cock against her and began moving her hips slowly, rocking back
and forth. He pushed up against her, moving in rhythm, hoping that
soon, she would slide him inside her, pulling against the ties on his
arms as he kept pace with her motions.

	As his breathing began coming in ragged gasps, she realized
how very aroused he was, and stopped her motion.

	"No, Michael, not yet. I'm not ready yet. Wait for me."

	She sat back a little bit, settling down against his thighs,
and began to caress her breasts with both hands. Her fingers made
rapid circles on the lightly oiled skin, moving inwards to the
nipples, pulling them out, rolling them between her fingers, releasing
them, circling outwards again. Soon, one hand moved down her stomach,
circling, brushing through her short, curly pubic hair, sliding in
between her lips. In the darkened room, tied on the bed as he was,
Michael could not really see her hand, but he could tell by the motion
of her body that she was moving it faster, sliding it down between the
lips, caressing herself as far back as she could reach. She moaned
softly and brought the hand forward again, teasing herself, circling,
never quite touching the center of her desire.

	He watched as her hands moved in rhythm, one up, one down, and
she began to rock back and forth, panting, making small soft sounds of
desire.

	Suddenly, she wrapped both arms around herself.

	"Michael, are you ready?" "Yes," he whispered. "Yes," she
echoed, and moved forward a bit.

	She reached to caress his cock with both hands, feeling how
wet it was, sliding her fingers over it to spread the lubrication
around, the wetness from her hands adding to his. And then she rose on
her knees, moved forward, holding him with both hands, and slowly,
slowly, brought him into position and settled down against him just a
bit. He slid inside her, just a little, the slick warm skin sliding
easily. They both gasped as he slid inside.

	She kept her hands in place as she settled farther down,
slowly, slowly allowing him to slide farther inside. He pushed up
against her, but she was tight with desire and he could not make
himself slide in any faster. Deeper and deeper, until finally, he was
all the way inside her. She stopped for a moment, and he could feel
her muscles tighten against him still more.

	And then she began to move. Slowly at first, she began to rock
her hips, sitting up but leaning slightly forward, rising up so that
he slid almost all the way out, sliding him back within her again. The
lubrication increased and they moved faster against each other. Her
hands went back to her breasts, pulling the nipples out in rhythm with
her hips. Faster and faster she rocked, up and down, back and forth,
her hands in constant motion. She seemed to want to draw him deeper
and deeper inside her. And then her breathing changed... the rhythm
changed... he could feel the ripples inside her as her climax rocked
her again and again. It was too much for him. He pushed up against
her, again and again, making her move with him, faster and faster. She
went with him, willingly, reaching down to hold him against her as his
body twisted in climax as well.

	And then, she relaxed against him, nestling against his chest,
straightening her legs out so that she lay on top of him. They were
panting, making soft sounds. He was still inside her, but growing
softer, sliding out. She chuckled, and tightened up all her muscles,
trying to squeeze him farther out. He pushed up against her, but
weakly, and finally slid out, feeling the wetness between them.

	"Did you get what you wanted?" he asked.

	"Yes," she said, and reached up to untie his hand.