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Six Hours Copyright © Julian Renard 
Wearily she rose from the bed and put on her silk dressing
gown. She looked over to the clock and stared at it for
several long moments.
"Six hours", she said out loud, as if in awe. "Six hours." More than anything she wanted a shower but there were things to do first. She took a minute to brush out her out her long black hair, then made her way slowly into the living room. "Hi mum." Said her four year old son. He turned back to watch the television without awaiting her reply. "Hi darling." She replied, though she doubted he'd noticed. "Can I still watch TV mum?" He asked after a while, still watching the TV. She paused as a thought percolated through her still muddy mind. "You've been watching it for six hours sweetheart." The boy just kept watching and she realised that he was still waiting for her answer. She lacked the strength to argue. "Yes, sweetheart. Until Daddy comes home, alright?" The boy simply continued to watch the set. Shaking her head she made her way back to the bedroom. It was in quite a mess. Blankets were scattered in piles on the floor and clothes were strewn about the room, all of them hers. "Six hours," she repeated as if amazed. She gathered the clothing from the floor and began to sort it for washing. Four pairs of underpants, two bras, stockings of various colours, her favourite mini skirt... the sorting went on and on. All of the articles were feminine and sexy. She finally took the clothes to the laundry and started the first load. Her first load, at four in the afternoon! Returning to the bedroom she quickly remade the bed with fresh sheets. "Now," she thought to herself, "finally I can have that shower." The steam and hot water soothed her tired muscles and in time she began to feel normal again. She gently towelled herself off and on an impulse put on her sexiest teddy and headed once more for the bed. It was then that she noticed something which had previously escaped her attention, though how it had done so she could hardly imagine. Four silk scarves remained tied to each of the bed posts. The sight of them sent an unexpected shiver through her. With difficulty she managed to untie the knots that had been pulled incredibly tight, then placed them in her bedside drawer. Closing the bedroom door she finally laid down, grateful for a chance to relax at last. Her eyelids slowly closed as thoughts of the past six hours attempted to flood her mind once more. This time she let them come. A collage of images flashed through her mind and as she relived each, her fingers crept slowly down to tease her still tender sex. It had started with the knock at the door... the large powerful man... too strong for her... leaving her son in front of the TV... instructions to stay there... changing her clothes... unwelcome hands on her body... loathing and fear... unwanted excitement... a hand beneath her skirt, touching her there... the sound of a zipper... that first instant of penetration... rhythmic stirring thrusts... despair and confusion... her reluctant orgasm - the first one... then a time to rest, peaceful yet foreboding... Then... silk scarves... completely helpless... a soft feather... cold icecubes... a warm tongue... clothespins on her nipples... hard, almost brutal thrusts... a blinding orgasm... followed quickly by another... Fuelled by the images, she brought herself easily to a climax and then finally she slumped back exhausted. Desperate now to sleep, she blocked out the images of what had come after that. That had been merely the beginning. He had been there a whole six hours. Copyright © 2000 Julian Renard.
julian975@yahoo.com
All rights reserved.
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