Sometimes I feel a bit claustrophobic in my small apartment. At those times I quiet my soul with a leisurely stroll through our park nearby. I might even be lucky and enjoy the occasional flaming sunsets from the top of the little hill where my view is not obstructed by trees.
Tonight there had been such a colorful sunset. It had bathed everything around me in shades of pink, and of red, and of purple. I was at ease with the world and myself. It was a time to relax on the couch and read.
I had just cracked open my book, looking for the old birthday card I used as a bookmark, when the doorbell rang. I was slightly annoyed. I am an avowed bachelor, somewhat shy by nature, and so have few friends. I could not imagine any of them calling on me that late in the evening.
I was not in the best of moods when I opened the door. A stunning young lady of maybe thirty looked at me for a second and without a word brushed past me into my apartment. I was stunned for a moment. I slammed the door shut and walked over to my table where she stood staring at me. I was very angry when I confronted her.
"What is the meaning of this, just barging into my apartment? Who are you? What do you want?" I was so angry I asked questions without waiting for answers.
"OK," she spat at me. "I will have to play your idiotic game, and I will. But you better hold up to your promise."
"Listen lady," I countered, "you seem to mistake me for somebody else. Who are you looking for?"
"Oh no," she replied with anger in her voice. "This is the apartment alright. Your letter is pure blackmail and is also absolute nonsense." She opened the large manila envelope, pulled out a letter and threw it on the table.
I picked it up and started reading. It indeed told her to come to this, my apartment. She was to be the blackmailer' s sex slave for the next two Saturdays, it ordered. More instructions were to follow by e-mail. The blackmailer said he will deny being the blackmailer and she must play his game to get the negatives.
"Wait a minute, lady, I don't have any negatives. This is either a joke or a mistaken identity," I informed her.
"I know, I know," she said, now with a more even voice. "You said you would deny being the letter writer, so I expected you to answer the way you just did. But I know you have the negatives somewhere and I want them. I will even let you keep the prints."
She reached into the manila envelope again and drew out three 8x10 white sheets of paper and threw them on the table next to the letter. I picked them up and turned them over. They were glossy color photos of a gorgeous nude model in suggestive poses. I looked closer and then it registered. The model was no other than my visitor.
"I am sorry, madam, I wish I could help you, but I am definitely not the blackmailer. But I will have to tell you that you are very beautiful and attractive." I handed the photos back to her.
"You might as well keep them with the negatives," she replied, laying them face up on the table where they could stare at me. Then she turned and walked over to the couch, treating me to the sight of a shapely backside. Her walk to the couch was more of a sensuous dance than a walk.
I was still standing next to my table when she sat down and looked at me, obviously expecting a reaction from me. By now my anger had evaporated and had been replaced by curiosity. I slowly walked to where she sat and introduced myself.
"Judging by your attitude so far, you will probably not believe me, but my name really is Bert Hanson," I told her.
"Thanks for the introduction. Bert it will be." She smiled at me and added, "Don't just stand there. You might as well sit down. It is awkward for me to keep looking up at you."
There was no reason for me not to play the game, after all, she started it and I wondered where it would lead, and it might be fun, I thought. She was sitting in the middle of the couch, leaving just enough room for me on either side of her. I decided to sit on her right.
"That is better," she said as I eased myself into the space she had left me. "I was beginning to wonder if it was proper for a slave to sit comfortably while her master is standing in front of her like a school boy being lectured by his teacher." Her voice had lost its edge and had become silky smooth. She even had added a small low key giggle to the end of her sentence.
"I don't know how to behave as a slave; I have never done this before. I hope you will forgive me and not mete out too harsh a penalty if I at times should fail to meet your expectations. As I said, I am new in this role. But I will try my best."
She scooted her body tight against mine and placed a hand on my left thigh. This got the attention of my hormones and they began wiggling their dance inside me.
"You are doing just fine as a slave, Monique," I smiled back at her.
"I knew it, I knew it," she laughed while she jumped off the couch. She danced around the room a few steps and then stopped in front of me, pointing an accusing finger at my chest.
"You gave yourself away just now, you are the blackmailer. I had not told you my name, but you know it. That tells me that you wrote the letter."
"Hold it, hold it," I protested. "Your name is on the manila envelope you threw on the table. That's where I got it from."
"No way, you couldn't have. Not with the envelope lying face down. I was careful to lay it down that way," she explained.
"You are right and you are wrong," I told her. "You are right about putting it on the table face down after you took out the photos, but you are wrong about the first time when you took out that silly letter you claim I wrote. It was face up then and I read your name on it."
"I don't believe you," she answered. "I feel it in my bones that I am right. So we continue with your little game of you the master, me the slave. It might not be all that bad now that I have inspected you for a while. You seem to be an OK guy except for the blackmail." Her answer was accompanied by a smile that warmed my heart and kicked my hormones into high gear.
While she was standing in the middle of the room I had ample opportunity to study her. She was all the photos had already told me. Simply gorgeous, and sexy; most attractive, and sexy; deliciously feminine, and sexy. My hormones screamed at me not to let her go without getting to know her better.
"Don't stand there like a statue," I begged. "Come sit down again and play the slave if you want to. Who knows, in the end we might have reversed the roles and you are the master. A beautiful woman with a luscious figure like yours and a sunny smile and twinkling eyes is hard to resist."
She did return to my side and snuggled tight against me again. I inhaled the fragrance of her skin and felt the warmth of her body and I knew that I could not resist her.
She moved slightly forward on the couch as her hands came up to take my face and turn it towards her. She kissed with such a passion that I was carried along like a feather on a swift stream.
I have no idea how long I was held captive by her. But even so I was vaguely aware of her hands doing something with my shirt. Suddenly her kiss broke and I found her fingers playing with the top button of my shirt.
"He really wants me to do everything," she mumbled to herself, but loud enough for me to hear. "Doesn't even know how to take off his shirt. Well, I guess that is why guys keep us girls as slaves."
"I don't recall having told you to play with my shirt buttons," I warned her. "I don't want you to take off my shirt. I want you to take of my sandals."
She slid off the couch and bent down to remove my sandals, which she placed next to the couch on the floor.
"If it pleases my master I would like to continue my tasks unless my master has other instructions for me."
I had an idea where this could lead and I didn't like the ending. I am a confirmed bachelor and I may pick up a girl from time to time for a short evening. But this lady was putting out hard to resist tentacles, trying to ensnare me. I felt myself falling under her spell and decided to get out from under before it was too late.
It seems I was not really successful. She kept me under her spell for almost one hour before she kneeled at the foot of the bed and whispered her apology.