Black Knight: Dinner for Two + One
Sarah Weston was doing well for herself; a good career, survived two years of a marriage that had just petered out. She had moved on and was her own woman. Then one fateful day she met someone; someone who knew things about her that she had not even confessed to herself. He had plans for her, but first he would seduce her. Her Black Knight would take Sarah on a path that would turn her inside out. More
Sarah Weston was doing well for herself. She had a good career and she had survived two years of marriage that had not been all bad, but had simply petered out. She had moved on. Then one day at a conference she met someone, someone who knew things about her that she had not even confessed to herself. He had plans for her, but first he would seduce her. Her Black Knight would take Sarah on a path into sensuality and surrender that would turn her inside out.
What I noticed first were your neat ankles and those evocative shoes you wore as you sat listening. From the back you seemed too young to be attending such a gathering, I imagined you to be still in high school, so petite in a neat black skirt suit, your hair tumbling down your back like a bitter chocolate waterfall.
I was sitting five rows behind you and I watched your delicate pale hands flit about your conference pack, plucking at papers then scribble notes as the speaker droned. PowerPoint slides marched by unheeded; I saw only your legs. You wore killer heels, I supposed to give you height but it was the ankle bindings that enticed me, black patent leather straps with gleaming metal buckles. They encircled the ankles of your tiny arched feet, hinting at darker sensual bindings. You looked like a little doll, a plaything that any man would want in the worst way.
He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out some black satin ribbons. When I saw them, my still racing heart leapt in my chest. I hoped, I wished but I had to ask,
“What are those for, ...John.”
“Why to bind your wrists, my dear.”
I couldn't help it; I moaned and felt a trickle between my legs as he tied the ribbons around my wrists securing them to the wooden arms of the dining chair. I tested them and the feeling of restraint made my juices flow even more.
“One more thing, my dear,” he drew a silk scarf from his pocket and continued, “A blindfold is necessary.”