Introduction
This piece is part of a challenge that a writer friend put to me wherein one of us would provide a poke, some sort of set-up, and the other would write based on that. She specified a thousand words for the length, but I’m not sure I can do anything in a thousand words, so we’ll see.
The Poke: Chance encounter. The person you always thought was hot in school but never had the courage to even talk to because you were in different cliques. Ten years later, you run into them. An hour later you’re tied to their bed, or they are tied to yours. Fill _ in _ the _ blanks. :P
The Story
Life had been kind to Finn Oakley, even though things had been against him at the start. He’d come from a too-large family of modest means, but through the American values of hard work, perseverance and the right touch of luck, he’d managed to become a semi-successful business man. Oakley Leather was to fetish leather gear what Mercedes Benz was to the automobile. Of course you needed to move in the right circles to know that. Avis Seymark didn’t … move, or know.
Avis hadn’t been home in years. Ten years in fact. And home wasn’t what she remembered. And speaking of memory, she didn’t remember Finn Oakley either.
“Avis Seymark? Is that you?” a man asked.
She turned and saw his rather striking face. Maybe it was the eyes, not quite brown and yet not green either, and large. Or maybe it was the mouth, sensuous full lips and crooked smile framed by a light brown, almost blond, goatee that matched the tousled hair on his head. He was standing so close that she could smell the sweet, yet sharp, smell of his black leather jacket. It was all snaps and flaps, zippers and chrome buckle on the belt. A pocket that was just right for his cell, with a spot to clip his head-phones and mic. He had the belt drawn tight around his slender waist against the January cold, and there was something scarlet and black threaded onto the jacket’s epaulets, some kind of logo that included the letters O and L.
“You have the advantage of me, sir,” Avis said, resisting the urge to step back. She was used to dealing with pushy men. “You are …?”
“Finn. Finn Oakley. Akkadia High. Class of eighty-nine. The last year before they closed the old campus.”
The name seemed familiar. Was he one of the stoners? Or maybe one of the math and science geeks? No, that wasn’t it.
“Hello, Finn,” Avis said, extending her hand. “Could I buy you a drink? We could catch up.”
“I’d be delighted,” he said, taking her hand. “This place is good.” He pointed at the bar across the street.
Meeting Avis after all this time pulled Finn back through time to a past that he would rather have left behind forever. Certain kids defined what the borders of inside were. Avis was not just one of them. She was the queen of them. Or, perhaps the princess. She was royalty in a country where someone like Finn was never tolerated.
Avis was the quintessential insider. The only child of old money —the Akkadian Seymarks. Captain of the varsity cheer-leading squad. Homecoming queen. Class president. Voted most likely to succeed. And Finn was … well … nobody. He belonged to no clubs, was not an honor student, and didn’t play any sports. Not important enough to even warrant an opinion. Forever lurking on the outside looking in.
She’d given him the brief while the drinks were coming and over the first few sips. Pre-law at Berkeley, then Stanford law where she graduated magna cum laude, which was Latin for, not the highest honors, but high nonetheless. Then three years at Fulbright, Stern & Morris, one of San Fransisco’s most prestigious law firms. She was the up-and-coming bright star of their corporate law division. And now she was home for a visit.
“And how about you? What have you been up to?” she asked, using her best put-the-opposition-off-balance look.
Now it was his turn. He doubted that she’d be as impressed as he was, but his current condition couldn’t be better to impress. Even where he and she were seated was to his advantage. Him with his back to the bar’s street-side window and her facing it, looking out. He slipped his business card out of his pocket and slid it across the table toward her.
She picked it up. “Oakley Leather? Fetish leather?” She looked up at him with an arched eyebrow.
“Look across the street,” he suggested.
“Oakley Leather,” she read off the sign there and smiled. “You must be doing okay to be in this neighborhood.”
“I lived at home and worked out of the garage for the first few years. Mom never understood. Thought I was wasting my time and should go to college. It was simple gear with an eye toward high-quality. The profit margins were murder. Then I got the on-line business going and things got a lot better. I moved out and into my own place. A workshop with a cot in the corner. Eventually, volume increased to the point where I could buy materials in bulk and then there was more work than I could manage on my own. Thus began the nightmare of hiring and managing employees, and moving into a bigger facility. I always made the time to keep innovating on the design side. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have made it. Last year, we needed an even bigger facility, and it doesn’t hurt for there to be a public face for the business. The walk-in sales don’t pay the rent, but we have to have a place to work anyway.”
“You made your jacket?” she said, reaching out to finger the seam at the bottom of the butter-smooth sleeve cuff. Now the O and L logo on the shoulders made sense.
“Yes. It’s one-of-a-kind.” He couldn’t mask the pride in his voice. “We don’t manufacture jackets, yet, but I couldn’t find anything I liked, so I made what I wanted.”
“Can we go across the street and look around?”
“Sure. It’s closed for the night, but I have the key, of course. Finish your drink and make a safe-call while I go and open up. It will take me a few minutes.”
Avis watched him cross the street, down the side, and around the back.
Safe call? Avis wondered. She guessed that he was suggesting that she let someone know where she was, just in case. It was a good idea.
Why am I doing this? I could just leave right now. Her long years of assessing people made a judgment. I don’t get any kind of danger-vibe off of him, and he’s very attractive and friendly. He’s okay.
She snapped a picture of the Oakley Leather store-front, including the address, and texted it to Nicole, the friend she was staying with, along with: I think I’m going to do something stupid here with a guy named Finn Oakley. If you don’t hear from me by midnight, send the police. Then she set an alarm on her phone for 11:30. A lot could happen in three hours.
Committed, Avis thought as the security grate banged closed behind her and Finn locked it. She wondered if she should be certified and committed for coming to a place like this with someone she’d just met.
The showroom dummy that guarded the door was undressed except for the leather. Cuffs for wrists, ankles, thighs, and elbows. A collar with an attached leash and a wide belt around the waist. Other mannequins displayed skirts and vests, hoods, and blindfolds, and there was a whole wall of whips and paddles. The store was filled with the scent of leather.
“May I take your coat?” he asked. He’d already removed his own jacket and placed it around the shoulders of another dummy. He accepted hers and draped it around the shoulders of the door guard.
Under his jacket, he wore a black sleeveless T-shirt that left his muscular arms bare to the shoulder and was stretched tight over his chest. Avis had assumed that some of the bulk was built into the jacket, but no, it was all him.
She caught him checking her out as well. Under her long coat, she wore a pale grey button-down blouse tucked into a short black skirt, and finished with nylons and a pair of ankle boots. Her shoulder length blond hair was twisted and pinned up at the back of her head.
“I believe that you are even more beautiful now than you were then,” he said, and Avis beamed, then blushed.
“Well … thanks. What’s in this case?” she asked, seeking to take his attention off of her.
“That one shows the whole line of cuffs we make. From simple yet serviceable all the way up to our deluxe, padded suspension cuffs,” he explained.
Smack! Ugh! The sound came from somewhere deep in the back of the store.
“Hmm. I guess we don’t have the place to ourselves after all,” Finn said. “Wait here and let me sort out who it is.”
Avis ignored his instructions and followed after him toward the back of the store and the sounds. She couldn’t help herself.
Smack! and another cry. High-pitched. A woman.
Finn passed through an open door at the very back of the store.
“Ahem,” Finn cleared his throat softly as Avis came up behind him.
The bed-frame and canopy were constructed of wrought-iron filigree on a skeleton of two-inch tube-steel. The naked woman was bound in a standing stretched X. Hands up and out toward the top corners of the canopy at the foot of the bed and legs open to the sides. Her ass-cheeks and thighs were crimson from the whipping she was getting from the man.
“Shit, Finn, you scared the crap out of me!” the man said, turning around with his hand to his chest.
“Sorry, Cyril. I thought we had the place to ourselves. I guess you did too.” Finn turned to Avis. “Do you remember Avis Seymark?”
“From school? Sure. Cheerleader, homecoming queen, and class pres,” Cyril said.
“Avis, this is Cyril Darnody. He was at school a year behind us. He’s my production manager, IT guy, and does some photography for the catalog and website. That’s what we usually use this space for.”
“It’s a shame to let it go to waste,” Cyril chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze.
“Hey, what about me?” the bound woman complained, struggling to get a look at the newcomers behind her.
“Shush! I was getting to you, Megan,” Finn snapped, but with a smile. “Avis Seymark, this is Megan Sepra. She’s the Oakley Leather bookkeeper and sometime catalog model. Megan, this is Avis.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Megan said. “Could you guys come over where I won’t get a crick in my neck trying to see you?”
Avis stepped forward, but Finn put a restraining hand on her arm. “We’re going to get out of the way and let you two get back to it. Sorry to break the mood, but I didn’t want Avis to think anything non-consensual was going on.”
Finn pulled Avis back out of the room. From within they both heard, “But I’m not in the mood anymore, Cyril.”
“Not in the mood? I’ll put you back in the mood.”
“Oh, yeah,” Megan sighed. “Do that some more.”
“Non-consensual?” Avis asked.
“Yeah. ‘Safe, sane, consensual’ is the community’s credo. Without the last one, you’d essentially be committing assault.”
“I’ve never understood S&M,” she remarked.
“It’s hard to understand from a purely intellectual perspective. The whole ‘pain bad’ thing gets in the way. It gets easier if you replace the word ‘pain’ with ‘stimulation,’ but still, you’d have to experience it to really know.”
“Stimulation?” she said skeptically. “Whipping is stimulation?”
“Look, it’s not the British Navy,” Finn laughed. “Most players avoid breaking the skin.”
Smack!
“I guess Megan is back in the mood,” Avis said with a grin. “Still I don’t get it. Could.…” Avis swallowed. “Could you show …”
Quickly, Finn seized both of her wrists in one hand. He pushed her roughly up against the wall, pinning her hands over her head. Avis panicked and tried to knee him, but he blocked her leg and shoved his body against hers pressing her into the wall. They were nose-to-nose and he looked into her blue eyes with his almost green ones. Slowly, he stroked the nails of his free hand from her wrist, down her arm and side, with a detour across her stomach, to her thigh in an near-scratch.
“You’re breathing hard and I can feel your heart beating fast,” Finn whispered. “Is that fear you feel? Or, is it excitement?”
“Let me go,” she murmured.
“Really? You’re perfectly safe, you know. Do you really want me to let you go?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Are you afraid?” he asked again.
“No. I guess not. Not much anyway,” she said, relaxing.
“Maybe this will help. The paradox is that at the same time I’m controlling you, you are the one in control. I have to have your consent to proceed. If you tell me to stop, I will. To avoid confusion, we like to use code. Personally, I like Italian. If you say finito, everything stops and you get released as quickly as possible. Lento means slow down, maybe we need to discuss. Anything else, including no, stop, and don’t, means continue. Clear?”
“Finito is stop and lento is slow down. Anything else means keep going. Okay, what now?”
They heard another Smack! from the other room.
Avis giggled.
“How about we go somewhere more private?” Finn said.
There was another bed in Finn’s “office.” It had a tube-steel canopy that wasn’t as elaborate as the one for the catalog-shoot, but looked every bit as sturdy. He’d called it an office, but the bed, the workbench, and the lack of a desk made that word seem odd.
“Office?” she asked.
“If I’d said ‘Let’s go to my laboratory,’ you’d have thought I was nuts.”
But that’s just what it was, the place where he experimented and dreamed up new products.
“Why the bed though?” Avis asked.
“All of my customers have one, and a lot of their play happens on or around it. Also chairs, doorways, and tables,” he said, pointing at other things around the room.
Finn took a pair of cuffs from the bench. “Hold out your wrists.” When she did, he buckled them on. First one, then the other. “Now the ankles,” he said and knelt, removed her boots, and fastened another cuff to each. “Sit on the edge of the bed.”
When she was seated in the center of the long edge on the bed, he clipped a strap to each wrist cuff and connected the end to the upper corners of the canopy pulling her arms out to the sides and up a bit. Next, he clipped straps to the ankle cuffs and fastened them to the bed in a way that held her legs wide. It was a fat lazy X, not a taught stretched one like with Megan.
Finn stood looking down at her. Stood looking for a long time. Stood looking until she couldn’t stand it any more.
“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered finally.
He took a pair of scissors from his pocket and opened the blades, reached out and pulled the fabric of her blouse away from her chest. Slowly he put the open blades around the tented cloth.
“Lento! Um … what am I going to wear later, when I leave?”
“What are you going to wear later?” he chuckled. “Not, it’s expensive? Not, it’s my favorite blouse? It’s ‘what am I going to wear later?’ Don’t worry, there’s a whole showroom out there full of clothes. I’ll find you something.” He grabbed the lapels and ripped the blouse open, sending buttons flying. Then, using the scissors, he opened each sleeve from cuff to neck and pulled the remains of the blouse off her back. She sat there, her chest heaving, covered only by her white lace bra.
He walked to the bench and returned with what Avis first took to be a short leather strap. When he buckled it around her throat, she realized it was a collar. He took a small chrome lock and locked the buckle with it. He fished her keys from her purse, added the key to her key ring, and dropped the ring back in her purse. “A little gift,” he explained.
Finn squatted in front of her and positioned the scissors to slice into the hem of her skirt. He looked up at her, giving her a chance to exercise her safewords, but she was silent. He cut the skirt from hem to band.
“Up,” he urged, and when she stood he pulled the skirt from under her. He stood, put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “You’ve been very quiet. Are you alright?”
“Yes, Finn. Keep going, please.”
Quickly, he rearranged her bondage so that she was laying on her back across the bed with her hands bound together over her head. Then he moved the straps on her ankle cuffs from the bottom of the bed frame to the over-head cross-piece of the canopy, pulling her legs up in a wide V. He cut off her bra and added it to the pile that contained her blouse and skirt. All that was left of her clothing were her pantyhose.
Finn lifted her hips and pulled her part way off the bed. The change in position made Avis feel very exposed. He pulled the nylon away from her crotch and cut a small hole in it, then sliced upward and downward to expose the entire area.
“Finally,” Finn said. “I have you right where I want you.” He slapped his palms into her ass, hard.
“No!” Avis cried.
“No? You sweet little bitch, I’ll do to you what I want and there’s nothing you can do about it!”
That statement put Avis into a near total panic. She was about to cry finito, but just then Finn winked at her and a little smile crossed his face.
“Don’t,” she said instead, calming. Then she added, “Stop.” She was fully aware of the double entendre.
Finn knelt and put his face between her thighs. He inhaled her sweet scent. He parted her lips with his tongue and licked slowly from bottom to top, ending with a circle around but not touching her clitoris.
“No, please,” Avis begged.
His hands slapped into her behind again, then he stroked his palms up across her stomach, across her breasts, as he tongued her. He pinched her nipples and slowly increased the pressure.
“Lento!” Avis cried when she couldn’t take anymore.
Finn released her and raked his short nails down her sides and across and around her thighs.
“Oh, Finn!” Avis moaned.
He slapped her cheeks again, then stroked up her torso, and pinched her nipples again, this time, much more gently. Finally, he raked down her sides again. This, added to the attention of his tongue, was driving Avis wild.
Rhythm established, and with many skillful variations, he proceeded to bring Avis to the edge of orgasm, and hold her there. Ebb and flow. The slaps and pinches were harder now and the raking and use of his tongue more intense.
“Please, Finn, I can’t take it anymore. Please,” she begged.
He had mercy on her and pushed her past the point of no return.
“Uuuuggghhhhh.” A long sighing moan while her legs contracted lifting her hips off the mattress, grinding herself against his face, thighs pressing hard into his cheeks and jaw. Finn let his tongue go still for a moment, then licked her to get a second wave going. Then a third, and was finally still for good.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” Avis asked.
She was standing in front of the full-length mirror, looking over her shoulder to see the redness on her ass while she fingered the locked collar. Finn was sitting in a chair close by. Her alarm had got them out of bed and she’d called Nicole.
“Tomorrow?” Finn said, grabbing the ring on her collar and pulling her in front of him. He tugged down and she came to her knees with her hands on his thighs. “Who says we’re finished with today?”