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Message-ID: <47746asstr$1084047003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Don Winslow <dwin2001@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {Winslow} "The Kiss" (Part 2) (M/F, D/s) [2/3]
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Date: Sat,  8 May 2004 16:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "The Kiss 2.txt" begin>

The Kiss (D/s, M/F)
By Don Winslow
Part 2/3


"So Amy, how're we feeling?"  His voice, when it finally came, was a 
soft purr; warm, low-pitched and gently solicitous.


"Ummph!" was the best the poor girl could do by way of reply; a sound 
of desperation forced with terrible urgency around the hard rubber 
stopper that effectively plugged her opened mouth.


"Now, now.  It's okay," he quickly soothed.   "There's nothing to be 
afraid of.  No one's going to hurt you," he muttered reassuringly.  


"How could anyone hurt such a pretty thing?  So very pretty...," he 
crooned in sincere admiration.  His eyes caressed the girl's splayed-
out body: the slender coltish limbs, the slim chest with its small neat 
breasts, shaped like little champagne glasses with their up-tilted 
nipples, perky and hopeful; the flat in-sloping belly with the slight 
hollow just before the rise of the soft mound of a lightly-furred vulva 
-- all held on open display before him. 


His silky words sent a shiver through her, and she watched with growing 
alarm as he quite deliberately set the brandy snifter down on a nearby 
table, shifted in his seat, and leaned in toward her.  And when she saw 
him reaching for her, the girl's head immediately snapped up and to the 
left.  Whimpering in fear, she reared up on her toes, stretching back 
in an effort to retreat from the outstretched fingers. 


His touch, when it came, was surprisingly gentle, no more than a 
brushing of two fingertips that made brief contact with the side of her 
face; just a touch on her soft cheek that trailed lightly down her chin 
and then withdrew.


He pulled the stool a few inches closer, closing the gap between them. 


Once again he reached out; she looked down, following his approaching 
hand which, this time, went to the top of her bare chest.  She 
whimpered into her gag as he pressed two joined fingers there, lightly 
indenting the soft smooth skin.  She stiffened at his touch then 
quivered as the pads of his fingertips lightly skated downward, curving 
around to follow the well-defined curve of her left breast.  He sampled 
that tight little breast, lifting the taut jellied mound on his 
fingertips, using the pad of his extended thumb to lightly rub over the 
nascent nipple.  Joyce cut off a tiny moan which escaped in spite of 
herself, as his thumb brushed back and forth over her rubbery nubbin. 


The Collector reflected that his newest captive had the sort of taut-
skinned breasts that jutted out, unsupported, with both innocence and a 
certain audacity, like some lovely sculpted marble whose seductive 
contours irresistibly attracted the hand of a male admirer.   His 
fingers nosed under the little mound and he cupped them loosely to 
balance the little tittie on the very tips, as if weighing the floppy 
weight.


"Look at me Amy," he coaxed, while the thumb slowly kept up its 
incessant caress of her sensate nipple.  In the only protest left to 
her, Joyce had kept her head defiantly turned, craning as hard as she 
could to one side.


The man seemed infinitely patient, sitting there like some bare-chested 
Buddha, simply holding her left breast, while the pad of his thumb 
teased over the tip, coaxing her nipples into greater prominence, so 
that they started to tingle.  After a few minutes of this, Joyce slowly 
turned back to face her seated captor.


"That's better."  His hand fitted the sloping curve of her small 
breast, the emerging nipple resting in his curved palm of his hand, as 
he scanned her face, as if searching for something.


She felt the warmth of his covering hand, but hardly noticed that her 
body was betraying her with the first signs of arousal.  Struggling 
with her heightened emotions, she was too terrified to take notice of 
the sexual tingling.  The sheer panic had receded, but Joyce's heart 
was still pounding; her mind racing with a thousand questions: 'Who was 
this guy?  Where was she?!'   She looked around the room frantically -- 
a darkened basement room, with cement block walls and small high 
windows that had been boarded up.  The wave of panic came over her 
again.  She was sure this had all been some kind of mistake.  It had to 
be!  He kept calling her "Amy."   'He had the wrong person!  Was he 
confused, or deranged; some kind of psychopath?'  A new shiver of fear 
shot through her, as the thought struck her. 'He was going to rape her.  
Maybe even ...kill her?!'  



She closed her eyes; took a deep breath through flaring nostrils, 
struggling to gain control of herself.  From over her gag, Joyce stared 
at her captor with pleading desperation in her eyes.  He returned her 
mute begging with a smile.  The smile was kind, but the man's eyes 
remained cold, detached, and strangely hypnotic.  Her stared into her 
eyes as he lightly held her trembling breast.  She couldn't tear 
herself away from those terrible eyes that cut through her to lick her 
soul.  She watched him slowly thoughtfully nod his head.


"Poor Amy.  I know it must be terribly uncomfortable for you, being 
tied up like this, with that nasty ol' gag stuffed in your mouth."


His hand fondled lovingly her for a few seconds and then withdrew, 
leaving her breasts abandoned, the nipple semi-hard.   


"I know you want me to take the gag out, and I will.  Very soon now.  
But first there's a few things we got to get straight between us, and I 
can't have you interrupting me, now can I?  No. No.  That wouldn't do 
at all,' he tsked, shaking his head.  


"You see, it's important that I have your full attention.  Do I have 
your full attention, Amy?"


He waited.


She nodded.


He smiled.  "Good girl."


Now while the splayed-out girl took in his words with eyes growing wide 
in disbelief over the distorting ball gag, the strange man quietly laid 
out his plans for her.  She was in his house where she would remain... 
for some time (and the fateful words gave her a terrible sinking 
feeling) -- as his "guest."  And while she lived under his roof, she 
was to obey his rules, and do exactly as she was told.  If she followed 
orders, no harm would come to her.  She would learn to be a "good 
girl," the perfect houseguest; to behave herself, and always be 
obedient and respectful.  She would learn to speak only when spoken to, 
and she would always answer with a polite "Sir."


And if she were a good girl, he would remove the gag, and possibly even 
untie her.  But if she was bad, she would find herself immediately 
backed up against the board, hands and feet tied down, the gag jammed 
in her mouth. And she would wait like that till he was ready to mete 
out her punishment, for bad girls must be punished.  That was one of 
the house rules.


He leaned closer bringing his face to just a few inches from hers, so 
that he was looking deep into her terrified eyes.


"Now if you want the gag out, you have to promise me to be good," he 
whispered.  


"Will you be my good girl, Amy?"


The girl looked up at him and nodded vigorously; the look of a hopeful 
puppy dog in her big brown eyes.


He returned her nod, and his hands went up to find the strap behind her 
head, fingers working blindly to open the catch. The gag fell loose and 
she expelled the hated ball from her mouth with a wave of relief to be 
rid of the hated thing.  


For a moment she sagged forward, heaving in ragged gasps, and working 
her mouth and lips and tongue.  Then she straightened, and a desperate 
rush of words came tumbling out.


"Who are you?! What do you want?!!  Listen to me, this is all some kind 
of mistake!  My name's not Amy! I'm..."

A hand shot up to cup her mouth, the fingers clamping hard.


"Uuumph," she protested in a muted scream, trying mightily to twist out 
of his grasp, but his fingers tightened, holding her jaw in an iron 
grip, keeping her head immobilized.


"Hush, hush, Amy.  You promised to be good.  I'm disappointed in you; 
I'm afraid you'll be wearing the gag for some time."  His voice was 
calm, matter-of-fact.


"Nnnnngh!!  The muffled protest was forced with even greater vehemence, 
but the Collector merely took her nose between two fingers and pinched 
her nostrils shut, effectively shutting off her air.  Joyce struggled 
in alarm, and though she was determined to keep her mouth defiantly 
shut, she had to breathe and when the squirming girl opened up to suck 
in a quick breath of air, the ball was instantly jammed right into her 
gaping mouth. 


 In a flash, his deft fingers had the elastic straps secured, the ball 
now pressed into her mouth and held there, snugly in place.


"UUUUUnnngh," Joyce's wail of despair was reduced to a strangled cry.


"That was very bad, Amy. I can see you're going to have to learn to be 
good girl.  It would be best if you had some time to think about what 
you've done in disobeying me.   Well, I'll leave you to it."


With that, he turned away from her, walked across the room and turned 
off the background music, then the lights, leaving the frightened girl 
in total darkness.  She heard him moving behind her, heard the trod of 
his boots ascending some stairs, strained to listen as he came to the 
top of the stairs where a door opened and then closed again with a 
heavy and definite 'thunk'.  He had left her there!  Alone!  Bound and 
gagged; a prisoner in a darkened basement!  Once again the wave of 
sheer terror overwhelmed her.  Driven by panic, she struggled.  And 
though the pinioned girl whimpered like a hurt puppy, there was no one 
in the darkness to hear her plaintive moans.


End of Part 2   
Copyright 2004, Don Winslow
Comments: dwin2001@yahoo.com
More of Don Winslow's erotic fiction may be found at 
https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Don_Winslow/www/
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