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Susan's Stories
"A Vanilla Evening?"

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“Come in,” she said, “So glad you were able to come round.”

“Nice to see you again,” he said nervously. Why, he asked himself, had she invited him? She had something planned he was sure, he just did not know what it was. 

She’s got her friends round. I bet she has. She’s planning on parading me in front of them, letting them beat me and abuse me.

“Let me take your coat.” 
She helped him off with his coat and hung it on a peg next to the little table in her hallway. He saw the handle of a riding crop poking up out of the umbrella stand.

I knew it. She’s going to whip me.

He followed her into the living room. There was a pleasant glow from the fire in the corner, filling the room with warmth. Such a contrast, he thought, to the cold night outside.

“Sit down,” she said, indicating the sofa. “I’ve cooked your favourite meal, but it won’t be ready for a little while.”

So that’s her plan. She’s going to torment me first. She knows I’m hungry and she’s going to tie me up or something and eat my favourite food right in front of me without giving me any. Or, worse, she’s going to tie me up, empty the hot food onto me and then eat it with her knife and fork digging into me each time she picks up another mouthfull of it.

“You will stay the night, of course?”

ALL NIGHT! Where? In a little cage? Outside. even, naked in the cold shed tied to the roof supports? Strapped to her bed - at least that would be relatively comfortable - while she hurts me and torments me repeatedly?

“Yes. Of course.” What else could he say? Disobeying her, he knew from experience, was never a good idea.

“Oh good,” she smiled.

Oh NO! When she smiles like that I just know she’s up to something, and it’s bound to be something particularly diabolical.

“I think the dinner should be nearly ready.” She disappeared into the kitchen. “Pour yourself a drink, if you like. I won’t be long.”

What has she put in the drink? Is she going to do something so unpleasant with me that she needs to drug me so I won’t try and stop her? How angry will she be if I refuse to have a drink? Do I dare to refuse her?

He opened a bottle and sniffed cautiously at it. It seemed all right. He poured a glass and sipped a little of it. It tasted normal. “Can I get you one?” he called.

“No thanks. I’ve already got my drink out here.”

I knew it. There’s something in that bottle!

He put the glass on the side, not risking even another taste of it.

“Here we are,” she returned to the room with two steaming plates.
“Where do you want me?” he asked.

Here it comes. This is the start of it. ‘Take your clothes off’ she’s going to say. ‘Take your clothes off and lie on the floor’.

“Sit there,” she suggested, “Opposite me at the table. Hang on, I’ll light the candle.”

So it’s tied to the chair desperately hungry while she eats and then drips hot candle wax on me.

He sat down, and she put one of the plates in front of him. “I hope you like it,” she said, “I’ve been preparing it all afternoon.”

They ate in silence. The food was excellent and far too good to spoil by talking. He looked at her nervously, careful to sit straight, to use his knife and fork exactly the way that the best possible manners dictated, not to drop anything nor, in fact, to do anything at all that might give her the excuse to start whatever it was she planned to do with him before he had finished the last of the food.

Finally, when both their plates were cleared, she stood up and took the empty plates into the kitchen. She returned with a most excellent dessert, and again they ate in silence.

He stayed at the table, now sipping the wine he had previously been too scared to touch. Feeling, almost, that after a meal like that he really did not care if he had to “pay the price” later.

“Could you do me a favour?” came her voice from the kitchen.

Here it comes.

He went out into the kitchen to find her.

“Could you tear me off a large piece of clingfilm, please.”

So it was to be smothering. To have the clingfilm wrapped round his face until he could get no air at all - until the moment she chose to poke a fingernail through it into his mouth or nostrils. Then the next strip of clingfilm stretched over the hole and the procedure repeated until he would beg for mercy, or would have begged for mercy if he had been able to speak.
Or to have the clingfilm stretched flat over him as he lay bound, and to have her kneeling on him, sliding around on his face under the clingfilm and blocking the air as she pressed down to have her pleasure. That would be the worst, for he knew only too well how she lost control of herself for those seconds, minutes, as she neared her climax.

She took the clingfilm from him and wrapped up the remainder of the food she had not served. “Tomorrow’s lunch,” she said with a grin.

The rest of the evening was as quiet of the meal. He sat still, almost as if made of stone, on the sofa as they watched a film on the television. She sat next to him, leaning gently against him and resting her head on his shoulder as she appeared to be becoming sleepy.

Eventually she yawned. “Shall we go to bed?” she suggested.

This is it. This is where she leaves me somewhere uncomfortable, probably freezing cold. I just hope she doesn’t tie me up as well. I can cope with the cage or even the shed, but I can’t bear to have my hands tied and forced into an uncomfortable position, not able to move to relieve my aching muscles for hours.

“I could go home now.” Somehow he did not think she would let him.

“You don’t really want to go home?”

I do. I don’t know why I came here when she sent that note. But I can’t disagree with her because I just know it’s only a few steps for her to get that riding crop when she gets angry. And she’ll use it. I know she’ll use it. And once she gets angry I won’t be able to do anything to stop whatever she wants to do. I mustn’t make her angry.

“No, I don’t really want to go home.”

She took him by the hand and led him upstairs into her bedroom. She kissed him gently, then took her clothes off and got into her bed.

Raising her eyebrows, she asked, “Aren’t you getting undressed then?”
He obeyed, and stood beside the bed self-consciously. She patted the bed next to her. “Get in then.”

This is it. Once I get in she’ll tie my wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed. She’ll smother me with her body over and over again, or she’ll put one of those terrible rings on me with the sharp spikes on the inside so I can’t get an erection, and then she’ll deliberately taunt me so that I’m screaming in agony with the pain of them digging into me.

He lay on his back in her bed, all his muscles rigid with apprehension, his heart thumping and his breathing quick and shallow. He twitched with fear as he felt her hand on his chest, felt her long fingers and the touch of her fingernails.

He felt her hot breath in his ear, the heat from her body as she moved towards him.

Her mouth opened.

She’s going to bite me.

She whispered.............

“Make love to me.”

He did.



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