The Festival

I almost bailed on my look. Jeans and a t-shirt would be safer, less overt. No, I wanted overt. I wanted Timothy naked. It was best that I started halfway there myself. The warmth crept up on me again, a convincing warm blanket accompanied by visions that promised to take me to heaven. The smile in the mirror was sexy.

I disrobed, showered and overworked my razor. After I dried, I cut the labels off the bikini and put it on. I spent some time on my hair, added some light makeup and a few squirts of a body spray titled White Musk - another gift from Kendra. I was about as sexy as I could get at seven in the morning. I straightened up the bedroom, changing the sheets in hopes I would have to do it again soon.

I waited in the great room. Sitting on the couch, not really watching the morning program that was insisting the country was in dire straits. When the doorbell rang, at exactly eight, I nearly hit the ceiling. Every decision I made came back to haunt me. My clothing was the first thing I lost confidence in. I turned off the TV and moved to the door. I opened the door with trepidation, half hiding behind it, wishing I would have opted for the jeans.

"Good morning, Ms. Paddington," Timothy said. He wore a pair of faded jeans with a well-worn long-sleeved, collared shirt. He was ready for labor. My clothes were all wrong. I felt my face flush, my power drained. I was no good at this. He stepped into the house, ignoring my idiotic silence.

"Did I wake you?" Timothy asked, looking at my robe. His smile made me wonder if he knew what I was thinking. More power drained. His smile was replaced with concern. "Should I come back later?"

"N..no," I lied. Where was my strength? I had let slip everything I envisioned. Timothy should be quaking before me, begging with those lost boy eyes. I could see it in his face now. I put doubt there. I was horribly uncomfortable in my bikini.

Timothy bent down, his hand wrapping softly around the back my neck. There was too much strength in it. His head lowered, eyes leading the way for that poor bruised cheek. His lips were tender on mine, so light a touch I almost cried at the weakness of it. He slowly lowered himself as my lips sought more. My hands gradually moved up his arms as his shoulders dropped below my eyes. He ended on his knee, kissing upward at me. I realized then, I could never take power from him. I was granted power by him.

I whimpered into his mouth as my hands combed into his hair. I pushed my lips into his, grabbing a fistful of his hair and holding him there. He shuddered, giving me what I wanted.

"I am yours," Timothy whispered, our mouths sharing the same air. I smiled as I felt the strength he gave me. The intoxicating drug of control. Heat seared through me. Doubt flew away on frightened little wings. I separated my lips from his and stared into the eyes I now controlled.

"Take your shirt off," I ordered quietly. I didn't even question the possibility he would decline. His hands moved deftly to the buttons that ran down his chest. His eyes never left mine. My hands holding him there, grasping his hair to guarantee compliance. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, blood coursing in waves. He pulled the shirttails out of his pants to get to the last button. I watched him pull his arms out of the sleeves, leaving him in his Ohio State t-shirt.

"Favorite t-shirt?" I asked, releasing Timothy's hair. He smiled while nodding. "Off," I commanded. I loved it when he complied. His muscles were tauter than I expected, obviously the result of some anal workout schedule. Doug may have been hospitalized.

I walked around Timothy, examining him as he knelt before me. I let my right hand trail behind, lightly caressing his skin as I moved. Inadvertent shivers traveled across his skin. They were exciting to see, my pulse quickened in response. I lowered myself along his back, the silk of my robe against his skin. I pulled his head back and looked at his upside down eyes.

"We're going to break some company rules today," I informed him.

"Rules don't apply to us," Timothy gasped as I ran my hand lightly around his exposed neck. We were going to create our own rules. My lips followed my hand, kissing skin, smiling when he twitched. So excitable. So strong. So obedient. So mine. I moved slowly in front of him and opened my robe. I saw him swallow hard.

"Oh, yes," Timothy sighed softly, his eyes scanning down my form. I dropped the robe and moved close, standing before him. He looked up and waited. I smiled at his patience.

"Touch me," I ordered. I almost swooned as his hands ran up from my ankles, following my calves, caressing my thighs. A lovely tingle formed between my legs. I sucked in my breath as his hands ran up the back of my thighs and along my butt cheeks. There was no hesitation in his moves and his hands drove higher, almost tickling my sides. They reached the sides of my breasts, just off the fabric of my bikini. His fingers lightly outlined the fabric sending shivers through me as I looked at the intense pools of wonder staring up at me. I cradled his face in my hands.

"Stay," I said, stealing a passionate kiss. I moved away, Timothy's hands reluctantly let me go. I moved slowly, a graceful power taking the time she owned. The drawer in the end table held my target. I bent slowly knowing his eyes would be enjoying the view. I retrieved my revenge from the drawer, rose and strolled back with my hands behind my back. He was waiting, unmoved from where I had left him, his eyes drifting across my body. I knelt before Timothy, our smiles meeting as I descended. His hands began to return to their tempting caresses.

"Arms down," I ordered. Timothy's hands reluctantly returned to his side. "Don't move," I added, as I brought my hands forward. His sharp intake of breath when he saw the red marker was so yummy. His eyes widened when I removed the cap. "Hmm," I hummed, deep in thought as I examined his chest. A little above his right breast, off toward his armpit was a slight discoloration, a freckle-like mark. An imperfection. A cute one, but one nonetheless. I brought the marker forward and watched his body retreat.

"Still," I commanded. Timothy stiffened. I circled the freckle slowly with the marker. He emitted a low groan, almost as if the felt tip was a blade, as I drew. I looked up from the red circle into his strained eyes. I was pushing him, and it pleased me. For a year I had been receiving red pen corrections, and it was liberating to give them back. My eyes returned to the red circle. I leaned forward and kissed the freckle. Timothy sighed out the breath he had been holding. I could feel him surrender. I reached up and stroked the side of his face.

"There are so many errors," I said, watching the panic rise in his eyes. I found another blemish, smaller than the first, below his rib cage on the left side. I circled it slowly, his skin trying to retreat from the marker. Again, my lips found the circle, this time lingering to taste his skin. It was a sensitive spot, and my tongue sent shivers up his side.

Nine times I found errors on Timothy's chest. I corrected each one with my lips. Each time he sighed longingly. I pushed harder, teasing by bringing the marker toward his face. I had expected him to flinch or pull back. He surprised me by closing his eyes and forcing himself to still his movements. He was serenely calm, marred only by a drop of sweat that appeared on his right temple. Full surrender. My hands were trembling as I lowered the marker and replaced its cap. His trust overwhelmed me. My lips found his temple, removing the salty sign of his inner tension. I felt his smile form as he realized his trust was not misplaced. My lips moved to his ear.

"Remove my top," I instructed, not wanting clothes between us anymore. Timothy's hands moved quickly, tracing the bikini fabric under my arms until they found the clasp in the back. I felt his heat rise as my top found the floor. His eyes were not shy. My reservations were long gone as I let him take me in. It was my own impatience that forced me to grab a fistful of his hair and pull his face to my breast. When my nipple disappeared between lips, I gasped. I felt a soft, warm prickling in my breast. It flowed down my tummy and between my legs. I pulled him to my other breast, doubling the sensation, creating an incredible need. I had never wanted someone so much.

I rose slowly, Timothy's lips caressing down my tummy, his tongue leaving a moist trail. My hand firmly disallowing his lips' retreat.

"Bottoms," I ordered. My desire had grown, weakening my legs. Timothy once again ran his hands slowly up my legs, causing a luxurious chill to burn through me. With lips lightly biting my tummy, his fingers sank into the the elastic of my bikini, and lowered it slowly down my legs. I closed my eyes as my scent filled the room. It was incredibly strong, musky and driven by desires I never knew I had. I stepped out of my bottoms as they neared my feet, using my grip on Timothy's hair to steady me. His hands returned to my hips, grasping my butt and holding me steady. He defied my grip and looked up at me with desire in his eyes. I pulled his head down, my legs trembling as I spread them. He submitted with a smile. My lovely, lovely man.

Timothy's kisses traveled over my soft down, teasing my cravings to a fever pitch. I shifted my hips like a lustful animal, exposing more of my sex to his ministrations. He tilted his head uncomfortably, and let me guide his mouth. I nearly fell when his lips graced my vulva. If not for his strength, I would have collapsed. When his tongue began to explore, I shuddered and pulled him tighter. He needed no encouragement, but I wanted the control and held him tightly.

I looked down at the man between my legs, my hand forcing him deeper. Timothy was my willing toy. Something so new. Something so perfect. My steering had his tongue finding places no man had ever found. A massage of my insides sending wonderful sensations through my body, forcing air in and out of my lungs. He was so determined to please me. I was so determined to guide him. I pulled him forward, his lips gracing my clitoris. A spasm forced my hips into him while my legs wobbled. He dragged the flat of his tongue across my swollen bud, causing small convulsions to roll across my tummy; visible waves of uncontrollable pleasure traveling along my skin.

Timothy's lips closed around my pearl, the tip of his tongue teasing mercilessly. I no longer held his hair, my hand floated around his head, my legs failing. A wave a pleasure forced its way through my body and escaped as a drawn-out moan. I was falling into him as the next wave washed over me, electric tingles emanating from my core and spreading across my skin. My hips were driving my sex forward, Timothy was forcing me upright. A third wave slammed into me; a tidal wave of bliss that distorted my sight. I was falling, no longer able to hold myself upright. Timothy was my pillow, catching me gently, wrapping me in his arms.

Timothy held me while my rubbery muscles regained their usefulness. My breath slowly returned to normal as a I snuggled into my warm pillow of a man. My greed sated, I let my hand slowly wander south. His jeans were soft and thin from many years of washing. I lifted up and tucked my hand under, toward his crotch. My intent was to encourage him, bring him to complete arousal. I was thwarted by finding his manhood straining, attempting to burst through the seams. To him, it had all been foreplay. My previous experiences were worthless when dealing with him. Most had considered my pleasure a necessary duty. I crawled forward, my uncontrollable smile became even with his.

"You want me!" I said stupidly. It was obvious and I wallowed in it. It seemed so important to tell the world.

"More than anything," Timothy agreed. I continued to rub his erection, while my eyes searched his. I found the lust I was searching for, the animal need I had just experienced. It was so incredibly wonderful. I was a sex goddess for the first time in my life, and the man still had his pants on. It was worth every red mark, every condemnation of my work. I loved the power. It excited every particle of my soul. I rose, turned and sat on his stomach with my butt facing him. A trail of moisture followed my sex, coating his skin with an oily sheen. I had never been so wet.

I quickly undid Timothy's belt buckle and struggled to get it off its loops. The top button was stubborn, but not as much as I. I lowered the zipper and began tugging his pants down, anxious to see what I had been caressing. He raised his hips without prompting, as I pushed his pants and boxers to his knees in one quick effort. His erection sprang forth, pointing directly at me. So proud. So very excited. I folded my hand around it. Timothy jerked and followed that with a strange guttural sound. He was extremely sensitive. I twisted my head back, one hand around his penis, the other stroking the side of his face.

"It's mine," I said.

"Yes," he responded, and his unbidden twitching agreed. I almost just rose up and sat on it. Then I thought it would be more pleasurable to watch his face; to see the moment when he lost all control. I was giddy with the thrill of it all.

"Stay still," I ordered. The control was intoxicating. His body wanted so much to move, to just take me. It was my will that kept him immobile. I moved to his side on my hands and knees. I lowered my mouth and engulfed his erection. His legs trembled while still tangled in his pants. I moved my legs, slowly circling my body to straddle his legs. My tongue was working hard to moisten his shaft, to tease him as mercilessly as he had teased me. I sat back on his thighs when I finally arrived, my hand replacing my mouth as I rose.

"When I put you inside me," I said as I stroked Timothy softly, "I want you to just let it go. Don't you dare hold back." He nodded in between weak grunts. I wanted to see him in the throes of orgasm. It was important that it was his and his alone. I had mine and I intended to have more. I lifted my hips, bringing them above his cock. His face contorted as I dragged the crown along my opening, prolonging with teasing agony. When I saw the first signs of his torture, I guided him into me. Not all at once, but a slow entry replete with my own moans. My hand left his shaft, when it could shrink no smaller. I lowered my pelvis and shifted my hips until he was fully in. It was heaven looking down at Timothy, my red circles littering his torso. He looking up at me, begging me with his eyes, to move. I did. Slowly at first, feeling every inch of him heat my insides, pushing me open in a most pleasing way.

Twice, Timothy tried to rise. Twice he tried to reach out. Twice I forced him back, relishing the smile on his face as he struggled for more contact. I would give him that in time. This time, his orgasm would be my gift. I moved with more purpose, my hips rising and falling with an increasing rhythm followed by a wonderful grind on the down stroke. He began to breath in concert with my efforts, his face flushing with every grind. His hips moving of their own volition. I had him. God, he was beautiful.

I reached behind me, between Timothy's legs and lightly tickled his scrotum. His tangled legs forced his hips upward; a growl, deep and guttural, met my ears. His face warped into a mix of pleasure and pain. I ground into him, our pelvises merging into one, as bliss took over his body. His spasms were intense, lifting me higher than I thought possible. My womb flooded with hot seed as I watched his face wonderfully reflect the pleasure I had given. I leaned forward as it subsided, still fully impaled and snuggled into my pillow. His breathing slowly returned to normal while I held him.

"No more clothes for you," I said softly, "I want you naked for the rest of the day." Timothy chuckled with difficulty, still regaining his strength.

"I will happily comply," Timothy replied. I tilted my head up from his shoulder to see his face. I was comfortable and had no immediate desire to rise or uncouple.

"How did you know what I wanted?" I asked, holding him in place on the carpeting.

"I didn't really," Timothy answered, "it just happened. That day you were fired, when you told me off and jabbed your finger in my chest. It had a profound effect. I found you irresistibly desirable. I wanted you...like that."

"I love this," I admitted, "I don't want it to ever stop. I just don't understand why you like it."

"Strangely," Timothy continued, "I think too much. I over-think everything. It's exhausting. Here with you, you do the thinking. I can just ignore everything but you. It's wonderfully liberating. And you're so damn sexy doing it." His words were like my favorite music. Soothing, encouraging and so very comfortable.

I sat up, still joined with Timothy. I picked up the red marker off the carpet, from where it had landed when my orgasm hit. I popped off the cap and drew a small smiley face on his stomach. It was obviously a very ticklish area.

"You trust me," I observed as I recapped the marker.

"Of course." His hands roamed across my thighs and hips. I could tell he enjoyed being inside me as much as I liked him there. "I suspect that's a requirement." He said and paused for a moment, looking seriously at me. "I love this as well, I don't want it to stop either." No one was in charge of the kissing that followed. For a brief moment, we were on neutral ground, trust flowing both ways.

I stood up, leaving our shared fluids in my wake. "Come," I ordered, "you've made me sweaty. Now you'll have to bathe me." I loved his smile. Obviously he didn't think it would be a laborious task. I was thinking how nice it will be to have him wash my hair. I tried not to laugh when he got tangled in his pants trying to stand up.

The weekend was glorious. I knew I would have to slow things down in time. The pace I had set would burn us out in time. It had been so long since I had fallen asleep satisfied. Satisfied and in the arms of another. Someone willing to fly to Florida and punch out an asshole who called me a bitch.

I lost all my power in bed that Saturday night. Willingly. Timothy wrapped his arms around me as I tucked my head into his shoulder. His penis, still half engorged, resting along my thigh. I needed no protection, but I folded myself into the security he offered. I was changing him. He was changing me. I slept more deeply than I thought possible. Timothy returned my power in the morning.

Monday morning was our breather. I beat Griffin to work, cleaned up his calendar and prepared the documents he would need for his morning meeting with the partners. I straightened the office, aligning papers, shifting trash cans and generally making sure everything was in perfect order. Mr. Griffin demanded as much.

Griffin entered as gruff as ever. He grunted at my good-morning, passing my desk without a look. "Reschedule my one o'clock Tuesday for next week," Griffin called out as he entered his office. I smiled at his act, remembering him naked in the tub with his hands full of shampoo and hair, making me feel so good. I dialed Mrs. Pritchard.

"How was your weekend?" Mrs. Pritchard asked. She knew why I had called and didn't seem to mind at all. She picked up our previous conversation without slowing.

"Truthfully," I replied quietly, not wanting the rest of the office to hear, "it was wonderful."

"Oh, I am so happy for you, dear," Mrs. Pritchard continued. "Do you think he might be the one?" The question came quickly. I could hear her strong desire for my answer. I hadn't realized I had bonded so deeply with her. I analyzed the question, thinking of the weekend and falling asleep in Timothy's arms. His trust and the way he gave me everything even though he could ruin me with barely a thought. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine things going back to the way they were. It was an ugly thought. I wanted every weekend to be a Timothy weekend. I smiled when I remembered him on the floor with his legs twisted in his pants. Me giving him pleasure he could find no where else. We fit so well together.