Other Colors -- Ch. 15 (part 2) - Sex Stories

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Other Colors -- Ch. 15 (part 2)

Date: 5/15/2016, Categories: BDSM, Author: mascodagama, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

passivity; flattened out, fearful, and defeated. I hardly noticed that we’d finished until he touched the napkin to his lips, and tossed it to the table. “I’m curious…” There it is again. I shivered. “When you were little, Penny, did you like to dance?” I sank a little lower in my seat, running my finger around the rim of a wine glass, “I guess so… I took ballet for a while—until I quit growing.” “Do you miss it?” I shrugged, “I wasn’t very good.” “Do you miss it?” he repeated coolly, and I winced. “Not the blisters, or the ankle sprains,” I bit my lip. “But…yeah. It was fun to feel graceful.” He stood up slowly, and rounded the table, “You still walk on your toes sometimes.” I do. I remembered that first time he kissed me in the kitchen, when I’d stood en pointe for the sole purpose of rousing his ire. “Muscle memory,” I shifted in my chair, and watched him set a fresh record on the gramophone. “I think I could still chassé in my sleep.” The needle fell, and Billie’s thin voice gave way to the sultry contralto of Etta James. My cheeks heated. The musical motif was not subtle. He’d put on her rendition of ‘Teach Me Tonight’. He loomed over me, and held out his hand. “Prove it.” I flushed furiously as he pulled me from my chair, and wrapped his arm around my waist. It didn’t help my nerves in the least that he turned out to be a decent dancer, and it made me doubly self-conscious of my missteps. But he seemed so at ease; so pleased to be with me. His eyes were bright and ... blue. He was grinning—without any sign of immediate malice. And before the second verse, I gave in. I laid my cheek against his chest, and let him lead me in smooth little spirals around the dining room. A piano interlude picked up, and he lowered his head to look at me. “Did you dream last night, Penny?” I did. I always dreamt vividly after sex. But I didn’t want to tell him. I was afraid he might try to interpret me. “Yes,” I answered softly, “but I can’t remember it.” He squeezed me closer, “Liar.” Christ. My cheeks heated. How does he always know? He spun me halfway around until our arms were crossed, and my shoulder blades pressed close against him. “Go on,” his breath was warm against my ear. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.” I confess that offer piqued my interest. Besides, there seldom seemed much profit in resisting him. Somehow, he always had his way with me. I sighed, “...I dreamt I was buried alive.” He missed a step. We were right in the middle of spinning me back around to face him. Though miraculously, he managed to avoid stepping on my toes—which was lucky. I was, after all, still barefoot. “A nightmare?” “Not exactly,” again, I laid my cheek against him. It was easier to speak to him when I couldn’t see what was in his eyes. “I was definitely trapped. But it was warm, dim, cozy,” my voice trailed off. “It wasn’t so bad, really.” “Thanatos,” the word rumbled darkly in his chest. “And you didn’t feel frightened?”’ I shook my head, “I did, a little. But I ...