Wheldrake
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It was a warm day near the end of spring and the beginning of summer, and they were both feeling pleasantly tired as the sinking sun began to disappear behind the line of trees at the edge of the park. They had spent the whole afternoon together, talking and laughing and discovering that they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. Mostly they had walked side by side, or lounged on the soft grass, but for an hour or so they had meandered around the small artificial lake in a rented boat. He had dutifully rowed, his arms flexing and relaxing as he worked the oars, while she sat in the stern and steered by the simple expedient of nodding in the direction she wanted him to go. Now they were sitting together, for the most part in companionable silence.
"I should be getting home," she said from her place on the bench.
"Oh, me too," he replied casually, suppressing a slight pang of disappointment.
"Today was wonderful," she told him sincerely. "We'll have to do this again sometime."
"Whenever you want," he replied. "I really like you, if you hadn't noticed."
"You might not like me so much when you know me a little better," she warned him. "If we take this much further, there are certain things you're going to have to do for me. Fair warning."
"What kinds of things?" he asked in his innocence.
"Oh, you'll see." And then, for the first time, she kissed him. She laid her hand on his warm skin, just below the blue cotton of his T-shirt, and pressed her closed lips to his in a gesture that was gentle and even demure but also firm and decisive. Just as he recovered from his surprise and his mouth began to move against hers, she smiled and slipped away, a young woman taking her leave of an even younger man as the air slowly cooled and the sun flirted with the tops of the trees. He leaned back on the bench and reflected pleasantly on the freshness of her lips.
***
Nearly two months later, he was naked in a room beneath her house on the edge of the old, historic part of town. He was kneeling on a low platform, his hands uncomfortably bound behind him on the far side of a hard wooden pillar that pressed relentlessly against his back. One of her first acts in this subterranean torture chamber had been to blindfold him, but he could smell the melting wax of the candles and hear the music she had put on in the other room. It was percussive and Medieval-sounding, with a soprano voice singing in a language he thought might be Latin.
He caught the smell of her perfume before he heard the whisper of her approaching footsteps. He had been warned not to speak so he kept silent, breathing a little harder than before and pulling against his bonds out of sheer nervous tension rather than any desire to escape. He was not sure he wanted this, exactly, but he certainly wanted to please her, and the thought of what was about to happen intrigued him almost as much as it filled him with apprehension and something approaching dread. The air was cool against his skin, though he supposed the room would be comfortable for her if she had kept her clothes on.
Before she began to hurt him, either with her bare hands or the implements she had brought into the room with her, she did something that surprised him. She put her warm hand on his bare arm, leaned close, and kissed him on the lips by way of a greeting. Then, only then, did she reach with greedy fingernails for his small pink nipples.
***
By accident or design, the kiss in the dungeon resembled that earlier kiss in the park in almost every aspect. The contact of her palm against his arm in the vicinity of the elbow was just the same, as was the palpable but hardly overbearing pressure of her closed lips on his. She even snatched her mouth away a bare second or two after he began to return the kiss, just as she had on that warm evening at the end of spring and the beginning of summer.
However, the two kisses could not have been more different in meaning and implication. The first was an invitation, perhaps not quite a promissory note but certainly a clear signal that there might be room for further exploration of tantalising possibilities. I find you appealing, that first kiss said, and I would like to see you again.
The second kiss was another matter entirely. It contained an element of magnanimity, like a condemned man's sumptuous last meal, but it also set the seal on a kind of agreement. Its message was a stark and simple one: You are here and you are mine. Over the next several hours, the young man who had undressed of his own free will and knelt trembling and naked on the platform learned precisely how true that message was. At times his screams drowned out the distant music.
***
The moral of the story: context is (almost) everything.
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Femdom Quickie: Two Kisses - 
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