Darla's Blindfold
February roars violently from out of the west across the flat expanse of white fields surrounding the sprawling ranch home. Window panes rattle in their frames. The rattle reverberates at Darla Weston's ear. Sleet peppers white cold frosted glass. Fear follows the blow that shook the rafters over her head and beyond the wood and the glass the temperature continues to plummet.
"David?" Darla calls out questioning.
Darla's question asked softly is hardly a whimper above the storm brewing beyond the French doors that rattle a warning of the worst yet to come.
In the basement beneath the master bedroom the furnace functions. Darla strains to listen around the machinery humming. The furnace cycles warmth from beneath her sanctuary in the master bedroom where Darla is held captive.
Darla understands your position precarious. She fusses with the blue cord fresh from the cellophane wrapping though she knows not the color of her husband's current perversion. For the umpteen time Darla is unable to free her slender wrists or her ankles.
David was considerate before he departed for points unknown; Darla believes she heard the grumble of the big block eight cylinder before the sound faded away with the wind and the distance.
Or a town snow plow she wonders while she continues to pull at the blue cord knotted at her wrists and her ankles.
Bowlines are the knot of choice; just snug enough to hold Darla captive without bruising her fragile flesh.
"I was supposed to do this to you, David," she reminded David earlier before he took the initiative.
"I know. You took too long to act on the suggestion, Darla," David said his answer to Darla's objection.
With her head on a pillow and a long swallow of Jim Beam mellowing the apprehension, Darla stared up at the ceiling overhead while David practiced his seamanship. He adjusted the knots until Darla flinched; "Just snug enough, Darla. Don't want you slipping away."
"Fuck you, David. This was to be all fun and games. I'm not having that much fun."
David heard the stammer in her voice.
"Just foreplay, Darla," he fibbed wanting to reassure his wife at least until he finished with the task at hand and she had nowhere to go expect flat on her back.
With clumsy fingers David fumbled with the gold chains on her ankles. He added the four anklets to the bracelets on the night stand.
"Those delicate strands were meant to hold me so you might do to me as you please, David. When I wear them I am your slave; I can't refuse your request. You should let me put them back where they belong and use me. David."
"Tonight we're going to need more than these wisps of gold, Darla," David said.
David raised the sole of her right foot to his lips. Then with a second hank of rope he secured her legs apart so wide that she felt the chill on her vulva. The sensation swelled and moistened the silvery-pink fillets once the plump freshly waxed labia parted sufficiently.
"Perfect loops on my first try, Darla," David said.
"I'm so happy for you, David. You're gaining a great deal of experience tonight. Tell me, what's next?"
Sinister thoughts appealed to the dark side of Darla's desire. Those thoughts dampened the flesh between her thighs and a single drop of arousal trickled over her perineum.
"Take me, David," she said when he failed to acknowledge her question.
David ignored his wife's pleas. He threw open the draperies. The light of a nearly full moon sparked off the fresh-fallen snow and the winter bright reflected off of the ceiling.
"Love me?"
"Yes, David. Please. Let me show you..."
"Just do as I ask."
"How can I do anything but?"
David smiled down at Darla and she smiled back at David. He lifted her head away from the pillow and placed the blindfold Darla had fashioned for the proposed New Years Eve get together over her eyes. The holiday affair fell short of the couple's expectations due to the wintery weather but the utility of her creation was finally being put to good use.
"I made the blindfold for you, David," Darla said.
"Yes, Darla, you did," David agreed as he tightened the elastic bands that held the black leather mask to her eyes. "And I'm thankful you did."
Her long blonde hair glimmered on the red satin pillow. The thin beaded gold chain around her narrow waist flashed in the moon-light streaming through the glass. David lifted the comforter from the hardwood and draped the heavy cloth over Darla's flushed flesh.
"I want to know what you have in mind, David. Tell me."
"Be still now. We'll be back shortly. We'll show you, Darla."
An obscene craving mucks up rational thought momentarily. David is gone before she whispers the question, "We?"
I misunderstood, she tells herself. He'd never...
David has been gone for nearly an hour though Darla has no comprehension of the time. With all the strength she can muster Darla pulls at the cords but the cords do not yield. David's forethought guarantees the blood will continue to her fingers and her toes no matter how long she pulls at the restraints.
The cellophane wrapping skitters nosily across the hardwood pushed by the heat flowing from the wall register. She listens, wondering what the source of the sound.
"David?"
Darla's plea echoes down the hall. Once again Darla tightens the muscles in her legs testing the cords holding the soles of her feet to the cold brass rails. Once again she fails to gain her freedom.
"You bastard," she shouts out and no one hears her angry curses.
He's actually left me, she reasons.
The headboard bucks as she vents her distress. The thick comforter, a gift from Mom and Dad on the occasion of their fourth anniversary in December slides away over the side of the bed. Pale skin turns to goose flesh as the winter chill finds Darla exposed.
By eight her arms and legs ache from the exertion. By eight-thirty Darla submits completely to her husband's whim sinking into the featherbed in search of warmth. Tears discolor the black leather covering her eyes.
She rolls her head against the pillow. Pliant bands flex but the blindfold remains fixed to her face. A ghostly glow she does not see takes the winter scene beyond the French doors as the moon light chases shadows across the fields. Clouds bloat out the eerie light sporadically driven by the gusts that pummel the cedar shingles.
"Why have you done this to me, David?" Darla asks but the emptiness provides only silence.
Sinful thoughts hamper her ability to perceive the danger close at hand.
A noise; her ears pique as she strains to hear. She raises her head up off the pillow and listens. She hears only the cold silence.
"David?" she says to the darkness.
A whisper? She wonders. Is that what it was or just the wind?
She believes she recognizes a sound; a voice over the pulse of her heart pounding in her ears.
"Not sure," she says.
"How long have I waited?"
David realizes he may have taken this too far as his guest steps out of her ankle boots and strips away the covering in the foyer. Tan stretch pants are the color of her long legs. Her green silk blouse is not nearly as bright as her eyes when she looks and finds him staring.
"I thought to make this easy for us, David," Diana says apologetically for going without under things. In their recent history Diana's approach in outrageously fashioned bras and thongs have crumbled the walls of the fortress he had constructed to defend him from Diana's assaults. On this cold and stormy night David is defenseless, crippled by the sudden gleam of her flesh strategically bared for his viewing pleasure.
David kneels on the wet floor mat just inside the door. He applies his lips to her belly and her breasts until Diana takes hold of the hairs on the nape of his neck and frees herself of his kiss.
"This is not what you promised, David. You are not the reason I'm here."
"She's in the bedroom, Diana," David says softly. He backs up to the hand rail. Diana steps up the stairs, white crew socks still on her small feet.
The oak stair threads creak.
Yes, David's back Darla realizes.
Relieved Darla prepares her anger, her response to David's insensitivity and the fright suffered.
Darla's head meanders once she sure of the whispers down the hall. She stifles the giggle in her throat. Endless possibilities she and David discussed in the darkness come into focus and wet her fancy before fright overpowers her desire.
Despite the fright another drop of arousal follows the first over the waxed surface of her perineum.
Who is he bringing to our bed?
"No one," she says silently. He's playing with your head, a voice reminds Darla. She understands the fantasies spoken often in the dark were simply wordplay meant to arouse.
Most of them anyway she recalls with a smile.
"He wouldn't dare," she says softly, this time less certain when she again hears the whispers. Whispers preceded by soft footfalls on the carpet; the panic returns.
David's rope work has me accessible.
"David." Her call goes unanswered.
My legs opened wide. He's going to let someone fuck me, I know it. Darla feels the fear crawling along the soft insides of her thighs. And another drop descends.
My breasts are exposed. What will they do? They'll suck on my teats. They'll bite me until I bleed...
"Don't hurt me, David."
Her spine stiffens at the suggestion uttered aloud. Dark points rise up from the firm twin mounds on her chest. She struggles against the cords. A hint of perspiration drifts up from under her arms and another drop wets the featherbed.
How is that possible; I'm so cold? And I'm too frightened to come.
"Thank you, David," Darla says of her current captivity.
I've no need to submit for I have no choice tonight. They'll do me as they please. They'll fuck me hard and long. They'll use my asshole and my mouth as receptacles once my sex is ravaged raw...
Again she stifles the giddy laughter in her throat. The three small bells on the collar around her neck chime with the shiver.
Imagination gone mad, she reasons. That's all it is. He'd never permit anyone else...would he? David has shared me a time or three or four but never without warning.
Oh please let it be one of his cousins...
Another drop makes its way onto the featherbed beneath Darla's ass. The wet spot is growing.
Yes, that it. We've talked; his cousin Bobby fucking me with that enormous dick of his; a dick I've admired by the pool for six summers. Yes; let it be Bobby; the other cousins are older. They won't last long enough. Or maybe the four of them taking turns. The bed crowded with more men then David and I ever considered. Maybe a double, two of them in my sex then one in my sex and one in my asshole... Yes, that's what I'll have them do. I won't let David do my asshole though...unless he begs.
If it is all of them the fucking will continue long into tomorrow. Always a dick or two ready and able...
Darla senses the presence beside the bed. A certain hardwood plank groans a complaint.
"Where have you been, Baby? I'm so cold."
There comes no response only the stirring at the foot of the bed before a single sheet falls over Darla.
Then she hears.
Another step ambling along the carpeted hall; Darla is sure.
Again Darla strains to hear.
The tinkle of brass as David undoes his belt.
The familiar rustle of cloth falling away.
David's shirt?
His trousers?
"Take me right now, David. I'm so wet." She lays back her knees as far as the pull of the blue cord allows.
Darla hears the slick sound of a kiss to her left.
Would David kiss another man? Darla wonders.
The thought sends a bolt of electric along the length of her spine.
"I can't believe I feel this way. What have you done to me?"
David and Diana hear but without knowing exactly what Darla was thinking, they are unable to fully comprehend Darla's comment.
Darla sinks deeper into the featherbed when the sheet is pulled away.
"You see," David says. "Just as I promised; she's naked and she's ready and she's yours to hold and to have... Can you smell her cunt?"
Diana nods a response.
Darla is thinner than Diana remembers. But it has been six month since I last saw her in a swim suit Diana recalls. Still the transformation is dramatic. She's trimmed the fat that came with childbirth. Though Margaret has been weaned, Darla's breasts will no longer fit into the B cups worn prior to the pregnancy. Close set hips flare out slightly and frame a carefully styled sliver of blonde curls that conceal the Cesarean scar from Darla's belly to edge of her mons.
"So lovely," Diana whispers. "Thank you, David."
The hands are small and soft. Long nails trace a jagged design on Darla's flesh as those hands explore the softness on the insides of each thigh.
"David?" The question hangs in the air unanswered.
The headboard slams against the wall but escape is impossible.
"Why?"
"Shhh," comes a response not from David's mouth. She hears that sound, a breezy feel on her belly sniffing as if to test her musk. Darla smells Shalimar though she's not touched the perfume on the bureau since Wednesday.
Impossible, she thinks. He wouldn't...
Then she feels it again, nearer, under her arm.
"Undo me. At least let me see."
"Not yet," David says from off to Darla's right.
Darla stiffens when lips kiss the soft flesh under her arms.
A woman; of that Darla is now sure.
The other woman?
Is there another woman in David's life? Has he brought the other woman to our bed?
I can't simply surrender.
A kiss silences Darla's complaint before she is able to speak her complaint. A tongue darts by Darla's defenses. Lips mesh and tongues spar.
Her assailant straddles Darla; a knee pressed to that warm sweet place. They taste one another once Darla succumbs to the forceful nudge. Their bodies blend together in the moon glow.
Darla moves beneath Diana adjusting for a more perfect fit.
"Oh, god," she says into Diana's mouth when Diana rolls her knee deeper and the flower blooms.
David involves himself cautiously careful not to interrupt the progression. His kiss brushes a breast gently. He flirts with the hard point on the tip of his tongue.
Darla attempts an embrace only to be stymied by the cords on her wrists.
"No. Not yet," she says when the heat of the woman's body overcomes winter's icy grip.
Darla swoons as Diana strokes the dampness beneath the scar.
Darla is not hopeful but passion searches her out too quickly.
The small hands continue their travels, slow circles tickling her belly. Then lower where anticipation returns and her passion pulses as fresh as her first time.
Darla waits stoically silent wanting the tremors to return. She prays for the fire to burn hot again. But Diana, wishing to tantalize further moves her fingers higher on her belly, teasing, while Darla desperate for relief pants and throws her head back against the featherbed.
Darla's mouth is open wide gulping breath like a person drowning.
"Please," she asks of her abuser.
Diana takes mercy on her captive and flutters her finger lower along the edge. Darla's ankles tug at the cords as Diana tests the moisture in the vestibule.
"Relax," Diana says into her ear. "Enjoy."
David wonders if his wife recognizes Diana's voice. Darla gives no indication verbal or otherwise.
Diana flexes a finger deeper into Darla's sex then a second.
"No," Darla says. "Don't."
A third finger seeks the refuge of her warm wet sex before Darla realizes there is no turning back.
"I can't," she says.
Diana ignores Darla's plight as she and David had discussed. The fourth finger on Diana's left hand enters the fray.
"No."
"Yes, Darla."
"No, no, no."
Helpless, Darla swings her hips side to side. Diana follows her every movement.
"Maybe she can't," David says.
Diana touches her free hand to his, a comparison he immediately understands.
David is distraught when Diana unties the cords on Darla's right ankle.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
So sudden it's over, Darla thinks.
No. I won't let that happen.
Darla's reaction is driven simultaneous by fright and desire. With a single word, "More," she ceases her protest.
Darla drapes a long muscled leg over the side of the bed and David takes hold of her calf. Spread wider now, she offers up the flower swollen red in the moon light.
David anoints his wife with an application of lotion from a plastic tube. The lotion falls like an anvil onto the petals of Darla's sex. And a moment later a hand as thin as her own pulses like a second heart beating inside Darla's body.
Darla simply grunts an acknowledgment and raises her hips up off of the featherbed to meet each thrust. Diana moves lower toward the footboard without removing her fist from Darla's sex.
The bud gleams above Diana's bony wrist a pink berry on her lips. No longer needed, David relaxes his hold on his wife's calf. With his testicle firmly in her grasp he follows Diana's lead. David savages the delicate tips of his wife's breasts.
"No more," Darla say her voice no louder than a sigh. "My heart will burst if I come again, David."
Darla's diagnosis proves incorrect as Diana presses on right to her cervix and there she flexes her fist until Darla is still and complains "I can't come again."
Finally Darla thinks as Diana pulls her fist from Darla's sex. But Diana has a ways to go before she finds satisfaction. And there's the matter of David's punishment as Diana promised to serve up as a prerequisite to tonight's festivities.
Diana reverses her position atop their captive. The women are now face-to-hip. The scent of sex comes stronger now to each of them, more recognizable for what it is.
Diana touches the tip of her tongue to the crimson swath while to the other end of the bed Darla does the same.
"Oh god, noooo." David hears a short time later. His wife's pained cry fills David's ears as the two of them suck one another's sex a bloody red hue. Not a sound reaches Diana through a red haze that takes her to a far away place where all pleasures are had.
Before too long Darla will experience her husband's anguished cry.
It's been promised.
###
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