Verity Prood


She studied the figure at the opposite end of the beechwood bench. Was he really as calm as he looked, or, did his heart thump as loudly as hers? They chatted, two icebreakers nibbling at the nerves. Her attempt at outward calm denied by nervous finger play. Fingers that constantly fidgeted and smoothed her breeze-ruffled hair.

Her mind whirled and twirled through the last few months. The e-mails, the phone calls, the dinners. Thoughts, so orderly once, so clear, so natural. Now a maelstrom that refused to be quelled.

As he drained his cup, she quickly shook more coffee from the jug, sharing it between cup and saucer. She studied his face, not a flicker of disappointment that the cup had been re-filled. Not the merest stutter in the gentle icebreaking words about nothing in particular. She saw the inner strength that told her the time would be right, when it was right and never before. Saw that he knew she would be his. Felt the confidence that still allowed her the choice. But did it give her choice? Hadn't that choice already been made?

The soft rustle of leaves. The light summer breeze gently coaxing the scent from waving blooms. Nature's Valium, Prozac and aphrodisiac, so expertly packaged to soothe nerves, untangle thoughts. The slowly emptying coffee cup ensuring the thoughts remained tangled.

The cup emptied. The time had arrived. So easy to refill it. But was it? So easy to reach out the hand, pour the time-buying liquid into the cup. Time for what? More confusion? Weren't her nerves taut enough already? So easy to fill the cup, keep filling the cup until he left, taking her confusion with him. But it wouldn't leave with him, would it? So easy to step back from the brink. But she'd return to the brink, deep in her heart she knew she would. Return to filling coffee cups, only next time it would be so much harder.

Mouth dry, stomach churning, she watched the calm confidence the man exuded. Searched his eyes for help, but found none. It was her decision, she knew that, but how she longed for the guidance he'd offered before. The tender and patient understanding that had brought her to this. Her eyes pleaded for the light that had so gently led her along the rockiest path of her life. She felt betrayed at the final hurdle, but had always known that the ultimate question had to be answered by her alone.

Her doubts grew as every second felt like minutes. Reach for the jug or continue the fight to keep her arm still? She doubted her nerves would allow her to pour the coffee. Surely that was no basis for such a momentous decision? But, at least it was tangible, the only thought in her head not fighting another. The decision made for her. The easiest decision of all.

"Stand up, my love." Calm, hushed words, more authoritative than any parade ground bark.

She prayed her wobbly legs would take her weight.




She rose slowly, grateful her legs only wobbled.

"Undress." The quiet authority demanded and the first nervous relief that she had relinquished herself nudged her mind.

Every button of her blouse seemed determined to resist her fingers and refuse to wriggle through the hole it had previously slipped effortlessly through. Interminable moments of self-doubt passed before she stood in just bra and panties.

"Everything." The single, quiet, almost soft word dispelled her hesitancy and in moments her bra was gone, her panties slipping over her thighs.

She stood naked, his eyes leisurely travelling from head to toe. Deliberately pausing at her breasts, pubis and thighs before lingering in perpetuity on her eyes. She felt his gaze daring her to move. Daring her to take the easy option, to grab her clothes and run. She wanted to, oh how she wanted to. Age induced self-doubt magnified every lump, bump and blemish that had had the temerity to replace youthful perfection. But she'd come this far, there could be no turning back.

"Bring the bag." He strode across the lawn to the rose arbour, leaving her to collect the bag and follow in his wake.

She fought to focus on the nape of his neck but the wooden arch magnetically drew her eyes, invaded her kaleidoscopic mind. The bag, green canvas, its secret but imagined contents sinister. Sinister but exciting as she carried it after him. Her nakedness, no longer private, so cruelly emphasised with every jiggle of buttock and sway of breast. Amidst the confusion was the inexplicable but undeniable awakening of her sex.

Fingers barely dented her arms as she allowed him to guide her into position. Trance-like she watched the rope wind round her wrist. Meekly she followed his lead and watched as he tied it to the arch. With outwardly calm acceptance, she allowed the same for the other wrist. Fingertip brushstrokes the length of her arms made her shudder, teased and excited, distracted her from the helplessness she'd done nothing to prevent. Gently but firmly her legs were spread and secured by ropes around each ankle. In a few minutes she'd been helplessly spread-eagled.

With no other choice she waited, every thump of her heart pumping fresh doubts into her mind. She hated being left but welcomed the chance to test her bonds. She pulled and tugged, strained to close her legs, felt scared when the ropes would not give. Knew she'd be disappointed if they did. Her wrists contorted, fingers stretched but the knots remained far from reach. A strange feeling of freedom crept into her mind.

The summer breeze caressed her skin, found her most intimate parts, a constant reminder of her lewd display. But she felt no shame, for the breeze carried way into the heavens her responsibility. She could do nothing about her wanton exposure, could do nothing about her impending ravishing, if indeed she was to be ravished.

She tugged again at her bonds, savoured the release of all society's taboos and guilt. Savoured the subtle foreplay of anticipation gently fanning the embers within, such a contrast to the usual ham-fisted fingers. Felt the elation of sex without the feeling of duty. For the first time in her life she felt free of all the complexities that combined to inhibit. She could do nothing, all that was left was to enjoy. Her heart rejoiced in her anticipation.

She watched his return, her confidence melting like ice in the sun. What if he didn't want her? Why should he? She no longer had the firm young body of a youngster. The unique beauty of maturity was a million miles from her thoughts. She yanked the ropes. The realisation that her influence had gone and with it her ability to tease, to encourage, even to flirt filled her with dread. The ropes that had freed the mind now turned against her. If he didn't fancy her, there was absolutely nothing she could do. He could just ignore her. Body, mind and soul prayed they'd not be abandoned.

His steady, deliberate tread continued until their eyes met, locked like lasers. She searched for clues. Cold disinterest, or, hot lust? She found neither.




The sensation began with the gentle breeze whispering to her labia. Had become luxurious, gently glowing embers as she had accepted the bonds that made her so vulnerable. Now, his every step was like bellows stoking those embers into a raging furnace of desire. Fear of rejection suddenly seemed so much harder to bear than the impending ravishing she'd imagined but was powerless to stop.

She craned her neck, twisting one way, then the other when her ties held her fast. The dark red tint in her hair highlighted by the afternoon sun as it wafted her shoulders. Her vulnerability engulfed her mind as, like a spider after its quarry, he closed in on her back.

Her entire body seemed to ripple as delicate fingers traced lines along her arms. From wrist to shoulder and back again. Her skin tingled as he gently, slowly coaxed the goosebumps into life. Never before had her arms felt so alive. Never before had she no choice but to endure.

Head rolling and lolling she felt her heckles rise as first lips, then his warm moist tongue found her neck. Every flicker of tongue on her neck made her moan softly, twist her head and offer her neck. With every tender touch his beard tickled her shoulders and his fingers drew dainty circles on tight shoulders as she strained to escape the intensity of the infuriatingly delicious faintness of his touch.

His teeth nibbled her ears, nipped her neck and shoulders as fingertips teased her finely sculptured back. Almost silent gasps and moans escaped her lips as she craved the firmer touch he expertly denied. Shrieks of delight accompanied his fingers racing up her spine. Every sinew she possessed stretched her taut as his tongue circled every single vertebrae as it followed his finger's journey down her strong back.

Hands cupped her buttocks, held so taut by her stretch. He gently caressed and moulded her cheeks, his tongue lingering at the dimples at the base of her spine. She yearned to feel the strength of his fingers, craved the release of frustration she feared might never come. Tugging frantically at her ropes only emphasised her helplessness, further fuelled the desire that welled within.

The backs of her lean, athletic legs tingled when his fingernails scored the lightest of lines along their length. His lips kissed as he gently nipped her buttocks, every muscle went into spasm as he tickled the back of her knees. Every spasm was like another coal thrown on the fire that raged between her legs.

Her skin so sensitive, alive with the electricity racing through her, she jumped and fought at every touch. Every brush against her skin now so intense it hurt. Only when he stopped did it hurt more.

She forced her tongue hard and deep into his mouth when his lips found hers. Crushed her lips to him as her tongue fought his. The shame of her wanton behaviour dispelled as she feasted on the heavy, heady touch she'd been denied for so long.

Her eyes filled with tears, confusion, anger, lust, hatred, love but most of all frustration as he stepped back. Stood looking at her convulsing frustration now only fanned by the gentle evening breeze.

She hated the glint in his eye as he whispered 'coffee time' and left her hanging, as much part of her arbour as the roses, alone with her frustration.




She willed her heartbeat to mirror his deliberate, methodical approach. Silhouetted by the dying evening sun, his every step mocked her frustration. A frustration becalmed with absence, yet kept alive by the gentle breeze that kissed and caressed. She hung on the arbour, spread and vulnerable, mesmerised by the gathering storm clouds of his steps. Feared the intensity of the hurricane she knew would rip through her at his merest touch. Hated the interminable waiting for the storm to break. Yearned for the safety of harbour. Loved the bonds that ensured she must face the threatening tempest exposed and defenceless.

Featherlight circles tickled her palms, hot breath on her neck instantly whipped the rippling waves of her senses to a maelstrom. Uncontrollable tremors chased around her taut body. A hand grabbed her hair, snatched her head back, but the gasp was a response to his tongue under her chin. Her head fought the hand that held it, every tug of her hair a crashing wave sweeping towards her sex. His tongue explored her ear, his fingertips her neck, every touch a new wave to increase the storm raging within.

Fingertips traced lines of delicious torture over her body. Her flanks and midriff strafed with jolting pulses of ecstasy. Pulses that teased her attention demanding breasts but mercilessly denied the promised touch. Promises so cruel in their denial, so uncompromising as they surged towards her throbbing sex.

Fingernails left trembling muscles in their wake as they raced across her thighs. His moist warm tongue flicked her flat, taut belly. Every flick a bolt of lightning preceding the thunder welling within. Every flick moved another millimetre nearer the whirlpool of lust between her legs. Every flick another jerk in her bonds that ensured she must ride out the storm, however intense. Every jerk another wave sweeping through her to further fuel her desire. A desire so intense it hurt as it engulfed her very soul.

Urgent gasps escaped her lips when spidery tantalising fingers brushed her breasts. Slowly they traced the contours of her firm, round orbs, teasing the pleasure within to the surface. Gently moulding her ripe fruits in his hand he massaged her arousal towards her inflamed nipple. The tip of his tongue teased then rolled her luscious bud around his teeth. She arched her back as far as the bonds allowed, forcing her breast hard to his mouth, her moans of pleasure the perfect accompaniment to the quiet, rustling garden song. She craved the hard touch her breast demanded, adored the bonds that held and denied that touch.

She begged the touch her swollen pussy so eagerly sought. Her hips unknowingly grinding their frustration. When, at last, it came she gasped her surprise, her head fighting the hand that still held her tight. Not the warm hard manhood she desired more than life itself, but the cold plastic of an unseen phallus. Gently it teased and stretched her as she convulsed, tried to swallow it deep into her furnace of lust. Man or plastic, it didn't matter, at last she could feel the storm raging within nearing it's climax. She barely noticed the elastic straps slipped around waist and hips but her eyes were full of pleading and horror as he stepped back from her.

That glint in his eye, she knew, oh how she knew. Bloody coffee.

She hung with her roses, a gentle humming from between her legs, the storm slowly abating.




She watched his approach through the gloaming. Sooner than expected, sooner than she'd dare hope. Every step seemed calculated to quicken her heartbeat and re-ignite the passion the vibrator had so cruelly kept simmering. With every step she clenched her buttocks, squeezed the faint buzzing deeper, desperate for the threatening storm clouds to break. Every muscle struggled with her bonds for superiority. The ropes won.

Her eyes never left his, as he sat, coffee in hand. Nonchalantly he let his eyes roam her taut body. Eyes that tortured more than his fingers had ever done as she stood, quaking with frustration. The tingling vibration, too faint to excite yet so intense its presence devoured her senses. She yearned its removal, prayed for his touch, begged silently for her ordeal to end yet wanted above all else the moment to last for eternity.

His hand moved, her heart leapt. His eyes never left her as the rich aroma of coffee and summer flowers mingled with her own sweet scent. How she hated the hot black liquid that refused to give him to her. For the first time in her life she felt a need stronger than any imagination. She hung, spread-eagled and open, yet still the damned coffee denied her. She lusted his touch, coveted her release from the torment that so deliciously wracked her. Dreaded the thought that he'd left her before. Would do so again?

The drone between her legs increased, made the flames of passion flicker. A smirk almost spoilt his poker face as she instantly circled her hips and tugged her ropes, her pleasure defined in a long moan. A sip of coffee, a twitch of fingers and the buzz between her legs responded, sending wave upon crashing wave of euphoria to add to her frustration.

Tears flooded her eyes as the humming subsided. One again no more than the gentle, mocking buzz that allowed the fury within to subside yet refused to let die. Every trembling nerve hated the man who denied her so freely. Every ounce of emotion craved his attention, albeit remote.

The shock as the meek hum became an angry growl was electric. Taut as a bow she strained every muscle as roller coaster waves cascaded before slowly decreasing to a gentle swell as the frustratingly innocuous hum returned. A flick of his thumb and again she was swept perilously close to the breaking storm she so desperately craved. A hurricane of joy so intense she feared it would rip her asunder as it swept through her ravaged being. A hurricane so close to breaking, yet devastating as it left her shaking in its wake as it veered at the last second, quelled by the dying vibrations.

His grin seemed to mock as he showed her the empty cup. Through tear filled eyes she could only imagine the glint in his eye. The glint that spelt coffee. The glint she knew was to prolong her frustration, yet again.




Almost imperceptible vibrations kept her senses focused. Refused her relief from the frustration she so desperately needed to be free from. Every spontaneous shudder rippled from tip to toe to the very depths of her soul. Even her breathing seemed to have united with every sinew, so industriously encouraging the lazy murmur between her legs to devour her frustration. Every bead of sweat tickled, threatened to drive her into eruptions of ecstasy. But only threatened.

Every passing minute dashed hopes that his absence would be brief, like last time. Seconds became minutes. Minutes that felt like hours as she yearned his return. The return she dreaded for its intensity, craved for its necessity. Straining against her bonds only emphasised that her release was his to give, not hers to take, increased her need. Not even in her mind could she escape his influence, somehow more powerful with his absence. Not once did her mind seek that escape.

Quivering anticipation, eyes pleading, heart pounding desire through her veins, she watched his approach. Her lips crushed against him as he sucked her tongue hard to his. Writhing and moaning against his featherlight fingers, she felt the embers of her soul burst into flame as her lustful furnace was re-ignited. She hated the doubt that tried to douse the, oh so delicious, flames. The doubt that told her she'd been left on the edge before, it might happen again. She hated the conflict he'd created as she battled what she needed most. Hated but loved the conflict that fuelled her furnace as much as it tried to dull it.

The phallus that had so cruelly tormented slipped slowly from her. The relief that its torment was over cruelly replaced by the emptiness left behind. Tantalisingly it paused at her opening before nudging its nose back into her burrow. Time and again it taunted her with being filled so sweetly again. Time and again it denied. She yearned the hard, brutal thrust she ached so much for. Knew the time for gentleness had long past. So why didn't he?

Every taut nerve strained to impale herself as the hard plastic slowly filled her. Uncontrollable ripples of delight swept through her as she squeezed the alien tormentor, tried to suck it into her smouldering volcano. Each slow, deliberate filling of her simmering cauldron increasing the need for the hard, powerful, don't give a shit, lambasting she craved so desperately.

Finally it was gone. A sudden, hasty exit, then nothing. Just the chill breeze of the evening air. She dared not open her eyes for fear of seeing his back as he walked away. One word filled her mind. She despaired he could leave her again. Prayed that he wouldn't but even through her prayers knew the power of just that one word. Coffee!




The scent of the fresh roses in the still of the evening helped soothe her senses as she waited. Aching from hanging so long, aching to be released, not from her bonds but the agonising frustration that refused to die. Desperately aching for his return and hopefully, desperately hoping, that this time he'd allow her pleasure to finally rip through her. Time meant nothing anymore, he'd varied his time away. Now she could only wait, confused, the not knowing somehow helping to keep her smouldering desire alive as the gentle breeze, like flickering flames, licked her delicate senses. Only fear of her neighbours hearing stopped her screaming her frustration into the quiet peacefulness that so contrasted her inner turmoil.

Delicate fingers strafing her back, moist tongue leaving streaks of fire across her shoulders, jerked every tired muscle to attention. How he'd crept round behind her she neither knew, no cared. He was back, that's all she needed to know. But what for? To be mercilessly teased before abandonment again? Anticipation of further isolation made her fight the waves of desire that, at his merest touch, were overwhelming her as sure as the incoming tide engulfed the beach.

Like the rippling tide the shudders swept though her as his fingers continued their delicate, spidery exploration of her body. Her head rolled as her neck sought the caress of his warm lips, the tickle of his beard. Her back arched as his hands cupped her breasts, squeezing, moulding, fingers pinching her stiff nipples. Straining hips wriggled far as her bonds allowed as she felt the heat of his throbbing manhood follow the line of her crease towards the inferno raging between her legs. Slowly, too slowly, she felt his approach towards the lips that yearned most for his touch. Still her mind refused to believe it would really happen, implored her soul not to be so greedy with its lust.

Strong hands gripped her hips, crushed her buttocks to his belly and united with the ropes to hold her still. Slowly his swollen manhood slid over her engorged slippery lips. Swooning and moaning, her mind gave up the battle and yielded to the desperate cries of her body as it sought the onslaught of orgasm that so deliberately approached. The onslaught, craved for so long but even now, when so near, so totally controlled by somebody else.

Unimaginable depths tried to draw him to her as his rounded end probed and stretched her opening. Every gentle nudge stole her breath as fraction by fraction he slid into her well of need. Every movement, every throb of his tormenting weapon fanned the fire that engulfed so completely. Every pause ensured the fire would not fully rage within until he allowed. Every agonising minute increased her begging. Begging with no thought for decorum, no thought for listening neighbours.

Every sinew pleaded for the strong, hard thrusting that would bring her relief. At last, her desperation defeated his control. Even if he left her, it was happening, the tidal waves of hours of frustration were now unstoppable. Huge roller coaster waves devoured her, filled her head with stars more colourful than any rainbow. Time and again the rushing, swirling waves battered her before crashing through her head only to summon the irrepressible next wave of tormenting intensity to rip her apart.

Just as she had pleaded for it to start, she now prayed for its end. Ecstasy, so powerful it hurt, so powerful she doubted her survival as his powerful thrusts continued to pump more breathtaking, muscle straining delirium through her aching body and soul. So powerful she wanted it to last forever. Just as he had denied her before he now denied her respite.

The cool evening breeze gently dried the sweat from her back as she lay, cuddled in his arms, free of her bonds. Held now by the even stronger bond of ownership. As she luxuriated in his soft and gentle kisses her mind thought of one word. Coffee. She'd make sure she always had plenty of coffee, she silently vowed.


Verity Prood, 2000

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