by Lucy Appleby
The crisp dried detritus of leaves and twigs crackled invitingly beneath Stephanie's feet as she trod the thickness of the forest floor. It was pleasantly cool here - a welcome dappled shade from the earlier blistering heat of the day. Emerging into a small glade, she walked over a thick carpet of soft grass decorated here and there with moss-strewn rocks. The air was sweet, enlivened by birdsong.
The light was beautiful at this time of day, with the late afternoon sun spinning a magical web of amber through the surrounding trees. She paused and tilted her face upwards, eyes closed, feeling the fading golden warmth of the sun on her face and listening to the sounds of small woodland creatures scurrying in the undergrowth.
These walks usually brought her a sense of quiet contentment, but today was different. Why? She mused, burrowing into the secret places of her mind, and realised that there was something missing from her life. But what? She was happy in her work, had plenty of money, a nice house, good friends and a string of ardent admirers. So what was it, this elusive thing, and how could she possibly find it if she didn't know what it was?
So deep was she in her thoughts that the first drops of rain passed by without notice. When she suddenly realised her clothes were damp and small rivulets of water were trickling down her face, she paused and looked around her. The light had changed and dimmed, and the earlier clear blue skies had vanished as the grey rain clouds descended. A wind sprang up from the west, making the tree branches sway.
Sighing, she turned and rejoined the woodland path, shivering a little now as the sky had darkened considerably. The splats of rain fell hard and fast and the wind chilled her to the bone. Now the heavens truly opened, releasing a torrent of water. Stephanie quickened her pace, cursing at her lack of foresight to check the weather forecast before setting out, or at least to have worn suitable clothing. Her waterlogged open-toed sandals squelched with every step, and her toes were icy cold.
The whole atmosphere of the wood had changed. What had been light and welcoming was now ominously dark and threatening. Water pooled beneath her feet as she waded through mud and teeming water. The rain bounced down from a leaden sky, obscuring her vision. In the distance could be heard the first low rumble of thunder. In her haste to get home, she half-walked and half-ran the last half mile. Once out of the wood, her progress was a little quicker. Puffing and panting and completely drenched, her feet sploshed through the giant puddles rapidly accumulating on the pavement. Her house was in sight. Almost home.
A sleek black car purred softly to a halt close to her front gate. The driver switched off the headlamps and windscreen wipers, opened the door, and stepped out into the teeming rain.
"Stephanie?"
She halted, soaked to the skin with rivulets of water cascading down her face. She wasn't expecting visitors, and had no intention of striking up a conversation with a stranger in the middle of a downpour.
"No," she said crossly, and pushed rudely past him to open her garden gate.
But he darted nimbly towards the gate and was there before her. With able fingers he opened the awkward catch and pushed open the gate. It creaked.
"Allow me," he said smoothly, and smiled. "Your hinges need oiling," he added, and a fleeting look of suppressed amusement crossed his face.
Stephanie hesitated a moment. Her eyes caught his gaze. He regarded her quizzically and his dark eyes glinted. God, he's a handsome devil, whoever he is, thought Stephanie, fleetingly.
The handsome stranger seemed oblivious to the rain; it barely touched him. He stood tall, immaculately dressed in a dark elegant suit and a pale blue silk tie. His waist was narrow, his chest broad and strong. His arms hung by his sides, one hand holding the handle of a large black leather case. His hands were large, well proportioned, yet delicate, with long tapering fingers and perfectly manicured nails.
"Er ... do I know you?" asked Stephanie.
The Suitcase Man flashed her a captivating smile. "Not yet."
Stephanie was never quite sure afterwards how he ended up in her kitchen. She didn't remember inviting him in, and yet there he was, large as life, drinking coffee and eating biscuits, watching her as she rubbed her tousled hair with a yellow towel. Discarding the towel, she took a seat opposite him, and sipped her scalding hot coffee.
Her unexpected guest reached down and put his black case on the table. With a deft flick, he opened the lid, invitingly. Stephanie couldn't help but look inside. There were a couple of leaflets on the top, a fountain pen and a notebook. What else? She suddenly, desperately wanted there to be something else. Something...
"Something?" echoed the Suitcase Man. His mouth was wide with well shaped sensual lips. He smiled again, revealing a row of perfect white teeth.
Stephanie felt a surge of excitement. There was something in that case that was for her. Something special.
"Very special," the Suitcase Man said, as he pushed aside the bits and pieces that made up the top layer of the case. "Look again, Stephanie. Look again and tell me what you see."
Stephanie shivered, but not from the cold. She tore her eyes away from his mesmerizing stare, and looked inside the case. Something lay at the bottom in a swirl of folded brown leather. How she wanted to ...
"Touch it?" the Suitcase Man said softly, finishing her unspoken sentence. "Touch it, Stephanie." His voice was a command. She obeyed.
The leather belt felt cool and heavy in her hands. It was thick and wide. She wanted to uncoil it. She glanced up at the Suitcase Man. His dark eyes bored into hers.
"Do it." He nodded, his dark eyes gleaming.
So Stephanie carefully unrolled the belt. The scent of leather permeated her senses and for a moment she felt heady and dizzy and ... needy. Yes. Needy.
The Suitcase Man smiled in approval. Wordlessly he extended his hands. Instinctively and intuitively Stephanie placed the belt in his upturned palms. The silver buckle at one end winked lasciviously.
"You know what comes next, don't you, Stephanie?"
"No, no I don't," mumbled Stephanie, her face flushed crimson. She met his gaze again. Yes, I do.
"Yes, you do."
The Suitcase Man looked at her levelly and slowly wound the belt around his right hand. He made a fist. The coil of brown leather made Stephanie feel very strange. Little butterflies danced in the pit of her stomach. Her breathing quickened. She stood up, watching as he slowly unravelled a length of the belt.
"What comes next, Stephanie?"
She stared at him, dumbly; and as the fragments of long suppressed fantasies in her head were reawakened, she found herself staring longingly at the leather belt.
"Will it hurt?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said.
"I don't want it to hurt too much," said Stephanie in a little voice as she bent over the end of the kitchen table.
"It will not be more than you can bear." He picked up the discarded coffee cups and put them by the sink, and then he moved behind Stephanie and laid the belt down on the table.
"Lean right over," he instructed. "That's it. Good girl. Now grasp the edge of the table."
Stephanie did so. She felt heady with excitement, which mounted to an almost unbearable level as she felt his hands on her shoulders, and his warm sweet breath on her face as he leaned forward and softly kissed her cheek. The position she was in elevated her bottom. He touched her hips and traced the contour of her buttocks through her wet jeans, and then his fingers went to her waist and unfastened her zipper, and the soggy garment was peeled slowly down her long legs. She lifted one foot and then the other as he pulled her jeans off completely and tossed them aside.
She waited, tense and expectant, feeling him behind her, his hard thighs pressing into the back of hers. He lulled her, by running his fingers along the edge of her thighs, and then up over the expanse of her bottom. She groaned, aroused by his presence, his touch, and the anticipation of what was to come. Strong fingers tugged at the waistband of her underwear, and the wispy foam of peach satin and cream lace fell to the floor in a soft cloud.
Her bottom was bared before this stranger. She felt such a glorious sense of euphoria, lewdness and longing. His fingers massaged her bottom cheeks. She sighed, sinking into his caress. When he tapped her inner thighs she parted her legs a little, knowing yet uncaring that there would be visible signs of her arousal. She smiled secretly to herself, feeling empowered.
The Suitcase Man reached out and retrieved the belt from the table. He wound a portion of it around his right hand, and stepped back, admiring the view before him. The twin pale orbs of Stephanie's bottom greeted him: white, unmarked, virgin flesh. His eyes narrowed. He smiled wolfishly.
Then he began.
Stephanie whimpered and squirmed as the belt cracked down. It hurt. It hurt horribly, yet she didn't want it to stop. She whimpered and mewled. She yelped and squealed. She had craved this for such a long time. "Yes!" she cried.
"Yes," answered the Suitcase Man and gave her another resounding thwack with the belt. Her bottom had turned from white to pale pink, and was now taking a more rosy hue as he delivered unto her exactly what she had been yearning for. He grunted in satisfaction as her bottom reddened and striped beneath his ministrations.
Stephanie yelped as the cracks came swifter and harder. The belt bit and welted her buttocks, and she screamed as it caught the tender pale flesh at the top of her thighs. Something deep within her welled and her tears fell with each cathartic blow. And after a while, time became meaningless. There was only pleasure and pain and the salt sting of tears as she floated in a heady sea of deeply assuaged longings.
He brought her back from that place, slowly, carefully. The belt eventually ceased its song, and she felt his long tapered fingers lightly skim the surface of her punished bottom, tracing the raised welts, soothing her inflamed flesh. Stephanie sighed and smiled dreamily as the Suitcase Man bent to kiss her. It was almost a chaste kiss, so light and fleeting as his lips brushed briefly against hers. But then he kissed her again, a little harder, his mouth insistent, his tongue probing.
"Let's have you in bed," he whispered.
Stephanie blinked. She would very much like him to have her in bed - but was that what he meant? Or was he perhaps sending her to bed to sleep? A look of consternation and bitter disappointment crossed her face.
He laughed at her expression and held out his hand. "Come. I'm going to fuck your brains out and you are going to beg me for more."
"Ohhhhh." Now her face flushed as red as her bottom. Yes! Yes please! she shouted silently.
Each step of the stairs was an agonizing climb; her bottom throbbed - it was so sore, and yet ... and yet ... it felt so good. They reached her bedroom and he sat on the edge of the bed, appraising her with his dark eyed gaze.
"I'm so grateful to you," she began. "So very grateful."
"Kneel."
Stephanie sank to her knees before him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to place her hands on his thighs. Beneath the quality suit he wore, his legs were hard and toned.
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