The Lover From an Icy Sea (49 page)

“
Raise your arms.”

She complied. He first took hold of her dress and pushed it slowly up and off—then threw it across the room to the couch. She now stood only in bra, panties and grin. He unsnapped her bra, rolled the straps of it off her shoulders and down her arms, then flung it in the direction of her dress. Next, he knelt down and took the waistband of her panties between his teeth. He considered tugging them down, but then decided against haste. Instead, he’d first explore with his tongue the little blond hairs descending from her navel. She inhaled sharply. He next pressed his face up against her belly as his teeth worked her panties down, then pushed his nose into her at the instant at which the tip of it locked on her labia. His nose repeatedly nudged her up and down until any vestige of friction had been lost to a perfectly oiled wall of soft, warm flesh. Beside herself with sensation, Daneka reached around and pulled his head harder into her, at the same time allowing her feet to inch apart.

Kit abruptly stood up.

“
Darling!” she moaned. “Please don’t stop.”

“
Shush!” he ordered once again. He walked to the dining room table and picked up his napkin. He then returned to stand behind her, took hold of both wrists and brought them around to the small of her back, and bound them with the napkin. Her mouth dropped open—and stayed open—as he returned to his original spot in front of her, reached between her legs and inserted three fingers. She moved her feet another few inches apart.

He then brought his hand up to just below her nose, paused, and ran his index finger along her upper lip. At the smell of her own sex, Daneka’s nostrils flared. He dropped the tips of the same three fingers to her lower lip and ran them from one end to the other and back. She opened her mouth wider. He inserted the three fingers up to the knuckle. He could feel her breath coming back out at him, over his fingers, in short, urgent bursts.

He knelt down and again took hold of her panties with his teeth, also again inserted his nose. This time, rather than up and down, he moved it from side to side, extending each time her inner lips. He noticed that what covered his nose—and had already begun to drip down to the living room floor—was also running down the insides of her thighs. He’d barely started; and yet the bondage, blindness, and silence were all apparently working together to move Daneka into another dimension.

He decided the panties had to go—and so, his teeth pulled them down over her thighs, knees and calves. One foot was already poised two inches off the ground by the time he got to her ankles, and he slipped her panties first over it, then immediately over the other.

She now stood naked before him as he sat back and admired her body against the reflections of fire- and candlelight.

Rather than return to touch her with finger, nose or lips, he began quietly to undress himself. He wondered whether the suspense of not knowing exactly what he was up to, where and how she would next be touched, might have a pleasurable effect on her. In quick answer, he saw her legs come together, saw one rise up tightly against the other as if the viscous surfaces of both her inner and outer lips could—by means of pressure and pressure alone—somehow relieve the pulsing within. He watched her, fascinated by the desperation of her effort; then decided that it just wouldn’t do. He went to the cupboard and found two more napkins. When he returned to her a moment later, she was still seeking her own relief.

He devised a strategy, then looked around for tools. He spotted an ottoman and two heavy armchairs—exactly what he needed. He picked up the cushy footstool and moved it directly in front of Daneka, then dragged the armchairs to their respective positions about three feet below and at a forty-five degree angle to the outside of the footstool. Next, he reached behind her; took hold of the napkin securing her wrists; moved her to the center of the triangle formed by stool and chairs. With his free hand, he gently pushed her to the ground so that her breasts and belly lay on the ottoman while her knees rested on the floor.

He let her lie in this prone position, to wonder in silence, while he tied napkins to the legs of the two armchairs. Her gasp was audible when he then reached up to take one ankle, extend her leg, and bind the ankle to the chair. By the time he’d finished with the second, her first gasp had evolved into a low moan. With this manoever, he’d removed both the temptation and her ability to gain relief from the caress of one thigh against the other.

He stood up and inspected his rigging. She was quite secure now, entirely immobilized. The picture was almost perfect. He gathered together all of the pillows he could find in the living room, ran upstairs to their bedroom and retrieved the pillows from their bed. Bondage was one thing; discomfort another. He piled the pillows he’d taken from their bed one on top of the other and moved the lot under Daneka’s head. He found that four were sufficient for her neck to lie at a comfortable angle. He took the other, smaller pillows he’d found on her couch and placed one each beneath her knees and feet. Then he took the remaining pillow he’d brought down from upstairs, doubled it over and slipped it between the ottoman and her pelvis. This had the immediate effect of raising her abdomen another six inches and straining the ties at her ankles almost to the threshold of pain. He then walked to the dining room table, picked up the bowl of fruit, and returned to where Daneka’s head lay. He sat down and began to unpeel the banana.

“
Time for dessert,” he whispered.

“
May I talk now?” she asked in what sounded to Kit more like a rasp than a voice.

“
You certainly may not, darling. I need your mouth, tongue and teeth for something else right now.”

A low laugh came back to him by the same route her question had taken. She then puckered her lips in anticipation of having them filled with something other than fruit.

“
No, darling, you’ve first got to earn your banana.” He picked up a strawberry, pulled the stem off and placed it right in the center of her puckered lips. As she gently closed her lips on Kit’s fingers and the fruit, he released it, then withdrew his hand after having first massaged her gums for a moment with thumb and index finger. “One for you—one for me,” he said as he pushed a strawberry aside in the bowl. There were a dozen altogether, and he fed her six in exactly the same way.

“
Oh, dear—we’re fresh out of strawberries!” he said as he fed her the last of her portion. He took one of the two peaches in the bowl and split it in half, removed the pit, and fed it to her—followed by the second half once she’d swallowed the first. “All right now. I think you’ve been a very tidy little girl and have earned your banana. There’s only one problem with this banana. You can’t eat it.”

Daneka first grinned, then obliged Kit once again with a pucker. He took the fruit in his hand and began to rub the tip of it over her lips. At the first touch and before she actually caught the scent of it, she lunged forward with her mouth. She immediately realized, however, that it was indeed a banana, and her eagerness gave way to a groan. When Kit next began to insert and withdraw the fruit from her mouth, however, he could only marvel at her dextrousness. Her teeth didn’t once touch the smooth flesh of the fruit, while her lips worked their usual magic. It excited him almost as much to watch her with the banana as it would’ve excited him to be in its place.

He eventually withdrew the banana altogether. “Well, darling. I believe it’s now my turn.” He picked up the bowl, stood up, walked down to the ottoman and sat back down. He had six remaining strawberries, one peach, one banana—and a fair idea of how he might employ each of them. One after the other, the six strawberries went into Daneka, then into Kit’s mouth. He split the single remaining peach, smeared the open faces of it over her exposed vulva, then popped them into his mouth. The peach juice could certainly account for some of the wetness of the pillow on which Daneka’s breasts, belly and lower abdomen rested—but only for some of it. And neither the strawberries nor the peach could take entire credit for the swollen condition of her outer lips, the rhythmic pulsing of her inner lips, or the fact that both sets of lips had long ceased their natural inclination to close.

He put just the tip of the banana inside her to see how she’d respond. If ever he’d thought Daneka could no longer surprise him, he was about to be disabused of that notion. He pushed it in about an inch, then stopped. She took it out of his hand and, by the sheer strength and determination of her vaginal muscles, sucked in all but a couple of inches. A first view of the icy cliffs of Antarctica could not have thrilled him more: it was majestic and wonderful at once—and she, a miracle.

He grasped the portion of the fruit that was still visible and pulled it gently back—but not entirely—out. With about an inch to go, her muscles began to contract once again—and the banana to disappear with the effort. She and Kit continued this trick for only a few minutes, as the fruit was beginning to lose its firmness. He took it out entirely—and ate it.

He then unbound her ankles, unbound her wrists, took the napkin away from her eyes and kissed her as he’d kissed her once before at the Boathouse. “Let’s go upstairs, darling,” he said. His wish coincided perfectly with her own. He grabbed the four bed pillows and followed her up the stairs. She walked to the bed and lay down immediately on her back. He climbed on top of her, kissed her once more on the mouth, then moved his mouth down between her legs.

What met his tongue was the sweetest, most exciting fruit punch he’d ever tasted. She came long and effortlessly in his mouth. Denmark was a quiet country—and so, from the neck up she came into a pillow. He then climbed on top, entered her, and within seconds released all of the pent-up energy of the previous couple of hours. She came immediately again with him, and this time it was his mouth that muffled her screams.

Several minutes later, he rolled off. “Darling,” she whispered.  “Would you be horribly offended if I douched? I’d love to keep all of it right there until morning. But the yeasty beasties, you know—I’m sure they’d have a field day.”

He kissed her forehead. “Always thinking, aren’t you, my little mermaid! Of course, I wouldn’t be offended. Please,” he said indicating the door to the bathroom.

When she came back five minutes later and slid back in under the duvet, he curled up behind her and kissed the nape of her neck. Any further verbal declarations of love at this point would’ve been superfluous. The fact of it to both of them was crystal clear—and plain as punch.

Chapter 61

When Kit awoke the next morning, it was to gray skies and warm but womanless sheets. He got out of bed, dressed, went downstairs and found her in the kitchen.

“
Morning, darling. ‘Sleep well?”

“
Yes. And you?”

“
Very well, thanks.” He waited to see where and how the conversation would next go. Would she mention anything about the previous evening? Would she, perhaps, pay him the kindness of a compliment?  No. Stone silence from a statue with a sponge. “Any coffee, Daneka?” More silence. Maybe, Kit thought, she’d misunderstood him. Maybe she’d thought he was asking whether they should start a coffee plantation in Africa. Meanwhile, she continued scrubbing the counter.

Kit stood up, walked up behind her and took her wrists. “Coffee?”

“
Oh! Sorry, darling. I didn’t hear you.” She took a cup and saucer down from the cabinet. Kit sat back down in his chair and looked out the window. Denmark—he thought—could certainly be a drag. He wondered whether anyone had ever thought to name a shade of gray ‘Denmark Dreary.’ He looked back at Daneka and saw that she’d gone back to her scrubbing. He stood up again to get a better angle—to see what it was she was scrubbing. There was nothing. The spot was spotless.

He decided to risk making his own coffee and opened the door to the refrigerator.

“
What are you looking for, darling?”

“
Uh, the coffee. Beans. Grind. Anything that suggests caffeine.”

“
I really think we should be drinking more milk. Why don’t you have a glass of milk instead?”

“‘
Milk’ doesn’t quite satisfy my yen for caffeine.” he answered.

“
Oh, all right.” She pushed him aside rather less than lovingly. He shrugged and sat back down. He watched her reach in and grab a tin of coffee, set it on the counter, then grab her sponge again and begin to wipe down the shelves in the refrigerator.

“
Coffee, Daneka? Café?”

“
Yes, yes. I’m getting to it.”

Kit decided this was a good time for a smoke. The scene was just too bizarre, he thought. He stepped outside the front door and lit up. It was drizzling. Drab Denmark. But then he thought again as the nicotine finally lit a fresher, happier fire in his brain. Today is a day for gardening. What more could a guy want? He took another drag and decided to walk around the property. There it was—exactly as he’d sketched it out in his imagination the evening before—before everything else, that is. He saw what looked like a toolshed and opened the door. Sure enough: shovels, rakes, trowels—even a Japanese weeding knife. Daneka was nothing if not thorough—at least in her acquisition of the implements of gardening. He inspected her tools more closely and discovered that most of them had never been used. That, or she was so careful and thorough in their clean-up, they just looked as if they’d never been used. Well, this was one thing he was about to change; they’d get a good workout over the next several days.