Kajirus of Gor Chapter Nine

 “That was… unexpected,” said Felicity as she softly squeezed the fingers of my left hand again. 

 

“Unexpected or unwelcome?” My head was swimming a little. I had acted impulsively, and already alarm bells were ringing in my head.

 

“Unexpected.” She smiled. “You must really like my dress.”

 

“I do.” 

 

“Show me again how much you like my dress?”

 

I shouldn’t. I knew this was wrong. It broke all my rules. But I kissed her again as she pressed her body softly against mine as we concluded our dance. 

 

Neither of us said anything as we returned to the bar. There was nothing really to say. I’d crossed a line, and once you cross a line, things can’t go back to being the way they were before. I watched as Felicity retrieved her small clutch bag from the barman, and, opening it with a click, picked out her mirror compact and a small tube of lipstick. “Look at the state of my lips,” she said with a soft smile. “Beast,” she whispered softly in amusement as a few brash strokes of the lipstick restored them back to life. “I suppose you’re going to take me home now?”

 

I didn’t say anything. I think we both knew what she meant by home. That it was an invitation to me.

 

I shouldn’t go beyond a kiss. I knew I shouldn’t.

 

“Felicity…”

 

“Shhh. Don’t say it.” She lifted a finger and touched my lip with it. “Don’t spoil the moment.”

 

She was infuriating, but also very lovely. I let myself enjoy the sight of her body, so clearly outlined in that short cocktail dress. I enjoyed the way her high heels arched her calf muscles and made her legs look longer, slimmer, tighter. I knew I wanted her. 

 

“Thank you,” she said to the barman, as she snapped the clasps of the clutch bag shut. 

 

“Have a pleasant evening, Miss,” he replied, with a wink at me when she wasn’t looking.

 

I passed the barman a tip for looking after Felicity’s clutch bag while we danced, and then I led her by her right elbow, back towards the main doors. Her heels clicked on the tiled floor in the reception area as she walked beside me.

 

Outside, the air was misty with a very light drizzle of rain that had mostly ceased. We walked down the street towards the parked car, round the corner, Felicity leaning into me a little as I paced my step to match hers.

 

Still we didn’t speak. Felicity no doubt had an idea what was going to happen now, but I wasn’t so sure. I opened the passenger door and helped her slide inside, raising and swinging her heels round once that precious bottom was safely settled on the leather upholstery. By the glow of the dashboard light she looked incredibly desirable. 

 

“Well, that was an evening,” she said as I switched on the ignition.

 

“I’ll take you home, and…”

 

“Yes. Take me home.” She didn’t let me finish my sentence. 

 

We passed another large billboard sign with another trophy housewife looking smugly pleased with herself. Love Your Life, read the slogan. Another one, half a mile on, read Be Feminine. Be Happy.

 

I felt the tenseness in the air as I pulled the car in to Felicity’s private parking space. “I’ll walk you to your front door, and then I should go,” I said, as I switched the engine off. 

 

She said nothing, just looked at me. I got out of the car, walked round to the side, opened her door and helped her emerge. She leaned slightly into my body as she straightened herself, and then she brushed her hair back with her right hand as she regarded the front door of her Brownstone building. 

 

“You’ll come inside?” she asked.

 

“Felicity, we both know…”

 

“You’ll come inside,” she said, but this time it wasn’t spoken as a question. 

 

“You’re a client.”

 

And then she kissed me. It was sudden, and she lifted herself on her tip toes to kiss me. What could I do? I held her and kissed her back. When we finally broke apart, I knew I was coming inside with her. 

 

She led me by my hand to the front door, fumbled with her key, managed to breathlessly open it and stab quickly with her fingers to disarm the house security system, as the sixty second countdown began.

 

I followed her down the hallway and into the reception room that I knew well enough by now. 

 

“Alexa, lights, relaxed mode,” she said, as soft lights sprang on, and she dropped her clutch bag on a small table. “Alexa, music please, Playlist three.” Soft pop music began to play from hidden speakers. My lack of familiarity with chart music meant it could be anything or anyone and probably was. “Alexa, hold all calls,” she added, finally.

 

She turned to face me. “I’m actually a bit nervous, Roland.”

 

“It’s okay.” I stepped slowly towards her. 

 

“You have to understand I don’t normally do this. I don’t bring men back to my house.”

 

“It’s okay,” I said again. And then we were together, Felicity in my arms, and we kissed again, but this time for longer. 

 

“Roland?” She looked even more nervous as she looked up. “I want you to know… this is my first time.”

 

“Really?” I must have seemed surprised. 

 

She touched her lower lip with her teeth, nervously, and nodded, embarrassed. “I may not know… all the things… to do... with a man.”

“Luckily for us, I do know.” I brushed back some of her hair and kissed her again. 

 

“Take me upstairs?” she said, making it sound like an appeal. 

 

“You’re sure about this?”

 

“I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

 

She led the way, up the stairs, along the landing, and on through towards her bedroom. “I need to freshen up a little,” she said, pausing before the door, as she indicated a bathroom at the opposite end of the landing. “I won’t be long.”

 

“Felicity, do you have any protection?” I suspected not. 

 

“No.” Her eyes couldn’t look away from me.

 

“I should get some.”

 

“Please don’t go!” She was afraid I’d change my mind and not come back, and yes, there was a possibility of that.

 

“Felicity, I’m not having sex with you, unprotected.”

 

“Roland… we could be careful.”

 

“It doesn’t work like that. Look, there’s a late-night drug store around the corner. I’ll buy some condoms.”

 

“You won’t come back,” she said.

 

“I will.”

 

“Promise me?”

 

“I promise.”

 

I left the house and walked back down the street where Felicity lived. No way was I having sex with her without some form of contraception. Getting her pregnant by accident wasn’t something her family would take kindly to. The corner shop was open and run by a young black man behind the counter. I walked to the pharmaceutical isle and found a selection of condoms to choose from – Thin Feel, Latex Free, Extended Pleasure, Ribbed, Fruit Flavoured, Invisible Extra Sensitive, Extra Safe, Mutual Climax (how the hell could a condom ensure a mutual climax?), and the interestingly named Magnum BareSkin Large size. There was also a packet labelled Surprise Me. Yeah, right. 

 

I picked out a packet of the Intimate Feel range and read the back of the box: Intimate Feel condoms are thin with extra lubrication creating a smoother, more intimate feeling to heighten sensitivity and increase pleasure. Whereas the Pleasure Me range offered a distinct texture combination, uniquely positioned ribs and raised dots, designed to increase stimulation for you and your partner.

 

These days it’s like having to choose a bottle of wine in a restaurant. 

 

I decided Felicity might appreciate a distinct texture for her first time, especially with some uniquely positioned ribs, and so bought a packet of three of the Pleasure Me ones and a box of the Fruit Flavoured ones, just in case she was excited enough to experiment with her mouth. As I handed over some money, my eyes were drawn to a handmade sign hanging high over the counter:

 

POLITE Notice: Ladies will only be served contraceptives upon presentation of a signed waiver from a formal companion or senior male family member. No Exceptions. Please do not embarrass yourself by asking otherwise. Thank you and have a nice day.

 

“You get many women trying to buy contraception without a waiver form?” I asked.

 

“Nope. They know better,” said the store clerk. He rang up the sale. 

 

“What sort of waiver do they need?”

 

“It can be printed off from the Internet, or we can supply paper copies.”

 

I took the condoms and put them in my pocket. “I guess you like this New Feminism thing?”

 

He looked at me as if I was possibly trouble. “Women need to know their place, Mister.”

 

“And what place is that?”

 

“You British?”

 

“I am, yes.”

 

“You’ve got a real problem with your women in your country, Mister. You need to sort them out while you still can. They’ve got you by the balls.”

 

Charming.

 

I left the store and walked back to Felicity’s house. No wonder she didn’t have any protection. There had to be some places that would still serve her, but I guess it was getting more difficult to find them. 

 

Felicity had given me her door key so I let myself in. The house alarm was still switched off, so I didn’t need to concern myself with that as I closed the door. 

 

I was still of two minds about all of this. But deep down I know I wanted her. Yeah, it was going to cause problems for me later on, but this was now and my blood was running hot. Felicity would be in her bedroom by now, assuming she’d not taken too long to ‘freshen up’.  

 

The modern pop music was still playing throughout the house. It was as banal sounding as when I’d left. 

 

Free spirits, free spirits

Can you hear me callin'?

Oh, it's all or nothin'

When you're free spirits, free spirits

Can you hear it callin'?

'Cause I don't wanna live and die alone, don't let me go

 

“Alexa, play Push Push, album, by Herbie Mann.”

 

The joys of automated voice control. If Felicity objected to my suddenly changing the music, she didn’t say so. I picked out a couple of champagne flutes and a bottle of chilled Bollinger from the fridge and headed upstairs to the landing. 

 

“Felicity? I’m back.” There was soft lighting in her bedroom, and of course the funky jazz of Herbie Mann coming from the upstairs speakers. “I’ve brought you something to drink.”

 

The sight that greeted me in her bedroom stopped me in my tracks. 

 

Felicity lay on her bed, her eyes wide with fright. She was tied to that bed, with ropes around her bound wrists, securing them tightly above her head. Her ankles were tied tightly together, and the bonds secured to the bottom runner of her bed. She still wore her black cocktail dress, but in her struggling, the hem of that dress was now ruched up well past mid-thigh. I could clearly see her pink panties as she tried to free herself. Her left thigh was particularly exposed, where the skirt hem had been drawn fully up past her hip. She was trying to say something, but couldn’t, on account of the rubber bit gag that was wedged firmly between her teeth and secured behind the back of her head, but her eyes warned me to move within a second of entering the room.

 

A man struck out towards me with a hand held stun gun from where he’d been lurking to the side of the door. I had just enough time to register that he wore black skinny fit jeans, a black sweater top, and soft soled shoes for stealth. By luck, I twisted round, striking out with the champagne bottle that connected with the hand holding the stun gun before it could make contact with me.

 

We fought, crashing about the room, with me doing my best to avoid that stun gun as I closed into his body space.  

 

And as we fought, I quickly yelled “Alexa, siren alarm, maximum volume!”

 

God, that was loud! What sort of speakers had Felicity bought?! If my attacker tried to silence Alexa, he was now out of luck because the piercing siren made it impossible for Alexa to hear or register any further command. I felt sure this alarm sound would be heard halfway down the street! Felicity must have spent serious money on the speaker system and amp. If I wasn’t fighting for my life, I’d probably be jealous. 

 

We squared off, with my assailant measuring the distance. Despite the alarm blaring at what must be ear-damaging levels, he seemed keen to try and bring me down. I stumbled backwards, cutting a gash on my leg from a trail of broken glass that was the dropped champagne flutes, but I still had the heavy champagne bottle that I was using as a club. The stun gun darted out at me again, and again I parried with the bottle, which surprisingly didn’t break. Time was now on my side with the siren blaring, and, realising this, the assailant backed away, and, with a safe distance between us, ran back down the landing, down the stairs and out towards the main door. 

 

I considered giving chase, but the stun gun was too much of a threat. It would only take a single contact and I’d be incapacitated. But I did follow down the stairs at a non-threatening distance, to ensure that the black clad intruder had left the house. Standing out on Felicity’s driveway, I could plainly hear the ear-splitting wail, and so could all the neighbours. Lights were appearing in many of the windows of the buildings across the road. Someone would have called the police. It was just a matter of waiting for them.

 

I went back upstairs, closing the front door for now. Felicity struggled in her tight bonds, inadvertently revealing a little more of her panties in the process. Her eyes were wild with terror, and, perhaps a little relief that it was me that had returned, not the intruder.

 

“Easy. He’s gone. The police are on their way. You’re safe.” My feet crunched on the broken glass underfoot as I sat down on the edge of the bed and gaze down at Felicity. She tried mumbling something, but was frustrated in that by the thick rubber gag. It was like a horse’s bridle bit that was wedged deep into her mouth, between her teeth, with a rubber protrusion that then filled her mouth, pressed down her tongue and forced her jaw open to grip the bridle bit. 

 

The rope that secured her wrists and ankles to the bed was lightweight but strong, and the tie at either end seemed professional. I could see immediately how securely she was restrained. She wouldn’t have slipped free of this arrangement in a thousand years. 

 

Behind her head the thick gag was tightly buckled in place. I worked the buckle free and withdrew the restraining rubber bridle bit. Felicity choked, cried and spluttered as she was finally free of the horrible thing. 

 

“Thank you! Thank you!” she cried. 

 

I could barely hear her because of the loud wailing siren. I found the Alexa device and pressed my lips to it so it would hear me instruct “Siren off.” There was silence again, except for a very loud ringing in my ears.   

 

“Untie me! Roland, please untie me!”

 

I was about to do so and then I paused. “Felicity, it might be an idea if I don’t disturb the crime scene. The police should do this, after they’ve taken pictures and checked for evidence.”

 

She struggled wildly, though interestingly had very little room to move. The bonds were such that her wrists were tightly secured to the headboard, and her ankles taught against the base of the bed. This left her body in a straight line, and all it could do was wriggle between its restraints.

 

“No! Don’t leave me like this!”

 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here beside you, but the police need to check for evidence. I shouldn’t contaminate the crime scene.”

“I’m tied! I’m helpless!”

 

For some reason, that obvious statement aroused me a little. Yes, Felicity was tied tightly. And yes, she was completely helpless. And I felt ashamed that the sight of her like this was inherently sexy. I’ve always found bondage to be highly arousing, and the sight of Felicity like this couldn’t help but move me. I took hold of the hem of her skirt that was now pretty much ruched up around her waist.

 

“What are you doing?” She seemed alarmed. My fingers after all hovered very close to the upper line of her panties. It would be easy enough to peel them down past her thighs while she was helpless. I wasn’t going to do that of course. I simply drew the skirt of her cocktail dress back down her body to give her some modesty.

 

And then we waited for the police to arrive.