Moving Into the Mansion

She closed her eyes, and the possibility of being caught by someone—anyone—dissipated as she focused on the pleasure he was giving her.”

I have Jade and her 5 year old son move in with me at 9250 Meadow Brook Dr, in the heart of Old Preston Hollow.
The house sits on 2 plus acre gated property, the house is 5 beds, 7 baths, 12,470 sq.ft. The home is custom built
on a gorgeous heavily treed lot with live flowing creek viewed from multiple rooms. A footbridge extends over the creek to a large grassy area. The elegant and gracious living centers show craftsman detail. The downstairs master suite has sitting area, huge bath, dual closets and exercise room. This is one home that Jade never imagined ever living in. The rooms are elegantly furnished, the windows providing an expansive view of the grounds. Jade’s thoughts; Why are you doing this? This is not your style. My note, along with a single red rose, were delivered by hand to her office. Embossed in gold on the envelope was her name. A wax seal closed the flap. The writing on the seal to difficult to read. She turned and flipped it several times, trying to figure out its contents. Once open, inside was an invitation. She remembers her hands trembling as she read the card. Where had this come from?

Looking back the card was more of a summons than an invitation. She had even thrown it away, then retrieved it. Something about it commanded her response, she had complied. Her hand down at her side as she walked down a hall. Her legs wobbly in the high heels that she never wears anymore, but were requested in the note. Each step down the long hall reminded her of the panties, still lying on her bed, again by request. Her nipples strained at the silk blouse, breasts swaying slightly with each step. The silk of the blouse soft and smooth. Feeling so good.
A turn to the left, is a large wood door. Her breathing coming quicker. A note in the same script attached to the door. Telling, no imploring her to enter. She knocks, no one answered. Herr hand quivers as she reaches for the brass knob. Quietly the door swings open. The entire room surrounded by glass. The view of the landscape breathe taking. Deeper you move into the room. The champagne bucket standing there, alone in the center of the room. Single glass alongside. Another note the same handwriting. Jade reaches for the bottle and pours a full glass. Sipping she reads the next note. You know inside that you can’t do this. You turn to leave. Another sip of the cool bubbly wine tasting sweet and tingly. Jade hesitates, rereads the note. Another drink long and hard, draining the glass.

There is a scarf on the couch, per the note. Folded, length wise, a long thin line. She touches the scarf, fingers moving slowly over the fabric. Silk she guesses. Taking it into her hands, she turns it over and over. Laying it back on the couch she turns again to leave. Then back, and then to leave. What’s happening to her? Breathing rapid, heart pounding she returns to the couch and the scarf. Retrieving it, holding the length in both hands, she raises it up. She feels the fabric on the bridge of her nose. Her fingers tremble as the knot pulls tight behind her head. Her view obscured. Vision lost. She stands hands at her side. Knees shaking mind running wild. Hearing acute. She stands per the note. Clearing her throat, she speaks, her voice quaking. ” I am here.” Fear running rampant in her mind. Head turning, trying to hear. No sound, how long has she been standing there? She hears the soft breathing of another. Her hands start to rise. Her need to see greater than ever. My voice ” Please leave it, or I will have to leave. You are free, you came here on your own, and may leave at anytime.” Her hands gradually moving back to her side. That voice, is John’s. Soft, gentle, commanding. She wants to move toward me. But she stands. My warm breath on her bare neck. Her skin trembles, body tingling. Her head turns, exposing more of the soft pale flesh of her neck. Her breathing faster, knees shaking as she stands, inwardly proud that she is here.

A whisper in her ear soft and commanding. She removes the coat as requested. She feels me moving around her. She feels my eyes upon her. Her nipples press hard against the fabric. She knows I’m standing there before her. Watching her. Her back arches. Pressing the fabric of the blouse tighter against her body. Why? Something soft, slick moves across her neck. It feels so good. Her skin calling out for more. A stronger touch. It moves away. Then again across the exposed flesh above her breasts. Her body moves into the touch. Breasts swelling, trying to grasp more of the touch. Her head falls back, the caresses continue. Her hands move out to grasp. ” No,” I whisper. A murmured command soft and demanding. She feels the distance from me now. Her hands move to the top button on the blouse. She hesitates again. Fear and longing. The button opens. The cool air across the newly exposed flesh. Nipples growing. Mind flooded with thoughts. The next button and the taught fabric opens across her body. Two more buttons and she stands blouse open before the unseen. She pulls the blouse from the waist of the skirt. A shrug and she feels it pass her legs on the way to the floor. Standing there. Not a sound, save for her own breathing and pounding of her heart. The object moving across her again. Her neck craving more and more. Another command and her hands move to her breasts. She feels their familiar weight. She caresses herself gently. She enjoys the growing heat within. Fingers twisting nipples. Her own touch so soft. Her hands move over her upper body. Slowly, savoring the silky smoothness.

She knows she is being watched and she doesn’t care. She needs this, a deep need. Her hands are moving constantly more bold. Caresses firmer. She leans forward to feel the full import of the soft flesh in her hands. More and more she strokes the fullness. The sides, the underneath, the hardness of the nipple. Never has she felt this. Never has her own touch been so electric. Never has she been this way in front of another. She feels my stare. Hands moving lower. She presses the skirt against her. Touching the material against the full flowering of her sex. She rocks gently against her probing fingers. The skirt soft and cool against her feels wonderful. The touch of her fingers stronger more intense. Herr hips undulating. A moan escapes her lips. Hands, not hers, slide the side zipper of the skirt gently down. Inch by inch, slowly she feels the waistband open. She no longer cares herr desire too great.

Body covered only by the wobbling heels. Hands again at her side as requested. Her feel, no sense of me moving around her, circling. Legs parted slightly, she detects the scent of her in the air. Again she senses the circling movement. Another slight breathe near her ear, and another command. Legs parting, opening more. Her body completely exposed. Her hands moving again over her body. Her fingers are drawn to her need. She moves to touch, but are stopped. Her wetness is felt at the top of her warm thighs. Her hips moving to their own rhythm. Her body is performing an ancient dance. Her hands again to her breasts. Needing, squeezing, stroking, touching her harder firmer. A Warm breath between her legs. Her scent now fills the air. Her hands working faster. Her heat and desire growing without limits. Her leg jumps at the gentle touch upon her calf, imploring movement. She opens more. The caress gentle, from behind, moves slowly upward. My hand firmly between her shoulders bids her to lean forward. She feels my presence behind her. My breath upon her thighs. My hand moves higher.

She bends slightly at the knee. Moving down toward the touch. Hips rocking, her body is longing, for the touch upon her. My breath closer, higher. Her wetness flowing. My fingers moving in the moisture. Completely bare, her lust demanding release. My hands upon her, another moan escapes. How could I know the way to touch? her senses concentrated on her need. My fingers moving slowly, her hips pressing against them. Need like fire building. Her hands moving on her breasts, my fingers between her legs. She bends more, offering more. The touch bolder, probing.