CapturedbytheSS (14 page)

Oh for God’s sake, I am
not
going to fondle the man’s
uniform! I have some restraint.

Embarrassed by my lapse in judgment, I walk to the bathroom
and then rinse off my face with some cool water. It helps, and I march back to
the table, determined to merely read the day away. I retrieve the thickest book
he left me. I don’t even look at the uniform as I walk to the bed with the
book. With a huff, I sit down on the plush mattress. Sitting cross-legged, I
place the book in my lap and then glare at the words. I only read a few
sentences before my treacherous eyes lift up.

I stare at the uniform.

For the first time in my life, I feel lonely. I’m accustomed
to spending my time by myself, but I’ve rarely, if ever, felt lonely. But
today, well, I miss him, and I hate myself for missing him.

I look toward the window. It’s bright outside, albeit a
little gray with some snow flurries. He said he’d be home after dark. Would it
be so horrible to place his clothes next to me? I could tell him I got cold and
used them for extra cover if he noticed they were disturbed. Of course, I’d put
them back on the chair before he came home.

I retrieve both the t-shirt and the tunic. The black tunic
is heavier than I thought it would be. I think it’s made out of wool. Again,
its texture is familiar. Swallowing hard, I position his clothes next to me on
the mattress. I turn the uniform in a way that I can’t see the swastika on the
red armband or the SS insignia on the lapel. This is already confusing enough.

I’m torn over which garment I like better. The t-shirt is
heavier with his distinct scent, but the tunic’s texture reminds me of holding
him.

I’m crazy, I know. It’s one thing when he seduces me, but to
voluntarily cuddle up with his clothes is a bit weird. But the scent on his
t-shirt and the feel of his uniform make me feel less lonely.

Oddly enough, it’s a bit more relaxing to just enjoy his
memory and his scent like this. I’m not as nervous as I am when I’m with him. I
press my face against his clothes, remembering the feel of his hands on my
body, his lips on my neck.

A dull ache settles between my thighs. I want him to touch
me. I
need
him to touch me. Closing my eyes, I envision him with me. My
fingers rake through my curls, grazing the sensitive flesh of my slickening
folds. I swallow hard as I remember his tongue on my ear.

I roll over on my back, pulling my hand from my center and
then gently strum over my rock-hard nipples. The moment my fingers graze the
erect peaks, there’s a jolt between my thighs.

In all my life, I’m not sure I’ve ever been more aroused
than I am at this moment. I feel a certain freedom in my current solitude as if
I’m exploring an aspect of my sexuality I never knew existed. His scent is
inspiring me to try new things I’ve never done with my own fingers.

I tenderly circle and then pinch each of my hardened
nipples. The sensation hurts a little, but it also feels good. I only wish he
were here to pinch and toy with my erect peaks.

My hands slide down my stomach and stop at my thighs. My
fingers gingerly part my folds, exposing my clit to the air. My nub is
throbbing. Hot wetness slowly oozes from me as I keep teasing myself.

Somehow, denying my body the pleasure of a quick and easy
release is more satisfying. My sheath painfully clenches and releases,
searching for something to fill it, aching for the warm cock that so recently
claimed it the night before.

I can’t even stop my fingers from slowly pushing into my
slick passage. It’s not nearly as good as his thick arousal, but it helps. I
pull my fingers from me, shocked at how hot and wet they are. I’m not sure why,
but I feel compelled to push myself even further. I feel so wanton and lustful.
I spread my thighs as wide as I can. My fingers smear my warm juices, coating
the tender skin between my sheath and anus.

Steven tried to have anal sex with me once, but it hurt like
hell, so we never tried again. One of my slick fingers gently pushes against my
anus while my other hand massages my drenched folds.

In all my life, I’ve never explored myself so zealously.
More wetness oozes from me as my fingers tenderly claim my passages. A twinge
of guilt suddenly hits me. I almost feel I’m betraying him, as if my fingers
are exploring territory that doesn’t really belong to me, though I know that’s
utterly ridiculous. It’s
my
body, and I can touch it if I want. I’m not
sure why, but a part of me disagrees. I push aside the odd thought.

An incredibly intense orgasm rocks through me, but I don’t
drag out my release the way he does. Instead, I stop when I’ve had enough.

Groaning, I pull my fingers from me. My hands are coated
with my drying juices, so I get up and quickly wash them in the bathroom sink.
With an appreciative sigh, I crawl back into bed and cuddle up with his
clothes. Sleepiness washes over me as I bury my face against his t-shirt.

* * * * *

Half-asleep, I take in the scent of his t-shirt beneath me.
Erotic dreams linger as I sleepily stroke and clutch his tunic. The memory of
his breath on my neck washes through me. Jeez, I can practically feel it.
There, I can feel it again. New desire awakens in me.

I groan softly against his clothes, wanting him, needing
him. My sheath painfully clenches and releases, searching once again for
something to fill it…searching for him. Still half-asleep, my fingers slide
between my thighs. I cup my mound and apply just enough pressure to coax a
quick and blissful release. I moan softly and breathe a sleepy sigh of relief.

Inhaling deeply, I cuddle up happily with the garments and
try to go back to sleep, but the hairs on the back of my neck prickle slightly.
There’s a soft noise. Something’s not quite right. Before I completely wake up,
I realize the breath I just felt on my neck wasn’t a memory. Oh God, he was
watching me.

Shaking away sleep, I discover the room is dark. Oh crap,
it’s late! Startled, I sit up. He’s kneeling on the floor next to the bed. I
have no idea how long he’s been there or what exactly he saw, but I know he saw
enough.

The light from the hall is spilling through the open door,
illuminating both me and his uniform on the bed. Off to the side, he’s hidden
in shadow.

“How long have you been there?” I demand. Feelings of shame
and embarrassment crash down on me.

He doesn’t say anything. His silence scares me.

After several minutes, he finally speaks. “Do that again.”

“What?”

“I just want to watch you.” Without another word and without
turning on the lights, he walks around the bed to the other side. His form
blocks the incoming light for only a moment. I hear him readjusting the chair
by the bed before he sits down. I can just barely make out his silhouette in
the dark room. Unlike him, I’m bathed in a rectangle of light that’s shining
through the open door from the hall.

“Go on,” he urges.

“I…I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Close your eyes and put your head back down.”

“Please, I can’t.”

“Do it,
fräulein,
” he orders. His words are cold and
demanding. It’s almost a threat.

Fear and nervousness pushes away my desire. Tears pool in my
eyes as I look away from him.

I hear him sigh. I think he’s angry with himself. “It’s all
right, American,” he whispers a bit kinder. “You missed me today, didn’t you?”

Struggling to breath, I reluctantly answer. “Yes.”

“The scent on my uniform and the feel of it reminded you of
me, didn’t it?”

I shift around a bit, feeling exposed and uncomfortable.
“Yes.”

“You touched yourself for sexual gratification, and you
thought of me, didn’t you?”

I hesitate a moment. I know he already knows that, but once
again I sense he likes asking questions and having his questions answered. I
can tell he’s waiting for me to respond. “Yes,” I finally whisper.

“Try to relax, American,” he gently instructs. “I won’t
expect you to climax, but at least touch yourself for me. Show me what you did
and how you did it.”

That request doesn’t sound quite as impossible. I could at
least show him, even if I can’t come from it. Of course, I’m not sure why I
want to show him, but I do. And I think he only caught the tamer version of
what I just did while half-asleep. I’m not sure I could repeat what I did
earlier this afternoon…at least, not in front of him.

Exhaling deeply, I turn my face away from him and from the
light. Burying my face against the soft cloth of his t-shirt, I inhale the
familiar scent I’ve breathed in all afternoon. My hand strokes over the tunic
as my breathing slightly quickens. Much to my relief, he doesn’t say anything.
I think he’s even taking shallow breaths to keep from disturbing me.

The all-too-familiar combination of his scent and his
clothes’ texture wrap me in blissful and familiar warmth, a feeling I’ve
enjoyed and basked in all afternoon. Much to my surprise, my desire reawakens.
I wait for him to say or do something, but he doesn’t. A strange giddiness
washes over me. I’m suddenly thrilled by the idea of him watching me, though I
have no idea why. Only moments ago, the idea of him watching frightened me. But
now that he’s backed off a bit, I feel I might be able to actually climax.

I roll on my side, wanting him to see what I’m doing,
wanting him to see where I put my hand. My other arm is folded lazily over my
eyes, blocking out the light. I can feel his eyes on me. I detect a slight
hitch in his breathing, though I sense he’s trying to hide it from me.

My fingers just barely graze over one of my nipples before
slipping down between my thighs. I hear him take another sharp breath. When he
exhales, it’s ragged and uneven. My fingernails rake through my curls, and I
groan softly. Swallowing hard, I fold my fingers toward my clit. I gently
stroke my aching nub, applying just enough pressure to find a quick and intense
release. I cry out softly, and I hear him take another uneven breath. After
several minutes, I merely wait for whatever he’s going to say or do next.

I hear him approaching.

“Come here,” he orders quietly. He kneels on the bed and
then gently pulls me off the mattress and into the dark. Wordlessly, he pushes
me to my knees on the floor. I know what he wants. I hear him unzip his
trousers before his hand slips under my hair and firmly clasps the back of my
neck.

I don’t have any experience in oral sex. Steven used to tell
me he liked the feel of my tight pussy, and he never asked me to do it. I feel
a bit lost, but I’m willing to try. My seduction teacher actually gave me a lot
of advice on this.

The blunt tip of his erect cock prods at my lips. Closing my
eyes, I open my mouth. He pulls me gently toward him. It feels a bit awkward
and foreign for a man’s cock to stretch my lips, to have a thick arousal fill
my mouth almost to the back of my throat. But it’s not overwhelming.

As if sensing my inexperience, my captor offers me
instruction.

“Wrap your lips around me,” he whispers. “Suck me.”

Sealing my lips around smooth skin, I gently suck him and
pull back slightly on his erection. He groans in response, which I take as a
sign of approval. But I think he prefers more of his cock inserted because he
quickly adds, “Try to take a little more of me in your mouth—” He pulls me
toward him again. “The way you had me before.”

His hand is warm and supportive on the back of my neck.
Slackening my lips, I take in more of his arousal, stopping just before the tip
touches the back of my throat. My tongue naturally glides out flat on the
underside of his organ. I’m a little surprised at just how easy this is coming
for me. Again, he groans in response.

Like him, I think I prefer more of his cock inserted. The
idea of his arousal filling my mouth and claiming this virgin territory
strangely arouses me. Balancing myself on my knees, I gently strum my hardened
nipples. Since we’re in the shadows, I don’t think he knows what I’m doing,
which I’m currently grateful for. It shocks me how lustful this man makes me.
Hot liquid slowly oozes from me as I keep sucking and working his member.

The dull ache in my pussy becomes too great for me to
ignore. I slip my fingers into my dripping cleft and desperately stroke my
clit.

I can’t believe how much I missed him today. I’ve never
ached for anyone or longed for someone, but I ached for him today. I suffered
without him. I had to make do with only his scent on the uniform, and now,
well, I’m so relieved and happy he’s here that I’d do anything to please him.

“I want you to swallow when I come,” he rasps.

I barely register the words as warm fluid spills in my
mouth. I mindlessly swallow. His release is enough to push me over the edge.
With his cock still in my mouth, I moan slightly as I quietly climax.

He’s silent for a moment. Backing away, he pulls himself
from me.

“Were you touching yourself?”

“Yes,” I whisper without thinking.

He chuckles. “Naughty girl. I didn’t say you could do that.”

A brief wave of panic hits me. Did I do something wrong? I
guess he senses something amiss because he quickly adds, “It’s all right,
American. I forgive you.” His fingers rake through my hair. “I know you’re
untrained.”

Untrained? Untrained at what? Before I can ask what he means
by that, he gathers me up off the floor.

He leads me back to the bed where he has me slip under the
covers.

He doesn’t follow me under the blankets. Instead, I hear him
taking off his uniform. He walks away and then turns off the light in the hall.
The room turns black. I hear him come back.

With a sigh, he slips under the blankets with me. I bury my
face against his bare, muscular chest. I’ve never felt such an overwhelming
need to be near someone. His arms blissfully wrap around me. I know he recently
climaxed, so sex may have to wait, but just lying next to him in the dark like
this is kinda…nice.