Sweet Surrender Pt. 08 by steadygaze00

Literotic asexstories – Sweet Surrender Pt. 08 by steadygaze00

Sienna + Ben

Date: Sat Oct 02, 9:06 AM

Subject: Chat Log

[Sienna]: I’m very grateful to you for completing my alter-ego’s raunchy tale of a rash and reckless girl roughly conquered. Thank you!!!

[Ben]: You’re welcome! The wrap-up was a long time coming, I know. Some of it was your fault, though!

[Sienna]: You left it on another cliff-hanger, that’s punishment enough.

[Ben]: True, with nothing else in the works. It’s a long-term denial play!

[Sienna]: Totally unnecessary. I’m still in my usual state, even after some relief last night. Maybe worse. I’m feeling wickedly impulsive, honestly. I might fuck the next guy that so much as glances at me.

[Ben]: Are you looking for permission? Or to be forbidden?

[Sienna]: What sort of woman would you like me to be?

[Ben]: Forbidden it is, then!

[Sienna]: Decisive. You know how much I like that… And can I ask you a question? Do anklets like the one in your story actually exist, or are they just a figment of your fiendish imagination?

[Ben]: Yes, they exist. I used some creative license around how cleverly it locks, that’s all. You need a uniquely-shaped tool to open and close it. Doesn’t come in a standard set of allen wrenches, and the screw is almost impossible to force turn with anything else.

[Sienna]: Got it. And how severe are they? Do they just look like jewelry?

[Ben]: There are some options. Here, check out the website. Why all these questions? Are you thinking about buying one for yourself? A kind of story souvenir of your own?

[Sienna]: Maybe. Browsing…

[Ben]: Feel free, take your time!

[Sienna]: Oooh, etched titanium. You know I’m the sort of lady who’s going to get very excited about premium options!

[Ben]: Sure, but I wouldn’t describe any of the choices as delicate, feminine designs really, though. They might not suit your style…

[Sienna]:…

[Ben]: You still there?

[Sienna]: Had to measure my ankle. Order confirmed. Ships Wednesday!

[Ben]: What? Really? Wowwww. I’m glad I’ve inspired you! And I hope it gives you some real-life satisfaction. Or frustration, actually.

[Sienna]: Oh, I think you might get to help me out with that.

[Ben]: Now slow down there. What happened to cyber-only, silly girl?

[Sienna]: It will require elaborate conditions. I’ll send you a note before the end of the weekend to explain. I have to work out all the details first.

[Ben]: Huh. You clearly weren’t joking about your mood today. “Wickedly impulsive” did NOT do it justice.

[Sienna]: I warned you about the potential depths of my depravity…

To: Ben

Date: Sun Oct 3, 11:01 PM

Subject: Exposing one slender ankle

Ok, are you ready for this? Here’s what I’m willing to do as a final thank you for all of your creativity these past few months:

My anklet should be here by the end of the week. Online shopping packages arrive for me all the time, it won’t even get noticed. I’ll check it out and make sure I’m totally happy with it, and let you know.

After that, hubby leaves on a business trip to Europe on Sunday morning. My plan is to put the anklet on once he’s safely out the door. Wear it around the house for a bit doing chores. Maybe play a little dress-up.

Then I’m going to head out for lunch at the nature park. There is a café there with a huge wood-fenced outdoor patio. I go there all the time, and in fact it just so happens I was there today to scope it out. I spotted the perfect section where I can sit along the fence and expose my foot and ankle underneath it to anyone who might be passing by…

If, shortly thereafter, say noon exactly, I heard a knock on the wood, I would know that someone was on the other side of the fence admiring my new jewelry. If that occurred, I might even drop something for my admirer to pick up and hold onto… temporarily. For the day.

To be clear, this is not a date, and it is not a hook-up. We would never see each other face-to-face. But it would provide me with more than enough confirmation that all of this really did happen. That you are an actual person who really does live in the same city. And it would fill my imagination with so much of what *could yet* happen, that I will likely be sopping wet and eager to rush home and frig myself senseless — based on my current state just from typing this out.

I would return to the café again for dinner, and be seated in a similar location by 6pm, expecting to hear another knock and then my little gift returned to me under the fence. A second fleeting chance to pass within inches of each other, your hand and my cuffed ankle being the only tormented glimpses we get of each other. For the moment.

What do you think? I know this may take some coordination on your part. We can adjust the timing or even the day, but I don’t often get the same level of independence and privacy that I will have this weekend…

I’ve attached a map with the precise location pinned. It should be very easy to find… and I await your reply rather anxiously.

Gushingly yours, Sienna xxx

To: Sienna (Draft)

Date: Sun Oct 10, 4:59 PM

Subject: Re: Exposing one slender ankle

I’m keeping this message in my drafts for the time being. But then I’m probably going to share it with you afterwards? I guess it all depends. We’ll wait and see how this goes first.

As you already know by now, our first contact went exactly as you imagined it would. It took me a minute to find the correct spot along the fence, but once I saw that glint of metal, there was no doubt I was in the right place. I’m sure I looked suspicious lurking in the bushes there, tapping on the fence, but it was worth it.

I wasn’t convinced (until I actually saw it) that you were going to hand the unlocking tool over to me for the day. That took some serious guts on your part! I’m also guessing it was probably mostly theatre, and you’ve kept an extra one back at the house. But what was very unexpected was having it fall into my hands on a bed of your lace panties! Damn. No theatre there, they had definitely been worn recently. Kudos to you for completely recreating the scandalous state of affairs at the end of my story. I appreciate a woman with that much attention to detail, and I should have been expecting it from you!

I will confess, though, that all of this skulking and scheming and clandestine exchanging of lewd items has had the effect of bringing out a side of me that I keep tucked away for story time. What is the appropriate next thing to do after a mysterious silhouette passes you their damp underwear under a fence? Do you take a long, boring, lonely, frustrated walk in the park? Do you find a secluded spot to wank off, only to accidently wipe yourself off with poison ivy? Or do you just get on your bike, squeal out of the parking lot, and head home again? I thought hard about that last one, as another way to mirror the story ending. Would you have heard the screeching tire and known? Yeah, probably!

But in fact, my first instinct was to think about going into full stalker mode. I’d already toyed with the idea of coming early, beating you to the café so I could grab a table on the patio first, then pretend to be working on my laptop as I spied on you. In my imagination, I got a full look at you while you only caught glimpses of me without even realizing it (until I confessed later, and then you tried to recall the faces you’d seen). But there was no realistic way to stay incognito and get the timing right, or to manage to slip in and out at the right time without drawing attention. Especially in the fall, with cooler weather and fewer people sitting outside. It was also clearly breaking the spirit of what we’d agreed to, which was to maintain anonymity for a while longer.

The next thing I thought about was just waiting around outside the building and watching for you as you left. And yeah, ok, maybe even following you just a little. That impulse was strongest once I realized I would get the chance to watch you walk in the heels you’d obviously worn for this special occasion. No matter the outcome here, you can’t claim you weren’t being a blatant tease! The anklet meant I couldn’t wind up tailing the wrong person, and in this imagined scenario I would have never revealed myself, but those were pretty weak rationalizations for what was once again breaking our agreement, and probably worse, pushing pretty hard into “creepy fucking asshole” territory.

Despite talking myself down from all of that, I still felt a little defiant. There was something eating away at my gut. This whole situation, everything I was doing today, each little detail, had been laid out by you. And up to this point, everything was happening exactly to your expectations. That wasn’t sitting great with me. You know me well enough by now to know that I like to set my own expectations. I needed to feel like I had left my fingerprints on this singular day, too.

If that meant I had to break some rules, it felt like I would have to commit to either going big, or going home. Now, going REALLY big would have been accepting your gift through the fence and then standing up, walking straight into the café and sitting down directly across from you, my eyes locked on yours. Obviously, I didn’t end up doing that, but I wanted you to know that I came VERY damn close. It was a huge turn-on as I psyched myself up to do just that, right up to the point where I had missed my chance. Then there was a tinge of regret.

But hey, look at me! I held myself back from doing ALL of those things! Aren’t you proud of my self-restraint? Or are you a touch disappointed? Either way, will that help you forgive me for what I’m about to do?

To: Ben

Date: Sun Oct 10, 6:21 PM

Subject: Where the fuck are you?!?

Hello? Did something happen to you? Or are you just screwing with me?! If you are, that is NOT. FUCKING. COOL.

The tool I gave you is the only one that came with the anklet! I still can’t take this fucking thing off! I never thought about ordering a spare, because I’m a fucking idiot, and it’s starting to dawn on me that you’ve explicitly chosen to take advantage of the fact that I was thinking with my cunt instead of my brain! Trust me, I will not make that mistake again. And I am not the same woman you made up in your stories, no matter how much you want to wish that into existence.