BEAUTIFUL

Kendel Davi

They say that black don’t crack but hands don’t lie. I’ve spent a fortune on moisturizer, lotions, and skin-firming cream but my hands still scream my experience on this earth. Years of typing have given them a long sinewy look. Right now, my veins percolate under the surface of my skin from the red nylon rope securing my hands to the arms of this chair. I try not to stare but the restriction of blood flow has created a sculpted appearance, as if my hands were carved by an expert confectionery artist. If they had been on display at an exhibit, the realism would be astonishing, but what I need most right now is an escape.

Derek clears his throat. I pop my head up to see his reflection of disapproval in the full-length mirror in front of me. I force a smile, but he seems unmoved. The only thing on my body besides this nylon rope is a pair of black stilettos, so there is no escape for either of us. That’s exactly what he wants. He grits his teeth and whispers, “I wish you appreciated your body the way I do.”

It’s that calm but eerie tone of his voice that grabs me. It’s devoid of emotion except for frustration. I glance at him, watching the muscles in his jaw flex. He holds his tongue from lashing out at my focus on what I perceive as my physical imperfections.

“Tonight I’ll teach you how to embrace how exquisite you are.”

This evening started off as a nice romantic dinner at a five-star hotel. He’d rented a suite on the top floor that overlooked the city. Every few months we’d plan an evening away from the doldrums of our lives to reconnect with each other. Tonight, Derek had gone out of his way to make this evening as perfect as possible. Somehow, between the second glass of Riesling and the dessert, I found myself staring at my hands. Here in the hotel room, the flickering candlelight strobes against my skin. I whisper, “This is what Nefertiti’s mummified hands must have looked like.”

I never intended him to hear that but the familiar clench of his jaw let me know that he had. Then an unexpected laugh broke from his lips. There was nothing sinister about it, but the way he dismissed my comment should’ve been a warning. On the elevator ride to the top floor, he gave my hands soft, delicate kisses. He unzipped the back of my dress as we walked down the hallway. By the time we reached the door, it was falling off of me. In a flight of fancy, I let my cocktail dress fall as he opened the door, and stood there naked except for my heels. His eyes devoured every inch of me as his body blocked my path.

“I should make you stay out here.” The right side of his lips curled with excitement. “You know they have security cameras in these hallways?” Panic gripped me and I pushed Derek out of the way as I bolted past him into the suite.

“I have something better in store for you anyhow.”

I’m not sure if better was the right word. He’s tied me up before but not like this. Every element of my nakedness is now on full display. The same strand of nylon rope secures my arms and legs. It also weaves the rope around my breasts and across my thighs, leaving my pussy open, willing, and exposed. The more I struggle, the tighter the rope grips against my flesh. The stress of not being able to move forces me to sweat, wiping away the concealer that covers my crow’s feet. The muscles in my neck rage into view under the tension. That one large vein that runs down the center of my forehead throbs as if it’s about to burst. The experience of my years is on full display as I turn my focus toward Derek.

His dark gray suit brings out the hazelnut of his skin. His hair, now more salt than pepper, glistens from the overhead light. His appearance has a rugged cuteness. If he had continued to dye his hair he could look fifteen years younger with ease. Then again, as a man, he has that choice and right now I hate him for that.

“Look at yourself, Jamila.”

I feel his erection against my naked back as he steps behind me. I lean back, hoping my stimulation against his cock will spark his need to untie this rope and ravish me. But why would it? Derek has me exactly where he wants me. The mirrored closet in front of the bed leaves me no choice but to accept what I see. This is who I am, wrinkles, veins, and all, and for a brief moment, I embrace that this is what fifty-five looks like on me.

The tension in the ropes appears to relax. My eyes scan every naked inch of my body until my stressed breathing reaches a calming norm. That’s when I hear Derek sucking on his fingers. I glance up right before he removes his index finger from his lips and places it on my clit. He pulls back on the hood. Tension shoots through my body. Now every muscle and vein in my body appears ready to rip through my skin.

“Watch your body as I make you come.” I fight looking at myself, but a pinch of my already erect and aching nipples allows me to give in to him.

“It’s okay. Let go for me.”

He slips his finger inside my glistening cunt. I squirm in an attempt to get him deeper inside me. My body contorts in desperation as Derek keeps me on the precipice of coming.

I beg, “Please,” but his control is relentless.

“Just watch.”

He gives my nipples a flick and slides another finger inside me. My face is no longer recognizable. The wooden legs of the chair creak as I try to get his fingers where I need them to be. I gasp with all my focus on my reflection, understanding the purpose of this journey. In this moment of physical anguish, I unearth the beauty of seeing myself as he sees me. He senses my acceptance and bends his fingers, forcing me to come. My head falls limp, and I’m panting from fatigue as Derek glides his fingers from the depths of my pussy. I hear him sucking my juices off his fingers before he lifts my head. He gives me a kiss and turns my head so I can see the results of tonight’s escapade.

“How do you feel?”

Through glassy eyes, I gaze at my ravished form. As my body returns to its normal state I mumble, “Beautiful.”

He steps in front of me and pulls his hard cock from his pants. He tosses his jacket aside before stepping between my legs. My body trembles from my recent orgasm but my need to have him is paramount. Derek places the head of his cock at the opening of my cunt and fills me up as he purrs, “Yes, Jamila. You are so fucking beautiful.”