“I have something for you.”  

She looked up at him carefully, green eyes widening, pale hands unconsciously reaching back to tuck her long, dark brown hair up so that it fell at the nape of her neck.  Surprises were something that she was accustomed to giving; surprises were not something that she was accustomed to receiving.

“Really?”  

Her voice was soft, suffused with a hint of curiosity.   She reached over and set her glass of prosecco down on the oaken coffee table, then sat back on her haunches, giving him a perfect view of the creamy rise of her breasts above the red and black fishnet and mesh negligee she’d chosen to wear to their little Christmas Eve tete-à-tête.  

“What is it?”  

He said nothing, staring instead at her stunningly pale beauty caught, trapped, by the firelight. He handed over the red box with no pretense of hiding his gaze.  This was no ordinary box, rather one covered in golden glitter that reflected the light cast by the Christmas tree lights and the fire, tied with an extravagantly wide, long, black silken ribbon that ended in a perfect bow, the ends of which cascaded down over her left wrist.  

Watching her, transfixed by her, as she knelt on the dark patterned Oriental rug gracing the living room floor, his eyes flicking between her hands and her eyes and the beautiful curve of her waist, the spread of her wide hips and the full roundness of her ass, he almost forgot about what was in the box he had just handed over.  

“A surprise that I’ve been wanting to give you for a while now.”

She giggled, looking up at him, arching one dark eyebrow.  

“You could’ve just given me a solid fuck, my darling.  Did you want to do that instead?”

Mute, he shook his head.  No. Not now.

She began carefully undoing the ribbon, folds of black fabric falling across thighs so translucently white that they threatened to put milk to shame.  After what seemed to be  an eternity, the ribbon fell away completely, a shimmering black pile on her lap, and the box was as a shucked oyster, ready to be opened.  

“Open it.”  His voice was both hesitant and commanding, anxious and affirmative all at once.

A sharp gasp shattered the quiet of the room as she removed the box lid. Inside, couched in black velvet, glittered the vintage three stone sapphire and diamond engagement ring set in platinum, the same one she’d been coveting for nigh on a year at her jeweller’s in Seattle.  

“Sweetness, my love, marry me.”  The hesitation in his voice was gone now.

Not “will you marry me,” nothing resembling a question.  Again, a command, and one he clearly expected to be followed.  

“Ohhh…”  

She lost her words just then, as he took her left hand firmly in his right, removing the ring from the box and slipping it onto her left ring finger.  She had not said yes, but they both knew that she had  no objections, just as they both knew that any objection she voiced would be evenly ignored.

He pulled her to her feet now, but oddly, she caught the ribbon instead of his left hand as he had expected her to do.  She began to tug frantically at his trousers, and he obligingly unfastened his belt, beginning to push her back down to her knees.  

This time, though, she resisted.   His dark brown eyes, flecked with gold and swirls of a paler café colour like fine Belgian milk chocolate, caught hers, and for a moment, she saw confusion and a slight bit of fear.

Holding the black ribbon firmly in  her left hand, the ring glittering amongst the black, she took his right hand and began leading him down  the corridor to the bedroom.  What was she doing?  He tried to think as he watched her swaying wide hips and the roundness of her ample ass moving away from him.

“Undress.  Completely.  Lay down.”  Her words brooked no dissent, and he did as he was told, probably for the first time in his life.  

He lay down, her soft, manicured hands, nails painted a bright Christmas red, carefully avoiding his straining, dripping cock as she pushed his legs up and outwards--the same position she often found herself in when he was making love to her.  Oh God, she was…

And just then, he felt it.   Felt her mouth and then her tongue on his balls, and...fuck, she was working backwards from his cock, her tongue laving that space behind his balls, and then, oh fuck, then he felt her tongue pushing insistently at his asshole.  

His brain tried to catch up. He’d always been in control in this relationship, and...oh fuck, her tongue, her fingers wet with what he knew to be her own juices pushing into his ass, and he couldn’t think anymore.  Fuck.  Her slim fingers and probing tongue seemed to send a shock through his entire body, and oh God, his cock was going to explode...

“No.”  A command.  From her to him.  “You will not climax until I tell you to do so.”  

Who was this woman?  He didn’t know and he didn’t care...and didn’t notice her tying and looping the black ribbon behind his balls, not until she tied it  tight in a bow around the base of his cock.  

“Wha...what are you doing?”

“What you do all the time.   Making a presumption.”

Now she  started in on his cock, taking it balls deep into her mouth and throat, her legs spread over his left leg, the damp heat of her sex soaking through his skin.   She wanted him, that much he could process, but beyond that…

He was so  hard that it was becoming painful, and a whimper escaped his lips.  

“Hurts, does it?”  He could swear that she was smiling, but...no, not her, not his love.  

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better, so hold on.”  And with that, she straddled his cock and sunk all the way down on him, tightening the ribbon as his shaft strained to be free and his balls backed up with cum.

She arched her back in pleasure, riding him, her fingers playing with her clit, her tight, swollen, sopping cunt squeezing him, her tits bouncing free of their restraints as she reached back and undid the negligee hooks.

Oh fuck...oh fuck, he could feel her building to orgasm.  Would it hurt?  He  didn’t know, and he didn’t want  to find out.  

“Please...please….” he begged.   And finally, after what seemed like the proverbial eternity, she did, reaching between her legs to untie the ribbon.  

She could hold it back no longer as she dragged the ribbon over her small but erect clit, her orgasm a truck rolling over her as he was released and hot spurts of seed emanated from him, filling her.

Done, she lay down next to him, his sweet love again.

“One last thing.”

“Yes?”

She took the ribbon, soaked with their juices, and began feeding it into his mouth, something he found enjoyable, their tastes mixed together on his tongue.  When his mouth was full, she said that one last thing.

“No.  Show yourself to the door, and thank you for the Christmas gift.”