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Dusk was creeping in to steal what beauty remained of the day. The warm orange glow of the sunset on the horizon was calling his name whilst he waited. He watched sullenly as it slowly sank below his line of visibility.

At this rate it would be dark when she finally turned up, but he did not mind. Her actions spoke for themselves, and he would treat her accordingly. He was not angry. He was past all that, but he was determined to make sure she understood the linkage between actions and consequences.

She had not contacted him to advise that she would be late. In fact, she had not communicated with him at all after they made the initial date. However, he knew her, and he knew she would come as planned, albeit late.

He continued to wait. He did not bother to turn on the lights within the house. Here and there a few candles were burning, and that would do for his purposes.

When she finally came, he would be polite but reserved. He would return the welcoming darkness he had been experiencing this evening with a darkness of his own.

He would have some music playing. Something soft and non-intrusive. He would be reading a book with a glass of red wine. He would be waiting. He would be planning. He would be ready, as would the other things waiting for her.

When she came through the door he would kiss and hold her. It would be after the exchange of pleasantries that he would bring his plans to fruition. He reflected on the fact that idle hands and idle minds do the Devils work. Tonight she would come to fully understand that old cliché.

He would invite her to go up to the bedroom and take of her shoes and coat. Whilst she was busying herself in the robe with this task, would take the black silk blindfold from his pocket. He would slip it over her eyes and affix it to her gently but firmly before she could react.

He would kiss her to silence her as she began to protest. He would threaten her – gently but firmly – with a mouth gag if she continued to complain. He would let her feel it to prove it was no idle threat. He would tell her that it would remain within his reach.

He would walk her to the bed, and make her sit down. There, he would begin to dismantle her resistance. He would kiss and caress her lips, face and neck. He would unbutton her blouse and fondle her firm breasts. Slowly, he would remove her blouse and bra, and cast them aside like papers in the wind. She would dare not protest, even though she would know her nice things were being treated with such disregard.

From the drawer, he would produce the feather, and he would tickle and caress her naked, swollen breasts, teasing the nipples to their tautest positions before backing away and leaving her lying there.

He would come at her again. This time from the other side of the bed. He would lower his head to her lips. He would judge her mood - and her resistance - by the way she kissed. He would kiss her sensuously if she was receptive, and coldly if she wasn't. He would slide down her body to kiss and lick her breasts. He would nibble gently on her nipples, increasing his intensity at the sign of any protest or complaint.

After awhile, he would move to her lower half. He would push her gently onto her back. He would carefully remove her skirt, but he would toss it aside with disdain, hoping she would say something as she heard it hit the wall and slide down. Perhaps she would not. Perhaps she would draw the linkage between her behavior today and her treatment tonight. On the other hand, she might use this linkage as a weapon against him, trying to force him into upping the ante. He did not know. In any case, he would be ready.

He would simply tear her stockings off her legs. He would reef them down and toss them onto the ceiling fan as a mark of his little victory, and as a mark of her defeat. The feather would return, to stroke her slender legs and tease her upper thighs. Her knickers would still be on, but he would caress her upper thighs and run his fingers gently over her pubic mound until he could smell the moisture gathering between her swollen lips.

If she tried to speed things up by attempting to remove her own knickers, she would be told of one of the other things waiting on the bedside table next to the silken mouth gag. Everything would happen in its own time. First, he was determined to press his nose to her silken panties and nuzzle what lay within. If she dared, he would let her grab his head and direct him, but this would be about as much control as she would enjoy tonight.

Once he could taste her moisture through her panties, it would be time for them to be removed. At this stage, he would still be fully dressed, and she would be naked before him. It would be like a fantasy. With her blindfolded, he would love to introduce a surprise element at this moment, but he did not think she would be ready for that just yet.

He would take one of the silken scarves from the bedside table and he would tie it to the center railing at the head of the bed. He would answer no questions, and give no clues. Next he would take two more scarves and wind them around her wrists, over which he would firmly place the waiting handcuffs and lock them into place. Between her two bound hands he would loop the top scarf and re-tie it to the top of the bed. Now she would be bound within the loop formed by the first scarf tied to the bed head.

At this point, she would not understand what this meant, but he certainly would.