In my dream, I was naked except for a diaphanous veil of delicate gold which concealed nothing. The veil, light and ethereal as air, accentuated my nakedness and threw into relief the golden curls of my pubes, which framed the wet engorged lips of my cunt. I was spread eagled against a stone wall, my wrists and ankles trapped in iron manacles let into the stone. They looked unbearably fragile in the metal circles that held them. My body was impossibly stretched, the muscles in my limbs twisting and writhing like snakes under my skin. My nipples were elongated, engorged as if they had been pulled and teased by eager fingers or hot hungry mouths. My pussy was gushing, my juices glistening on the trembling muscles of my inner thighs. My face was twisted in ecstasy, my eyes glazed, my swollen lips parted in a shuddering moan.
But that was all there was – that frozen moment of other worldly passion. My dream revealed nothing else – of what had led to that sublime moment or where it would lead. The naked trembling body in my dream was too lost in passion to speak. Had my bound helpless body been used? Would it be used again? Was I in my dream a gift, an offering? To a God, a man, ... a beast? a girl,from xsofiax.com? What had wrenched that moan from my shuddering lips? What had teased my nipples into hard, quivering nubs? What had made my pussy leak so with longing? I didn't know. What I did know was that I was unaccountably aroused by that vision, by my helplessness, by the fact that I was not in control of my fate and that I was at the mercy of someone or ... something that held the key to my manacles.
I had kicked off the sheets in the throes of my passion as that dream slowly consumed my mind. I ventured a tentative questing finger between my thighs. My pussy was awash. My juices had dripped between the cheeks of my ass and onto the sheet staining a wet clammy circle beneath my thighs. I had to do something about this, I thought for the umpteenth time.
The problem was I didn't know what. The images in my head, the visions in my dreams had now become so terrifying in their erotic intensity that I desperately wanted to live them out. But I was still screwing up my courage for what in my lucid moments I knew to be a mad and reckless adventure.
Trawling the internet for answers had not helped. I had not dared to respond to the many personals that I had stumbled across. Most were disconcertingly brutal – psychopaths seeking willing victims rather than lovers reaching out for solace. Anyway, I didn't know what to write in response to these personals. Anything that I wrote would probably scream inexperience. That also stopped me from posting a personal of my own.
I settled finally on what I thought was a less risky venture which wouldn't immediately place my body and soul in mortal danger. I would go to one of those clubs that dotted the city that appealed to more extreme tastes and "check out the scene," as it were. I had never been to one of them and had always scurried past the dark nondescript doors, flanked by enormous bouncers who looked like they belonged to another species, with my head buried in my shoulders, a delicious little shudder running down my spine. I was convinced that if I so much as glanced at the hooded eyes of those guardians of the gate, I would be grabbed by the scruff of my neck and dragged inside, kicking and screaming, to be subject to God knows what delicious depravities. Now, here I was planning to volunteer for the mission. I felt like one of those kamikaze pilots that I had seen pictures of, solemnly receiving a samurai sword as they prepared to abandon the company of the living and embrace death. ... All right ... so I have always been a bit of a drama queen.
Since I was wary of confessing what I had now started calling my "dark passion" to any of my friends, I had to go alone. That did make me nervous. But what is the worst that can happen to me? I thought. I could see myself sitting at a long burnished bar, its surface gleaming as I coolly appraised my company. If something piqued my interest, we would see. Otherwise, I would have a drink and slip back into the night, none the worse for wear. At least, that was the plan. Frankly, it didn't inspire too much confidence, especially in my frequent moments of craven weakness when I sat in my office, my heart racing, my palms sweating, as I contemplated bleakly the many horrible fates that could befall me. Those were the moments when I seriously considered therapy. Maybe my mind just required some minor tweaking. Only the $200 an hour I would have to pay to unburden my soul gave me pause.
Over the next week, I planned my campaign. I scouted several promising locations, whetting them from a discreet distance, trying hard not to be noticed, cowering behind a newspaper or pretending to be fascinated by some dreary window display. I finally picked out one that seemed likely. It was at the corner of Amber and West; and was called the Blindfold. The 'O' in Blindfold was a woman's face, perfectly oval, her eyes wrapped in scarlet silk, her lips parted in a shuddering sigh that signaled ecstasy ... or agony ... or perhaps both?
That Friday, I was a nervous wreck at work. My head was filled with chatter, my staid boring predictable church-going half squabbling noisily with my darker self which had now come into its own. I was like those cartoon characters, with an angel, complete with halo, perched on one shoulder and an impetuous little devil, horns glistening in the light, on the other. Only this was no contest. The devil in me was winning without breaking a sweat, every so often gleefully poking the angelic bottom with the business end of his trident making him squeal at the indignity of it all. I obviously wanted this little adventure very badly.
At some point during the day, the debate appears to have spilled out of my head and I must have been muttering aloud. There were strange looks thrown in my direction and my best friend, Amanda, asked me if I was all right, her eyes soft with concern. That was a tricky question, but I mumbled "Yes," not daring to meet her eyes. I was tempted for a moment to confess all and scream for help. I needed protection from myself and Amanda would know what to do. But my lips were sealed. I feared that our friendship would be changed forever if I confessed my dark secret longings. I could see it. Her eyes would first dilate with shock and horror and then become cool and distant. I have known friends become strangers for less. I kept my counsel.
When the day was over, I was anxious to avoid conversation, especially with Amanda who was still eyeing me warily. At home, I ran myself a bath and wallowed in the warm water for a long time, the tension that had pooled in my limbs melting. Afterwards, I scrubbed myself in the shower until I was pink and glowing. I appraised myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. I had my moments of crushing insecurity in this zero size world, but on the whole I was happy with my body. It had curves in all the right places. My breasts were soft and firm and fit nicely in a man's palms. My hips swelled gently from my waist and framed a bottom that I was especially proud of. I like to have my back turned to my lover when I take off my clothes. I like the gasp, the quick in drawn breath, the unconscious hardening of his flesh as his eyes drink in my globes.
I pulled on a short slinky dress of black silk, its hem barely half way down my thighs. The dress, which was held up by a knot behind my neck, left my back almost completely bare. I wasn't wearing a bra. I was feeling particularly racy and pondered for a mad moment whipping off the black lacy panties that I had on and going commando. Better sense prevailed. I was tempting fate enough as it is. I didn't want to make it an offer it couldn't refuse.
When I arrived at the Blindfold in my black dress clutching my little black purse in a grip like death, the muscle at the door looked at me like I was from another planet.
"I would like to go in, please," I said in my sweetest voice.
He looked me over silently for a long moment and then asked, "Are you of legal age, ma'am?"
I didn't think he had any doubt that I was. I suspect he was giving me a last chance to back down from whatever dimwitted plan he thought I had hatched.
"Yes, quite," I responded in as firm a voice as I could muster.
He hesitated for another long moment and then stepped aside to let me in, his shoulders lifted in an eloquent shrug that hoped that I knew what I was doing. I hoped so too.
The door opened into a short corridor with a coat check which led in its turn into a large hall, dimly lit, smoke filled and buzzing with conversation. I paused just inside the entrance to the hall, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. My heart was booming like a bass drum and I could feel my limbs become heavy and languid as if to say that this was as far as they would go. I sensed my courage begin to fail and panic pool in the pit of my stomach. I was torn. I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life. But having come so far, I quite simply refused to admit the possibility that I may not have the guts to take that final step and see this through. At some point in that debate, my body sort of uncoiled and I tripped and stumbled after a fashion into the hall.
A hush descended over the room as I teetered on my heels trying to regain my balance. The silence was so profound that I could hear a vein throb in my temple. Every pair of eyes in the room had swiveled around towards me and I wilted under the heat of that collective gaze. I could feel my face coloring as I smoothed my dress down over my thighs and desperately sought some sanctuary, some cozy hidden nook where I could tuck myself away from this avid scrutiny.
As I peered around nervously, a figure waved to me languidly beckoning me to the semi circular sofa set against the far wall where he sat alone. I couldn't make out his features in the dim light, but I was mortified at the thought that I had been recognized. The possibility that someone I knew could be in this dive had not crossed my mind though it should have. My first instinct was to flee, but if I had already been seen, it was an unpromising option. I decided to brazen it out and offer some suitably innocent explanation for my presence. What explanation I would have offered for turning up alone in the Blindfold on a Friday night wearing a little black number that screamed "fuck me" is now unclear. But at the time, I remember being almost relieved that there was a familiar face in that sea of strangers. It was oddly comforting. As I walked towards him, my eyes downcast, the buzz of conversation resumed and I was no longer the center of attention.
However, when I drew closer to his table, it became painfully clear that I was in a new pickle. I could not for the life of me place the man. I peeked furtively over my shoulder to make sure that he had not been waving at someone else, but when I turned back, his smile was warm and his eyes welcoming. It was apparent that I had little choice. I slid demurely onto the sofa gathering the folds of my dress into my lap. He could see that I was shaken. There was a pitcher of ice water on the table, its surface clouded with condensation. He poured me a glass.
As I sipped the water, I peered at him over the rim of my glass, hoping that his face close up would jog my memory. It was a good face, strong and angular, an unruly lock of hair tumbling over one eyebrow, his eyes gentle, his lips soft, a welcome counterpoint to the firm lines of his chin. But it did not look even remotely familiar. I began to admit to myself the possibility that he might be a stranger after all.
"Do I know you?" I asked, still unsure what answer to expect.
"No," he replied.
I looked at him expectantly for some further explanation, but it soon became apparent that none would be forthcoming. He was sipping his drink slowly, almost meditatively.
"Why did you wave me over?" I finally stuttered.
He turned to me then, shaken from his reverie.
"Look around you," he said simply, "If I hadn't waved you over, you would have been eaten alive in minutes."
It was only then that I truly began to take in the place. Earlier, the details had been obscured by my own nervousness. The tables were filled mostly with men who looked disreputable in varying degrees. The few women scattered around the room had men buzzing around them like flies.
There was another room visible through an open arch in one corner of the hall. A young girl was bent over a table, three men swarming over her. One had a firm grip on her ponytail and was yanking her hair viciously, the roots straining against her scalp. Another had trapped her delicate hands in one of his own pulling her arms taut behind her. Her buttocks were bare and her legs parted, her engorged pussy and a wet tuft of pubic hair visible through the breach. The cheeks of her ass were a flaming red and I quickly found out why. The third man who seemed to be running his fingers appreciatively over the girl's exposed flesh suddenly raised his arm and smashed his open palm onto one inflamed cheek. Her body jerked under the onslaught within the confines of the hands that held her and I flinched. Tears streamed down her cheeks, smearing her mascara over her pale face.
As I averted my eyes, they lighted upon a scene even less comforting. Two men sat opposite each other, their knees almost touching. They both wore leather trousers and open leather jackets with the arms sawn off, exposing bulging torsos and what seemed like acres of hard muscle. An Asian girl, who could not have been more than 20, was balanced on the knees of one of them, completely naked. Her body was shining with sweat, the gold rings in her nipples reflecting the light from a nearby table lamp. The man on whose knees she was poised had buried three of his thick meaty fingers into her swollen moist cunt. He was sliding them in and out with a wet slurping noise. While the girl moaned quietly, her back arched against his body. After a few strokes, he withdrew his fingers from her pussy and jerked her hips forward.
"All yours," he leered.
His friend was waiting. He thrust his fingers into the now empty cunt with a force that lifted her body clear into the air. He then gripped her frail shoulder with his free hand and began to fuck her brutally, his arm a silken blur. The man she was leaning against reached around her to grip her pierced nipple and twisted viciously. She shrieked and began to cum, the fingers in her cunt still unrelenting. As her orgasm began to rack her body, her eyes met mine. They were dilated with pleasure, but there was also a hint of desolation, a sense of overwhelming loss in those dark pools that made me shudder.
When I turned back, I was trembling. I lifted my glass but put it down again. My hands were shaking and I was sure the glass would clatter against my teeth if I tried to take a sip.
"So why are you here?" he asked quietly.
"I am into pain," I said. I have no idea what made me say that, but the moment I said it I knew with a complete clarity that had eluded me so far that I wasn't. I could feel myself hyperventilating, screaming at myself in panic inside my head. ... What the fuck is the matter with you? ... Are you nuts? ... You have to get out of here ... Where is the exit? ... Calm down ... Breathe deep ... Breeeathe ... Deeeep.
He could sense my panic.
"I don't think so," he said calmly.
"What...?" I asked in confusion.
"I don't think you are into pain."
I was glad I had been found out. At least, he wouldn't think I wanted to be hurt and start sharpening his knives, braiding his whip or whatever else they were supposed to do. But at the same time, I didn't want to admit the truth – that I was a fatuous idiot with my foot buried so deep in my mouth that my toes were wiggling in my abdominal juices. So I decided to go on the offensive. Sometimes I really wonder....
"So what are you doing here?" I demanded.
"Me...? I was just waiting for you."
"Oh!" I said, for some strange inexplicable reason satisfied with his answer.
He laughed softly.
"I own the place," he said.
It turned out that he had a chain of these establishments along the West Coast. He had spotted a yawning gap in the adult entertainment market. Nobody had been willing to cater to sexual tastes that were somewhat unorthodox and more extreme than the ordinary. He had opened the first Blindfold a few years ago and it had evolved into a nice lucrative little franchise. He allowed his patrons freer expression of their often unusual passions than most other places did. That had attracted a regular clientele that swore by him.
Of course, occasionally, his bouncers did have to wade in to break off a scene that was turning ugly and to gently dissuade his customers from excessive enthusiasm. But that was not often. The men and women who frequented the Blindfold never ceased to amaze him, he said, by their hunger to absorb pain.
"Letting the bouncers loose is bad for business. You know how it is. Too much testosterone in the air. These people," he said carefully, indicating his clientele with a nod of his head, "tend to take advice rather badly. Which is why I waved you over. I didn't want to have to drag you screaming from a melee of half crazed men."
All this was rather new for me and I was absorbing the information quietly, mulling over everything he had said.
"So what do you do?" he asked.
He could see my momentary hesitation.
"I am an accountant," I replied finally.
"Alright, say it," I said as he grinned, "What is someone as crashingly boring as an accountant doing in a place like this?"
"Oh, I know that already," he said, his eyes twinkling with merriment, "You are into pain."
I tried to look offended, but couldn't help giggling. When my giggles subsided, he coaxed, "Tell me what you really want."
I bit my lip in hesitation, but he had been such a comforting presence, so delightfully easy to talk to that I quickly overcame my customary reserve and told him what had brought me to the Blindfold. I blushed when I told him of my dream, but he betrayed no reaction, to save me from embarrassment. I told him of my fears and my doubts, of being repulsed by the personals posted on the net and of the resolve that had led me here – the resolve to at least understand the nature of the beast, the shape of my desires.
He looked at me quietly for a long moment as I waited expectantly for his reaction. Then he said, in a tone almost of wonder, "You are a fool."
"You came here to find out what you want? And you thought these good folks would let you do that?" he said, shaking his head, "In here, you are just prey."
"I felt my life wasn't enough," I said quietly, my voice catching in my throat, "I wanted more."
He saw the stricken look on my face and his expression softened.
"Don't we all?" he said, a new kindness in his voice.
He lifted my face, his hand on my chin and brushed a stray lock of hair back from my cheek and behind my ear. The gesture was so achingly gentle that I leaned my cheek into his palm and closed my eyes. He held his hand still for a moment before withdrawing it, his fingertips trailing on my skin.
When I opened my eyes, he was lost in thought, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to make up his mind about something. When he turned to me, his eyes were serious.
"I know I am not what you were looking for. But I honestly believe that what you are looking for is not here. You are aroused by the thought of not being in control sexually, of yielding your body completely to your lover. That can be liberating and it can bring you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. But you can be helpless without being hurt. You need a person you can trust who will let you discover that about yourself. You have no reason to trust me. But I am going to ask you anyway because nothing about our meeting has been usual or ordinary. Would you leave this place with me now," he asked, taking my hands between his, "and see where the night takes us?"
I sensed the effort of will it must have taken him to ask me that and I didn't want to embarrass him by hesitation.
"Yes," I said simply and discovered while I spoke that I had only been waiting for him to ask.
The crowd noted our departure with a desultory interest which did not match the avid hunger that had greeted my entry. I was glad to leave and once in the open, drew in a greedy lungful of night air. The muscle regarded me with a new respect as he opened the door of the limousine that pulled up at the curb.
I sank gratefully into one of the plush leather seats and waited for him to follow me in. He spoke briefly to the security before he stepped in and closed the door. He slipped into the seat opposite me and regarded me with an amused air as we pulled away from the curb.
"I can't get over how impulsive you are," he said finally, "An hour ago, you didn't know that I exist and here you are sitting in my car going God knows where."
"I hope you know where you are going. God is an unsafe navigator," I said flippantly and then added, "And you? The fact that I am a stranger isn't stopping you either."
He laughed.
"Lets remedy that, shall we? I am Alex," he said, reaching his hand forward for me to grasp.
"Abigail," I said, "Abby is fine."
"Well, Abby. I hope you enjoy the ride."
He spent the next few minutes showing me the gizmos in the car – the plasma TV and the liquor cabinet, the GPS and the personalized climate control. He did it with casual ease and a hint of irony as if to let me know that he didn't really believe that any of this was terribly important. Definitely not one of those boys with toys, I decided. He was evidently trying to distract me so that my mind wouldn't dwell too deeply or too long on the fact that I was now riding through the darkness with a man I barely knew and reduce myself to a nervous wreck.
When we finished testing the stereo surround on the music system which looked like the instrument panel of a space shuttle, I felt the vehicle slow down and stop outside an upscale apartment building flush on the beach. Alex nodded to the footman who held the door open and then propelled me, a hand on my elbow, towards the bank of elevators at the far end of the lobby.
His apartment was the penthouse on the 45th floor of the building. It was enormous with more room than I could think of uses for. The hall opened into a huge balcony that ran along one entire side of the building and overlooked the ocean. The view was to die for. I stood on the balcony mesmerized by the vast expanse of water that stretched to the horizon and the white undulating line that formed and broke as the surf rolled in.
He joined me on the balcony with two glasses of wine. Our fingers touched briefly as I accepted mine. We stood side by side quietly as we sipped the wine and breathed in the faint hint of salt in the air. As I lifted my glass to my lips, his elbow jostled mine and I took a larger sip than I had planned. As my mouth filled with the rich fruity flavor and I struggled to swallow it without gagging, a ruby red drop of liquid spilled from the corner of my lips and began to roll down my chin. Before I could lift my hand to wipe it off, I felt his lips, feathery soft, on my skin. He gently captured the errant drop before his tongue followed its wet trail to delicately lick the corner of my mouth for any last trace of wine. My lips parted in a soft gasp and my body shuddered.
He pulled away abruptly as though nothing had happened and stood staring into the distance, his glass poised half way to his lips. After what seemed like an eternity, he raised the glass, swirled the liquid in a lazy circle and took a long meditative sip. He rested the glass carefully on the railing of the balcony and turned to me. He gazed into my eyes for a long moment as though looking for some sign that would allow him to proceed.
He seemed to find what he was looking for because he raised his hand to gently place it behind my neck. He drew my face firmly towards his and as our lips met and parted, I felt the wine he was holding in his mouth dribble into mine. I moaned into his mouth at the unbearable intimacy of that gesture. As our tongues thrashed in the soft cavern of my mouth, the wine pooled and eddied, its rich flavor exploding on my taste buds. After he sensed me surrender my mouth completely to him, he slowly tipped back my head forcing me to swallow the liquid. He encircled my neck with his fingers, his thumb rising and falling softly as the wine spilled down my throat. He drew my tongue into his mouth and then dragged his lips along its length as he released it, stripping my soft writhing flesh of every last drop of wine.
I was now drunk on the taste of him. As his lips withdrew, I felt an aching sense of loss and I reached for him blindly, trying to draw him back. His lips were so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my skin. He teased me with that proximity and then slid past my lips to softly nuzzle my ear. He drew my earlobe between his lips and sucked it wetly. As I moaned, he twirled his tongue playfully inside the pink shell of my ear.
"Wait here for me," he whispered as he gently prized the glass, which I was holding in a death grip, from my fingers and disappeared inside.
My knees had turned to jelly and I felt that at any moment, my body would collapse in a limpid pool and flow along the gleaming marble floor of the balcony. I gripped the railing so tightly that my knuckles showed white. The silk of my panties was clammy on my skin, soaked through with my juices, which had seeped along the inside of my thighs. I rubbed my wet thighs together in a futile effort to quiet the yearning in my pussy.
He had put on some soft music on his CD player and the quiet soothing strains of a piano drifted out into the balcony. I tried to focus on the music to calm my over wrought nerves, but it was as if every sensation – even those soft evocative notes – were pooling in the wet engorged tissues of my cunt and stoking its heat.
I felt his presence behind me before I heard his voice. He was tantalizingly close, barely inches away – so near and yet so far. As I leaned back towards him, aching for some contact, I felt his fingers grip my waist, holding me still, imprisoned against the cool metal of the railing. I sobbed with frustration.
"I want you naked in the moonlight," he whispered as he tugged loose the knot at the back of my neck. As the knot whispered apart, the silk slithered down my body and snagged in the railing against which I was pressed. He pulled me backwards, releasing my dress and allowing it to pool around my feet like black ink. The entire length of my body was finally pressed against his. I felt his hands slide softly along my ribs, barely brushing them, before enclosing my breasts in his palms. My nipples were already hard and puckered and I arched them forward into the warm tender cups of his hands. At the same time, my hips thrust back and I gasped as I felt his hardness nestle in the valley between my cheeks. His breath was suddenly hot in my ear.
"Are you wet?" he asked.
I moaned at the sudden intimacy of that question. If only he knew.
"If you don't tell me, I will have to find out," he said huskily.
I felt his right hand abandon my breast and travel downwards over the planes of my stomach, which was heaving with anticipation, and over my prominent mound to dip into the shadow between my thighs. I realized I was holding my breath only when his finger pressed into the wringing wet silk of my panties. I heard his breath quicken as his finger traced a slow line along my crotch.
"My God, you are soaked," he said, his soft sensuous voice a heady mix of lust and awe and plain wonder.
"I think we better take these off," he breathed.
I felt him kneel behind me. His fingers eased into the waistband of my panties and peeled them off my legs. I was finally naked, except for my heels. A light ocean breeze washed over my body, cooling my breasts, my trembling limbs and the wet exposed flesh of my cunt. I felt his breath drift over the cheeks of my ass and the dark shadowy cleft between. My legs parted of their own accord, freely offering him the treasure between my thighs.
"You are beautiful," I heard him whisper, his lips so close they were tickling the dew flecked petals of my cunt.
Then take me, my mind was screaming, taste me, eat me. I waited, in an agony of anticipation, for his tongue to wash over the inflamed tissues of my pussy, to scoop up the nectar gathering between the lips, to tip me over into savage, mindless pleasure. When his breath receded and he got up, I groaned as if I was in pain. He encircled my body in his arms, tenderly.
"What's the matter, baby?" he asked, his voice soft and wheedling, "Did you want me to make you cum? Did you want me to split your pussy open with my tongue and eat you out? Is that what you wanted, sweetheart? Or did you want me to tongue fuck your hole until you came all over my face?"
I groaned helplessly, each of his words a knife of desire twisting in my guts. He turned me around in the circle of his arms so that my head rested on his shoulder. His hand gently stroked my hair.
"Patience, my pet," he cooed, "We have all night. Before the night is over, I am going to make you beg for it. ... You will beg, won't you?"
My body was now racked with tiny tremors and I was jerking and twitching in his arms.
"Yes!" I sighed softly.
"Good. If you beg long enough and hard enough, maybe I will let you cum tonight."
I felt a wave of panic wash over me. Maybe? He said "Maybe"! My mind could not even bear to ponder the possibility that at the end of the night, he would leave me yearning. Surely, if he did that, my body would explode into a million pieces and pepper the night sky with star dust.
"Lets go inside," he said, scooping me up in his arms. As he held me, his eyes lingered on the puffy lips of my sex and the milky white expanse of my thighs. They were wet and glistening in the moonlight with the juices of my arousal. The salty air had grown heavier with the scent of my inflamed cunt and his nostrils dilated as he breathed in the heady mix. I blushed at the undeniable evidence of my need. I wrapped my arms around his neck and nuzzled his throat. Look what you have done to me, I wanted to tell him, Please don't make me wait. ... Take me in and take me out.
His bedroom was huge and the equally enormous bed was the centerpiece. He gently lowered me onto the sheets and I lay there, my arms by my sides, my legs parted, waiting impatiently for what was to come. His eyes were fixed on my body as he undressed, his white silk shirt joined quickly on the floor by his trousers and his briefs. My eyes were riveted to his hips and his hard throbbing flesh, which was already erect and quivering. At the sight of that perfect flesh, my cunt suddenly felt achingly unbearably empty. My hot yearning hole needed filling and quickly. As he walked towards me, his cock twitched as if in anticipation of the feast that was to come. I could hardly wait. I flattened my parted thighs on the sheets, open, welcoming.
He ignored my yawning pussy and knelt beside me. He cupped my face tenderly in his palms and trapped my lips in a kiss so soft that it felt like I was drowning in honey. He released my lips and slowly ran the tip of his tongue along their quivering length, tasting the corners. As my lips parted in a soft sigh, his tongue wandered into the breach, flicking at their tender insides before gently sucking on the swollen flesh. He let me feel his teeth, tugging on the flesh of my lower lip before allowing it to snap back. My pussy was gushing and my legs were opening and closing, my body now restless and needy.
He looked down into my eyes, his head supported by an elbow as his free hand began to slowly travel over my body, learning the slope of my rib cage, the curves of my hips, the soft tender flesh of my thighs. He watched my eyes cloud with desire as my body molded itself to his inquisitive hand, wanting more, needing more. His fingers circled my knee and retraced their path, now dancing lightly over the velvety skin of my breasts. His touch was teasing, like a breath of air, as his fingers circled relentlessly drifting closer and closer to the quivering arrows of my nipples and the soft pink moons around them. I was breathing in short shallow gasps waiting for the relief of his fingers on my hard swollen nubs.
He delicately traced a slow tight circle around the outline of my areola before drifting away towards my other breast to resume his relentless, torturous circling. He watched me almost curiously as my eyes widened with surprise and my body jerked at being so cruelly teased. He gently stroked my hair as though consoling me as the fingers of his other hand continued to roam with infuriating lightness over my over heated skin. His eyes were locked on mine and I was pleading with him, pleading for more. Soft gurgling noises leaked from my lips as though my voice was trapped in my throat.
Just when I was sure that I couldn't bear another second of that exquisitely fleeting touch, his thumb and forefinger closed around my left nipple and squeezed gently. I could feel an answering throb like the pulse of a heartbeat in my clit.
He rolled one nipple between his fingers and then the other, savoring their texture, their pebbly hardness. I moaned with relief as he gently manipulated my nipples. They were so sensitive that his touch was almost more than I could bear, just this side of pain to be mind-numbing pleasure. By the time his fingers abandoned them to drift lower down my body, my nipples were so engorged that I thought they would split open like overripe fruit.
His forefinger traced a path down my stomach dipping playfully into my navel before teasing the golden curls of my pubes. It drifted lightly over the hood of my clit before sinking into the swamp of my wet steaming cunt. He increased the pressure then, splitting open the slick inner folds of my pussy as he drifted lower ... lower until the tip of his finger was poised over the mouth of my dripping hole. He thrust into my hot yearning flesh, sinking in slowly until he could sink no further, impaling me on the spear of his finger.
He surged in and out almost experimentally, savoring the sensation of my pussy pulsing around his invading digit. He withdrew his finger, slick and glistening in the soft light and without taking his eyes from mine, slid his lips over its wet length. I groaned, unbearably aroused by the sight of his lips stripping my nectar off his flesh.
"Would you like a taste?" he asked me teasingly as his finger dipped again into the wet grotto of my cunt. I nodded dumbly, not trusting myself to speak. I closed my eyes as I drew his finger, drenched with my juices, into my mouth. I lay his finger on the soft pillow of my tongue as I sucked softly, tasting the rich heavy flavor of my need.
"You look so beautiful," he whispered, "I can't wait to have you wrap those lips around my cock."
I groaned, greedy now for the feel of his throbbing flesh on my tongue, between my lips, against the soft walls of my throat.
"Please ..." I begged, "Give it to me."
He chuckled as I reached blindly for his swollen flesh, wanting to heft his sweet weight in my palm and to feel his soft velvety skin. He yielded to my eagerness and let my fingers wrap around his girth. He smiled at my hunger, at the frantic desire in my eyes.
"Take it, baby," he cooed, as he gently lifted my head and slid his hot pulsing flesh between my lips. I lifted my hands to cup the cheeks of his bottom, reveling in their tightness. I moaned with relief as I finally claimed his throbbing flesh. For a long moment, I merely held it on the flat of my tongue, tasting his heartbeat, then swirled my tongue around his girth. I sucked softly on the bulbous head, almost drawing it out before plunging it back into the wet cave of my mouth. I gagged briefly as the tip of his cock nudged my tonsils before it parted the soft tissues of my throat and slid downward.
He groaned at the new sensation as the muscles of my throat gripped his cock, milking it. I soon found a rhythm, sliding his flesh, wet and glistening, out of my mouth before swallowing it back in. My right hand drifted from the cheeks of his deliciously tight bottom to gently grip his balls. I loved the feel of them, their soft velvety texture. But above all, I relished his vulnerability as I softly cupped his fragile flesh. As I increased the tempo and my mouth slid more quickly over his slick flesh, he reached downwards and took my face between his hands to stop me.
"Not yet, Sugar lips," he whispered as he withdrew his straining length out of my mouth like a sword from flesh that it had fatally wounded.
"You are beautiful," he whispered, "I can't decide which of your holes I want to take tonight... this...?" ... as he ran his fingertip slowly over my swollen lips ... "Or this...?" ... his finger slid through the slick folds of my cunt ... "Or this...? ... his finger drifted lower to probe the pink puckered hole of my anus.
I had been moaning as he explored my orifices, but my eyes snapped open and I gasped as he teased the forbidden flower that nestled between my cheeks. My reaction was not lost on him. His finger kept circling there, gently, until my lips parted in a soft moan.
"Oh, sweetheart ... You have never been fucked in the ass, have you?" he whispered hotly in my ear, "Have you been saving your tight little hole just for me?"
"My God ..." I groaned, trying to twist away from that gently insinuating voice that had now seeped into every pore of my being.
"You do want me to take it, don't you? ... Tell me ... Tell me you want me to take it," he said, his voice now urgent ... insistent.
"Oh, God ... Yes," I gasped, surrendering to his importuning, "Take me ... Take my ass ... Fuck me there."
I no longer knew what I was saying. I had always resisted any attempts at anal sex by my former lovers. But this was different. I knew I couldn't deny this man anything.... I didn't want to deny him anything. I wanted to offer him my tight pink hole to ravage. I wanted to give him something of myself that no man had ever had. I felt no doubt, no shame. My body shuddered deliciously at the thought of his cock stretching open my sphincter as it surged forward into my bowels. He seemed pleased by my compliance, my eagerness to please and my desperate need to be pleased.
He removed his finger from my ass and then thrust it, in one hard smooth plunge, into my cunt. I almost doubled over and gasped as his finger buried itself in my tissues.
"I want it wet," he explained as he began wiggling his finger in my cunt.
He was more than just getting it wet. He was churning my cunt, learning every curve and every hump as his finger explored my slick walls. When he finally withdrew his finger, thick droplets of pussy juice were dripping from its tip. His wet finger returned to the hot throbbing hole of my anus and began a slow patient exploration of the fleshy folds that radiated from it. I had never realized that my tight little butt hole could be such a source of pleasure and my lust inflamed mind reveled in the discovery as he teased my flesh mercilessly.
He must have realized that I was too far gone to even think of stopping him when he slowly pushed his fingertip into the tight ring of my ass until it was buried upto the first knuckle. I moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion. He paused, to allow the spasming muscles of my ass to adjust to their violation, before thrusting all the way in. It was like nothing that I had every known. My ass was impossibly tight and I could feel each ridge ... each knuckle ... each vein in his finger as it thrust in and out of my flesh. The muscles of my ass were clutching his finger as if terrified that it would escape, leaving an aching void that would need to be filled again.
My pussy was leaking as he reamed me, the slick engorged flesh flowering open before his gaze. I had never believed it possible before that moment that I could come without my clit being stimulated. But that was beginning to seem very likely as my mind wallowed in the unbearably erotic sensation of having my ass owned ... claimed ...reamed.
As he felt my body stiffen in its climb towards orgasm, he withdrew his finger abruptly. I could feel the muscles of my ass contract, trying desperately to grip his receding flesh. I moaned as my tight little hole pulsed with need, opening and closing hungrily against the tip of his finger which was still rubbing me ... teasing me. My eyes closed and my head fell back as my body crumbled under that fleeting touch. I shivered as he licked a long wet trail up my throat before nibbling on my lips.
"I just realized I haven't had dinner," he said nonchalantly, "I think I will get myself a bite."
What ...?! My eyes snapped open in panic, my fingers scrabbling uselessly on his biceps as I tried in vain to stop him. On his way to the door, he paused and turned around.
"I am going to be back in a minute. Meanwhile, I want you to keep your hands by your sides. If you so much as touch yourself while I am away, this game is over."
"You wouldn't want that, would you?" he added softly.
I wished he hadn't said that. Suddenly all that I could think of was touching myself, spreading open the petals of my cunt and churning my wet folds into a mush. My clit was throbbing with anticipation and hope, desperate for a tongue, a finger, the flat of my palm. I lay there trembling, my arms by my sides clutching the sheets convulsively, my resolve weakening with every passing second. Sweat prickled my brow and one tiny bead of perspiration rolled down from my temple to drip into the shell of my ear.
It must have been only a few minutes, but it felt like forever ... not the forever after of fairy tales where time flashes by in a pleasant daze, but the interminable forever between the drop of a guillotine and a severed head. He reappeared by my side with a tray that held a curious mélange. There was what looked like a can of whipped cream, a jar of honey, a bowl of golden grapes and ... two pitted cherries. I looked at him, bewildered.
"My very own special diet," he said, his face struggling to suppress the smile that was dancing at the corners of his lips.
He picked up the can of whipped cream and sprayed a frothy mound on my left nipple. I jerked as the chilled cream trapped my flesh in its soft icy grip. He sprayed my other quivering nub, inclining his head to check the symmetry, adding a touch here ... a speck there. Then he carefully placed the two cherries on the crest of each white hillock and leaned back to examine his handiwork with evident pride. I now knew my fate and I was aroused, unbearably so, at the thought being eaten ... literally.
He regarded my trembling body for a long moment before he dipped his head to capture one tiny red sphere in his mouth. He picked it up between his teeth and crushed it as I watched, mesmerized. His tongue snaked out of his mouth and began to trail through the cream drawing tiny patterns on the stiffened cone of my nipple. By the time he captured the hard nub in his mouth and sucked it clean of the wet mess that he had made, I was beside myself with longing.
He was less gentle with my other nipple. No trailing his tongue in lazy circles. He swallowed the tip – cherry, cream and all – and sucked it into the tight suffocating oval of his lips with savage force. I groaned and arched upwards offering his mouth the homage of my flesh. He released my nipple, letting it snap back before laving it softly with his tongue, soothing it – a velvet apology for the firm handling.
"Roll over," he commanded.
As I did, he slid a pillow under my hips, raising my bottom. He disappeared behind me to kneel between my parted knees. I felt his fingers peel open my ass cheeks and a rush of cold air caress my puckered hole, which drew in reflexively. He ran one fingertip down my crease, pausing at my butt hole waiting for it to flower open before resuming his journey downwards. I felt a thick wet trickle at the top of my crack, which flowed downwards slowly, dragged by gravity. Oh, my God ... the honey, I thought.
As the viscous liquid drifted downwards like a slow moving glacier, he used his thumbs to spread open the cheeks of my ass. The honey reached the rim of my hole and then tipped over pooling in the tiny crater, filling it to the brim and them spilling over again. I groaned. Surely, he wasn't going to do what I thought he was going to do. Oh, God ... he was.
The rivulet of honey hit the soft wet dam of his tongue, which flicked it back upwards along its course. When he reached my hot aching little hole, his tongue swirled in the golden pool that had gathered there, teasing and tickling my puckered flesh. I groaned from so deep within me that the sound must surely have come from the pit of my weeping cunt. He abandoned my bottom and slid up my body, his breath hot in my ear.
"You taste so good," he whispered, "There is still some honey left inside your hot little hole. I want that too. Are you going to let me have it, baby? Are you going to let me slide my hot tongue into your sweet tight ass?"
This man is trying to give me a heart attack, I thought, ... or croon me to orgasm. At that moment, I believed ... no, I knew ... that without using his fingers, his tongue or that delicious cock ... he could whisper my cunt into a helpless, spasming froth. I also knew the answer to his question.
"Yes," I sighed.
"Yes, what? ... I want to hear you say it."
"Oh, Alex ... scoop that honey out of my ass with your tongue."
"You mean you want me to tongue fuck you?"
"Yes ... Oh God, yes," I groaned.
"Tongue fuck you where, baby? ...just to be sure," he teased.
"My God ... tongue fuck my asshole, Alex ... please," I pleaded finally, my body twitching and jerking in anticipation of the impending violation of my most intimate flesh. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was peeling away every last layer of my shame. Saying those unbearably intimate words aloud was multiplying my hunger a hundredfold.
I felt him gently part my globes, felt the tip of his tongue probe softly, delicately at the entrance to my hole. As it pulsed open, his tongue slid in, his wet throbbing flesh teasing my walls apart. If I had died at that moment, I would have gone to heaven with a smile on my face. The sensation was like nothing I had ever known – that soft, velvety wet muscle flicking, twisting, slithering inside my tight fleshy glove; teasing into scintillating life every nerve ending in the rim of my anus. My bottom surged back of its own accord, fucking my hot puckered hole on that heavenly tongue.
He kissed me after that, letting me taste on his tongue the golden richness of the honey and a muskier flavor – the most intimate part of me. I sucked his tongue feverishly, almost as if possessed, desperate now to somehow quench the raging fire in my pussy. He gently pulled away from my greedy lips and sat back. He parted my thighs, flattening my knees softly on the sheets. A tiny little shudder ran through his body as he gazed down at my open yearning sex.
"You are so beautiful," he said in a throaty whisper, turning towards my face, "Your hot little hole is pulsing, baby ... opening and closing like a hungry little mouth."
"I think it wants to be fed," he teased.
He picked up one perfect golden sphere from the bowl of grapes on the tray and softly swiped it through the wet marsh of my cunt. He lifted it away, wet and glistening with my juices, gleaming softly in the light. His tongue emerged to lick the wetness from the surface of the grape before sliding it between his lips. I had been watching him so intently that even the soft pop as he crushed the grape against the roof of his mouth sounded to my overwrought senses like a gunshot and I started.
His fingers were already holding a second grape. He dipped it into my hot yearning hole and gently thrust it in and out. The sheer decadence of it all was overpowering my mind and turning my senses into mush. This is not how I had thought my evening would turn out, being fucked slowly, sensuously, oh so deliberately with a shiny golden grape!
He let me taste it. I eagerly ran my tongue over the slick taut surface before biting into it, letting the juice run down my chin. I was trembling, my aching limbs no longer under my sway. He gently smoothed my hair back from my forehead.
"Would you like to cum?" he asked softly, so much kindness in his voice that it made my pussy pulse.
"Oh, God ... Yes ...please," I gasped, my voice reedy with desire, "I have been waiting for so long."
He drew back.
"Are you complaining?" he asked, now a hint of steel in his voice, "You know, you are much too impetuous for a girl who came to the Blindfold looking for a Master. I think you need to be taught a lesson."
"What ... lesson?" I asked in confusion.
"But you asked me ... if I wanted to cum," I sobbed.
"I don't always mean what I say."
My mind, clouded with lust and a desperate unbearable longing for this man, was whirling. What was he going to do? What did he mean ... teach me a lesson? Was he going to leave me like this? Surely he wouldn't leave me like this.
He was picking calmly through the grapes in the bowl, choosing one, discarding another. He finally seemed satisfied with the three that he was now rolling in his palm. He carefully dropped one grape into the hollow of my fluttering throat and another into the deep sauceboat of my navel. The third he placed delicately in my cleavage, in that soft crease where my sternum melts into my solar plexus. I was speechless with incomprehension.
"This is what we are going to do," he said, a playful gleam in his eyes, "I am going to finish my dinner and you are going to stay really still. If you move and one of those grapes roll off, you are not cumming tonight."
With that, his fingers dipped again into the wet groove of my cunt and soaked another fruity globe in my juices. I whimpered, my mind paralyzed by the threat of my body being denied release and struggled to still my trembling frame. It was only then that I realized how diabolical his little game was. Deprived of movement, there was no way that my body could ease the erotic tension building in my limbs and pooling between my thighs. My need kept spiraling upwards until I thought every cell in my body would explode, leaving a faint smell of cordite and a trace of ash.
He watched me struggle desperately to quiet myself as his fingers swept again and again through my slick folds. And then he did something which completely undid me. Without warning, he thrust two fingers deep into my aching cunt. It tore a strangled cry from my lips and my body arched upwards. I watched helplessly as the grape poised between my heaving breasts trembled for a frozen moment and then toppled, gathering speed as it rolled over my sweat-slick skin to land on the sheet.
"No...oooo!" I screamed, sobbing, utterly distraught, terrified at the prospect of an endless night without respite from the hunger that was consuming my body.
He withdrew his fingers from my weeping cunt and wrapped his arms gently around my heaving body. He made soothing noises in the back of his throat, calming me, as he kissed my tears away. He finally planted a soft kiss on each of my trembling eyelids. The exquisite gentleness of that gesture took my breath away. Surely, this man would be incapable of such cruelty.
"Will you let me cum?" I sniffled.
"Yes," he whispered.
"But you said ..."
"Never mind what I said. I told you I don't mean everything I say."
"Thank you," I said, a wave of relief threatening to wash over me and make me weep again.
He laughed at my expression of gratitude.
"That may be a little premature. You haven't cum yet."
What did he mean? Oh, God ... maybe he's just teasing me, I thought, maybe he really is going to leave me like this - wet, open and wanting. My body started to quiver uncontrollably and my mind began to finally disintegrate.
"The question is - are you ready yet?" he asked softly, trailing a finger thoughtfully through the wet, slimy flesh of my cunt.
"I am ready ... I am ready," I gasped frantically, my hand reaching between my thighs to cover his.
He chuckled softly at my eagerness.
"Yes, maybe you are," he whispered.
He bent over until his face was only inches from mine and gazed into my eyes. I saw an unspoken tenderness in those eyes and a longing that I would not have guessed.
"Oh, Abby ... how could you doubt? I couldn't bear not making you cum."
As his lips softly claimed mine, I felt my will dissolve. At that moment, I knew that what he did, he did for me; what he would do, he would do for me. I gave my body into his keeping, to do what he wished with it. I knew that he would never hurt me; that he would only bring me unspeakable pleasure, pleasure so intense that it would melt my mind and scorch my soul.
He knelt between my parted thighs and pushed them even wider apart, opening me up completely. As his head dipped and I waited eagerly for his lips to claim me at last, I felt his soft breath on the heated tissues of my cunt. He was blowing on me gently – along the puffy outer lips, on the slick inner folds, along the rim and into my hot eager hole and on the hard exposed pearl of my clit. I groaned, completely undone by that delicate breath, so savage in that it was so fleeting.
He gently sucked one engorged outer lip into the wet cavern of his mouth, babying it, softly chewing it and then drawing it out between his teeth before releasing it. By the time he repeated it with the other fleshy lip, my hips were trembling with a need that was greater than any I had ever known. Then he began to lick – slowly, methodically, up and down my slit, never lingering long in the same spot.
When his tongue had tasted every tiny fold and crevice of my sopping cunt, he began to suck the flesh softly into his mouth, mixing my juices with his spit before releasing each mouthful. He knew my hole was aching for attention. The tip of his tongue teased the rim, circling delicately, until my hips were arching upwards trying to impale myself on his soft teasing flesh. He flattened my hips on the sheet and then with excruciating slowness inserted his tongue into my hole, drawing a long strangled moan from my lips which lasted the length of that sweet descent into my depths.
Then he began to fuck in and out, smoothly, relentlessly. My body was thrashing about, trying to break free of the confines of his strong hands, which held my hips pinned to the sheet. The pleasure had blotted my mind out, but he knew that this slow teasing tongue fuck, while it was driving me crazy, would not let me cum. I knew that too. It made me more frantic.
Finally, he withdrew his tongue from my aching hole and shifted upwards. He scooped up the last remaining grape from the bowl and held it poised above my clit. His fingers squeezed the fruit, splitting the skin and dripping its juice onto my exposed clit. The sensation was incredible as my sensitive little nub was washed in the thick liquid. And then, the pulp of the crushed grape landed on my clit, quickly followed by his lips.
In the next couple of minutes, my mind was so flooded with sensation that it lost all mooring to reality. My clit was swirling in a pool of stimuli that were completely unlike each other except for the pleasure that they could bring - the cold flesh of the grape a sweet counterpoint to the hot flesh of his tongue. I could feel the pulp melt and dissolve ... or was it my flesh finally melting in the furnace like heat of his mouth?
He thrust two fingers into my hole and gently massaged that tight knot of nerves in my pussy wall that never failed to drive me insane. His other hand reached upwards and I felt his thumb and forefinger grip my nipple and twist. And then ... he sucked my clit into his mouth and ... hummed. That did it. My body went rigid, my limbs stretching until I thought they would snap like twigs and I arched off the bed, only my shoulders and my heels on the sheet, as I exploded.
While my body was still jerking in the throes of my orgasm, I dimly felt his hands on my thighs, pushing them back, opening me up. My eyes snapped open to see him gazing down on me, his eyes full of tenderness and wonder. I knew what was going to happen next. I had never cum while being fucked. I had never been fucked while I was cumming. That was about to change.
I felt the tip of his cock kiss the opening of my hole before he surged forward, the thick fleshy head spreading open the tissues of my cunt. He paused, letting me savor the feel of him as the muscles of my pussy fluttered helplessly around his firm, yet yielding flesh. And then, his eyes still locked on mine, he buried his cock to the hilt in my spasming depths with one long unending thrust.
I screamed.
