Desire (2 page)

Chapter 4

I need to know how you sound when you climax

Hard hands hold my knees, touching my breasts, a hot mouth sucking on my left nipple.

“
Kiss him,” orders the nasal man.

Blindly reaching out I cup a jaw, holding his head when I close in, tentatively sucking his bottom lip into my mouth and running the tip of my tongue over and inside it.

Pulled off my chair and into his lap, I sit with my knees akimbo, my pussy wide and exposed in this position, leaning in and softly covering his mouth, feeling the shortness of his hair when he makes me fall, him lying down with me on top of him.

Imagining Dominic I kiss him the way I think worship and adoration would. Soft and slow at first, stroking his tongue with mine, tasting only mouthwash this time, until the kiss deepens and it becomes savage, nipping his lips, delving inside his mouth with mine, sucking him, pulling his breath into me, tasting the lingering aroma of a cigarette.

Hands grab my face, forcing me back, and I'm rolled, this time he's kissing me, his bite hard enough to draw blood.

Laughing into his mouth, I can't prevent the giggle. I love brutal kisses, ones that hurt, ones that leave my lips swollen and sensitive, I love biting and am excited now, my breath giving it away.

My heart is pounding, my inhalations jagged, my pulse thrumming in my neck. My nipples are squeezed and blunt teeth graze them, arching my spine, subconsciously pushing my breasts at him, craving the titillation.

“
Masturbate,” orders from my left.

Looking in the direction of the man with the challenged sinus, I frown.

“Delilah masturbate, widen your legs and fuck yourself.”

My companion leaves me, probably taking the chair I evacuated, and I do as told.

With my knees bent and my ankles touching my tush, I circle my clit using my right hand, rubbing inside my pussy with three fingers on my left hand, using two to widen it in a stretch, using the middle one to rub my O spot.

It doesn't take long, agitating my nub with circling pressure and fingering my soft and slippery pussy, before I'm arching, holding my shoulders off the floor by balancing on my head, gasping pleasure.

“Crawl.”

My legs are twitchy when I roll, getting onto my knees and crawling. “This way, follow my voice.”

Changing direction I follow his voice, deliberately undulating my movements, slinking across the carpet, licking my lips, my breathing still wild and exaggerated from my orgasm.

“
Sit on your legs.”

I sit on my calves again.

“Look up.”

Titling my chin I look up, blinded by the velvet blindfold.

“Fondle your tits.”

Cupping them, pushing them together, I knead them, rubbing my thumbs over my nipples until they ache. Sliding my hands up to my neck I caress my breasts, up and down, panting with need.

I'm so wet now I'm dying.

“
Lie on your back and open your legs.”

Gracefully rearranging myself I tent my knees, planting my feet on the floor, wide as I can open my legs.

“Hands above your head, wrists together.”

I drape my right wrist over my left, my body completely open and on display.

A hot mouth covers my clit, the tongue running back and forth over my pearl, hands pulling my skin, thumbs planted above my vagina and yanking. Bucking, arching, I can't help the moan at the potent sensitivity, at the raw sensation pouring heat and desire up into my body.

He nicks my clit until I'm breathless, then plunges his tongue inside me, and it's right on my g-spot. Whimpering in a rough squeal, I'm destroyed by the orgasm, riding the high, moaning and shaking.

My wrists are caught in a hand and I'm roughly hauled forwards, spun so fast on the carpet that it burns, and a penis is pushed into my mouth. It pumps while I scramble to adapt, sucking and swirling my tongue, trying to catch my breath with flared nostrils, holding to hips when he thrusts so deep down my throat, convulsing his orgasm.

He withdraws, his hand heavy on my head, his palm patting my cheek briefly.

I'm a little dizzy when a drink is put in my hand, my fingers closed around it, the man in charge commanding, “Drink.”

I drink it in one go, thirstier than I realized.

“Come,” he demands, pulling me up by the chain at my neck, forcing me to walk with him out the door and down the corridor, where it's cold and alien, the vibe lonely and sterile.

I'm pushed into a new room and told, “Clean up, shower, redo your hair and make-up, and dress for your dance. Knock on the door when you're done.”

Chapter 5

Turn me on

How do you compare to them

I've practiced my dance secretly, excited for this day to come.

Wearing the flimsy red neglige and skirt I am once again led around blindfolded. I recognize the steps when I'm guided onto the stage, left alone with the pole.

It takes a while before a voice comes over the sound-system, “Remove your blindfold, and begin.”

My song begins playing, with the deep and sexy beat of Deeper and Deeper. It's not the kind of song usually played in the club, but then I'm not a sweet girl who lived behind the sunshine curtain. There's goth blood running through my veins and I love the industrial grunge of this song by Dave Gahan. It also tells Dominic exactly what I want.

Unknotting the blindfold I strut down the stage, jiggling my breasts with every step, my legs long and shiny, toned to dancer perfection. Wiggling around I unzip the skirt, undoing the button, seeing nothing but linked ankles stretched out in masculine relaxation in the shadows beyond the stage lights.

This is an energetic dance, one which will highlight my flexibility and stamina. Sashaying back up the catwalk I bend provocatively, hollowing my back when I slide the skirt down, stepping out of it and grabbing the pole, hoisting myself up so that my body lines its length with my head facing down.

Widening my legs into a split I slowly twirl the pole, arcing my pelvis I flex, pointing my legs away from the pole, only my sternum and chin now touching it. Folding my legs around the pole in a demure leg cross I flex up, gripping the metal and swinging around it, doing ballet against a pole, sexy and salacious.

Working it I do a handstand when I reach the ground, making sure the pole is in my crotch when I flick up and hold it above my head, slowing running my groin around it as I arc in a circle, pointing toes, bending knees, in endless renditions of a dancer who isn't hanging off a simple galvanized bar.

Gracefully unfolding when I hit the stage I arch over, flicking my body by slowly curving my spine back, rolling to get my knees under me, then cat crawling across the stage, doing a back-stand, pointing my left leg to the ceiling, undoing the tiny red bow holding my negligee together.

Unwinding with slow agility I go back into a crawl, diving my knees deep, stretching my legs as I go, padding in tense plunges across the stage, balancing onto my hands and locking my arms in a press up, widening my legs into a split before using the scissor to flick gracefully back onto my feet.

Swaying my hips, looking coquettishly over my shoulder into pitch darkness, I bend at a right angle until my boobs are hanging and all they can see is my ass and legs, then I skate my panties down, stepping out of them and sliding into a split, showing them all of me.

Rolling and sitting up to face them, I cross my legs, knees tented, flexing back and putting my weight on my arms locked behind me, taking myself back up to a handstand with concentration and control, hooking the pole with my legs and undulating my way up it, then pirouetting around it, finishing my dance with a slow sensual strut to the lip of the stage, my hair in front of my left shoulder, sucking on my finger, pulling it provocatively out of my mouth in a slow downward slide, and into a bow.

The music fades and the voice comes from the deejay mic, “Please go into the booth on the left of the stage, stand up close with only your breasts protruding out of the booth.”

I note that there are two others next to mine, the doors on them closed. I walk into the dark box, closing the door behind me and standing flush to the front.

It has two missing portions, one at my snatch and ass, and one at boob height.

“
We will now compare the initiates. If any of you are caught looking you will be immediately disqualified for selection.”

Light floods around my body and background music fills the silence.

“Ladies you will find harnesses that lock you in place so you can't pull away, please attach them.”

Fumbling for mine I secure my head to the hard board covered in floor tile, strapping my hips and neck.

I am now well and truly jammed up against the open slat, and can see nothing with my body this smeared against the dark booth.

“
Hmm, what do you think of this one?” speaks on the other side of my chamber..

Many hands tweak my nipples, jiggling my breasts with a lift and release, assessing bounce and plumpness. A thumb strokes across my right nipple and instantly I'm hard, my womb filling with wet heat, my pussy pulsing with ache.

It takes ages before we're told to do the same, but this time to bend over and touch the floor, using the same brace across our thighs to hold our asses and pussy to the opening.

It's hot and stuffy in here and the footfalls make scraping thumps with my head this close to the floor.

Fingered, slapped, my vaginal lips toyed with, pulled, and more than one set of hands seeming to be examining my starfish, I inhale sharply when hands brace on my ass and my pussy is pulled wide open.

Muted discussion is going on in male baritones and I can't understand what they're mumbling about. Three different digits finger me, delving inside my vagina, the skin covering my clit pulled down, before the hands release me. Just when I think it's over someone pushes two fingers into me, slowly withdrawing them, as if watching how my lips suck and pull around the penetration. It lasts at least a minute, his fingertips stroking the top wall of my vagina, and I'm getting wetter instead of drying out in shame.

“You may stand and undo your harnesses. Please replace your blindfold.”

It's a relief to stand again, the blood in my head making my cheeks hot and my temples throb.

Now I know why I had to shower. Swallowing against the dryness in my mouth I tie my blindfold in place, and wait.

The door opens after what feels like ten minutes of being alone in the stuffy dark, and hands check my blindfold.

“Not long now,” he assures me, Mr Nasal leading me back to the cold echoing corridor with an arm around my waist.

Chapter 6

I need to feel your hands, nurture me

He positions me, warning, “I am leaving you alone. Remove your blindfold without looking at me, and enter this room.” Walking through the doorway, the door closed for me, I halt, taking in the surroundings.

Seeing the body laid out on the massage table with his hips covered by a narrow towel, and his head buried under an identical one, I see the wisdom in Mr Nasal insisting I clean up. My hands are warm and soft from the shower.

Right, it's massage time, and I'd better get a perfect score because I have a horrid feeling I'm flunking this test with aplomb.

It's an intimate space, natural and eco-friendly with an atomizer spraying a constant stream of hot steam into the room, saturating my nasal cavity with an unidentifiable spicy essence.

I feel a little silly wearing the mini-oriental slip of embroidered silk, but pad barefoot over the hemp mats to the table beside the prone subject of my test.

I don't know if I'm supposed to make conversation or not. Probably not because then I'd hear his voice and be able to identify him.

Surveying the wares on the table, I inspect the essential oils, carrier oils, mineral oils et al. Clever. Whoever set this up clearly wants to gauge the knowledge of the participants. Only an idiot would use essential oils on a stranger. There are limitations, for example you can't use certain oils on heart patients, and that doesn't go anywhere near the issue of allergies. Plus mineral oils, as widespread as their use is, have their own side-effects. If the person has gout or arthritis you'll end up putting them in a hell of pain.

This time I know exactly what I'm doing as I select the talc. It won't aggravate any medical conditions or leave the skin oily and clogged. And it makes the skin softer than spider silk, facilitating the seductive glide of hands over muscles and flesh.

Tying my hair back, I hold my hands together to ensure my palms are warm. Satisfied, I sprinkle a large dose of talc in my palm, emptying half the portion into my other hand, then tenderly turning my palms over to rest my hands on either side of his spine high up on his shoulders.

He jumps with the contact. I guess he didn't hear me enter.

“
Sorry,” I whisper, gliding my hands down the expanse either side of his spine to the base of his hips, soothing the fright with endless swoops.

The muscles can be aggravated instead of relaxed if you do a massage incorrectly. Caress down either side of the vertebrae with the flat of your palm, then release the pressure as you slide hands back up on the outside edge of the back. This motion induces relaxation and should be executed for three minutes to sedate the residual tension in the subject.

His arms flatten, the elbows splaying wider as he succumbs to the firm ministrations of my hands. It's a sure sign of relaxation, meaning I can go to the next step. The spinal muscles are the most tense in a back as they carry the weight of a body and keep you upright. To relax them I have to thumb gentle yet firm circles in an endless pressure spiral down the length of his spine from his nape to his sacral base.

All circles must echo the path blood beats which means making circles which aim for the heart. Massaging minute mirroring circles, my right hand thumbs clockwise while my left thumbs circles in an anti-clockwise motion. Reaching the base I scoop my hands up his lats and back to his shoulders, - rinse and repeat until you notice the relaxation of his legs. They naturally splay with the ankles resting outwards, his toes pointing toward each other.

It's meditative. Skin on skin in endless caresses is as much a zen occupation for me as it is for him, and it turns me on like a solar flare.

I massage his feet, his legs, and very carefully his scalp so as not to reveal his face, doing most of it with my eyes closed. Soft snores fill the silence and I smile satisfaction, knowing I aced this one.

I sit and wait while he sleeps, his relaxation complete. The door creaks open and Mr Nasal hisses, “Put your blindfold on.”

I do, sitting docile, waiting for the next instruction.

Movement from the table alerts me that he's roused, and before I can react I'm hoisted, draped over legs, and my ass smacked over and over, until my pussy is throbbing with lust.

He laughs, fingering me, stroking in and out where my nerves cluster, leaving me shaking in orgasm with the blood pounding in my head.

When he lifts me the instructor with the annoying voice says, “Dinner is waiting in your room. Clean up, we'll resume in the morning. Do not leave your room for any reason whatsoever.”

I nod, just grateful that I've made through tonight intact.