Domino (The Domino Trilogy) (20 page)

“We’ll start with something simple and easy,” he explained as he gently raised my arms above my head. “I’ll only tie you with a simple overhand slipknot, which you can easily disentangle yourself with just a little pressure. Nothing below the waist this time.” He paused. “At least, nothing below the waist will be r
estrained
. They’ll be plenty of other stuff happening down there.”
There was already stuff happening down there. I widened my legs even more; my panties and stockings were exposed now. I wanted to reach down to slide them off, but I realized then that he’d just tied my wrists to the headboard. I could still move them, but not much. Still, the idea that he had me even partially immobilized sent my whole body into spasm.
Oh.

“Good gracious, girl. You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who can come without even being touched.”

Is that what that feeling was? Coming? Oh.
Oh, oh, oh.
I remembered how Hannah once told me she had so much trouble having orgasms. There’d even been a chapter on it in my Human Sexuality class, all about how hard it could be for women to achieve that state of ultimate bliss. And yet, it wasn’t hard for me at all. Assuming of course, that’s what was really happening. I wondered if perhaps it was just a sneak preview of what was to come.

“Please,” I begged as I felt my inner self falling, falling, falling down to earth. I felt as if my body were suspended in space, with stars and galaxies floating past me at light speed. I was dimly aware that Peter was removing what
little remained of my clothing, but it seemed to be happening from far away.

Then, he was on top of me. He was naked now----when had he taken his clothes off? Where had I been when that happened?----and I felt the full length of his nakedness against my body, skin to skin. I’d never experienced anything like this before. I slowly returned to myself, feeling every inch of his flesh against every inch of mine. I was a newborn babe again, experiencing the touch of the world for the first time.

He rained kisses all over me, starting at my forehead, then down, down, down, slowly and softly, a light, soft touch like butterfly’s wings. When he reached my nipples----free of the La Perla bra, which now lay somewhere across the room---the touch of his mouth went from soft to hard, He took the whole nipple and even part of the fleshy globe into his mouth, sucking and then biting down, sending a delectable mix of pleasure and pain to the four corners of my body. I cried out. “Yes. Oh, God. Yes!” The words hung in the air above me, I could hardly believe they were mine.

Yes. Oh, yes.

My exams didn’t matter. The articles didn’t matter. Hannah didn’t matter, neither did my mother. Hell,
I
didn’t even matter. My entire universe now centered on the tiny space between my legs, a space that pleaded to be filled. But Peter was taking his time.

He focused his attention on my breasts, licking, sucking, and biting. My nipples went hard as iron and I cried out again. No words this time; just primitive moans and groans, emitted in a deep, guttural tone th
at didn’t sound like me at all---more like an animal in heat. My legs went wider and wider apart, bending and raising until my knees were almost at my ears.

“Oh, you want that now?” Pe
ter whispered into my cleavage. “Already? So soon?”

“
Mmm,” I grunted. “Mmmm!” I couldn’t even speak the word
yes
anymore.

“All right,” he said. “But first I need to make sure you’re ready.”

He lowered himself down between my legs, raining kisses at the patch of smooth, bare skin just above my pubic hair. He traced his fingers down the seam of my sex, parting my folds, opening my petals wide. He stroked and stroked me there, first with his fingers, then with his tongue, sending me into a frenzy.

I screamed.
“Ah,” I breathed after the shriek ceased echoing across the room. “Oh. God.”

“I think you’re ready,” Peter said, and reached over to the nightstand drawer. He produced a condom from it, not one of mine. I noticed that the label read “MAGNUM: Large Sized Condom.”

Magnum? Large sized?
It occurred to me then that I hadn’t even seen his penis up close since we’d begun lovemaking----just that brief glimpse back in the dining room. I hadn’t felt its hot, throbbing presence at all since then, unlike what had happened in all the sexy books I’d read over the years. It was as if he’d been saving it for me as a special surprise gift.

“Where---
where is it?”

He touched the tip of his sex to my thigh. “Here,” he said. “Do you feel it?”

It was warm, and hard, and thick. I lowered my gaze and took in the sight. I could see his whole length now, unlike before when it had just poked through Peter’s boxers.“Oh my,” I said. “Vladimir is here.”

“Yes, he is. And he’s very pleased to finally meet you.” There was the sound of tearing foil then, and Peter rolled on a condom. “You do realize that one of the best parts of having your hands tied is not feeling or touching Vladimir until he’s deep inside you? Or so I’ve been told.”

“Ah,” was all I could manage to say. My hips lifted from the mattress involuntarily, tilting upward to give him better entry.

“I’m coming in now,” he said. He wasn’t asking permission, he just made an announcement. I’d already given him permission in so many other ways, there was no reason for it to involve words.

He positioned himself above me, balancing his weight on his arms, then reached down to guide himself inside me.  He teased me at first, delicately dancing the tip of his cock at my entrance gates, willing me to open up enough to accept him. I cried and moaned, raised my knees and legs even higher.  I had to have him inside me,
had
to. “Now,” I breathed. “Now. Fast. All at once. Please.” I didn’t want him to be gentle with me. I didn’t care that I was a virgin and that to rush things might hurt. No, I wanted him to fuck me, hard. I wanted to know what that felt like. I wanted to feel it,
now.

As if reading my thoughts, he thrust into me, hard and fast.
Oh
.

He filled me up. The dull ache that had plagued me ever since our first meeting two days earlier disappeared, now replaced with an indescribable state of bliss. I’d never felt so complete before. I never knew that I could hold something like this so deep inside me, never knew that
these parts and voids within my body served one purpose and one purpose only----to hold the hard, fast flesh of a man.

My insides stretched to accommodate him. There was the briefest instant of pain, but it soon disappeared and was replaced by pleasure. The fullness was mind-blowing. My hips tilted back further and further, my legs went up and out, helping to stretch me open even more. I needed to give him more space. There was so much of him, and so little of me----
oh
.

Oh, oh.

But just being filled with his thick, hard flesh was no longer enough. I needed friction.  I needed him to move.
I
needed to move.

Oh, God. There is more to this?
The thought barely passed through my mind before I had an answer.

Oh yes, there was definitely more.
Much, much more.

Peter began to move.
He thrust with his hips, and the friction of his cock against my inside walls was beyond description. I never knew it could be like this, a hard pounding that under any other circumstances would be traumatic, but under these was like a thrumming, vibrating cacophony of
yes.
Yes, yes, yes. Every cell of my body cried out in the affirmative. 
This
is what I was born for.
This
is what I was born to feel, to do, to want.

This.

My hips rose to meet his of their own volition. Thrust, counter-thrust. Pound, counter-pound. Yes, and another yes.

He grunted, I moaned. He groaned, I cried. We both muttered words, unintelligible words that had no meaning outside of doing this, this
this.

The pace quickened, the strokes grew harder, faster. He pounded into me with such force I thought he might come out on the other side of me. But my body just took him in, deeper and deeper, expanding and contracting as he thrust in and out, stretching me, filling me, making me understand once and for all what all those poets and
Victorian novelists and rock stars and my giddy girlfriends were all talking about.

This
.
This
is why I was born. This is why people exist. This is why the whole world does everything it does, just so every living thing on it can have a chance to maybe, just maybe, do this.

Have sex. Get laid. Reproduce. Do the nasty. Screw. Fuck. I knew what all those terms meant now. I understood. And I wanted more, more, more.

The core of my being clenched tighter, tighter, tighter. I felt like a wire coiling inward on itself, a gun with its trigger pulled only partway. Then everything sprang free and exploded.

What I’d felt before---those tiny little trembling orgasms, if that’s even what they were---it wasn’t like this. Oh no, not like this.

My nether parts began to pulse. The pulsing became fast vibrato, and then that vibrato started to spread and fill my whole body, like a soprano’s aria filling an opera house. My whole being reached a fever pitch, and then in an instant, I shattered into a thousand pieces, like a champagne flute in a singing diva’s hand.

Peter’s release came just after my own, but I barely registered it. I was gone, gone, gone, lost in some deep, dark parallel universe. I was watching myself from high above, shocked at my hooded eyes, panting mouth, arched back,
and thrashing limbs as my climax overtook me. Peter shuddered over me and collapsed onto my shoulder, resting his head there in the space between the crook of my neck and the pillow.

“Yes,” I breathed as I rejoined my body, as consciousness and flesh again became one. I’d
just entered another world and lived to tell the tale, and what a strange trip it had been.

We lay there in th
e afterglow for what seemed like a long time. The passing seconds and minutes seemed to slow down a bit as we caught our breath and returned to our normal states. Or what passed for that, anyway. I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel the same way again.

My hands were still bound with the filmy length of silk. I released them myself, just as Peter promised me I always could. While I appreciated his taking things slowly and gently as far as that was concerned, I still felt a little cheated. If this experience could be so incredible even when I wasn’t totally submissive and restrained, what would it be like when I was? Had I just lost the opportunity to ever know for sure? What if this whole experience turned out to be a one-off, a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am
that just disappeared along with the coming dawn?

I didn’t want to think about that.

I ran my fingers up and down Peter’s back, which was drenched with sweat. I realized then that I was, too. Even my hair was damp. My chest was still heaving and my body felt spent, as if I’d just run five miles. I sank back into the pillows and dozed off, and was deep in sleep before I could form another thought.

****

I woke some hours later. It was the middle of the night, and the suite was enveloped in pitch darkness. I glanced at the bedside clock; it read 3:38. I’d wrapped the thick goosedown duvet around myself tightly, a fluffy coffin, and tried to settle back to sleep. But it was no use----I was wide awake. And I needed the bathroom.

I flicked on the bedside lamp and saw that the filmy strip of silk that Peter had used to tie my wrists lay in a puddle on the floor beside the bed. My clothes were scattered about---
my dress draped over a chair, my bra balanced precariously on a porcelain knickknack. The pointed toes of expensive designer shoes I’d borrowed from Hannah peeked out from underneath the bedskirt.

I scanned the room for Peter, searching for any trace of him---his scent, his clothes, his breathing---and found none.
The room was cluttered and disheveled following our lovemaking, but the space beside me in bed was empty. I was alone.

I gingerly stepped out of bed and padded across the room in my bare feet, searching for the toilet. There was a
n elegantly appointed marble master bath just off the bedroom. I found a plush white bathrobe with an embroidered Ritz-Carlton logo on the lapel pocket hanging from a hook and wrapped it around myself to block the chill. There was a matching set of cushioned terrycloth slippers set just below it, I stepped into them. Everything fit perfectly, as if they were made just for me.

I sat down on a
wide teak bench that also held a supply of fresh towels, contemplating what had happened. I felt sated, satisfied---and more than a little sore.

I shifted back and forth uneasily on the bench. “
Ow,” I said aloud, wincing at how tender I was
down there.
Yes, I had definitely done something new and different. My legs and arms ached, too. But despite all of that, I still felt better than I had in years. I felt almost the way I did after eating Thanksgiving dinner, taking a long hot bath, or taking a midafternoon nap---content, satisfied, fulfilled. All was right with the world, it seemed.