Journal Of A Timid Temptress (3 page)

Does any of this matter?

Well, of course. Why else would I share it?

Oh, I suppose I am heightening the suspense also. A fine literary technique I learned my senior year at Maizeville Central High from my English teacher, who confessed to me privately that he wanted to write drama. Not very privately, of course, since high school teachers are deathly scared of being caught in a compromising situation with a student. I suppose it would go badly for a prof as well, but at least I'm now of age!

Anyway, Philippe closed the door and turned toward me. I think I met him halfway from where we'd been, perhaps three strides apart. I melted into his arms. I always thought that was a stupid phrase when I read it in a book, but, wow, there is no other way to say it. I mean that was just how I felt--melting like butter into a hot biscuit!

Pressed against him from chest to knees, I could feel his cock stir against my stomach. Then his mouth came down over mine and thoughts flew out the window to be replaced by pure sensation. Did I mention this man can really kiss? He made love to my mouth, is what he did, and I melted some more. I tried to copy what he was doing with his tongue and lips, and I guess I did it right because his breathing quickened and his cock got harder fast.

Then he turned, still holding me, and pushed me up against his desk. Miraculously it was almost clear. He tucked one hand down under my butt, lifted just a little and slid me onto the front of the desk. I still had my arms loosely around his neck. He put his forehead against mine, so our eyelashes were almost tangling. Then he kissed the tip of my nose.

For an instant that distracted me from what his hands were doing, so the next thing I knew they were both under my skirt, which had bunched up and pushed back when I sat on the desk. He nudged my knees apart and that pushed my skirt still higher.

His fingertips teased along the inside of my bare thigh, marching in baby steps from my knee toward my throbbing pussy. Oh.
Oh!
One finger traced along the silky surface of my moist panties, right over my slit from front to back and then back to front. He found my clit through the thin fabric and began to circle it slowly. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud. I started shaking so hard my heels began to drum against the front of the desk.

"Sssshhhh. We don't want anyone to know we're here, right?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I can't help it. Here, I'll kick my shoes off."

"No, I'll take them." He took one hand from my leg and slipped off my shoes, first one and then the other. He set them on the floor with hardly a sound. Meanwhile, the other hand stayed busy. If I had melted before, I think I was vaporizing now. I buried my face against his shoulder to muffle the little sounds I couldn't help making.

"No, you can't come yet," he said as I drew in a desperate gasp and surged against his stroking hand. He backed off and I almost wept. My pussy did weep.

"Please," I whispered. "Please don't stop. I'll die. I'm so close!"

I could only describe his chuckle as diabolical. "Control, dear girl. You need to learn control. Tantric practice will allow you to go all night at the very brink until the optimum sensation and the maximum pleasure is achieved."

With that, he drew back, tugged my skirt down from around my waist and then sniffed at the hand that had been playing with me. He nodded as if to himself. The words he murmured sounded the same way. "Lovely, warm, womanly scent. Of course, one so responsive would be."

I sat there not sure whether to scream, curse or weep. I was still shaking fiercely. If he didn't finish this for me, I'd have to head for the nearest restroom to relieve myself. I was stretched tighter than a guitar string, the high one. Talk about frustration!

"Aren't you going to..."

"Not now, sweetheart. That will give you something to look forward to. I have to be at a department meeting in about fifteen minutes. I'll leave the office unlocked. Just put the books on my desk." With that he shut his eyes and seemed to be concentrating on some kind of a breathing exercise, a yoga thing or something, as if I was nowhere around.

I bounced off the desk, stuffed my feet into my shoes and hauled ass out of there! I knew of a ladies room right around the corner. I hit it before I went on to the library. My hand doesn't have the magic of his, but it got the job done. For about half an hour I was furious with him, but I can't stay mad long. I'm learning. Wasn't that what I wanted?

Feb 15

Valentine's Day was a disappointment, but the next day more than made up for it! I only saw him in class on Friday. He thanked me sweetly for getting the books. Then he said very gently that he didn't have time for us today, but that Saturday was coming. And Becky was going to need a sitter again. Of course I jumped at the chance, even though I wasn't sure another encounter with Linds would work for me right now. Perhaps this time he would drive me home instead. I lived on that hope until this evening.

He came after me in the Triumph again. I love how he looks in jeans and a sweater or sweatshirt. I go all moist and melty just looking at him. He reached over and squeezed my knee while I was fastening the seat belt.

"I can't decide if you look better in tight jeans or a short skirt. A skirt has the advantage of accessibility, though."

That took me right back to Wednesday and had me all hot and bothered in an instant. He meant for that to happen, of course. Too soon we reached their apartment.

Again we climbed the stairs in silence. The drapes were drawn in the living room so it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. Then I saw Linds and almost swallowed my tongue!

She wore a shiny black garter belt with fishnet hose, high black boots, a bustier with a cut-out for each breast and black fingerless gloves that extended above her elbows. I gasped. Surely she would not dress like this in front of Becky! Actually, although on the thin side, in this costume she wasn't too bad. Black was her color, no question about that.

"I thought, I...where's Becky?" I probably looked like a fish thrown out of its tank, my mouth flapping soundlessly in shock. For the moment, I didn't care. This was just too weird!

"Becky is spending the weekend with a friend." That came from Philippe. "Linds and I decided we both wanted to get to know you a bit better, so we set up a casual party for three. I think you'll enjoy it."

He had come up behind me after shutting the door. Now he put his hands on my shoulders, as if to steady me, or perhaps keep me from bolting.

Linds smiled. "We've discovered we both enjoy some games, but not necessarily only between the two of us. I'm bi, as you may have guessed by now, and Phil...well, Phil just loves sex in any shape, color, size or flavor, don't you, dear?"

You're getting an education. You're getting an education.

I repeated that in my head like a mantra as I struggled to come to terms with this totally unexpected development. A ménage a trois.
I am going to be part of a ménage a trois!
Now that will be education with a capital "E."

With his hands still on my shoulders, Philippe propelled me through the doorway he'd headed for last weekend, down a hall and into what was obviously the master bedroom. Although it was a good bit larger than my matchbox-sized room, it was still dominated by a huge four-poster bed. That bed looked like it belonged in a medieval castle! Had to be at least a king size. The posts looked like they had been whole trees in their last incarnation, too.

Looking closer, I saw the posts and the headboard were studded with rings and hooks, all sorts of hardware. The metal was dark so it blended into the dark wood unless you really looked. Well, I looked so hard my eyes nearly popped out.

I mean I'd heard about this sort of thing, whispers and glimpses in the type of magazines hidden behind the counter in the news stands. Some of the frat boys collected them and figured a girl would get turned on looking at the pictures with them. In your dreams, dudes. They really don't get it. But that's beside the point.

Linds had followed us down the hall. Now she circled around us to the foot of the bed, stooped to pull open a drawer, and reached in. From it, she extracted a handful of cords, a couple of pairs of handcuffs, and some other things I could not see clearly enough to figure out at the moment.

As my shock began to fade, I came back to the immediate with a jolt. Philippe had drawn me closer against him. Now he bent to nibble my neck from behind as he began to unbutton the front of my shirt. For a moment, the fact Linds was standing there watching us bothered me. Then I told myself it was her choice to do so, and after a few more seconds, I was too far gone to care.

I swear, it felt like Philippe had half a dozen arms, like those statues of the deities in India. His hands were everywhere. My shirt came undone, peeled off and fluttered to the floor. Then the clip came out of my hair, freeing it to fly in every direction with super-charged exuberance. Bra followed shirt. Then one or more hands massaged my boobs, feeling every bit as good as I had known they would. I couldn't keep my eyes open as sensory overload kicked in.

My nipples beaded as the tender skin began to tingle. Another hand undid the front of my jeans, then slipped down inside, a firm, warm pressure on my belly and gradually lower still. Moving my hips in a totally involuntary grind, I made a helpless sound, a mixture of whimper and moan, about that time.

The answer came in a sharp crack. My eyes flew open to see what had caused it. Linds was apparently getting impatient. She now held what looked like a scaled down cat-o-nine-tails, which she'd snapped against her boot. When she did it again, Philippe shoved me forward. My jeans were sagging around my knees, so I stumbled. In desperation, I kicked them off. That left me in only my panties, a red thong.

Linds reached for me, as if to catch me should I actually fall, but I didn't. Still, I was none too steady on my feet as I approached her. She caught my arms at the wrists. For an instant, she hesitated, looking at me sharply.

"You're doing this of your own desire, aren't you? Entering into the game as a consenting adult?"

I wasn't quite sure what this was about, but I gave a jerky nod, not sure where my voice had gone. I finally found it. "Yes. Er, yes. I think so. I'm twenty and no one kidnapped me, although I came with some assumptions that have proved to be wrong. But that was just me, my fault."

"Good. I assure you that you won't be hurt or injured. If, at any time, you become frightened or the pain is too great, just say 'stop.' If you're a good girl, perhaps you can play the mistress next time. Phil and I take turns since we are both a bit of the dom. Would you like that?"

I shrugged. I wasn't at all sure that would be a role I could fill, although it seemed to suit Linds. I couldn't quite picture myself in black leather.

Philippe laughed again, close behind me. "It's all right, Geri. I promise you'll not be abused or harmed in any way. You may find the game as arousing as I do. It can be very exciting to be helpless, to surrender completely to the demands of a master or mistress, letting them do with you whatever they will."

Before I could shape a reply, Linds picked up one pair of the handcuffs, which had the wrist bands wrapped in plush fabric. She snapped them deftly over my wrists, then pushed my hands up above my head. Now it was her hands that toyed with my tits. She pinched the nipples until it hurt, but then changed swiftly to a silky caress with the tips of her long, red-nailed fingers. Screaming red nails? That didn't fit my image of her, but then none of this did.

Next she lifted my face with one hand tangling in my hair, brushed away the wild strands veiling my face with the other and brought her mouth to mine. I decided at once that Philippe kissed much better, but it wasn't hard to endure. After a moment, she drew back, snatched up a square of silk from the bed, and rolled it into a band which she tied around my head, covering my eyes.

About that time, I felt warm skin against my back, followed by the thrust of a cock, slipping between my cheeks. There was a prickle of hair against my bare back, then a larger pair of hands came around from behind to cup my tits, fondling them. Awash in sensations, I started to lower my own hands because they were beginning to tingle from want of circulation.

The little cat sliced sharply across my bare stomach. "No! You were not told to bring your hands down." I bit my lip against the whimper, shocked at the sudden rush of heat and moisture between my legs that followed hard on the heels of that sting. A shove from behind had me staggering a step before I fell forward onto the bed.

The coverlet was not smooth, but a harsh, rather prickly fabric. Linds told me to move forward, closer to the head of the bed, but reminded me to keep my linked hands above my head. About all I could do that way was to kind of wiggle and slither. That rubbed my sensitive, normally protected skin against the fabric. It didn't quite hurt, but almost. That, too, was arousing.

A moment later, my legs were grabbed, one from each side, and spread wide. With heavy cords, each ankle was anchored to a bedpost. The handcuffs hooked conveniently on a recessed hook in the headboard. There I was, trapped, totally helpless. A mixture of fear and incredible excitement washed over me. Tiny, fine shivers coursed over my nearly nude body as I lay there, face down, stretched just short of the point of actual discomfort. And helpless, utterly and completely helpless.

What have I gotten myself into?
It was terrible, yet I had never in my life been so totally hot, so aware of my body, each and every bit of it from the hair that still crackled out around my head clear down to my toes, but especially all those erogenous zones--exposed and available to not one person but two. Vulnerability was a new and potent sensation.

My breasts ached. My pussy clenched and throbbed. It was all I could do to lie still and remain silent. I was pretty sure I should not move or make a sound without permission, and none had been given. If I rolled my pelvis just a little more I could probably press my twitching clit against that rough fabric on which I lay. And if I did that, I'd probably come in a few seconds. As badly as I wanted to, I didn't dare.