The Audition (5 page)

His fingers replace his mouth, and this time, he isn’t teasing me, not nearly as much. His forefinger nudges my lips apart, and pushes into my wet, willing pussy. I bite my lips, and attempt to stifle my increasingly louder moans.

“Suck,” he orders, and I open my mouth and lick my juices from his fingers. “Good girl,” he commends me, and once again, I feel a heady rush of pleasure at his praise.

He flicks at my clitoris, and strokes me with purpose. I feel my lust rise, higher and higher, till I’m almost ready to burst with the overload of sensation. I start to open my mouth, to try and voice the words to beg for my orgasm, but he can tell I’m close, and he stops.

It seems that I am not to be allowed to come. Not just yet.

Again, he moves away, and when he returns, he has a black satin scarf in his hands. “Close your eyes, Allie,” he orders, as he ties the scarf over my eyes, as a makeshift blindfold. “Can you see anything?”

Sudden darkness has claimed me. “No Sir.” My voice is soft and hesitant.

“Relax,
myshka.
” His voice is gentle. “This is about pleasure, not pain.”

I’m not sure whether to be reassured by that, or whether to be disappointed. I settle for neither. I just once again try to deliberately clear my mind. It doesn’t matter. Nikolai will bring me pain or pleasure, as he desires. My only role is to accept. To allow myself to accept this abdication of responsibility that he offers me.

“Sit.” His hands guide me towards the table, and his knees nudge my legs apart. My fingers curl around the edge of the table. “Do you trust me?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes Sir.”

“That’s quite flattering, Allie.” He sounds wryly amused. “Do you have a safe word you want to use, or do you want to use the traffic system? Red, yellow, green?”

“The traffic system, Sir.”

“Okay.” His hand moves over my throat, and he tilts my head up, and lowers his mouth on mine. I exhale as desire once again floods through me. His kisses arouse longing in me, and it’s everything I can do to remain seated with my legs spread apart, my hands resting behind me.

Once again, he explores my body, his palm gliding over my skin. The clamps are tugged gently, and heat explodes in me. His fingers tease their way past my belly button, once again to my pussy, where he discovers I’m soaking wet. My eyes blindfolded as they are, every other sense feels so much keener. I swear that I can smell my arousal in the air. I am convinced I can hear each mingled inhale and exhale of breath.

“Lie down, Allie.” As before, his hands help me into place, and my back comes into contact with the cool leather. I shiver, and I can feel the goose bumps rise again on my skin. “Cold?” He sounds amused. “Maybe I can warm you up.”

“Maybe you can, Sir,” I say cheekily, and I’m rewarded with a little tug of the chain at my breasts. Sweet, sweet heat pools in my belly.

His hands close around my ankles, lifting them in the air. I feel him seat himself on the table from the way the cushion sinks in response to his weight. His lips bend towards my leg, kissing me. “Such a tasty little morsel,” he rasps. His accent, normally undetectable, is pronounced now.

There is kissing and caressing, of my thighs, my knees, and my ankles. I writhe on the table as he discovers erogenous zones in my body that I didn’t even know existed.

He is so slow. So painstaking in his detailed exploration of my body. By the time he is finished with my legs, I’m confident that there isn’t a single inch of skin he hasn’t kissed. And my pussy is weeping in need, screaming in anguish, begging for contact. For his cock, for his mouth, for his fingers, for anything.

He chuckles as I wriggle on the table, desperate in my need. “Sir, please,” I plead.

“Patience,
myshka
,” he counsels. It takes an inordinate amount of willpower not to smack him at that, but I manage.

He slides off the table.
Now, perhaps? Has he relented? Will he touch me?

He has. “Part your legs for me, Allie,” he orders.

I obey with seriously impressive speed. Before he can blink, my legs are spread wide, and my sex is on display for him.

His fingers play with my lips, before moving surely over my clitoris. I can’t keep my moans contained. I groan and I exhale, and I whimper and I flail. “Do you like that?” he growls, his voice at my ear.

“Yes Sir,” I breathe. Oh, I like this very much indeed.

“
Yes Sir,
” he repeats. “You say that so prettily, Allie.”

I hear the sounds of sliding silk. Fabric caresses my skin, trailing a delicious, heated path from my pussy, up towards my clamped nipples, and over my parted lips. I shiver in response, and wish I could see what he is doing to me.

Something slithers over my ankle, and his hand closes around it. “I’m tying you up,
myshka
,” he tells me.

“Thank you, Sir.” I don’t actually understand why I’m thanking him, but the intense emotions I’m feeling at the moment need an outlet of some kind.

My legs are tied. My hands as well. I’m spread-eagled on the table, and I couldn’t be more turned on. Nikolai could do anything to me, and because I trust him perfectly, that sense of powerlessness translates into a shockwave of arousal.

His fingers trail once more over my captive body. Sparkles of lust follow his touch. A soft, slow slide up my calves, curving to my inner thighs, getting painfully close to my pussy before dancing away, to rest over my abs, and then to my breasts. He cups them, and I shiver in pleasure.

Thankfully, my pussy isn’t neglected for long. I can only hope that he too is impatient with desire. As for me, there is a deep ache that can only be filled by his hard cock.

It isn’t his cock that pushes into me. It is one finger. I want to protest loudly. I want to insist that he fuck me, damn it. But I keep quiet. Nikolai is quite capable of stopping entirely if he is displeased with me, and send me to bed, aching and unfulfilled. And if he does demand I do that, I know I’ll obey him, and my evening will suck. Best to stay silent.

His finger explores my pussy, rubbing up and down in a steady motion that has me straining my hips upward, begging for more. And my silence is rewarded, because, soon enough, two hands are spreading my lips apart, exposing my pink inner folds to his view. “Oh, Allie,” he says, his voice husky. “This is such a beautiful sight. Your clitoris is straining towards me, just begging for more.”

No doubt.

“Do you want to come?”

“Oh, god yes,” I breathe. At last. I don’t care if my ready willingness amuses him. I’m too wound up, too much at the edge. I need this. I need his permission to fall apart.

He kisses my mound, and I feel his stubble scratch against my tender flesh. Another dimension of pleasure. “Come any time you want,
myshka
,” he says, as the fingers of one hand keep me open, and the fingers of the other trace sure circles around my engorged nub.

My breathing intensifies. I throw my head back and close my eyes, and I make keening noises of lust. Sensation, sparkling, pleasurable lightning bolts of sensation travel through my body, radiating outward from my sex to suffuse through my body. I hear his hum of pleasure as my hips arch towards him, my body mutely begging for more of his touch. Every sense is heightened by the blindfold.

My wrists tug at my bindings, though I don’t realize I’m straining against them. My legs thrash, trying to break free from their restraints. But I’m well-tied, and I’m at the mercy of those talented, talented fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant. “Nikolai, please…”

“Please, what, Allie?”

“Please, don’t stop…” My voice fractures as his fingers increase the pressure and the speed of their strumming on my clitoris. I mumble and whimper, and words pour out, an incoherent babble of mixed swearing and begging.

Then I reach that place I’ve been heading towards all night, that shining spot where time seems to stand still, and only pleasure remains. My muscles quiver, and my pussy clenches at his fingers, pumping in and out of my vagina.
When did that happen?
I wonder.

He doesn’t let me off. His fingers keep working, and his hand cups around my throat. In this moment, as my body dances to Nikolai’s tune, I feel very, very possessed by him, and I love it. My second orgasm follows fairly quickly on the heels of the first, and it is every bit as good as the first one.

His lips kiss me. “I want this to last all night,
myshka
,” he growls. “I’ve been imagining this since the moment you knocked at the door of my townhouse. “But I’ve also watched your beautiful body wriggle in these bindings, and I’ve watched you moan my name when you climaxed. For the moment, I’m going to take you, hard and rough.” He undoes the blindfold, and he looks into my eyes. I can see him wait for my assent.

An assent that’s easily given. I want to feel the weight of Nikolai’s body against mine. I want our skins to touch, our breathing to mingle with each other. And I want his dick in me. “Yes please,” I tell him. “Hard and rough sounds really good right now.” Honestly, any variant of
‘I want to fuck you, Allie’
will work, but I’m going to keep some mystery about me.

My ties are undone. I look at him curiously. I thought he’d just mount me on the table, but he winks at me. “Let’s give you a tour of the dungeon instead,” he says cheerfully. “And though my balls are blue and aching, you should be exposed to some variety.”

It isn’t a tour. It is a sex swing. “You are a pervert,” I giggle when I see it.

“That doesn’t sound like much of a protest,” he notes.

“Are you kidding me? I want to try it.” Okay, so much for that sense of mystery. My voice is gleeful, and I’m practically bouncing on the balls of my feet. Evidently, I like
toys.

I’m carefully placed in the swing. My body faces the floor, and the chain connecting the nipple clamp moves back and forth as he works. Each gentle sway tugs at my nipples, sending a shaft of pure pleasure running through me. My ankles are tied to my thighs, so my legs are practically bent double. My hands are immobilized as well, tied at my sides. The way I’m immobilized, I can’t close my legs at all. I can’t steady myself. I am entirely in his control.

“Hard and rough.” His voice is a growl of need.

“Do it.”

I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper tear. Then, without ceremony, he shoves into my dripping pussy.

There are no words that can adequately describe what I feel at that moment. I could draw analogies to a parched traveller in the desert who stumbles on water but even that doesn’t describe the gaping need in me that his cock has filled. I feel complete.

And then, as he starts pounding into me, hard and rough, just like he’s promised, I can’t think any more. I can just hold on for the ride, my hands curling into fists at my side.

This time, the noises I make are not sweet moans. They are the growls of a wild cat. I hear the slap of his body against mine, and I register Nikolai’s grunts of pleasure, and it fills me with warmth.

The rhythm changes; the melody remains the same. His thrusts gentle, then quicken. Sometimes, they rake my insides with hot fire, other times, with sweet warmth. But I want it all; I’m ready for everything he can throw at me. More than that, I welcome it.

“I want you to come again,
myshka
,” he says to me. He doesn’t wait for my reply, and a hand curls to find my clitoris. He never lets up on the pounding. Each thrust causes my pussy to quiver and clench at his hard dick. In the bindings, I writhe, but I am effectively held open for him.

We are both close to the edge. Already primed, I go over first, but Nikolai isn’t far behind. His fingers clench at me, his cock pounds, fast and furious, and he shoves himself deep in me as he erupts.

***

“What now?” I ask, when my brain clears enough for words to form.

“We practise again. You sleep in the dungeon.” He inclines his head towards the cage.

I’m not angry, just curious. “Is this how you are to all your submissives? This harsh?”

He looks at me, and there’s a trace of resignation in his gaze. “This is what you need right now. You don’t need to be coddled. The harshness, as you call it, is good for you.”

He’s right. I hear it in my playing. I feel it in the sense of peace and belonging that permeates through me. “Are you judging me, Nikolai? For being unable to rescue myself on my own?” I very much care about his reply.

“Of course not, Allie,” he says automatically. His hand brushes against my cheek. “We all need a support system. I’m glad you are here.”

“Six years ago, you offered me help,” I remember.

He gives me a half-smile. “And you weren’t ready to accept it. In the intervening time, I’ve come to realize that in order to be helped, you need to want it. But Allie,” he kisses me and looks into my eyes, very, very intently. “Before you judge yourself too harshly, remember, this time around, you were willing to ask for help. You seized the lifeline. Don’t forget that. No matter how much I whip you with a crop, it is your fingers that play the music, not mine. Never forget – you play the biggest role in your resurrection.”