Chasing The O

by LaBelle, Lorelai

  “There’s bound to be one in there.”

  I started watching One for the Money as Vince barbecued chicken outside. I couldn’t concentrate on the movie at all, though—my thoughts revolving around the image of being restrained. Fear and a dark craving mingled in my stomach, and the two became an enthralling mixture. One part of me was begging for the release, to let Vince take total control; another part was telling me I wasn’t ready, that I hadn’t had enough time to prepare.

  But that’s what I always did: calculated. That’s what I was doing now. I should have just embraced the concept in the bedroom. Now it would all be planned, and that was a reminder of my past, which was a turnoff on its own.

  I considered the idea through dinner while we watched another movie. “Okay,” I finally said, halfway into the action flick. The sun had dipped below the horizon and dusk surrounded the countryside.

  Vince turned to me. “Okay, what?”

  “I want to do it. I want to try it.”

  “The cuffs?”

  I nodded.

  Pure excitement resided in his eyes. “You sure?” He stroked my legs, his touch electrifying. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t—”

  I raised a finger to his lips and cut him off. “If I didn’t want to, I’d say no,” I assured him.

  He launched off the couch. “Okay, give me a second.” He bolted out of the room before I could reply. About ten minutes later, he returned with a fuzzy red blindfold that reminded me of Danielle’s sleeping mask. “Do you trust me?” he asked, holding out the mask.

  Without hesitation, I nodded and said, “Yes.”

  “Put it on.” It sounded more like a command than a suggestion.

  Standing, I complied. My world went dark. He took my hands and led me next to a crackling fire. The heat felt intense on my skin. He started undressing me where I stood, taking off each piece slowly, artfully. He kissed my body up and down as he went. The fire was bringing out a sweat in both of us, our skin gliding across each other’s. He released my bra, and I heard it hit the carpet. His nose moved between my breasts, pressing them to his face and inhaling, planting kisses on my soft skin. He let out a small moan. “I like it when you sweat. You smell so good.”

  Without my vision, I was trying hard not to fall over as he sucked on my nipples. They hardened in his mouth, tingling.

  “Lie down,” he instructed, a breath later.

  I did as he bid with his help, finding the flat surface and a sturdy pillow for my head. He slid off my panties. “Shouldn’t we have a safe word or something?”

  “I don’t plan on getting that rough,” he said.

  “What if you do anyway?” I asked, still able to feel the fire from the lounge. He must have moved it closer when he was preparing the room.

  “Can’t you just tell me to stop? ‘Stop’ can be our safety word.”

  “I don’t think that counts.”

  “Okay, then how about ‘wet monkey’?”

  “Wet monkey?” I could hear the laughter in my voice.

  “You’re not likely to say that, are you?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then it’s a good safe word,” he asserted. “Are you comfortable?”

  I repositioned so that my head was more on the pillow. “Yes.” He took my right foot and brought it down, wrapping a strap around my ankle. A surge of expectancy coursed through me. He strapped my other ankle down.

  “Too tight?”

  “No,” I said, raising my legs. They moved about an inch, the soft cuffs snug, binding my legs open, my pussy exposed.

  “Good.” He cuffed my wrists as slowly as he had stripped off my clothes. A second later, I felt a light touch grazing my skin, tickling my thighs.

  I wiggled at the sensation. That was the moment that I realized I was really trapped—totally at his mercy. I fought off the rush of panic, reminding myself that I trusted Vince, that I wanted this. “What is that?” I asked, more of a distraction than anything.

  “A feather,” he said, blowing on my nipples. It was difficult to tell where he was standing, the crackle of the fire stealing what little noise he made on the carpet. “You’re so sexy, you know that? Your skin is so soft, so flawless.” He teased my breasts with the feather; the sensation was heightened without my sight. It tickled, but in an intoxicating way, which didn’t make sense—how could a tickle feel so good?

  The feather meandered down my torso, grazing my clit, sparking my nerves with electric heat. He moved on, down my thighs to my toes, but this time when it tickled, I fidgeted, uncomfortable.

  The feather returned between my legs, and I flexed in reaction, my stomach crunching. My gasps were growing more and more audible as I let go in the world of fire and darkness. He swirled over my pussy, descending with each pass, and before I could refuse him, the feather was skimming my ass. A perverse rush sped through my veins. The unexplored nerves of my anus flittered with excitement. It hadn’t occurred to me that Vince might enter there. Would he do that without asking? As if to answer the question, the feather moved on.

  I could hear him step away, toward the bed, and then nothing but the pop of the fire. Did he leave? Is he just watching me? “Vince?” I called out. No reply came. After several more calls, trepidation set in, and the cuffs became more than I could take. The fleeting reactions disappeared when I heard Vince’s footsteps again. “Where did you go?”

  “To get something special,” he replied, his voice soft and tender. “This will be cold.” The warning came right before a freezing spike jolted my nipple. In the heat of the fire, the chill ran wildly through my body, the dual sensation tormenting and thrilling. I shivered, and I could feel the goose bumps forming across my flesh, down to my legs.

  Vince circled my nipple, dipped down the slope of my breasts, and up to my other nipple. They grew harder and harder, until Vince took one in his mouth, sucking down the cold water. He ran the ice cube down to my stomach, over my bellybutton, stopping just shy of my clit. I could sense his lips hovering above the bundle of nerves, drawing out my anticipation, almost to the point where I cried out for his touch. He breathed a hot, sexy breath on my clit, then immediately rubbed it with the ice. The temperature change sent a shockwave up to my neck, where it lingered for a second, before Vince’s lips devoured the nerves, sucking hard.

  “Ahh,” I let out. I went to grab his hair in reaction, but was suddenly reminded of the bondage, the straps jerking tight.

  “I’ve never tasted anything so good,” he said, his words melting away my fears and bringing out only lust. Suddenly Vince vanished for a second time. My body writhed from the withdrawal.

  “Vince?”

  “I’m here, sexy,” he said silkily. I could hear him opening a drawer and placing items on the nightstand.

  Raising my hips what little I could, I encouraged him with my pussy, begging him to continue with his tongue. Instead, what I got was a cold, startling glob on my clit. A second later, I could feel Vince straddle the longer lounge. With two fingers, he massaged my lips with the lube, stroking up to my clit then back down. The heat slowly intensified as his fingers parted my inner lips, delicately stroking them up and down. “I love it how your lips part for me when I rub you,” he whispered. My heart leapt at his words. I chose silence, listening as his breaths quickened, hitting my clit, adding a different pulse to his foreplay.

  The sensation stopped when he grabbed my right ankle. Loosening the cuff, he slid it up to the middle of my calf, tightening it again. He repeated the action on my left leg. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around my thighs and pulled me toward his chest, elongating my arms above my head. The pillow came with me.

  He buried his face between my legs, his tongue probing between my lips, while his nose tantalizingly nudged my clit. I succumbed to the storm of sensations: the cuffs, his lips and tongue, the warm lube, the soft and sturdy furniture, the blazing fire, and his nose—his beautiful, talented nose. Who knew a man co
uld do so much with his nose?

  My body repeatedly contracted, my abs burning, my hips gyrating, my ass flexing, pushing into his head, harder and harder. “You like my nose, don’t you?” His voice was honey in my ears, so smooth and confident.

  “Yes,” was all I could get out between my heavy breaths.

  “You like it when my nose fucks your clit, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And when it does this?” He pushed my clit down, and then rolled over it in a circle.

  “Yes.”

  He duplicated the maneuver. “What was that?”

  “Yes,” I said louder, my voice weak. “Just like that.”

  He did it again, but this time never stopped. His tongue wiped up the wetness coming out of me, the two sensations taking over, leaving the rest behind. With my body locked up in a crunch, I shut it all out. I came—loudly. The absolute darkness of the mask intensified the red scorching my eyes. Ecstasy exploded in my body. It felt like I was showering Vince’s face, and I could hear his tongue licking it up, so sexy and arousing. The orgasm seemed to last forever as I listened to his mouth drink me in. All of me.

  My other senses slowly returned, except my sight, which was still shrouded. I felt drained, tingly and warm: satisfied. I pictured Vince’s throbbing cock and how hard it must be, patiently waiting to explode like I just did. My throat was dry, the fire stealing what little saliva I had. I hadn’t heard him leave, but my ears caught him returning, and he tilted my head up. “Water,” he breathed.

  I slurped it down. After I finished, I heard him gulp down his own glass, resting the glasses on the nightstand.

  “Are you ready for more?” he asked with an enticing suaveness.

  “More? More of your nose and tongue? How can you wait? I want you to come inside me.”

  “I will,” he said, “but I have more to do. You trust me, right?”

  Why was he asking me that again? What was he planning? “Yes, I trust you,” I answered, though with a little hesitation.

  “If I could lick you and fuck you at the same time, I would love it.” I heard him pop open the lube and squirt it onto something. “This may be the next best thing.” He straddled the lounge, and I could hear his hand stroking something, the lube spreading, slick and noisy.

  He played with my lips and the entrance to my pussy with something hard. The building anticipation shattered when he rammed the object deep inside me, filling me up. Whatever it was felt like a real cock, yet fake at the same time—a mixture of a soft outside and a firm core.

  He slid it out, then in again, repeating the process, allowing me to get used to it. “How does it feel?” he asked.

  “Good,” I purred. “Really good actually. What is it, a dildo?”

  “Yes,” he said, and I could tell he was pleased. “A nice hot pink one.” He picked up his pace. “I’m glad you like it. You should really like this—”

  Before I could ask what he meant, his tongue was massaging my clit, as soft and delicate as possible. He slowed his pace with the dildo, matching the two in rhythm. The sweet touch was so seductive, so incredibly sexy, that it in itself turned me on.

  Ever so slightly he increased the pace of the masterful combo. It was hard to pay attention to both feelings, one so deep inside me, the other shooting through my body from my clit. It was almost too much—too much sensation, but I loved it, and craved it.

  Then, abruptly, I heard a noise like a fart, and I stopped dead. “What was that?” I said, embarrassed.

  “A queef,” Vince said, unaffected by the release. “It was in the book, remember? Vaginal farts. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  I remembered the short segment in the book, but it had never happened before, and it was weird to hear.

  “Relax,” he said. “Let go. Let it happen.” He continued increasing his pace. As he did, the queefs increased in frequency. I ignored them, focusing on the growing pressure under my skull and beneath my stomach. “That’s it, sexy. Like that. Just like that. God, you’re so fucking sexy.” He ran his free hand up my stomach and cupped a breast, pinching my nipple.

  I moaned lustily.

  “You like that? You want more?”

  “Yes?”

  He pinched harder. “More?”

  “Yes.”

  He circled my nipple and pinched again. I let out another cry. Then he stopped everything at once. I could feel his weight leave the lounge. He left the dildo inside me as he went to the nightstand. Its idleness was strange. Despite the fullness it gave me, I missed the movement.

  A clink caught my attention. It sounded like a chain. “What’s that?” I asked, curious.

  He stood over me, near my waist. “Something to do the pinching for me.” A rush of minor pain bolted through my nipples as he simultaneously clamped something to them. “How’s the pressure?”

  Once the initial pain subsided, the lingering pressure added another glorious ingredient to the orgasmic dish he was cooking. “Light,” I said. “I like it.”

  “Good. I didn’t think we’d ever use the nipple clamps, but you seemed like you wanted the pinch.” He returned to his position on the lounge, and began pumping the dildo in rhythm with his tongue, regaining the momentum lost from the rest. Every so often he pulled on the chain that linked the clamps, shooting a tinge of pain from my nipples through my breasts.

  It didn’t take long before I reached the point where Vince had paused. He tugged on the chain, and I screamed in response, the crescendo of pleasure climaxing—my body shattering under his divine dance of sexual prowess. Red flooded my vision again, more intense than ever: giant bursts of color, like fireworks erupting in the night sky. I screamed myself hoarse.

  As I settled back on the furniture, my body convulsed, my abs on fire, my legs jelly. The pleasure of the clamps turned to irritation quickly. “The clamps. Take the clamps off.” Vince was quick to respond, removing them in a hurry, tossing them to the floor. “I want to see you.” He slowly lifted the mask. The world was dim and fuzzy. He was standing over me, and his cock looked as swelled as I’d ever seen it, about to explode.

  I reached to stroke it, but the cuffs prevented my touch. “Come inside me,” I rasped. He needed no more encouragement. Picking up the wedge pillow from the bed, he placed it under my ass, then straddled the lounge. After pulling out the dildo, he grabbed his shaft just above the base, inching himself inside.

  Our eyes locked, and passion took control from there, his body flexing like a Greek god. He came a few minutes later. His screams were so fierce that I thought he’d lose his voice right then and there. Veins were bulging everywhere in his body, especially in his forehead and neck.

  He pulled out, his eyes foggy and half closed, and I could see the euphoria in his spent smile. With unhurried movements, he uncuffed my wrists and calves. I rubbed my wrists, and the freedom felt unusual for a moment. I stood up and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing with all the strength left in me, which wasn’t much at all. After a kiss, I tottered to the bed while Vince turned down the fire. The moment my head hit the pillow, the world immediately dissolved, and I passed out from wonderful, exhilarating exhaustion.

  18

  OVER THE LINE

  The morning after the most mind-blowing night of my life, I found myself naked in bed, rejuvenated. I gazed at the two rectangular sex furnishings and all the sex toys strewn about on the carpet. Exhilaration coursed through me at the sight of them.

  I rolled over and noticed the bed empty. Listening intently, I could hear the shower running, so I decided to get up and make a pot of coffee. So far out in the boonies and without any neighbors, I forwent dressing, feeling warm and comfortable naked—and horny. When Vince came out, all clean and fragrant, I planned to hop on him and give him a ride, since he had done it all the night before.

  The giant house was immaculate compared to his condo. There were no books about, work files, or forgotten dishes. No video games or movie cases. It was just clean and open and
beautiful.

  The bright sun sparkled through the massive windows, and I paused, staring at Mount Hood. Pine trees covered the distance, and it seemed like there was nothing else between the mountain and us other than the trees, standing tall and proud.

  I headed for the kitchen. Rounding the corner, I jumped when I saw Terrance standing there, as if waiting for me. He glared at me as I crossed my arms across my breasts, ducking out of the room. I swore I saw him smirk with satisfaction at my humiliation.

  “It’s all right, love,” he said gruffly. “I don’t much care for your goods.” He laughed a little. “There’s coffee if you want it.” Frozen on the other side of the wall, I could hear him pouring out what remained in the pot. “Oh, wait, I guess I drank it all. Sorry about that.”

  I tramped off on the hardwood flooring. His laughed echoed in the house. As I entered the bedroom, I spotted Vince leaving the bathroom. “We need to leave,” I growled, throwing on my clothes.

  “What?” he said, startled. He unwrapped his towel and rubbed his butt with it in a silly way, shaking his penis side to side. “Why? We just woke up.”

  “I just need to go, that’s all. Could you drop me off at home?”

  “I don’t get it. What happened?”

  “Terrance saw me naked just now, and I’m uncomfortable, and I just want to go home.”

  His face contorted in disbelief and confusion. “Terrance saw you naked?”

  “In the kitchen. Just now. I went to go make some coffee, and he was in there.” As soon as I said that, the roar of his motorcycle blasted our ears, the harsh noise fading as he drove away.

  “Looks like he was as uncomfortable as you were,” he laughed.

  “It’s not funny, Vince,” I snapped. “He was really rude. He purposefully dumped out the coffee he made so I couldn’t drink it.”

  “He did?” His face told me he didn’t take me seriously. “Now why would he do that? I know he’s not fond of you, but that’s a little out of character.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. He did it. Now could you take me home? I’m creeped out.”