by Sahara Kelly
“Francesca, on your questionnaire you responded to the section on your sexual experience as—um—let me see, varied?” Jason raised his eyes back to the woman standing so still in front of him.
“It’s okay to speak, you know. Would you please define ‘varied’?”
She licked her lips with that damnably teasing tongue.
“It means just that. Varied.” Her voice was low and cultured, with little trace of the local flattened dialect. He could not tell where she was from, but knew her voice would remain in his psyche forever. It whispered of hot nights, sweaty thighs, and unspeakable acts.
Damn, he was losing his train of thought again. “Please continue. I must have as much information as possible, you understand.”
“Varied. Of many different types and categories. I lost my virginity at sixteen to a member of the high school football team. I became sexually active on a routine basis not long after. Most of my dates can and do lead to sex after a suitable period because I don’t date people I don’t find sexually attractive. However I have not orgasmed during sex with any regularity.”
She was weaving a spell around him with her words and her voice, seducing him, stroking him in places he could only imagine.
“I experienced my first lesbian encounter here at college during my freshman year.”
Jason exerted a heroic effort to prevent his jaw from dropping. He cleared his throat. “And?”
“And it was—pleasant. Since that time I have not ignored the possibility that lesbian sex might be fulfilling, but have not actively pursued it. My work schedule and study load has made dating difficult recently, and to be honest, I am tired of hunting for the excitement and arousal that is supposed to accompany sexual intercourse. I am here to assist in your research and also possibly find out if there is something unusual about my own response. I suppose you could say I’m here to research me as much as you are.”
Jason digested her words silently for a few moments. They were pretty much what she’d written on her fact sheet. Her interest in exploring other sexual practices as a means to experiencing greater sexual satisfaction.
Clinically he was close to convinced she’d be perfect for his research. Physically he was absolutely convinced she’d be perfect for his cock. And his mouth. And his tongue. And whatever else he could think of—up to and including his ten-speed bike.
But first, he had to restrain her, arouse her, and masturbate her to orgasm while she was chained.
He sighed. The things one did for science.
Chapter 2
The melting ice in Jason’s glass clinked and the sound recalled him from his vivid memories.
The sun had set, and the library was filled with soft sounds and the low light of the computer monitors. It was a moment of surreal pleasure for Jason, as he allowed the image of Francesca Dalton to stay behind his eyelids for a long minute.
He’d forbidden himself this luxury many years ago, knowing that thoughts of her would stir emotions best left alone. And they did, invariably, when she crept into his day or his night or his dreams.
He reached for the small bottle and emptied the rest of the liquor over the melting ice cubes. He swirled the glass contemplatively, watching the amber gold liquid as it conformed to the glass and the laws of centrifugal force.
She’d had a bottle just about this size in her purse.
“Do you like scotch?”
Her words had dropped like petals into the sunny silence of his room and she’d bitten her lip as if she’d broken a rule. One of her own perhaps, as he had yet to ask her to keep silent. “I’m sorry…I interrupted your train of thought. But right now, I could use a little…um…courage…”
“Yes. I understand.”
“In my purse.” She nodded toward her pile of belongings on the table. “I have a small bottle of a new brand I’d like to try. If it doesn’t violate any of your scientific principles, I wouldn’t mind a sip right now. And you’re welcome to share.”
Jason thought for a moment. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I am basing my research on activities that do not include alcohol, because it’s my understanding that restraint or bondage adherents tend to avoid alcohol usage. Wisely, too, probably.” He allowed himself a quick grin at her. “But yeah, I do like scotch. So perhaps a little drop will be okay. Just to warm us up.”
Oh yeah…like he needed warming up. He was so damned hot at this moment that he might well be responsible for his own personal sunspot. Radio interference across the globe could be traced to his door.
He crossed to the table and looked tentatively at her purse. Like most men, he viewed a woman’s purse as a cross between a treasure chest and Pandora’s box. There might be wonderful things inside, but one might also pay the price for looking.
“Right in the front pocket,” she said.
“Got it.” Jason uncapped the bottle and sniffed appreciatively. “Mmm. Nice.” He poured two small shots into glasses and brought one over to her.
“Umm…you’ll have to help.” She smiled, moving her arms.
He closed the distance between them, uncomfortably aware of her nakedness now that it was so close to his body.
He raised the glass to her lips and watched as she allowed him to trickle the liquid between them.
Her tongue flicked out and wiped an errant drop from her mouth, and she closed her eyes on a hum. “Oh my. Yes. That’s a nice one,” she said quietly, savoring the taste. She accepted another swallow, her throat working so close to his hands.
Jason nearly came in his pants. Watching her, hanging naked, enjoying a fine scotch and licking her lips like that, was the most erotic thing he could ever have imagined. He wished he had sufficient control to note this event down in his journal, but he had a feeling his hands weren’t working terribly well at the moment.
His cock, however, was functioning just fine.
Aware of the severe ache between his legs, Jason swallowed his scotch in one gulp and turned away.
He coughed. God, that was good. Burningly hot, but good. Yes, he was now well warmed-up. Ignoring his massive erection as best he could, he yanked his mind out of her crotch and back to business.
“Very nice, thanks.” He glanced around at his selection of tools. “You are now to remain silent at all times, please. I am going to begin this experiment by applying some pressure to your sensitive tissues. You may nod if you understand.”
Licking the last of the scotch from her mouth, Francesca straightened her shoulders as best she could and nodded.
Jason moved to a side table and picked up a couple of small clips. They had loose loops at the end. He inhaled, exhaled, did a few multiplication tables in his head, then turned back to her and held the loops out for her to see.
“I am going to put these on your nipples,” he said, privately amazed at himself for actually being able to say that sentence to a naked woman without coming or blushing, or both. Now all he had to do was keep his hands from trembling while he tried to remember what, exactly, he was supposed to be doing with her nipples. He forcefully reminded himself that tongues and mouths were not included.
Gingerly he grasped her budded nipple and placed the clip just behind it, repeating the action on the other side.
Her skin was velvet, warm velvet, and he could feel the tiny muscles reacting to his touch as he pulled on her sensitive breasts. A quick glance at her face showed him she was watching intently, her pulse rapid at the base of her neck.
Task completed, Jason pulled slightly on the lower loops, tugging her nipples and bringing a gasp to her lips.
He watched her eyes widen and the pupils dilate as the sensation traveled through her body. There was a definite increase in her pulse rate, and the scent of her arousal grew strong.
He repeated his action, simply distending her nipples with the clips and releasing them again. Tugging with a gentle rhythm. She moaned slightly, a sound that was given strength by the movements of her body rather than the force of her throat. Her hips swaye
d and her chest followed his tugs, almost as if begging for more.
Jason began to sweat.
He released his grasp on the nipple clamps and lightly flicked the nipple. She sucked in a breath and gasped. He moved so that he was standing close behind her. “Did you like that, Francesca?” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded, hair flying.
Jason obeyed an instinct and lightly bit the side of her neck, licking the injury with his tongue.
Her reaction was immediate, a moan and a tilt of the head offering him more. She was responding very positively.
“Would you like to continue?”
The hair flew again with her enthusiastic nods.
He ran his hands down her spine and settled them on her buttocks. They were full and round and made for his hands to cup as he thrust into her…damn, he was in danger of losing focus again.
It was time to test his theory. Was she now sufficiently sensitized that pain would become pleasure? Or did she need more stimulation? Could women’s nipples be the key to opening the flood of endorphins that would welcome additional forceful contact?
There was only one way to find out.
He pulled his arm back, aimed at the center of her luscious buttock and smacked her hard.
She jumped and cried out.
His hand left a mark that quickly reddened, contrasting vividly with the white of her flesh. Jason was beside himself as he watched the skin change color. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life.
“More,” she muttered, violating her agreement of silence.
Too far lost in the moment to realize it, Jason was helpless to do anything other than follow her instructions. His hand itched to feel her again.
Another sharp slap echoed through the room, followed by a sensual groan ripped from Francesca’s lungs.
The next blow fell without her encouragement, but brought a moan of pleasure and a thrust of her hips back toward him.
He couldn’t have stopped himself. Her buttocks were begging, his hand was itching, his cock was about to go nova, and he realized the experiment was working.
He peppered her bottom with slaps, some hard, some soft.
Finally, she called his name, voice husky and rough. “Jason Burke.”
He stilled, brain fogged with desire, eyes burning, body on autopilot.
“I don’t want to be your research assistant. I quit.”
“You what?” His mind roiled, trying to make some sense out of her words.
“I quit. Now fuck me.”
It would have taken a far stronger and better man than he to refuse such a plea. He was weak and a dreadful person, and he wanted her.
Within seconds he was before her, hands on either side of her face. “Are you sure? You’ll never be able to help in my research after this…”
“After this I won’t need to,” she hissed at him through teeth that were clenched as if she were holding herself together by the force of her jaw. “Dear God, Jason. Fuck me now, please, hard, I want it so bad…”
Jason pulled her sharply to him, smashing his mouth down on hers only to be met with a hunger even greater than his own.
Her arms may have been stretched to either side, but her lips and her tongue held him as firmly as if she’d been completely wrapped around him. She tasted of scotch and woman with a hint of peppermint, and Jason couldn’t get enough.
Without realizing it, his hands had already stripped away his shirt, and suddenly she pressed herself against him, letting her tight nipples stab his chest and the clamps shiver against him.
His pants disappeared. It must have been magic because he sure as hell couldn’t remember removing them. But they were gone, and there was nothing between him and Francesca but heat.
Boiling, steaming, off-the-scale heat.
“Are you…are you on anything?” Some semblance of sanity poked a little hole in the sexual vortex that was possessing Jason Burke.
“Yeah, the Pill,” she breathed, licking his mouth and moaning as her nipples rubbed roughly against him.
“Thank God,” he muttered. Slamming his body onto hers, he reached behind her and slid his hands down to her burning buttocks. They filled his hands like they’d been made with him in mind.
“Lift your leg,” he urged, cock thrusting blindly for its target.
She did as he told her, twisting her hands and gripping the ropes that held her.
He bent slightly and lifted her off the ground. He was surprised by how little she weighed and how easily she found his cock with her wet and fiery folds. Her legs clamped around his hips and before he knew it he was buried balls deep inside the hottest cunt he could ever recall. She was all boiling silk and molten lava erupting around his cock, and he was stunned by the intensity of the feeling.
He’d fucked his way around and considered himself experienced, but never had anything come close to this.
She thrust herself onto him, demanding he move. With a neat bounce of his hips, he did.
And he did it again. A lot.
Until they were both soaked with sweat, bodies steaming, muscles straining and throats gasping for air. Jason knew he was hitting her clit with each thrust, he was almost positive he could feel it brushing him and stabbing his flesh as it pounded against hers.
Her breaths came in little sharp gasps and he could feel the onset of his own personal signals telling him that he was going to come.
Some kind of higher level brain function remained working, as he retained the presence of mind to free one hand and reach for Francesca’s body at just the right moment…he felt the beginnings of her inner spasms…and he whipped off her nipple clamps, one after another, just as she began to come.
Her scream nearly deafened him, and her orgasm damn near squeezed his cock up into his appendix. She came in mammoth waves around him, endlessly, never slacking, never wavering, and dragging him along with her for the wild mad ride.
Within moments he was there with her, pumping, spurting, feeling his cock echo her frenzied inner gyrations. It was astonishing, mind-blowing, draining, and completely beyond anything he’d experienced in his lifetime, or probably any of the others he’d had before. If he’d had any. He didn’t know, and at this moment he didn’t care.
All he wanted was to fuck this woman again and again. To explore her body and her mind. To turn her inside out and find out what made her tick. To take her any and every which way there was. Then get some books and find more ways to take her.
Hell, they could probably cover the entire Kama Sutra.
His mind whirled off on its cosmic voyage while his body absorbed the aftershocks of a mammoth orgasm. Both his and hers.
She was still hanging from her restraints and he reached up to release her as he gingerly eased himself from her body while lowering her feet to the floor.
She sagged bonelessly into his arms as he freed her, not stirring as he lifted her and carried her over to his couch.
Gently, he tumbled them both onto the cushions, gathering her close and stroking her skin. Her body gleamed with their juices, they both smelled of hot sex and satisfaction, and she fit against him in all the right places.
My God. That had been one hell of an awesome fuck.
And he knew now that it had marked the beginning of a phase of his life that he would never be able to relegate to a distant memory. It had been too important, had shaped too many of his beliefs, his needs and his desires.
They had shared three years of pleasure, ecstasy, joy and savage pain. Sometimes all at once.
When it had ended, he had known that something very special was gone.
He hadn’t realized he’d never be able to find it again.
Chapter 3
Had he really been that young? That naive? To think that the amazing time he’d spent with Francesca Dalton could be duplicated again in another place with another woman?
Jason snorted to himself in the darkness. It had been so many years ago, a different time, a different place. When
the world itself had been different. Just discovering its own sexuality, to the accompaniment of flower power, psychedelic drugs, love beads and war.
When political discussions ranged from the polite to the militaristic, and everyone at college believed they had the answers. When free love meant just that, free love. The Pill had freed women from the risk of pregnancy, and allowed them to lead the sexual revolution. Nobody had heard of AIDS, and the worst that you could end up with was some nasty bug that would respond to a course of antibiotics and a lecture from the clinician.
Yeah, Jason shook his head, it was a different time. And he had been a different man.
And Francesca? Was she different now? She had been younger than him by several years, so she would have reached a not dissimilar point in her life, he supposed. She’d be in her late fifties. Had she married? Had children? How could he have let her slip from his life so completely? Had he had a choice?
He finished the last of the scotch in his glass, letting the sliver of ice follow it into his mouth and crunching down on it.
He shivered as he remembered other ice cubes…other times…long ago…
“I’ll never get enough of you, Jason Burke.”
Francesca’s mouth was kissing his cock, sliding up and down, tasting him, teasing him, flicking at his most sensitive spots.
They were lying, daringly, in the sunshine, risking public exposure but not caring, just locked in their bodies’ need for each other.
This little spot on the roof of the apartment where Francesca lived had become “their” place, shielded as it was from prying eyes, and yet allowing the fresh air to blow in from the ocean, stirring up goosepimples across Francesca’s naked back. She’d slipped off her top, but left her long flowered skirt on, even though Jason knew she wore nothing beneath it.
The knowledge had made him hard as a rock as he followed her up the small stairs to the roof door. He had allowed her to dress him in her favorite outfit, a pseudo-maharishi sort of robe. She loved it because it required no underwear either and she adored the feel of his backside through the light cotton.
