He moves around to the foot of the bed. ‘What did you call me?’ He begins slipping on some skintight black rubber gloves.
‘What are you going to do, sir?’
‘I’ll do whatever I please with you, whenever I please.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You really don’t get it yet, do you, Carmen? Things will be a lot clearer to you soon.’
She lets her heavy head fall back onto the bed. He looks so good dressed all in black, and the addition of black latex gloves to the ensemble has a devastating effect on her emotionally… It won’t be his warm, mortal fingers touching her body, it will be like having Darkness itself caress her as mysteriously embodied in him, and his aura of power…
‘I’d like to know what you’re thinking, Carmen.’
She stares up at the blank, roughly textured white ceiling. ‘I was thinking about how much those gloves turn me on, and wondering why.’ She lifts her head to look at him again.
He pulls his shirt out of his slacks, and starts unbuttoning it. ‘What did you conclude?’ He sounds interested.
Her head falls back on the pillow. ‘That when you touch me with them, it will be like the cold darkness of space touching me. Your fingers will be its inexorable laws, and my skin… my skin will be like the light emerging from it…’
‘Fascinating. It’s going to be a real pleasure torturing a beautiful and intelligent woman for a change.’
The ceiling is no longer blank: she sees the word TORTURE written across it in big, black, inescapable letters. Yet she doesn’t dare ask him what he means by it. The bed sinks to one side as he joins her on it – a pocket of energy suddenly forming in the comforter’s black space that both excites her and frightens her as she lets her head turn to face him.
He is wearing only black slacks now with the black gloves, and they enhance his skin’s nearly luminous perfection, making his gray irises shine like moons that irresistibly draw her feelings into the gravity of his stare.
‘I’ve opened Pandora’s Box,’ he says, brushing her bangs off her forehead as if he wants every inch of her skin exposed to him, ‘haven’t I?’
‘What do you mean, sir?’
He gathers her breasts up in both hands. ‘I mean you were a good girl,’ he flicks his tongue into her creamy cleavage like a hungry cat, ‘until I came along.’ He holds her eyes. ‘When you went out with a man, you were faithful to him. You never even thought of sleeping with more than one man at a time. Am I right?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I’ve freed the tiger, and it’s good that she’s enjoying her true nature after being locked up for so long. But what she has to understand is that she needs her Master’s permission to feed.’ He pauses to suck on one of her nipples as he massages her tender globes. ‘She can’t go hunting by herself.’ His breath is deliciously warm against her saliva-soaked nipple. ‘It’s not safe – not now that she knows what she likes.’ He lets go of her. ‘She needs her Mate and Master there with her so he can protect her. And, even more important,’ he makes a fist with his left hand, ‘is how angry he gets when she dares to feed without him.’
‘Oh, God,’ she whispers. Mike fisted her in the heat of passion, but this feels completely different. She can see it coming, she has time to think about it, which is a mistake. ‘Jay…’
He places a cool, heavy hand over her mouth, so she can’t raise her head to watch as his coal-black fist parts her labia, and starts burrowing slowly into her cunt.
The excruciating penetration stretches the envelope of sensation to the point where she feels as though his fist is closing around her mind and squeezing every thought out between his fingers, leaving only the helpless awareness of what he is doing to her. At least with Mike she retained a semblance of control, she wasn’t bound hand and foot.
She could have defended herself if she had really wanted to, kicked him and scratched him. But all she can do now is close her eyes and lay utterly still hoping to survive as his cold gloved fist stretches her pussy open around it, unyielding as a rock shaping warm, moist clay. His knuckles make deep impressions in her innermost flesh, that resonate like violent musical notes through her blood in a dark symphony of sensations deafening her to everything else as her heart beats faster and harder trying to keep up. She is only vaguely aware of her wrists and ankles straining at their bonds, and of her cries uselessly hitting the wall of his other hand pressed hard against her mouth.
‘If you can’t take anymore,’ his clear, even tone penetrates the tumultuous storm of her senses orbiting his fist, ‘just say violet.’
She opens her eyes in wonder that he guessed her favorite color, and the added penetration of his stare arouses her so much she can hardly stand it. Especially when his arm begins twisting slowly back and forth, caressing her everywhere at once. She is sure she is going to die then, not because her body can’t take the forced labor, but because the pleasure is so intense she can’t possibly survive it. The only thing left in the universe is his all-consuming presence inside her, and her body’s deepest recesses molding themselves to his fist and arm like another, living, glove. The experience seems to bend space around it as it goes on forever… Yet she feels just as bereft as she does relieved when he abruptly withdraws his fist, and it ends.
He uncovers her mouth. ‘You’re amazing,’ he says.
Becoming aware of the room again, she takes a deep, shuddering breath.
He gets up, pulls something out of one of his drawers, and bends over her.
A soft cloth falls over her eyes.
She moans in protest, hating to lose sight of him.
‘What’s the matter, Carmen, don’t you like being blindfolded?’
‘No, sir.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Because I can’t see you, sir.’
‘And what makes you think you deserve to see me?’
She bites her lip. She has been unfaithful to him, over and over again. She truly deserves whatever punishment he decides to give her.
‘You don’t deserve to look at me, do you, Carmen?’
She answers faintly, ‘No, sir.’
‘That’s right, you don’t. You don’t even deserve to speak to me.’ He shoves some sort of ball between her lips that fills her mouth and straps on over her head.
All she can see is darkness, all she can taste is plastic, and her sense of smell has never been very strong, so the only senses left to her are hearing and touch. The latter verifies that she is totally helpless as she tests the ropes around her wrists again.
‘I suggest you lie still, Carmen. I’ll see you in a few hours.’
Tears wet the edges of her blindfold as she moans and whimpers and heaves frustrated sobs begging him not to leave her like this.
She has no idea how long it takes her to run the full gamut of her emotions. Lying bound and helpless, she seems to cover their entire invisible spectrum. First she hates him, and determines never to see him again. Then she begins to respect him for the way he is treating her, which shifts the anger onto herself, because she really can’t believe the way she has behaved lately. Then she starts feeling blessed by the fact that he is only leaving her for a little while, not forever. And suddenly, her emotional turmoil climaxes into a feeling of gratitude that he is punishing her like this, because it means he really cares about her. The more her discomfort intensifies, the more she is sure he cares for her, which reassures her and excites her, so that by the time she hears the door open again, the comforter beneath her pussy is soaked with how much she wants him.
‘Are things a little clearer to you now, Carmen?’
She moans hoarsely, her mouth and throat dry from sucking on lifeless plastic for so long.
‘You understand what you are now, don’t you?’ He removes the ball gag so she can answer him.
‘Yes, sir,’ she gasps. ‘I’m your slave!’
‘And who am I?’ He slips the blindfold off next so she can have the honor of seeing him.
&nb
sp; ‘You’re my Master.’ She blinks wildly against the sudden onrush of light. ‘I’ll do anything you say, Master, anything!’
‘Very good.’ Without warning, he slips the blade of a knife beneath the ropes around her wrists and ankles and slices through them. ‘Turn over onto your stomach,’ he commands.
Her eyes close as her cheek falls gratefully against the soft black comforter. A moment later the mattress sinks on both sides of her as he straddles her thighs. She feels him loom over her as he pulls the cheeks of her bottom open, and lets out an anxious whimper. Then her eyes squeeze shut and her lips part as he pushes his erection into her ass. His slow penetration hurts, yet the thought of what she is letting him do turns her on so much that her body responds to these mysteriously encouraging synapses from her brain and experiences a breathtaking sense of fulfillment. He fucks her slowly and excruciatingly, enjoying her ring’s tight caress along the full length of his dick as she wonders, with an amazement that becomes hopelessly confused with a devastating pleasure, why a man remorselessly defying her natural dimensions just to suit himself feels so damn good.
*
Carmen is feeling so wonderfully relaxed that Bayside’s avenue of shopping carts possesses all the colorful beauty of an ancient bazaar located at the heart of exotic trade routes. Normally, she can’t stomach the place, but the earth’s axis seems to have shifted a mysterious degree so that objects catch the light differently and everything looks fascinating.
‘Oh, Jay, look!’ Her hand in his, she pulls him over to a cart that resembles a witch’s cave in a fairytale. The delicate skeletons of autumn leaves and acorns, butterflies, starfish, and innumerable other living things, have been captured in their prime then dipped in molten gold. They hang from black wooden posts on gilded chains, painfully dead, yet beautifully immortal.
In the end she walks away with a starfish glowing between her breasts. ‘It’s beautiful, Jay, thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I always used to hate Bayside, yet tonight it seems magical.’
‘Now why do you suppose that is?’
‘Because I’m in love, sir.’
‘Or maybe you’re just well fed and very properly fucked.’
‘No,’ she stops walking to face him, ‘it’s because I’m in love.’ She slips her arms around his neck, oblivious to the stream of pedestrians that has to break their flow around them.
He pushes her away before she can kiss him, and keeps walking.
A little hurt, she catches up with him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says lightly, ‘from now on I’ll refrain from public demonstrations of affection.’
‘Good.’
Some of the magic bleeds out of the colored lights reflected in the Bay’s black water.
He pauses beside another cart displaying rustic, handmade jewelry, and miniature animals carved out of wood and stone. A twining vine design catches her eye, and she moves closer.
Hanging from a black leather cord, the amulet appears to be made of silver, and was clearly inspired by ancient Nordic art.
‘Maybe I can find you something to go with your Thor’s hammer earrings,’ he says.
‘You already bought me something.’
‘I can buy you as many things as I like. Pick out a necklace, a couple of bracelets, and some rings.’
‘Are you crazy?’ she whispers. ‘Look at the prices.’
‘Carmen, seeing you in barbaric silver jewelry and absolutely nothing else would be worth whatever it cost. Then all I’d need is a few trash bags full of dirt to create a burial mound in my bedroom you can lie across with your arms tied over your head and your legs spread open. Poor Miriam would be vacuuming for days.’
‘That’s not funny.’
‘I didn’t mean it… to be.’
She follows the direction of his gaze.
‘Why, Carmen,’ Linn exclaims, ‘what a pleasant surprise.’ Having last seen her husband’s secretary with a ruggedly handsome police officer, Linn does indeed look surprised, by Jay.
‘Oh, hi, Linn.’ In Carmen’s personal universe, running into her beautiful blonde rival tonight is a disaster akin to a meteor hitting Miami. ‘Jay, this is Linn, Mike Peterson’s wife. Linn, Jay Westgate.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Peterson. Your husband is a… business acquaintance of mine.’
‘Jay works for The Department of Environmental Resources and Monitoring,’ Carmen explains.
‘Is that so?’ Linn doesn’t seem interested. ‘Were you planning to buy her something lovely tonight, Jay?’
‘As a matter of fact, I was.’
‘Do you see anything you like, Carmen?’
‘Yes, this necklace, it looks like an ancient Viking piece.’
‘That’s exactly right.’ She sounds surprised that Carmen would know such a thing. ‘It’s one of my latest pieces.’
‘We’d like to take a closer look at this one,’ Jay tells the salesgirl.
‘Certainly, sir.’
‘Everyone loves the Vikings,’ he remarks.
‘Oh, they were murderous brutes,’ Linn replies breezily, ‘but they had a marvelously dramatic sense of style.’
‘That’s one way of putting it. Here, Carmen, let’s see what it looks like on you.’ He slips the necklace on over her head, and lifts her hair out of the way.
The large heavy piece falls over the starfish, so that a fire seems to be burning behind the snake’s coiling body.
Jay stares at it.
‘It suits her,’ Linn says quietly, ‘the silver goes very nicely with her dark hair.’
‘Yes, it does, she looks stunning.’
‘Linn’s pieces have been doing very well,’ the young salesgirl throws in helpfully.
Jay says firmly, ‘We’ll take it.’
‘No charge, Anna.’ Linn is feeling generous.
He pulls out his wallet. ‘How much, Anna?’
‘Um, it’s normally…’
He gives her a one hundred dollar bill. ‘Take it out of that.’
Linn shrugs, and the girl quickly heads for the cashbox.
‘So, where’s your husband this evening?’ Jay asks pleasantly.
Linn’s green eyes meet Carmen’s brown ones for an unnaturally charged second. ‘At the office. He said he had some work to catch up on.’
‘A man with such a beautiful wife shouldn’t work such long hours.’
Linn smiles at him. ‘What a charming thing to say.’
‘I’m never charming, Mrs Peterson, I merely state facts.’
‘Here you are, sir.’The salesgirl returns with his change.
‘Thank you.’
‘He has been working odd hours lately,’ Linn adds thoughtfully. ‘Is there something going on I should know about, Carmen?’
She clutches the amulet around her neck. ‘What do you mean?’ She looks down at it, pretending to admire it, but really seeing her own twisting intestines in the coiling snake motif.
‘You’re his personal assistant,’ Linn goes on breezily, ‘you would know if he was busy cleaning up an oil spill, or something nasty like that. He never discusses his work with me. He doesn’t like to bring it home with him.’
‘You really shouldn’t answer that, Carmen,’ Jay says, ‘you might incriminate him, and then I’d have to go after him for harming the environment, which unfortunately can’t defend itself. It is what it is,’ he catches her eye as she raises her head, ‘and men often take advantage of it.’
Linn’s smile sharpens into a sickle. ‘You mean men like my husband?’
‘He wouldn’t be the first one.’
‘Mike isn’t cleaning anything up,’ Carmen says desperately, ‘that I know of.’
‘Well,’ Linn shrugs as if ridding herself of the whole annoying topic, ‘it was nice seeing you again, Carmen, and a pleasure meeting you, Jay.’ Tall and slender in a black pantsuit (that probably cost an entire week of Carmen’s salary) she walks away, her golden hair streaming down her back.
‘Would you like me to take you home?’ is Jay’s cool solution.
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘They’ll be all right.’
She unlocks the glass door, slides it open a crack, and steps out onto the balcony.
The night is oppressively warm, without even the ghost of a breeze. She would have liked to be greeted by a cold, sharp wind as she stepped out beneath a glittering universe, but only a pathetic handful of stars are visible through the thick cloud cover and the city’s light pollution. There is another balcony directly above her, which gives her the uncomfortable sensation of standing just inside the mouth of a cave…
Jay steps up to the railing beside her.
‘How long have you been in Miami?’ she asks him.
‘Since college, about fifteen years.’
‘What on earth possessed you to leave Washington to study down here?’
‘All the hot Cuban girls.’
‘Seriously.’
‘I’m dead serious. I also wanted to get as far away from my father as possible.’
‘And to piss him off by not attending the Ivy League school of his choice?’
‘Exactly.’
‘I hate it down here.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there aren’t any seasons,’ she says passionately. ‘No snow, no contrasts, no cozy fireplaces. There’s nothing here but sand and sky. There isn’t even any real soil.’
‘Damn, that blows the Viking grave fantasy.’
She laughs.
‘If you hate it so much, why don’t you leave?’
Thor'sday Night - Paranormal Erotica Page 18
